Because People are People

     There are certain things that make me think about the children I met in Honduras even more than I usually would, and Christmas is one of them. As much as I love this season, it is very hard for me to know that children across the world, like the ones I met in Honduras, won't get to experience the kind of Christmas that I have been fortunate to have experienced for my whole life. I don't mean to be a Scrooge, but I am old enough to know that if parents or other caring adults aren't around, Santa is not going to show up and produce a perfect Christmas. That's just how it is, and it makes me sad.
      Thinking about this reminded me of a topic I already covered a while ago, but I want to revisit it now because I think I have a better answer. As a person who has been on a mission trip outside of this country, I know that many people are aware of the fact that there are people who need help right here in the United States, and wonder why some people like me choose to go outside of the country for a mission trip. I think I am ready to answer that question again, hopefully more clearly this time.
    People are people. Americans and Hondurans and all other nationalities are people, and I believe that God wants us to help people. We as humans like to put ourselves into all kinds of groups, diving ourselves up by nationality, age, and many other things, but I don't think God does that. He simply wants us to help each other, and we shouldn't put limitations on that. Yes, I went and tried to help children in Honduras for ten days, but that doesn't mean I'm done. I am trying to make it a habit to help the people around me in my everyday life, and I am eagerly awaiting the chance to go on another mission trip, no matter what country it ends up being in.
     In two days, I will experience another Christmas like I have every year of my life. I will open many gifts, and probably have moments where I focus on those gifts a little too much. But in the back of my mind I will keep the children who don't get to have a Christmas like mine, and remember how they taught me why it is so important to help whenever you can, no matter where you are or who you may encounter.

Attention Seeker

I guess it's no secret at this point that much of what I write about is centered around what I believe. I wish I could say that I planned it that way, but it really is just something that happened when I started to write about what was on my mind. However it may have started, I have tried to continue writing about what I think and feel about whatever is going on in my life in a way that relates to what I believe. In keeping with this strategy, I was unsure about how to begin writing about something that has been on my mind lately, and needed some inspiration to get me started. So when I began planning how to write this post by half seriously Googling the question "Is it okay for Christians to want attention?" I admit that I felt pretty guilty when the top search results included an article called "Seek Impact, Not Attention" and a reference to 1 Corinthians 10:24 "No one should seek his own good, but the good of others" Definitely not the validation I was secretly hoping for. But along with the guilt came a feeling of frustration. You see, lately I have at times felt a little selfish. I feel like I work hard to be a good friend to others, and I try to always be there when people need me. Unfortunately I have had to begin learning that you cannot buy the attention of others by giving them  your attention. No matter how good of a listener you are, and how many times you go out of your way to be supportive, you cannot guarantee that people will return the favor. Sometimes, instead of feeling the satisfaction of friendships that have an equal give and take, you might find yourself burnt out from to much giving and not enough taking.  So what can be done when this happens? Must we seek only the good of others at all times, even if it is damaging to our own well being?
     I had a surprising moment of clarity recently when I was talking to a two year old and realized it was the best conversation I had experienced in a while. Sure, we were talking about trains and favorite colors and other arbitrary things, but the content of the conversation isn't what made it a good one. You see, no matter how trivial it was, he was fully focused on our conversation. I think children that young are fun to talk to because they still know how to be in the moment. They don't promise to "talk to you soon" in some fictional time when they will no longer be busy. They're not thinking about someone else they'd rather be talking to, or plans they have later. They're not checking their phones or looking at the clock. They're focused on the

conversation they're having in the present, and I think there's something significant about that. I realized that a conversation like that, where the other person was fully focused and interactive, was just what I needed.
     After doing a lot of thinking, I have decided to try to let go of my guilt about needing attention. I can't exactly find any biblical backup for this decision, but I still feel at peace about it. I know that I should work for the good of others, and I believe that I do. But I also know that even Jesus had a group of 12 disciples  who were also his friends, and I don't think that's entirely coincidence. I think maybe that in the midst of all of the good He was doing, the fact that he was on earth as a human meant that he needed people to support him, and to be his friends so that he didn't become exhausted from all of that giving he was doing. So I guess it's okay to expect your friends to take on the listening and supporting role sometimes, so that you can be refreshed and better prepared to be supportive the next time someone needs you to be.

Nothing Extraordinary

     This is my 100th post on this blog. I thought I would come up with something profound and memorable to acknowledge this personal milestone, but the truth is, my brain is not functioning at it's full potential. Finals were rough this semester, three in one day followed by the longest one the next day. Anyway, pity party aside, I'm just not full of writing inspiration at the moment due to my brain feeling overworked, and I'm having trouble thinking of anything extraordinary to say.
     I know that I'm proud that I've been able to think of 100 things to write about, and what I'm most proud of is that people seem to be reading because they actually want too, not just to be polite. When people tell me that they can relate to something I have written, I realize why I love to write.
      In the time it's taken me to write these 100 posts, I have not become a famous, well known writer. My posts have not gone viral and ended up all over the internet, and as far as I know no one is calling me America's new favorite blogger. From that perspective, there's nothing extraordinary about this blog. It's just an amateur endeavor, more practice than anything. But beyond that, it has enabled me to really connect with people, and it has made me grow confident in my own abilities, and that is significant to me.
     No, I really don't have any extraordinary wisdom to impart to commemorate this milestone. But as I think about my favorite books (I know this isn't a book but hear me out), it occurs to me that most of the best things I have read are the best because they inspire me and make me think, not because they are elaborate and complex. All I know is that although there may be no tangible evidence that this blog fits the definition of extraordinary, it has helped me realize my own potential, and I believe it has meant something to those who have read it, and it seems to me that perhaps those are the greatest goals any writer can hope to achieve.

What Could Go Wrong?

    I don't usually go back and read posts I wrote in the past, because it just makes me realize how I could have written things better and then I just end up wanting to go back and rewrite everything, which would almost defeat the purpose of having a blog. When I did dare to go back and look at some things I wrote this summer, I was slightly embarrassed at my relentless whining and lack of emotional filter. I didn't realize at the time that me losing a job after a whopping 4 days, and then not getting to do what I wanted to and have surgery instead, were not necessarily things that people would want to spend time reading about. But this is a learning experience, and now I know what not to do in the future. That being said, there is one reason I'm glad I decided to write about all of those struggles.
     When the worst case scenario actually happens and you survive, you learn something about yourself. You start to let go of the fear of things going wrong, simply because you don't need it once they do. There's something empowering about realizing just how much you can handle. Sitting in the doctor's office being told that traveling is basically out of the question even though this trip is something you've been anticipating for months is not fun. Being told that you are going to have a section of your growing out hair shaved and your

head cut open is not fun. Being told not to come back to your new job anymore because the boss suddenly questions your physical capabilities, and having to walk out in front of your co-workers and customers is not fun. None of it was fun, but you know what? It's all in the past now and I'm here in the present still living life. I didn't like it, but I survived it.
     Maybe, like me, you often find yourself worrying about what could go wrong, or what actually is going wrong. But whatever you are going through, whether it's a big problem or just a bunch of small problems happening simultaneously, as they often do, I believe that even if everything does go wrong, there's still hope. After all, once you've hit rock bottom, there's nowhere to go but up.

The Legend of the Perfect Holiday

In a world where most people in this country have access to technology that allows us to constantly stay in contact with people and update them on what we are doing, there is an unspoken pressure to always be doing something exciting and making sure everyone knows just how happy we are. Our friendships, relationships, and family life better be filled with Hallmark moments, because it looks like everyone else's sure are. This pressure seems to intensify in the season that starts on Thanksgiving and lasts until New Years Eve. In addition to preparing an Instagram worthy meal for our perfectly dressed families to pose beside, arms thrown around each other in perfect familial bliss, we must respond to all of those Happy Thanksgiving texts and assure all of those people that we did indeed have the greatest day ever. That's a lot to get done in one day, especially when there's all of that food to eat!
This Thanksgiving was a little different for my family than most years. We stayed home and had a meal together, just the four of us. To an outsider, it may not have looked like anything special. But there was a fleeting moment as I was watching my family working together in the kitchen (hey,someone has to sit around and make insightful observations while everyone else works!) where I thought to myself "this is exactly what Thanksgiving is supposed to be." It wasn't the kind of family holiday you would see in those old movies they like to rerun every day this time of year, where everyone is filled with holiday cheer no matter what and everything comes together flawlessly right away, but there was something about it that just seemed right. It was imperfect, but ironically similar to what my childhood self thought the ideal family Thanksgiving must be like.
 As I get older, I am starting to realize that it's not the most important thing to have a life that looks good to the rest of the world. Nobody really has a perfect life, and it's a shame that we feel like we have to prove to everyone that we do. But when I let go of the need to have the kind of unrealistic perfect holiday that can only happen on a T.V. screen, I realized just how nice a heartfelt, slightly flawed holiday can be.

Guilt Free Fun

    When I was little, I used to write for fun. I would record journal entries about my day, and fictional stories that I made up. Looking at my old notebooks, I have found a detailed account of a visit to a friends house, in which I carefully listed and described each of her pets, an interesting rant about my “annoying 10 year old brother” (who is now 21 and actually not so annoying most of the time.) , and even a commendable attempt to rewrite The Sound of Music as a book. I really thought that one was going to take off and I probably thought I would be the world’s youngest bestselling author, until I realized that a 174 minute movie with frequent musical numbers makes for a really long book. By the time I had gotten Maria out of the abbey and introduced her to all 7 of those children I had lost interest.

    Those things I used to write about seem silly now, but there is something special about them to me. They represent a time when I was writing simply because I enjoyed it. I wasn't worried about what other people would think about what I wrote, or feeling guilty about not spending my time doing more productive things. I was writing because it was fun and it made me happy.

    Tonight a group that I am part of here had a game night, and I found myself looking forward to it all day. It was a block of fun built into my schedule, which is especially appreciated when finals are looming. Somewhere in my excitement it dawned on me that when you reach a certain age, fun becomes less spontaneous and more planned. Life gets busier as you get older, and fun becomes something that you make time for once everything else has been done. Now, I’m not advocating

being irresponsible, and I certainly am not suggesting that we should all skip work and school to play board games everyday, but maybe people like me could benefit from letting go of the guilty feeling that comes along when you do fun things while there are still productive things that you could be doing. Maybe as long as you’re still keeping up with your responsibilities, a little unscheduled fun isn't so bad in the end.
    This same idea applies to me writing this blog. Sometimes I feel silly writing things to put on the internet for people to read, when I could be doing some extra studying or catching u on chores. And sometimes, while trying to be wise, people pleasing, and interesting, I forget that I started this blog for fun. Sure, I wanted to improve my skills and get feedback, but I also wanted to give myself a chance to do something that I enjoy on a regular basis. Writing is fun for me, and I want it to stay that way. So, if you’re reading this, Jennie of the future, remember why you started writing when you were little. It’s fun and it makes you happy, and that’s perfectly okay.

Stop Talking About That!

Recently, it was announced that the two centers that we went to when I went to Honduras have closed down. I almost didn't write about it, because honestly I'm trying to train myself to write about things other than a 10 day trip that happened two years ago, and for once get through a story without saying the words "Honduras" and "mission trip". But when I was faced with the fact that I really won't ever get to see those children again, and possibly not have another experience like that, the way that I felt helped me realize why I still talk about that trip so much, and relieved some of the guilt I have about being so slow to move on.  I genuinely like mission trips. I'm drawn to the opportunity to do something that really feels meaningful, and feel the genuine emotions that

happen when you really start to care about something that isn't for your own personal benefit.

      I write about that experience not because I have something to prove, and not because I have nothing else to write about, but because it changed me. I was 18, fresh out of high school and not nearly as wise as I thought I was. I thought that because I have seen poverty on T.V., and heard about it in history

class, that I wouldn't really be too deeply affected by that experience. What I didn't realize is that everything changes when those faces you see on a T.V. screen become people with feelings and personalities, and stories that are often painful to hear. Those children and teens have a brand of wisdom that I could never have, because they have gone through things that I can't even begin to imagine relating to. That trip changed how I view the world, and made me more tolerant of people who are different than me. Now I know what it's like to be in a country where you don't speak the language and how confusing that is, and I no longer feel annoyed when I hear people speaking languages other than English. It helped me better understand just how much my parents love me, and made me realize that that kind of love is something that not everyone has been given by another human being. It even made me a better student. I have talked about that trip in many papers I have written, and now when I am learning about things and places outside of the United States, I feel like I can think of them in a different way because I have actually traveled outside the country and gotten to experience a small piece of what that's like. 

     I also write about it because I truly enjoyed it. There hasn't been a time since I got back from that first trip two years ago that I haven't wanted to go on another mission trip. It was my first time going out of the country, and even my first trip on an airplane, and it was really fun for me. I made new friends, and became much closer to some friends I already had.

     The fact that I went on one ten day mission trip two years ago doesn't make me better than anyone else. I don't write about it to my make myself look good, I just haven't figured out how to stop talking about it. I'm young and in college, and at times I'm going to do dumb things. But I'm certainly not going to write about those things on the internet, especially knowing that most of the people who read this are not my peers. I choose to only write about certain things because I am aware that once you put things on the internet, it's hard to completely remove them and I don't want something resurfacing twenty years from now that I will regret. That being said, I know that in the interest of good writing it's probably time to start talking about more recent and relevant things, which I have been trying to do. But the experiences I had in Honduras are something that I will always remember, and I'm sure I will still bring them up at times. Knowing that having that exact experience again isn't a possibility at all right now has made me realize just how much it meant to me, and I hope that there will be similar experiences in the near future.