There's a first time for everything.

The other night my mom told me that I was a diva. She might or might not have been justified in such name-calling, but we'll get to that in a minute. I would argue against the title because would a diva go to Target in her Southern hometown on a Saturday afternoon without a trace of make-up on her face? Doubtful. Speaking of, I really need to stop such antics before there's unnecessary chatter and speculation that I'm down with some sort of terminal illness. Unless practicality over not wasting a day's worth of make-up for a 15 minute trip to the Target pharmacy constitutes terminal illness. While I'm on the subject of the Target pharmacy, I just got a phone call from them informing me that the insurance company refuses to pay for my Differin gel because I'm over the age of 30. Really? Is this what health care reform is going to look like? Because I can promise no one wants to look like the un-medicated version of my jaw line. [Good thing I'm building my mother's case in my own very weak argument against it.]

Anywho, for those of you who accidentally stumbled upon this post while searching for "Target Black Friday deals" or something equally as important, I'm temporarily back in my mother's house until I figure out what zip code I want for my next one. Quick review:

• I haven't lived in my mother's house since 1997.
• I haven't shared living space with anyone for more than a couple of weeks at a time since 2003.

So maybe some of you are wondering how all of this is going. My dog loves it:

The cat hates it:

 

I plead the 5th.

 

Is it ideal? Absolutely not, but good heavens, what an easy problem to have, in the grand scheme of problems. I have a roof over my head and a mother who would open her door for any of her children no matter what. Yes, I had better check myself before I wreck myself.

 

My mother can only get away with calling me a diva because she's a saint. I once said so in a Mother's Day post here and 4 years later, it's still true. We absolutely have our differences, but that's probably why in the long run this whole little phase will be more manageable than it could have been. So why did she call me that in the first place? Because my 14 year old brother refused to use his own bathroom and took over mine. When all I wanted to do was slather on some acne cream and take out my contacts and go to bed like any other hip and happening early-30-something bunking at her mom's house. Good. Lord.

 

While I'm on the topic of moving back home, I'll note a few other observations for the sake of posterity because one day this will all be a fuzzy memory and I'll be whining about why I didn't take advantage of this time while I had it.

 

The city has made me soft. Target is now a 40 minute venture round trip. I have to drive somewhere to go running. I miss local restaurants. I miss living less than 5 minutes from a Starbucks no matter which direction I go. I miss my hip and trendy mega-church right beside my little apartment.

 

To be fair, rural living has its own charm. What's not charming about coyotes howling in the distance or random shotgun fire while out walking the dog either late at night [coyotes] or just after sunrise [shotguns - it's gun season, you know]? Word to the wise: Never watch The Walking Dead at 9:00 and then walk the dog when living in the middle of nowhere. Never. Ever. The leaves are much more colorful and pretty. The Blue Ridge mountains stretch along the horizon. I can easily pick out the constellations because the stars are brighter. The air is probably a little clearer. But I think I've decided it's this kind of stuff that long weekends are for. At least at this stage in the game for me. Mama asked me the other day if I would raise kids in the city. To which I blithely responded, 'why not?' But where I'm going to raise my unborn babies is the last thing on my mind these days. I'm much more concerned about finding my stone loaf pans before Thanksgiving at this particular moment. Besides something makes me think that I don't have to worry about raising babies anytime soon as long as my living arrangements match those of Howard Wolowitz.

The Matter of Faith.

There's an unanswered email in my inbox from October 22. In the grand scheme of things, not that many days have passed since the 22nd but more than I typically allow to go by before a response. The primary reason for my delay is that in the email, there's a question about my faith. Specifically, my faith in relation to this new career move that I've recently made.

On more than one occasion I've tried to blog or journal about my faith. Sure, it's been an underlying theme in many of my posts but not once have I ever been able to successfully share in a clear, succinct manner my story in regards to my beliefs. Perhaps a reason why is because for me, faith has never been a clear or succinct topic. When I'm really honest, the best way I know to summarize my personal faith is an infinite loop of belief and doubt.

Dictionary.com defines faith as:

1. confidence or trust in a person or thing

2. belief that is not based on proof

3. belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion

4. belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit, etc.

5. a system of religious belief

 

Hebrews 11:1 defines faith as the "substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

 

I spent most of my Sunday mornings during childhood on a wooden church pew but refused to say that Jesus was my savior until the summer before I went to college. It was 7 years after that before I finally took the plunge publicly through baptism. I didn't say that he wasn't my savior- I just didn't say anything. Why? Because I was afraid of being wrong. I let the "what-if's" rule. I needed to see it to believe it. By nature, I am a pretty logical person and I've always had the tendency to think through multiple scenarios to determine potential outcomes. [No wonder my friends stopped inviting me to all the cool, fun parties during high school.] I determined that the only way that I would really know for sure, for sure that he was would be when eternity became my reality. By then though it would be too late to come back and say "hey everybody, guess what, it's true" so I was in a bit of a conundrum. By both sets of definitions above, it doesn't take Sheldon Cooper to conclude that I was a person bound to struggle with faith. [And if anybody knows about conflict between logic and faith, it's Sheldon Cooper.]

 

For me, faith is a very, very personal matter. Sure, it's worthy of conversation and we are absolutely supposed to share our stories of faith, but I've got pretty strong convictions as to the when, hows, and whys when it comes to discussing it. Some folks will cringe and tsk, tsk when they read this. Others will be thankful. It's a subject that is a challenge for me to talk or write about for multiple reasons: I'm not very Bible savvy. [Yes, I know the remedy for that.] I'm forced to become more vulnerable when I talk about it because my faith has evolved as a result life experience. [We're all just like onions with multiple layers. Ever slice open an onion? Exactly.] Faith is continuous. I love to be able to tell something from start to finish so that I can make the connections as to hows and the whys, but my faith journey will end when my life on this earth does so that's impossible to tell from start to finish [Lucky for you, my 3 readers, because could you imagine how ridiculously long that blog post would be?!?!] And finally, I don't really feel like a very good example of someone with great faith. I've always tried to be a good example but throw me under a microscope and there's plenty of room for improvement. [I finally found my Bible the other day. I was more concerned about unearthing my coffee maker in the great move.]

Here's what I've come to understand about faith thus far:

• I do not have all the answers.
• If I had the answers, I would have no need for faith.
• I need it. I think we're naturally wired to need it.
• It's ok to live by both logic and faith, but there are some things that cannot be logically explained or understood. Each element has its rightful place. Knowing how to employ both is key.
• My faith cannot be contingent upon a what's in it for me attitude. Because what's in it for me may be only a small portion of a much bigger and more important plan. I'm learning [and trying] to become less selfish with my own agenda and let go of it for a much better one. That doesn't mean that I have to completely abandon my hopes and dreams. I think we are absolutely supposed to have them. I just can't be so narrow minded that I don't allow the possibility of something unimaginable to happen. Expect the unexpected. Let's just say that I'm a work a progress. A very slow, stubborn work in progress.
• My God is faithful to me when I have none. Evidence: There have been plenty of situations that I could not figure out how I was ever going to move beyond. [In 2 years or maybe even 2 months I will go back and read the previous sentence and roll my eyes at such a "pit of despair" proclamation. I love hindsight.] Sure I've gotten tripped up along the way but not once have I stalled out completely. That's not my own doing. 

Sure, I wish I knew the purpose in this move or why I'm here in this particular place at this particular time, but I've also learned not to look so hard for those kinds of answers. I may not ever fully know all the reasons or details. I'm a rat running in a wheel if I try to speculate and fit my present into a prescribed set of reasons to determine what this is leading to before I get there. I'm continously perplexed as to how my decisions and the master plan intersect, collide, or run parallel with each other. Try as I might, I will never reconcile this great mystery.  Thank God for faith.

People are weird, weird, weird.

When I was in college, one of my Psychology professors would declare that at least once during every class. The course was Abnormal Psych so I walked away from that upper division course with an understanding that people are in fact, weird. I love that I went to college to study a topic that the rest of society acknowledges as common sense. Anywho, I'm in the middle of a blog post that I just cannot finish because it's forcing me to think and feel and be transparent so in the interim on a lighter note, I'm sharing evidence that people are in fact weird.

My friend Jenny is the source of inspiration for today's post because she enjoys looking at the key word searches for her blog in the stats as much as I do. [I love that I have friends who are almost as nerdy as me!]

Here is a snapshot of this week's key word searches that led strangers from the unknown to stumble upon this little blog of mine:

These are almost as good as the "sexy senior citizens", "chocolate lab tattoos", and "I'm a new smoker" searches from days of yore.

Oh the wisdom of Dr. Jim Coone that was lost on the 21 year-old version of me: "People are weird, weird, weird."

Full.

On my last day of work at The OC, I was serenaded by a tap-dancing chicken. Clarification: it was actually a person dressed in a chicken suit but y'all: a singing, tap-dancing chicken came to work and sang...to me. That's one of those once-in-a-lifetime events that as much fun as it is in the moment, it's just as fun to talk about it later. There's video documentation of this whole occasion floating around Facebook, but here's a still shot:

Shortly after the video was posted I got a text from a BFF that said "you look extremely uncomfortable in the dancing chicken video. It's hilarious." She was correct on both counts. I loved the dancing chicken, but I was rendered utterly speechless when it was happening. [Please see pic above as evidence of my natural awkwardness.] As I was looking around the office surrounded by the people I had worked with for the last 5 years, not only was I at a loss for words, I was completely and totally humbled that they had orchestrated something so fantastic specifically for me. I felt so undeserving. I still do.

When the song and dance was over with all eyes on me, I realized that I was going to have to say something. It's times like these when one-dimensional words never do justice to what I'm feeling on the inside. The only way that I know to describe it is that I just feel full. Like, filled to the brim with joy and appreciation and love and well, emotion...full. I tried my best to verbally communicate that but I'm not a very polished impromptu speaker because I tend to think about a conversation or event even after it's done. I need time to respond to something. Factor in the tears and it was just a bit of a mess. Places you will never find me: participating in a political debate. In that particular moment, I was full.

It's only been one week since I left the little city that I slowly grew to love. Yesterday I scheduled some meetings and appointments in town to coincide with election day, and I had a work event in town today. This evening as I was driving out of town, I realized that I could not stop the tears that were once again determined to fall. I would be lying if I said that there was not a single trace of sadness in them, but mainly it was because I was just full after two very full days. It's one of the best feelings I know.

Last Thursday at family dinner, my cousin Kyle looked at me and asked "So what's the plan, Heather?". Frankly, these days I cringe at that question, but as I was driving tonight, I realized [ok, I realized it a long time ago, perhaps " finally admitted" is more appropriate] that for far too long I have been so focused on getting to the future and the next item on the agenda that I tend to look at individual days as "just another sleep until..." instead of individual and unique 24 hour increments of time that I will only get once. So the plan right now is to try my hardest to have a full day. Each day. Sure, not every day will include a singing and dancing chicken, but something standard like a 2.5 hour conversation with the stylist at the salon can factor into the equation for a full day if we allow it to. [Yes, I was in the chair for 2.5 hours yesterday. No, my hair looks nothing like Jennifer Aniston's.]

Very, very slowly I'm learning that the best days are the ones that cannot be summarized by checking items off of a to-do list. And this is coming from a girl who loves checking items off of a to-do list as a measure of accomplishment. The best days are ones that are felt in a way that cannot be described any other way but as being "full".

My cup runneth over.

Soundtrack: What happened to 92.9 & 96.1 Edition?

[The title is less thematic and more of a question.]

Remember how back in January I declared to blog more this year than last? I'm not certain that I'm going to accomplish that goal because we all know that sooner as opposed to later I'll run out of things to say for a little while. I suspect that some of you are hoping that "sooner" comes very soon. The good news is that even when I'm yammering on endlessly here in the blogosphere, my preference is actually to listen. Well, to some extent. More on that later. Today I bring you some of my current favorite tunes that is music to my ears.

Madness - Muse. I like this song almost as much as Uprising. And that concludes my comprehensive knowledge of Muse-ic.

Midnight on the Interstate - Trampled by Turtles. Where do these groups come up with their names these days? I mean, seriously. For instance...

Man on Fire - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Ringtones. I heard this song on Parenthood, I think. Who here is watching Parenthood this season? I love the Braverman family. I do not love that Christina has cancer though because my eyes are red-rimmed and puffy at the end of every episode. Sometimes I forget that the Braverman family isn't real, but then it doesn't make me feel any better when I remember that they are not because there are real families everywhere dealing with the same issues this television family deals with each week. The Braverman's just have the luxury of living it with cool theme music in the background.

One More Night - Maroon 5. Since my first true love - Justin Timberlake - recently married, I decided it's time to crush on a new musician. I'm not typically one for super inked up bodies and skinny jeans but Adam Levine wears both quite well.

Stars  - Grace Potter & the Nocturnals. I'm always jealous of a girl that can play both the guitar AND piano. Or just one of those instruments for that matter. My parents should have forced me to learn how to play a musical instrument. Darn them for letting me choose my extracurricular activities!

The Once & Future Carpenter - The Avett Brothers. Seth and Scott are two of my favorites but watching Joe Kwon the crazy cellist play during their live shows is probably one of the primary reasons I saw them three times in less than a year. I also love the rich meaning found in their lyrics. Particularly the message in this song.

Babel - Mumford & Sons. I'm talking about the entire album, not just that title track. I love, love, love Mumford & Sons. I declare this one better than Sigh No More. If my daddy could hear me declare my love for a banjo-centric group such as this, he would roll his eyes and shake his head because I always complained endlessly when he would listen to anything with a banjo in it. I can't declare a favorite song, but I do love Ghosts That We Knew mainly for the arrangement of stringed instrument goodness in the middle of it (I am quite skilled at speaking technically, aren't I?). It's like church for me. While I'm on the topic of church...

Jesus Paid It All - the Kristian Stanfill version. I'm not a girl that really likes to show emotion in church but it never fails: I cannot listen to this song live without crying at least one tear, sometimes two.

Stubborn Love - The Lumineers. How ironic that a song with this title follows a song about unconditional love in my little line-up. 

Striking Matches...Y'all. Their new EP is out! Now. Check out their website to see for yourself all of the exciting happenings that is going on with them right now. I am so proud of them! A song of theirs will be on that new show Nashville on ABC very soon. They are kind of a big deal on iTunes right now. They've always been kind of a big deal to me.

Two Step - DMB. This one never gets old. It's certainly a sweet life, isn't it?

Home - Phillip Phillips. Let's ignore the fact that it's from American Idol and that it was on every single Olympic commercial back in the summer. If this song doesn't make your heart full of happy, then we need to work on that.

Free/Into the Mystic - ZBB with a hint of Jimmy Buffett. I always love a good cover musical mash-up. This is one of my very favorites.
 
Till the World Ends - Britney Spears. So sue me, I kind of love Britney. Dance on, fellow fans.

A couch. A camping chair. A crate.

While today's subject line does sound like an element of a bad joke, it's really just the main contents of my apartment these days. What can I say, what I lack in accessible worldly possessions, I make up for in written words here on the blog.

I am continuously grateful for my fantastic family for coming to help me load everything up and carry it to the next [still undetermined] destination. Something makes me think this guy's appreciation isn't as great.
He's less than enthused to not have the foot of the bed to sleep on for the next week. Take a number, buddy, I'm less than enthused to not have a bed to sleep in the for the next week.
Cash the wonder Lab knows something is up, and he will not let me out of his sight. Which really is no different than the last 4 years of my life now that I think about it.

At least I have options in the event sofa sleeping becomes too much of a first world problem for me to continue to endure. Seems that I've got a friendly neighbor. When I went out to leave on Sunday morning, this was on my windshield:

Poor guy really had no way of predicting that grammatical shortcuts are a major turn-off for me. You know, because otherwise leaving random anonymous notes with a phone number on an old gas receipt is how I've always imagined the future Mr. Heather Page would make his introduction.

When Ethan came over on Sunday night and I showed him the picture, he giggled and giggled like a school girl. I'm not sure what was so funny, the fact that someone showed interest in his sister or that he was thinking of all the times he tried a similar tactic and it didn't work for him either. He didn't laugh too long though because he's smart and knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him. During our most recent dinner outing, we had fun brother-sister bonding served with a side of cardiac arrest:

I can't believe he's been in Athens since August and hadn't discovered The Grill yet. Of course, I should probably be thankful that he hasn't because we all know what conditions make for the most enjoyable trips there.

It's officially my last full week as an Athens resident. It's bittersweet but I'm excited because I still have a couple of more fun stops to go before I finally head out for good. [Until week after next when I'm back in town 2 days in a row.] The last few weeks have been fantastic. Great times at great places with great people. I think one of the main takeaways from my "farewell tour" is that when I get to where I'm going next, I hope to remember to treat it as if I'm already on my way out of town. It's so easy to take people and opportunities and fun for granted because we can always find time for that tomorrow or next week or the next. Until suddenly we can't and there's more people and opportunties and fun to be had than there is time to have it.

Carpe diem, indeed. 

Advanced Education.

The song stuck in my head on today's run was "It's Time" by Imagine Dragons. It's a current fave but on this particular day, the last part of the chorus set off a little debate in my head. It goes like this: "but then I'll admit I'm just the same as I was / Now don't you understand that I'm never changing who I am"

The question that came to my mind was should we change who we are? Because never is a pretty strong word. The deep philosophical conclusion that I arrived at fairly quickly somewhere around mile 2 was that it depends.

Then I started thinking about it within the context of my own life. Fact: In 10ish days, I'm leaving this town a changed person from the girl who arrived here 5ish years ago. I moved here for the purpose of advanced education. My goal was to be here 2.5 years. Max. It was a means to an end that would in theory broaden my career opportunities with the added bonus of my boss finally hushing up about how I needed to go back to school. Because I came here with that goal, I suffered from a pretty severe case of tunnel vision until I finally graduated [a semester behind schedule] and realized that it was ok to like, even love, where I was at even though I had determined in the beginning that I would not.  

So, yeah, about that advanced education that brought me to Athens. Unbeknownst to me, I was in for so much more than I had imagined. I will always remember Dahlonega as the town where I lived when I became a "grown up". My first real job, my first apartment, my first apartment without a roomate. I cannot say for certain yet, but I think Athens is going to be remembered as the town where I lived when I gained an understanding of what it means to live. Not physical breathing and eating and sleeping, but actually living. Because I've lived many years waiting to start living. Does that make sense? Probably not, but we all get trapped in the "I'll do this when..." cycle every once in awhile. I was trapped in it for a long while.

I'm sure years from now I'll still be tracing lessons learned back to this stage of  life but before I shift my attention to the next stage, I feel it necessary to document a few big ones now for posterity to ensure they do not get lost in the shuffle. Plus, you would quickly be bored out of your gourd if I documented them all here in the public domain.

As trite as it sounds, Faith, Hope, and Love hit the highlights.

Faith. I learned that it's pretty easy to say that you have it until something big happens that brings it into question. Never have I read, journaled, questioned and studied my faith like I have here. Talk about higher education.

Hope. I learned that as long as we have hope, we have a chance to make tomorrow better than today. I learned that it's hope that enables you to survive the things that until you're in the middle of them, you would have never been able to imagine experiencing. I have learned those unimaginable experiences are quite subjective and different for everyone so our compassion is much more necessary than our judgment.

Love. I learned what it means to love another person more than myself. This was a biggie for me. I learned that it's risky. I learned that it's worth the risk. I learned to let down walls and be loved. This was a biggie for me too. It's risky too. Worth it? You bet.

So back to my original question and answer. I think if we refuse to change, we are refusing the opportunity to grow. If we change for the wrong reasons, we will never grow. If our ears and nose never stop growing, why should our brains and our hearts?
 

Girl Should Not Live On Cookies Alone.

When I'm stressed out I do one of the following: run, bake, and write.
Saturday, I ran 8.5 miles and wrote some notes. Sunday, I baked 4 dozen cookies. Monday, I ran 3.5 miles. Today, I'm blogging. And I just offered to bake pumpkin bread for a pal to take to a breakfast tomorrow.
It's nice to know that my coping mechanisms are fully functional.

While I'm on the subject of stress, let's just go ahead and get a few things straight. Sure, I'm twirling my hair and wondering how in the world I'm ever going to get every single thing on my to-do list accomplished. [A good start would be to get off of the silly internet.] Yes, that's stressful. BUT, it's not "your dad has a 10% chance of living through the night" stressful. I've experienced both types, and I've learned that when one is in a really critical, stress-inducing situation, one does not have time to document miles ran and cookies baked on a blog. In other words, I'm not complaining. I believe the term for this they teach the youngsters in Health Psychology class is "eustress". I suspect that the term which best describes me right now is "frazzled" or "Liz Lemon". Because it's normal to unknowingly drop your keys when walking the dog in the morning only to return back to your locked door before realizing something is missing, right? And then you get to retrace your steps completely while on the hunt for said keys. In the rain. Or refer to a male coworker as "Ms." in a printed document for a little event that I'm responsible for planning at work. Hello, Monday. You really should come around more often.

My Monday continued when I returned my defective running shoes that I had previously ordered online to the local sporting goods store in my future town. If you are my FB friend, you've already seen the bang up job the postman did of hiding them upon delivery:

I still giggle when I think about his decision to put the doormat over a gigantic box as a cover. While at the store, I learned that they have been discontinued and it was that pair or nothing. I might have grieved the loss by swearing off running for good and drowning my sorrows in a Five Guys cheeseburger. I'm super stoked to start the hunt for a new favorite running shoe because I have about as much success in that area as I do in finding an intelligent and charming man who appreciates my sardonic wit and humor. Hmmm, maybe one works at the shoe store. Two birds, one stone. Oh how I love efficiency.

For dinner last night I had some of the cookies that I baked on Sunday. They really complemented that burger from lunch. That is one thing that I don't mind about being a little bit stressed because my metabolism responds by morphing into that of a 14 year-old boy's. I can eat and eat and eat and not gain an ounce. It's deee-light-ful. The other day I took the baby brother to lunch and ate more than he did. He's 19 and looks like this:

Tall and skinny [and incredibly adorably cute but I'm a big sister so of course I could be biased]. I am particularly fond of this picture because it was taken recently and he's wearing a shirt of mine from when I was in the 9th grade. In fact that's really the only reason why I'm including the picture. What? Didn't every girl from Georgia go through a future-lumberjack stage and wear flannels from American Eagle? It was only a phase, people. I'm a total girly girl. I've always admired Ethan for his ahem, sense of style. Down to the black crew socks with shorts and Sperry's. Lord bless the middle child. Anywho, back to my metabolism. I try not to take it or my good health for granted and abuse it so I must check myself before I wreck myself and abstain from eating cookies for dinner 3 nights in a row. Starting tomorrow. I'll probably run out of cookies between now and then anyway.

One Bourbon. One Scotch. One Beer.

Perhaps you're wondering why the title of today's post is inspired by a song that my mind most commonly associates with George Thorogood's voice. You really shouldn't waste your time wondering such things, but the truth is I would like two of each, please, bartender. I suspect just half of one though would send me straight into a state of slumber that would make Rip Van Winkle look like a power napper.

 

See this?

 

It is a snapshot of my work desktop earlier today. Ridiculous. Yes, one could argue that what is even more ridiculous is that I stopped to document this nonsense. The snipping tool accessory is my new favorite discovery though so I make the most of every opportunity to use it. [And that's why you should elect me Queen of the Nerd Herd!]

This is a fantastic illustration of my current state of affairs. Lots of important things to do. Lots of things that I want to address. Yet I'm dragging my feet because while I know that there cool things ahead in some new windows, I still really like my current view. So I want to keep them open a little longer.

Insane Courage.

So, remember my last post about Stone Paths? I wrote it as a reminder to myself. Actually many of my posts serve that purpose because if I put it here instead of in a journal there's a little bit more accountability to actually walk the talk I'm so good at talking.

Here's the deal: I am dug in with both heels on my current stone. I wrote that post late Friday night when I should have been sleeping [or packing boxes]. In fact, I should be packing boxes right now or at least chipping away at something on my to-do list that is so complex it closely resembles an org chart of the soon-to-be consolidated institution I know and love dearly. There is nothing about me that wants to leave Athens. I'll write about that irony another day.

On Sunday I went to church and I'm a little surprised the bulletin didn't say "Dear Heather, listen closely 'cause this one's for you." because hello, relevant. Now, if you happen to be reading this and the word "church" makes you break out into hives, stay with me. Please. I promise not to preach. Thank you.

Have you guys ever seen "We Bought a Zoo"? I haven't either. However the current series at church is titled "20 Seconds of Courage" inspired by a part in this movie. Here's the hyperlink if you want to catch the under a minute snippet. The point is that Matt Damon's character is talking to his son [I think] and tells him "You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it."

When I'm really honest with myself, I know that there are times and situations when I'm driven more by fear than courage. It's nothing that I'm exactly proud to shout from the rooftop but it's me...HP. Now I'm not talking about conspiracy theory bury all of your money in coffee cans in the backyard type of fear. I'm talking about the fear of being told no or rejected therefore I just choose not to try. Sure, it may be great that I am hardly ever told no, but I have significantly limited my potential for "yes". I get that the person I'm hurting more than anyone is myself but good heavens, who all am I not helping as a result of this mindset? It's quite ridiculous when I actually type out the words.

At some point in the sermon the pastor mentioned that today is the day of salvation and I honestly kind of stopped listening for a few minutes because I was busy writing the following in my journal:
Today is the day of confession.
Today is the day of surrender.
Today is the day of obedience.
Today is the day to choose faith over fear.
Today is the day of freedom.

I think it's fear that often prevents us from confession, surrender, and obedience which is turn prohibits us from living a life where we are free to live courageously. We're afraid someone may find out there actually is a heart under a tough as nails surface. We're afraid that if we stand up for what we believe in, we will be shunned by the people we want to like and respect us. We're afraid that if we stop trying to control circumstances then our lives will spin completely and totally out of control. We're afraid to let go of our own agenda to take hold of a better one. By "we", I mean "I'. I'm guilty of all of those things and it's quite exhausting to let fear lead.

Sure, having courage can generate a type of fear too, but it's typically pretty temporary when we experience the outcome of showing courage. I have much more regret over decisions made in fear than actions taken in courage. So, if we truly believed that showing just 20 seconds of insane courage would lead to something great, what would we accomplish? We can hold our breath for 20 seconds and live to tell about it. This means we can be courageous for 20 seconds and live to tell about it too. [Most of the time. Unless your definition of courage involves only actions taken by Evel Kneivel.]

What does 20 seconds of courage look like?
Saying yes to an unknown future filled with potential that is yet to be seen?
Saying no to instant gratification in exchange for something better a little further down the road? Calling a friend and saying "I'm sorry"?
Calling a loved one and saying "I forgive you"?
Asking her out for coffee?
Telling him you're just not that into him?
Texting "99999" to a disaster relief agency?
Committing to volunteer somewhere outside of your comfort zone?
Admitting you were wrong?
Recognizing and celebrating the accomplishment of someone in your circle?

The possibilities are quite limitless. I actually need a few minutes of courage to catch up on some things that I have been allowing to hold me back. It doesn't matter where I start, as long as I start. So um, please remind me of this, ok? Thanks.

Fill in the blank: Today is the day of _________________________. Go ahead. Go insane.

"This is my command - Be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." -Joshua 1:9