Grass-Stained Knees

When I was younger, I knew it had been a good day when I came in with dirt in my hair and grass stains on my knees.  It meant I had explored and adventured most of the day. It meant I was so full of memories of made-up sword fights or imagined dragons that I could barely stay awake.  It meant that for most of the day, I was probably uncomfortably hot and sweaty, but never had I been happier.

As humans, we cling to our comfort zones.  We are hermits in our comfort. We create these walls around us that define our contentment levels.  As soon as we get remotely close to these barriers, we freak out.  Oh no, we think.  I can't go out there - to the real world.  What if I make a mistake?  What if I get hurt?  It is so much safer in here.

Okay, so what?  So what if you do make a mistake?  You learn from it.  What if you do get hurt?  Then you heal and move on.  Your comfort zone is a safe environment, but nothing ever grows there! Every day is a new adventure - a new experience with new opportunities.

I write this as much to myself as to you.  I love being comfortable.  It is my sanctuary.  There are days where I would love to do nothing but curl under the covers with a cup of coffee and a book because it is safe and cozy and warm.  But what would I learn if I did that every day?  What memories would I create?

When I get older, I hope to have this mental scrapbook of memories and life lessons with rips in the pages, coffee rings on the corners, and grass stains on the spine. There will be stories marred with storms and heartbreak, and others decorated with sunshine and laughter.  Regardless, I want to flip through the tattered pages and pluck vivid memories from them. To me, the most terrifying thing in life is not change or being uncomfortable, but looking back on nothing but empty, dust-covered pages.

I write this, and my past couple of blogs, encouraging you to leave your comfort zone.  Do one thing every day that absolutely terrifies you.  It can be as small as making a phone call (which makes my heart race more than cliff jumping), or as drastic as white water rafting in a monsoon (which I don't recommend, but hey, it could be fun).  Life isn't meant to be lived as a prisoner of comfort.  Sure, your comfort zone is wonderful place to return to now and again, but you shouldn't reside there.

Dance in the rain. Talk to strangers.  Go skydiving. Pet lots of dogs. Fight dragons. Be a living Gospel. Do things that scare you.  You may come away from it heartbroken, but at least you tried.  You learned from it, good or bad.  You created a scrapbook memory that will lift your spirits or be a lesson to teach your children.

Know anything worth doing always contains a risk of failure, but the uncertainty is so worth it.  I pray that you never look back and see dusty pages, but rich experiences that shaped you as a person. Don't be afraid to get a grass-stained heart. It means you've had a good life - a life of adventuring and exploring everything the world has to offer.  

Carry On, Wayward Son

I am sorry I haven't written in a while.  I've been busy laying in a hammock all summer.  In fact, that is what I am doing currently.  I have been ridiculously lazy this summer.  I have done a few crafts and counseled at camp, but over all, I have done nothing but lay around.  On some level, I needed the relaxation.  I had a hard spring semester, and the fall isn't going to be any easier.  However, I learned that too much of a good thing can be bad.  For me, that meant lying on the couch.

I say all this for a reason.  I worked out some over the summer - mostly strength training.  Tuesday I decided I needed to get back into cardio.  This was a bad decision.  My legs are still sore.  I worked out with Kenny Burner and the soccer team for a little bit.  For those of you that know Kenny, you know that he does nothing halfway, especially workouts.  It was then that I realized I am so out of shape compared to how I was during soccer season.  Anyway, we did some jump ropes and wall squats - nothing too terrible.  After that, I went for a run.  Keep in mind I haven't run in probably a month, maybe more.  And in that month, I have done very little cardio.  Being as smart as I am, I also decide bleachers are a great way to jump back into cardio.  News flash - it's not.  I hated bleachers when I was in shape.  To try to do them now was torture.  I was gasping for air after the first set; it was really a pitiful sight.

I know it sounds like I'm rambling about my fitness, or lack thereof, but I have a point.  I learned something this summer.  1. I hate cardio, and 2. your character is defined by how you act when people aren't looking.  

All of my life, I have had someone pushing me to do better.  In school, it was my classmates.  In soccer, it was my teammates.  At home, it was my family.  We all challenged one another to be our very best.  Now that I'm in college, it's just me.  My classmates don't care if I fail a test, I no longer have teammates, and I don't come home to Valley View at the end of a long day.  I had to learn self-discipline in every walk of life.  From school to reading my Bible.  

I realized this with each step I took on the bleachers in the hot sun on Tuesday.  I could stop right then and no one would notice. I could stop the pain in my legs, the burning in my lungs.  I could just...stop.  But something inside pushed me to keep going - I was determined to conquer the bleachers again.  There was no trophy or crowd cheering me on at the finish line.  It was just me and the setting sun.  

Life is full of moments like this.  There is no glory in late night studying in a dorm room.  There is no great reward in waking up at 6 to hit the gym.  There is not a trophy for kindness.  You don't get a pat on the back every time you say "please" and "thank you."  Sometimes, it feels like there is no good reason to continue working hard and being kind.  You do these things and you get nothing in return. 

Or so it seems.

All of these moments that seem pointless are what determine your character.  Doing one more set of bleachers when you want to pass out determines your character.  Studying one more hour when you want to do nothing but sleep determines your character.  Being nice to the waitress when she spills your drink all over you determines your character.  

Galatians 6:9 says, "And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up."  Kindness, determination, and hard work may not have any immediate reward on Earth, but God promises that He will give us so much more in Heaven. 

In the same way, if you continue to work hard - to complete the bleachers - and still feel downtrodden, remember Colossians 3:23: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters."  In those times when you feel no one is watching, or that no one will notice if you stop, God is with you.  He sees your weariness, but He will give you strength to carry on.  He sees your heart like no one else, and He knows you are capable of so much more.  

Paper Memories

Melancholy is hard to define.  Sure, Webster has plenty of words attempting to explain this term, but is there a proper way to put this elusive emotion into concrete terms?  Can you really define any emotions?  It’s hard to remember how something, or someone, feels until you experience it again.  And when you do experience the feeling once more, you hold onto it for all its worth, knowing when you wake up tomorrow, it will be gone.

Memories come with waves of these emotions.  Melancholy cannot stand alone.  The word itself is two-dimensional – it tastes weird on your tongue.  Melancholy requires emotions to be had in order to be experienced.  You cannot feel nostalgia for memories you’ve never had.  You can be lonely for those memories, but never nostalgic. No, nostalgia buries itself into your bones when you are lonesome.

Nostalgia is different for everyone.  I feel it when there is a tinge of autumn in the air.  I am immediately transported to crisp Saturday mornings in October with leaves crunching under my soccer cleats.  I am 8 years old again, with no other goal than to stop one. 

Other times, when the sun is shining just right through maple leaves, I wind up in my front yard.  I have climbed the tree, the bark rough against my skin, and am laughing with my best friends in the whole world.  Because then, my front yard was my whole world.

When the smell of winter wriggles its way into my nose, I am sledding down what feels the biggest hill in all the world with my dad and sister.  There are plenty of wipeouts, causing red faces and runny noses, but we treasure every second.  Later, we go inside for hot cocoa that warms you right down to the soles of your feet. 

Baby’s breath is not just a flower, but a memory of spring days taking Easter pictures in flowy dresses. The spray of water from a hose is green grass and apple trees and dancing around in the miniature rainbows in my Pooh Bear swimsuit.   

The smell of coffee is a multitude of memories, from dipping cookies into my grandma’s cup to late night Bible talks with some amazing people.  It is late afternoons in a porch swing, waiting for evening to fall.  It is snowy evenings curled up with a book, wandering through fantasy worlds.  It is small cafée in Europe, watching people meander past.   

With a warm breeze swirling through the open windows of my car, I am not driving to college alone anymore.  My favorite people are in the seats with ice cream dripping into our hair.  We are exhausted from soccer practice, but we still sing Disney songs at the top of our lungs.

The crackle of a campfire is late summer evenings playing card games and telling ghost stories that were too silly to be scary.  The smoke winds towards the blanket of stars that make me feel like I’m falling through infinity.  My best friend’s faces are dancing in the firelight, and I remember thinking that life never got better than this.  I was right.

Salt air is the best summer of my life with my family baking in the sun and flying kites.  It is dark nights on the beach watching sea turtles find their way to the water - to their home. Salty breezes are telling stories with my mom until my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

The notes of one song take me back to late nights in dorm rooms, my feelings for a boy amplified when he sings it in a way that makes my heart do somersaults., loneliness dispelled just by the sound of his voice.  With the notes of another song, I am in the front seat of the car on the way to a day in the sun at an amusement park with 30 of my closest friends. 

To you, these memories are just words on paper.  But to me, they are feelings, and smiles, and laughter.  I could spend the rest of my life writing down these memories, but to outsiders, they will never be more than paper.  Instead, I will cradle them in my heart until they completely envelop me.  When I am lonely, I will call on them to comfort me. 

This is nostalgia.

Vintage Moon

darling play the dusty records' lullabies
dance together 'neath the autumn skies
live your dreams 'til the music dies

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

dance with the heavens as a fire rages 
with a flame that's been lost for ages 
write a tune in these unwritten pages

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

forget the worries of the sunshine's light
you don't have the colors of the world to fight
tonight you're just a child of black and white

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

cover your wrist fraught with scars
live a life that death once marred
to the rhythm of the lone guitar 

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

throw away the doubt you face
twirl about in your dress of lace
and know that strength is found in grace

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

breathe the quiet melody of days long gone
let the records play their broken song
and dance a little slower in a world gone wrong

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon