[I made this video for my last Riverbend YL talk this past spring. Ask me about it sometime. First and only time I've cried in a talk.]
No more explanation needed. This video speaks for itself.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
#tbt
I recently went through old e-mails and found one where my college application essay was attached. I took a deep breath and read it. Gut reaction: Wow. I had not outgrown it. I could practically smell the gymnasium that I describe. The setting is familiar. The character is myself. So even though this is 5 years ago, it seems like yesterday. So here's my "Throwback Thursday" (#tbt):
I shiver and pull my jacket closer as I emerge from my warm car to crisp air. Walking quickly down the sidewalk, my cold fingers fumble to find that familiar metal key.
Growing up as an athletic director’s daughter has had its share of privileges and hardships. Access to the high school gym and discounts on athletic shoes were aspects of my childhood that differed from my friends. The transition from winter to spring was marked not by melting snow and the emergence of flowers but by the shift of sports seasons. Many days were spent trudging through wet grass under a blazing hot sun toting paint and string, slowly creating lines on a field. Oftentimes Christmas Eve was spent folding and stapling programs for an upcoming basketball tournament. Uniforms strewn over the gym floor after hours of organizing and sorting represented countless Saturday afternoons. These unique experiences created an environment in our home of shared love for sports and through our times together life lessons of determination and perseverance.
Stepping into the gym lobby, the heat meets my grateful face. I walk the short distance to the gym doors, where cases of trophies mark successful seasons—some of which I had been a part. Opening the doors, I stand in the silence as memories flood my mind. Dropping my bag and walking to center court, I remember particular shots—both missed and made—as I step on a floor much-frequented by my own feet over the past eighteen years
Looking around the gym, I remember my sweat mixing with tears as the buzzer sounded on the conclusion of my junior year of basketball; the other team’s joy contrasting our feeling of defeat as I walked off the court dejected. I glance at the empty stands and remember how I had often seen them filled with students cheering for my team and coming up with clever taunts against our opponents; I remember the referee whistle as my coach screamed for us to be more aggressive. I remember an older teammate calming me down before the final play of the game that was designed for me to take the last shot. I remember the feeling of belonging I got every time I stepped onto the court and looked at the other four girls on the floor with me and at the supportive bench and realized that this is life: leaning on others yet having the strength to push yourself.
I recognized in the overwhelming silence how much sports has shaped my life. From my younger years of growing up surrounded by games and practices to my high school years creating memories with many special teams, sports has helped mold me into a better citizen, student, and athlete with a drive to succeed.
I shiver and pull my jacket closer as I emerge from my warm car to crisp air. Walking quickly down the sidewalk, my cold fingers fumble to find that familiar metal key.
Growing up as an athletic director’s daughter has had its share of privileges and hardships. Access to the high school gym and discounts on athletic shoes were aspects of my childhood that differed from my friends. The transition from winter to spring was marked not by melting snow and the emergence of flowers but by the shift of sports seasons. Many days were spent trudging through wet grass under a blazing hot sun toting paint and string, slowly creating lines on a field. Oftentimes Christmas Eve was spent folding and stapling programs for an upcoming basketball tournament. Uniforms strewn over the gym floor after hours of organizing and sorting represented countless Saturday afternoons. These unique experiences created an environment in our home of shared love for sports and through our times together life lessons of determination and perseverance.
Stepping into the gym lobby, the heat meets my grateful face. I walk the short distance to the gym doors, where cases of trophies mark successful seasons—some of which I had been a part. Opening the doors, I stand in the silence as memories flood my mind. Dropping my bag and walking to center court, I remember particular shots—both missed and made—as I step on a floor much-frequented by my own feet over the past eighteen years
Looking around the gym, I remember my sweat mixing with tears as the buzzer sounded on the conclusion of my junior year of basketball; the other team’s joy contrasting our feeling of defeat as I walked off the court dejected. I glance at the empty stands and remember how I had often seen them filled with students cheering for my team and coming up with clever taunts against our opponents; I remember the referee whistle as my coach screamed for us to be more aggressive. I remember an older teammate calming me down before the final play of the game that was designed for me to take the last shot. I remember the feeling of belonging I got every time I stepped onto the court and looked at the other four girls on the floor with me and at the supportive bench and realized that this is life: leaning on others yet having the strength to push yourself.
I recognized in the overwhelming silence how much sports has shaped my life. From my younger years of growing up surrounded by games and practices to my high school years creating memories with many special teams, sports has helped mold me into a better citizen, student, and athlete with a drive to succeed.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
P.S.
Also, I just found this unfinished blog post in the draft folder. It's from April so my last month of college:
It has really been an obnoxious amount of time since I last posted. Months have gone by in what have felt like the blink of an eye. Here's a quick run-down of major life changes since then:
--I am now a retired athlete.
--I wrote a 35-page senior thesis on violent women in Hollywood film. Ask me about it sometime.
--Emily and I took on NYC over our spring break...saw 2 Broadway shows. (I've definitely missed my calling in life.)
--Senioritis is kicking in. Sike. It's already here.
--I waitressed at a local restaurant for a month. Then I quit.
--Carol and I went swing dancing in D.C. and danced with random older men for 4 hours.
--I am sad about leaving Riverbend.
--I miss London.
--I'm going to be in D.C. next year! Doing the Falls Church Fellows Program.
It has really been an obnoxious amount of time since I last posted. Months have gone by in what have felt like the blink of an eye. Here's a quick run-down of major life changes since then:
--I am now a retired athlete.
--I wrote a 35-page senior thesis on violent women in Hollywood film. Ask me about it sometime.
--Emily and I took on NYC over our spring break...saw 2 Broadway shows. (I've definitely missed my calling in life.)
--Senioritis is kicking in. Sike. It's already here.
--I waitressed at a local restaurant for a month. Then I quit.
--Carol and I went swing dancing in D.C. and danced with random older men for 4 hours.
--I am sad about leaving Riverbend.
--I miss London.
--I'm going to be in D.C. next year! Doing the Falls Church Fellows Program.
Emoción
Hello. A huge reason I am actually writing right now is because I know the chances of anyone reading this is slim. Yes, I'm putting it on my blog. But this blog also has had 0 views in the past few months. My last post was after my "last" first club talk at RHS in Fall 2012. Crazy. So any type of readership I had attained after London has waned. With just reason. I've been silent this year. Not because I've had nothing to say. In fact, it was the opposite. The emotional roller coaster of senior year and summer after senior year and then (surprise!) the roller coaster I'm experiencing even now all could've been greatly helped, I suppose, if I had processed through writing more. But instead, I did what I do [oh-so-well, I might add] and bottled it up. Then was straight-up with a few friends. Then bottled it up. Then dumped it out. Repeat. Cycle. Repeat.
Emotionally, I am in a weird place. Anything having to do with youth ministry, and I'm fighting back tears. Anything with music and Jesus, and I'm struggling to hold it together. Yet I feel distant from Him. What the heck.
Here's what I know. Jesus loves me. So much. He is with me. He walks to the Metro with me in the morning and rides it into Downtown D.C. He sits at a desk with me from 9am to 5pm and whispers truth as I battle the lies that flood me: "You're not making a difference. These tasks are menial in light of eternity." I am His. I give Him glory and honor and praise in doing my job excellently. I will not waste this year. Comparing friendships, wishing away my job, dreaming of London or YL.....no. I will be present. I will fight for joy. In where He has placed me.
Random, I know. But honest. Thank you, sweet Jesus, for the cross. May my life be a "thank you."
It's been four months since graduation. I'm just going to deal with this timeline because I get overwhelmed looking even farther back. This summer was one of exposure. And not in a good way. I haven't really liked a lot of stuff in my heart. In these past few months, my crap has been out to play. My sin has been rampant. It's been both hidden and named. I have been swept up by it many times. Overwhelmed at depravity. Sick of lostness. Tired. Tired. Tired. Doing good all the time. Held up as an "example" and a "leader." But so tired of the cycle. The cycle of the muck in my heart and how it lingers. Like a guest at a party that is roaming around, spreading lies and rumors and all you want is for that person to leave. So you show them to the door. Because they don't belong at the party. But they laugh and keep walking around. Keep spreading death with each conversation, with each look. Sucks the life right out of you.
Here's what I know. Jesus loves me. So much. He is with me. He walks to the Metro with me in the morning and rides it into Downtown D.C. He sits at a desk with me from 9am to 5pm and whispers truth as I battle the lies that flood me: "You're not making a difference. These tasks are menial in light of eternity." I am His. I give Him glory and honor and praise in doing my job excellently. I will not waste this year. Comparing friendships, wishing away my job, dreaming of London or YL.....no. I will be present. I will fight for joy. In where He has placed me.
Random, I know. But honest. Thank you, sweet Jesus, for the cross. May my life be a "thank you."
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