Why am I writing this?

Recently, I've felt a distinct lack of creativity in my life. I once loved to write--it was my single greatest outlet. But I've been required to write so much that I'm actually kind of sick of it. Don't ask me why I'm writing this now. It's actually pushing me to my very limits. In the past few weeks I've written upwards of two or three newspaper articles, a research paper for my AP English class, a mini research paper for my honors Spanish II class (if you can believe that), and countless assignments for creative writing. I am sick and tired of writing. And that hurts. My favorite thing to do on earth has been twisted and transformed into something that I no longer really want to do. It makes me mad, actually. I want to write on my own time. But I just can't. So forgive me for the extended absences.

Compromise

Compromise is a funny word, don't you think? Suggests that you should give up something you believe is right just to please someone else. Someone you think is morally wrong. Compromise. Doesn't sound like the best concept in the world, especially when suggested by people who want nothing more than to complicate your otherwise happy, carefree existence. I know it sure doesn't sound fun to me. But maybe that's because I'm what a select few would consider stubborn. But I don't think that's a bad thing when I'm trying to ward off bad influences or people who absolutely thrive on that wretched beast, drama. Is it too much to ask not to be involved in the problems and petty vendettas of people with whom I wish to have no affiliation? But lo and behold, I keep getting dragged forcibly into the heart of conflict right when the coast appears clear. I think I might write the words COMPROMISE-FREE across my forehead in black Sharpie. I'm pretty sure most people would catch my drift....

Remnants

Recently, I read a friend's blog. In it, she discussed a single pair of ragged, worn, but well-loved Converse. She mentioned that she had allowed someone from her past to write upon the surface of these beloved shoes, which have just recently surfaced from the clutter of her car. I can't help but wonder, does she even remember who it was that attempted to immortalize themselves upon her shoes? Or does that memory eventually fade into the clutter of one's mind as well?

Usually, a pair of shoes decorated by some friend of long ago would not spark so much curiosity from me. But I, too, once allowed someone to doodle upon the creamy crescent at the tip of my favorite pair of black Converse. And now each time I shove my feet into them, lace them up tightly, walk around in them for the day, and display them for the world to see, I feel as if I'm wearing a practical reminder of a broken friendship.

I refuse to take the bleach or any other cleaning solution to their scuffed and bruised surface however. To me that seems as if I'd be obliterating the very memory of that friend. That's why I walk around in shoes drawn on by someone I no longer trust. It's like any other mark a person may leave on you, whether good or bad. It helps define you, and you feel as if something is missing if it's no longer there.

It could easily be compared to a photograph you keep on your desk. A photograph of you and your best friend in the eighth grade posing by a tree at the park, your faces framed by the bright, multi-colored words "Best Friends."

Even if the sentiment, best friends, no longer rings true, you leave it there to remember a time when those words created the truest statement you knew. Just because two friends have drifted apart, does not mean that the friendship's very existence should be questioned or even forgotten. Because for a period in your lifetime, there was a bond that made that person very important to you. You experienced rites of passage and the hardships of growing up together. You don't just discard those memories because time and choices have separated you.

It's a part of high school; it happens to everyone. There's not a single person I know who hasn't evolved over the years and adapted new friends and left a few of the old ones behind. I've done it myself. It just happens. It's one of those things that sucks about growing up and becoming an adult.

But never, never get rid of the symbols, the remnants of that bond. Whether they be a pair of doodled-on-Converse, a note from the dreadful middle school years, a picture, a ticket to a concert you attended together, or even some stupid school project you spent weeks working on. If you throw away the concrete evidence of your friendship, soon you'll only be left with memories. Which fade quickly in just a few years' time. Each friend leaves a significant mark, whether good or bad, that contributes to the person you become. And no one should forget where they came from or how they got there.

I'm Tired

So, I recently attended my very first college fair. And I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the whole ordeal. In some ways, I feel like I've been at the high school forever and should be graduating this year instead of the next. And on the other hand, it feels impossible for me to be a junior. I've just now discovered how stressful it is to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. I mean, it's only the rest of my life, right? Shouldn't be THAT bad....Yeah. Okay. Contrary to popular belief, that decision is quite daunting. Intimidating, at the very least.

I mean, I think I know what I want to do when I "grow up." I want to be a high school English teacher. Ideally, I'd just be a novelist and spend every waking moment writing. But as I've been told countless times, we do not live in an ideal world, or even a very good world.

But this college fair just really brought home the reality of my life: I have this year and my senior year and then I'm gone. I'll move away and go to college and figure out how I'm going to make money and get by in life. That leaves me very little time to be a kid, what with the planning, the studying, the figuring it all out. It seems as if every moment of my day, I've got a million different thoughts dancing around inside my head, all of which I have to consider before discarding them and moving onto the next demanding thought. Study for the anatomy test. Make brownies for culinary arts. Write that parody for creative writing. Think about who to interview for the next feature story for the paper. And above all maintain a relationship with God.

I'm not complaining. I'm blessed beyond compare, and I know that all of this is just a natural part of growing up. But I feel as if I speak for almost everyone my age. I bet nobody can guess the single sentence I hear pass through more lips in a day than any other. "I'm tired." That's all we teenagers know how to be anymore. Tired. It seems as if a dozen different people or tasks are vying for our attention at any given time, and we're being torn in just as many directions to decide which task should be accomplished first.

And when added to the stress of planning our entire futures, that's a heavy burden to bear on our teenage shoulders. Not unbearable, but heavy nonetheless.

And if that weren't enough pressure in the first place, there's the fact of the matter that my generation is going to inherit a world riddled with problems and chaos and promised consequences of actions we had nothing to do with. It's going to be the futures we're planning for today that the present leaders' actions and mistakes will affect. And because of that, we may not have much of a future to plan for. But we'll be expected to turn it all around anyway, and when we fail to do so, what then? How does an entire generation go about finding forgiveness for the sins of our fathers, metaphorically speaking?

My sophomore English teacher told us last year that the adults of the present have messed the world up beyond their help, but that my generation will have to do something about if we ever want to live in a world of peace again. But how will we ever do this when all we can think about today is how tired we are, and how we just wish all of our responsibilities would vanish? Is there a solution, and will an individual, a great visionary, an inspirational group, rise up out of my generation born of the technological era to find it?

All I Really Need to Know I Learned on the Mission Field at Street Reach

Recently, I had to write a credo for my AP English III class. The teacher asked us to keep it brief and limit it to one page in length. I grudgingly complied to this, but only barely. I utilized every line possible. As I wrote it, I wondered how we as students could limit our guidelines by which we experience life to one 8.5" by 11" piece of printer paper? There are so many lessons I've learned over the years that I know will be vital in living a successful and productive life. But I had to choose a mere handful of "laws of life" from one particular mission trip to Memphis.

I'd never stopped to consider all that I'd learned from my trip to Memphis. When I thought of the time I spent there with my youth group, I thought of it in terms of the children I met and the impact I'd hopefully made on their lives. I didn't even consider the fact that these children had taught me more than I'd ever even dreamed of showing them. But in retrospect, I can clearly think of times when individual kids taught me important aspects of living life right. I can even remember--for the most part--which kids taught me what. These kids changed my life, and I'm eternally in their debt for the time they allowed me to spend with them. I'll never forget that week for as long as I live. And I will pray for them every single night of my life for as long as I'm on this earth.

But the kids weren't the only ones who taught me something that week. The leaders, the fellow teenagers, and God all showed me something while I was there, too.

This is my credo, my guideline by which I hope to always live my life.

All I Really Need to Know I Learned on the Mission Field at Street Reach

1. Know your limits. If you can only bear the weight of one child on your shoulders, don't offer to carry another in your arms. You'll strain your muscles and regret the pain later.

Montrez and his basketball taught me this invaluable lesson. For a short period of time, a thirty-pound kid and his basketball are not that heavy of a burden, but after walking the streets of that neighborhood for thirty minutes in 100 degree weather, they get to be quite heavy. (And of course, I meant this literally and metaphorically. Never bite off more than you can chew--you'll end up drowning in the consequences or sweat. Depending on if you're looking at it from the literal or metaphorical viewpoint.)

2. Patience is your most vital virtue. Never become frustrated with people or events that are out of your control. Wait for lunch to come to you; don't go looking for it. Remain calm and ready to deviate from the original plan if needed. Arts and crafts time will not be perfect every time.

Mrs. Kitty taught me this one. She always handled frustrating situations with the utmost of grace and patience. She never let anything make her lose her cool, and I really admire that about her.

3. Don't be afraid to use your “angry voice” when trouble arises. If a questionable situation spirals out of control, let others know that you don't agree with what's going on. Make sure you're opinion is heard—it matters.

That one was my youth leader. He's always taught us to maintain our integrity and never stray from our morals even when we're tempted to just go along with what everyone else is doing.

4. Stand up for others. They'll always remember the kindness you've shown them, and you never know when you might need their help in return.

That one I learned on my own from watching a small child be dropped from his cousin's arms as if he were a toy. These kids don't get shown the affection they should and usually get tossed around by other kids and older siblings. So I learned to stick up for the kids who weren't handled with care.

5. Watch out for family. These people are your greatest resource in life and should be treated as such. If someone disrespects or hurts them, make sure they know just whose family member their victim is.

Griff taught me that. He was a serious little fellow who never smiled but took care of his younger siblings as if they were his own children. I've never seen a more mature, loving eight-year-old kid in my lifetime. He truly knew the importance of family, and it nearly broke my heart to look into his sad, grown up eyes.

6. Don't hold a grudge—forgive. If your best friend punches you in the nose over whose turn it is to take the bicycle for a spin around the park, let it go. Arguments happen and chances are it won't be the last time the two of you ever fight over something as trivial as a bicycle.

All the kids taught me that. They never got mad and stayed that way for longer than five minutes. It seemed as if after that period of time, all was forgotten and the normal order of things returned just as quickly.

7. Wear sensible shoes and sunscreen to keep your feet from aching and your skin from frying.

Learned that one myself. The hard way.

8. Share the Hot Takis. If you're fortunate enough to be one of the kids with a bag of Hot Takis, spread the wealth! Not everyone is as blessed to have such a treat.

That lesson is courtesy of my favorite, Rashad, who grudgingly gave over a Hot Taki to a very, very hungry little boy. He didn't want to give them up, but he did because he knew it was the right thing to do.

9. Be appreciative of what you have. Even if you don't like the plums that come with lunch, eat them. Or find someone who's hungry enough to eat five plums if you don't want them. Someone will always be willing to trade places with you if you're not appreciative of your circumstances.

When those kids got lunch, they ate. I mean, they devoured their food. Eating breakfast made me feel guilty when I saw how hungry these kids were. But this particular incident with plums actually happened. Somehow Rashad went around the little circle of kids and ended up with about five or six plums, all of which he proceeded to eat while sitting in my lap. He had juice running down his chin and his little cheeks were bulging with the entire plum he shoved in his mouth. I'll never forget it as long as I live.

10. Don't allow a lack of worldly possessions to keep you from following your dreams. If you want to be a professional football player, work hard. Don't let the fact that you're from the poorest neighborhood in Memphis, keep you from trying to achieve that goal.

Most all of the boys there dreamed of playing pro basketball or football. They saw it as their only escape from their lives of poverty.

11. Always depend on a few good friends to keep you going. If you're going through a trying time, chances are they've been through a similar hardship themselves. You're all in that 108 degree weather together, so make the most of it.

All of us learned that while clearing what the site missionaries dubbed the "jungle" in literally 108 degree weather. With a lot of water and teamwork, we pretty much got that thing cleared out...Until our youth leader was concerned we'd pass out from heat exhaustion and sent us inside.

12. Keep the faith. Always look to God on those long, hot days when you feel like you might collapse if you don't get a nap, food, and a very long shower within the next fifteen minutes. He'll always be there to make sure you survive even the biggest of trials.

I learned this throughout the entire week, and it never ceased to amaze me how God could keep me going even when I was physically and emotionally spent. He just kept getting me up in the mornings and sending me out, and because of Him, that was probably the best week of my entire life.

One additional lesson: Memphis is a very, very, very hot place in summertime.

The Ability to Forgive

Forgiveness. That word's got a nice little ring to it. It's got a nice meaning to it as well, if you ask me. Sometimes I feel so undeserving of forgiveness, and then I remember that I am, in fact, not worthy of anything. Much less forgiveness. Jesus Christ did not have to die on that cross for me, but He did for some reason beyond my wildest dreams. I struggle to wrap my mind around that kind of all-consuming love, that kind of unprecedented compassion that forced him to sacrifice so much. THE perfect man, The Truth, died for my transgressions to give me hope and purpose. He died for ME, one screwed up human being. And even after he suffered that horrific death upon an old wooden cross, he forgave me without a moment's hesitation.

Why, then, should one imperfect, flawed person such as myself have such a massive problem with forgiving someone who's wronged me in the slightest of ways? Why should I feel entitled to withhold forgiveness? I have absolutely no right to delegate who should and shouldn't receive redemption. I know that, yet I fight my very nature time and time again over that simple problem: my glaring lack of the ability to forgive someone easily Everything within me screams, "Don't trust them again. Just don't talk about it. Ignore the problem. Ignore them!" But my beliefs contradict what my very conscious seems to whisper to me at every turn. My faith tells me that I must forgive. I must accept the fact that I am going to get my feelings hurt, or be offended, but I have to look past that and be the bigger person.

This presents a huge challenge for me. My pride, often enough, stands in the way of my "turning the other cheek." Life is a constant struggle to improve myself, to become the best person, the best Believer, I possibly can become. I know that I have quite the journey before me to become like Christ, to become the person he created me to be. But I have faith. And a patient savior. It may not be easy, but each and every day I want to move a step forward in that journey and see where Christ leads me.

Looking for the Silver Lining

The beginning of my junior year of high school has been a little bumpy, to say the least.

The new schedule, consisting of seven periods instead of the usual (and blessed) six, is shaking things up. By the time I get to my Spanish II class, I am ready to leave, and I mean, SOON. As soon as I hear that gloriously annoying bell ring. Then, it hits me out of the blue. I must endure yet another period before escaping to my home for a much-deserved nap.

And my lunch is more than a little crowded, and crazy-loud. If you were to step into my cafeteria, I guarantee you that you'd know exactly what a zoo would look like if all of the animals escaped at feeding time and an absolute frenzy were to occur. Sit through lunchtime at my high school long enough, and you'd be prepared for the raging hunger of crazed animals in a matter of weeks.

Also, there are people who seem to have dropped off the face of the planet, people who, in some cases, I've been in class with for the past five years! And I just never see them, period. (Not one measly, little passing in the hallway or random meeting outside of a classroom. I mean, come on!) It's almost as if we don't attend the same school any longer. It makes me a little sad, kind of homesick in a way.
Things are changing, and they'll never be the same as they once were.

It's hard to accept this fact, but I will. Eventually. I'll always miss some things. But others? Let's just say that change has its upside as well. I just can't think of the silver lining at this particular moment. But it'll come to me. I know it will. I'm searching for it...Endlessly.

Like I said, eventually.

Of course, I do look forward to all of the challenges and opportunities that come with being a junior: prom...and...well, almost being a senior. That's actually really all I can think of at the moment. Sad, I know. But let's be honest, I don't really consider the PSAT and ACT and AP exams as super, totally exciting things to come in my future. I mean, what normal American teenager does? None that I can think of. But these are vital aspects of junior-dom, I suppose. Learning, expanding my wealth of knowledge. I'm up for something new, but a little bit of the old thrown in can't hurt, either.