Chronic Pain is Back

This week has been a week of ups and downs. First, I passed my PPR test to become a certified teacher. Although I have one more test to pass, I am very happy that I am halfway there to becoming certified. It's exciting and scary all at once.

However, that news was smack down in the middle of being diagnosed with Thoracic Outlet Syndrome, again. 

I feel angry. I am angry with God because I don't understand what TOS has anything to do with furthering the kingdom of God. I am angry because I just had elbow surgery and it is likely that the elbow surgery was not needed because once again, I have TOS. I am angry that I have to go down the road of chronic pain and rib removal all over again. And frankly, I am angry because I just don't have time for a chronic pain diagnosis.

Chronic pain, as I have learned, changes me. That makes me angry because not many 20 year old's can resonate with chronic pain. Not many 20 year old's understand how hard it is to get out of bed in the morning when the pain is too much. Not many understand what it's like to feel alone in the way that I do. It's hard. 

I will be the first to admit that I am afraid. I am afraid of surgery again. I am afraid of recovery. I am afraid that this surgery will be another one that doesn't work and I'll have to have another surgery. I am afraid of my chronic pain because I don't like the person I become. I am afraid because I am angry, so angry, with God. 

So if you read this, I just ask that you pray. Pray for my heart to be softened as I want a relationship with Christ. I want to feel his presence and warmth. I want to understand. I don't want to hurt. I want to be okay and healthy. And I just can't understand why God would make my body, or anyone else's body like this. Pray that there is a better solution other than surgery as I don't want to go under the knife for the fifth time. Please just pray for me. And my family as this isn't easy on them either.

Thank you.

For Love Of The Game

Okay, I'll admit it. I hate Jeter. Okay, I still hate Jeter. However, I love baseball. I always have. I have met great baseball players in my lifetime including Ron Washington and Derek Holland. I also had dinner with Pudge Rodriguez for two hours and that was a beautiful day. So you could say I am a huge Rangers fan. So, I automatically despise everything to do with the Yankees. Including Derek Jeter.

I always thought Derek Jeter had this pompous, arrogant attitude about him and honestly, I hated it. I still do. He knows he is good. I guess that;s why he get paid the big bucks. However, despite how good he is, I can't stand the guy. I don't know why. He's awesome. He's talented. And honestly, if I were to see him walking down the street - I'd probably ask him for his autograph.

This year, I changed my views on DJ. I realize that he is a class act. And more importantly, DJ and I have some things in common. Derek Jeter retired from the game that he loved this season. I know that he has probably gone to bed many night exhausted and cried himself to sleep because - honestly, who in their right mind would give up the game they love. Yet, sometimes you know it's over. Sometimes you have to give it all up.

The funny thing, Derek, is that I get you. Time caught up with you. You had a successful career. You were one of the few people who can look back and say to yourself, "I made it!" Unlike some of us whose careers ended at the age of 17, Derek, you had the life that I will never have. You played the game because you loved the game. I love you for that. I love you for playing baseball. I love you for loving the game and giving 100% every time on that field. You didn't care about the money - you cared about the game.

Derek, I look forward to seeing where life takes you from here. You'll probably become a great manager or something. But even if you step away from baseball for good, know that you have a closet fan rooting for you. I never gave you the respect  you deserved. But you played the game damn well and you should be proud.

Your Story Matters

A year ago, I made up my mind to run for student body president. When campaigns began, I was confident in my platform. I wanted to bring change to this campus. Unfortunately, I lost. I was upset. I was angry. I was frustrated in something that I had worked very hard on.

A year ago, I was under the impression that the only way that changes could be made on campus was by being Student Body President.

Today, I made a change on campus without being student body president. I made a change on campus without having to ask anyone's permission. I made a change on campus by being a small, moving part to a Student Activities Committee.

Today, we observed, for probably the first time in campus history...World Suicide Prevention Day. We had an event during the last 10 minutes of chapel where we informed people about world suicide prevention day. We showed a video. And then I was invited on stage to share my heart.

Normally, college students are hard to keep quiet. They don't necessarily care about what is happening in Chapel...and for 10 minutes, no one said a word. The entire place was silent - listening intently to my heart which soon rang true for their hearts too.

Afterwards, I invited students to walk outside, grab a sharpie from our table, and write Love on their arms. Needless to say, sometimes events at HPU are hit and miss. I had already made up my mind that only a handful of students would participate. I was preparing myself for the worse yet as I walked outside, I wasn't even aware of where our table was set up because there were so many people.

I am in awe of the hearts on this campus who have listened to the call that Jesus Christ has put in our lives. I am in awe that people were interested in being informed about suicide.

All these jumbled thoughts to say that you don't have to be president to make things happen. You don't have to be a leader on campus to make things happen. You just have to want change. You just have to need change. You just have to be the change you want to see.

And if you are someone who struggles with suicide, know that you are loved. And that no one can take your place. Your story matters.

Binding Up The Wounds

Pain sucks.

I've experienced an enormous amount of pain in my life. From physical to emotional - surgery to death - I've experienced a lot compared to some 21 year olds. Yet, I feel like I haven't compared to others.

Tonight, I wanted to put pain in perspective. As a Christian, I find myself struggling with the weight of always wanting to be okay and wanting to be real. However, last year, if any resident was having a rough time and struggling with not being okay, I would simply say, "It's okay to not be okay." Yet, I can't seem to take my own advice.

My pain today is different. I watched someone I love dearly find out that someone that they love dearly was murdered. I didn't know pain until today. I didn't know what it was like to feel like your heart is being ripped out when the situation had nothing to do with me. I didn't know what it felt like to watch someone bawl their eyes out so hard that they are just out of it and done. I didn't know pain until today. 

It makes me think about my mom. My mom is an extremely incredible person. Yet, anytime I have been in pain she has always said that she feels it too. However, I never understood that/believed her. I basically lashed out any time she said that because there was no way that she was hurting like I was. Today, I apologized to my mom for being a terrible human being. Today, I understand and comprehend that pain beyond belief.

Then I think about Jesus and I can't imagine or fathom the amount of pain He endured while getting beaten on that cross. I will never have any idea. Yet, I see His sacrifice and love so much more now. I see that He truly truly truly wanted our sins to be paid for. I don't get it. I don't understand. And I sit here in unbelief that God could let something like this happen - I am reminded that sometimes, He's ready for us to come home. 

So here's to pain and all the joy that tomorrow brings.

Psalm 147:3

He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.

Unworthy Not Worthless: God's Masterpieces

So tonight, I wanted to write about my favorite book in the Bible...Ephesians. I love the way Paul talks so intimately about how God has adopted us into his FAMILY. Gosh, that gives me goosebumps.

Something I also love is this verse...

For we are God's masterpiece.

Man! That gets to me. 

It drives me nuts, especially in this day in time, that the media needs women to be slim and fit and they need men with six packs and tan bodies...when we are all unique. WE ARE GOD'S MASTERPIECES! Yet, we critique ourselves. We call ourselves ugly. We are constantly trying to change ourselves...change our appearances...pray we are skinnier, tanner, or looking for the next fad. When God made us beautiful. God made us into masterpieces.

My encouragement to all of us is to remember that the God that made us does not make mistakes. He made us flawless...in His own image.

So the next time you think about looking in a mirror to critique yourself, remember not to bash the art of the greatest artist of all time.

Love yourself...Love how God made you. 

Take It From Me: Advice From A Tattooed Twenty-Something

Sooo... For those of you who don't know - I love tattoos. My parents however are not fans. Obviously, everyone who has tattoos knows that you quickly want more after the first and the second. I've had people "give me advice" on how to hide it from my family. Here are their tips.

1) just don't tell them.
- done. Easy enough right?

2) don't post them on social media
-  once again - done. Seems easy.

3) get them in a place where they won't see them
- ding, ding, ding - we have a winner.

Obviously, option number 3 seems the best right?

Let me give you my two cents. I have been tempted to in fact, get a tattoo where my parents couldn't see it. Maybe on my ribs, on my back, or on my foot. However, you never know when something is going to happen.

Recently, I had elbow surgery and the staples made it very uncomfortable to move my arm so I didn't. So yes, my mom had to bathe me. This is where those sneaky tattoos come into place. Luckily, I didn't go and get anymore tattoos. So I didn't have to hide anything. Dodged a bullet there.

Take it from me, wait until you've graduated college, moved far away, and are a functioning member of society to get a tattoo :)