Great Expectations

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Countless studies have been done to evaluate the impact expectations have on people's performance.

What is expected of us all our lives is probably what we'll do while we're young. If your parents expect you to do your chores and do well in school, you'll probably do it. If they don't care, chances are neither will you. Of course, every instance is different; sometimes we go the exact opposite route than the one expected of us. But that just further proves that expectations have a huge impact on what we do, no matter how they influence our decisions.

In the world today, there has been a definite shift downwards in the expectations we have for one of the most important things in the world; love.

People go to shady places, meet perfect strangers, and go home with them. They live together till it gets hard, than they break up. They have countless affairs and than wonder why their marriage has gone downhill. They go around procreating children, and than are shocked when they actually have children.

Its a lack of greater expectations that results in settling for anything.

*WARNING I AM ABOUT TO STEAL AN EXAMPLE!* If you could have a five star dinner at a glamorous, comfortable restaurant for the rest of your life, why would you go eat scraps out of a rusty, moldy dumpster just because it feels good in the moment and you can see it, touch it, experience it now?

Today, while my mom, who holds great, beautiful standards and expectations for me, was driving me home from work, I heard the song Can't Live Without, by Blake Wise.

The refrain of this song pretty much summed up everything I hold dear to my heart, everything I feel, everything I hope for.

Because it's true.

I'm not looking for someone to live with.

I'm looking for someone I can't live without.

Those are my expectations.

Skeletons

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There are skeletons in the closet.

I never invited them, but hiding them was no good. They only rattle around at night, and stick their heads out when I'm not expecting it. They reach their bony hands out and grab me as I walk past when I've forgotten them. They seem to always want their presence known.

Skeletons aren't like weeds, or pests, or aggravating people. They're already dead, but they never go away. They'll always be there, unless you face them and and come to a place where you aren't afraid of them anymore. And even then, at the darkest parts of the night, you may still hear a little rattling behind your shoes and the dust bunnies and old Barbie collection in the deepest, dustiest corner of the closet.

Skeletons can dictate the way we live. We can go out of our way to avoid them, and hide them from people we want to impress, or people we're afraid won't love us if they know who we really are. Skeletons feed on fear. We're afraid of them, but they're only there because of our fear.

What can defeat a skeleton?

If you ask your skeletons, clearly, they aren't going to tell you. But there's another skeleton...the one inside of you. The one that holds you together and keeps you standing. The one that's alive and fighting, not just wallowing in darkness, feeding on fear.

You are stronger than the skeletons. They don't want you to know that, and sometimes, they're right. It isn't always true.

It takes more than a skeleton within to make a person stand.

It also takes everything the skeleton holds; the heart, the brain, the muscles, the will, the passion, the courage, the soul. No skeleton can stand without these.

And when you take it away from the skeleton in the closet, he won't be able to stand, either.

The song Skeletons, by The Eli Young Band, really expresses the way I feel about my future right now. Everything you will do will in some way be effected by what you have already done.

And you just have to pray you'll always have someone who loves you, and doesn't mind the skeletons in your closet...because they'll probably have some of their own.

I'll Probably Put You in a Book Someday

I need this shirt. I currently don't have a ton of money for my own personal leisure, but MAN! That's going on my wish list.

I have this weird little quirk about me (that annoys most of my sisters), where I'll see a person and go, "Oh. I have got to put this person in a book someday!!"

Because there are some pretty epic people in the world who would make for fabulous literature.

Three examples (all guys, strangely enough) would be Hank, from our youth group, who has the most expressive face and the most amazing sense of humor. Than there's two of my co-workers, who both have that amazing 'I'm an incredible person whose only working at this grocery store to serve you and make money for my unbelievably awesome dreams' vibe.

And than the random stranger, who has a great beard, an awesome hat, wicked combat boots, or just has this swagger that creates an entire personality for them in your mind!

As I get better and better at writing, I search more and more outside of myself for my characters. The plot can come straight from the depths of my soul, but if every character in my books come from me, they're all going to be cripplingly similar.

If you want to write, be observant. Notice random things about people that reveal their depth. Like the guy who locks his keys in his truck, and doesn't hesitate to climb in the back window and use a broom to hit the switch to unlock the door. Or the little old lady whose practicing giving a hard time on you for when her daughter gets home. Or the girl who holds an oven mitt with a teddy bear on it up to her face and asks if you see the resemblance.

People are amazing creatures. We all have the most obnoxiously delightful little quirks. There's only so much you can come up with on your own. For instance, in one of my books, the female main character, Georgie, is pretty much straight out of my brain and even crazier than I am. Her best friend, Cody, has little things about him from all of  my best friends, like his sarcasm his sense of adventure and his concern for Georgie. He is a much more complex and well-developed character than he would have been if I had just scrounged up a stereo-typical guy from my imagination.

I love character development. You get to write down all these little things about your character until you know everything about them, and half that stuff won't even end up in the book! And all those little things come from people...maybe even YOU.  Because I'll probably put you in a book someday.

i don't deserve this love

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Does someone ever go completely, ridiculously out of their way, just for you, so that you can be happy?

Oh, man...I pray everyone has that, at least once. It's the most amazing, convicting feeling in the world.

Earlier this week, my mom and the mom of my best friend in the whole wide world each drove completely out of their way, six hours total, so that my best friend and I could see each other for three hours.

I met my bestest friend ever nine years ago. When we were ten, she and her family moved about four states away, and we went from seeing each other as frequently as twice a month to once a year. Its been really hard, and sometimes I feel like we're losing touch entirely.

But every single time we get back together, it's like we were never apart. We scream. We hug. We make a hysterical scene (usually in public...sometimes we even run in front of buses!). And than we move on and talk each other's ears off and do random stuff and just be together. When you love somebody so much for so long, just their presence is like having a twelve hour party with root beer floats and pinatas!

Living four states away, these get-togethers can be unreasonably scarce.

Enter the Moms.

They love us so much. I mean, really. Who in their right mind drives six hours so their daughter can wander around a mall with her best friend for three hours?

People who love you.

I don't deserve this much love. If love was something that had to be earned, most of us would be sad, lonely, and wholly loathed by our parents and acquaintances.

But love is not a reward; its a gift.

Once, a very awesome guy (hi, Bob!) said something that struck me very much; "You can never repay love. You can only give it away."

Love transcends value. It transcends reality. You would (or...should) never give someone a million dollars every time they cleaned their room just because you liked them. But for no reason whatsoever, my parents will hug me or kiss me, remind me how much they love me and how proud they are of me.

Me, the person who can't seem to get anything together in her life! Me, the emotional red-haired fruitcake with communication issues! Me. They love me. Not for what I can do, or what I can produce, or how I can repay them for the ridiculous things they do for me (like driving those six hours).

That's priceless. And they're giving it away.

Digging for Gold

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Lately, I've been having an identity crisis, and digging for gold.

I tell myself I only want the truth, but I know better. Inside, I'd settle for a beautiful lie so no one would have to be hurt. Which is maybe the worst thing of all.

But still, in spite of my fear that the truth will hurt me, or someone I love, I want to know it. I seek it out, maybe subconsciously.

I want to know what love really is. I want to know who can be trusted. I want to know how many seeds are in the average pomegranate. I want to know how a digital camera really works. I want to know who invented hot glue guns. I want to pretend I don't know that a chocolate covered cherry isn't really injected with the gooey syrup...stupid reactionary science in food. I want to know that everything will be OK. I want to know that someone I love will never, ever leave me. I want to know that if they do leave, it's for a good reason, and something even better is just out of sight.

Most of all...I want to know who I am.

It's become an obsession of mine recently to discover why I am the way I am, what I want, who I want to be with, what I want to do, and what I want to become. I want to know why I get so afraid of things all the time. I want to find the gold hiding at the bottom of the stream of my heart. I want to pull it out and polish it and show the world that I really do have worth!

It's like I have this unrealistic idea that if I know myself, I'll be worth something. I'll have proof of what I am and what I can do.

For instance, recently I did a post on Lovers/Fighters. After that post, my friend sent me a 7-question quiz to see if you're a lover or a fighter, and when I took it, it said I was a fighter. After all my talk about how I was more of a lover, I laughed at it and said, "NOPE!"

But later, my mom and sisters laughed at me and said I was totally a fighter. So I pondered this. You know what? It's completely true. But, in my search for self-discovery, I was actually OK with that.

 If you don't know who you are, someone else will tell you. I'm desperately reaching out and holding onto my identity as a girl, as a Christian, as a human being. Because the thing about your identity, is that if you don't have it, you'll be taken by anyone. If you have it, than no one can take it away.

So often, I'm desperately searching for who I am...usually outside of myself, maybe because I know that where I really ought to go to find me, is inside of me. And I'm afraid to go there.

I get so hung up on a superficial 'identity', on learning new things about myself, on becoming perfect and all that I can be. I focus so much on the 'work', that I never bear any fruit. I go so crazy to get what I want, that I never actually get it.

What I too frequently let myself forget, is that I already have an identity.

Ever since I was little, my parents told me who I was. They told me, "You are a gift from God."

They told me I was a priceless treasure that they wouldn't trade for anything.

And I think they were telling me that God felt the same way, too.

"I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys." Song of Songs 2:1

I'm still seeking out for myself and who I am, because I know that this is a great strength. But I also know that no matter what I know about myself, I don't need to worry that I have no identity. I'll keep asking myself new questions and doing new things and becoming more and more myself. I am a little piece of gold, hiding beneath rocks and rushing river.

All along, God is searching for me. He will never give up until he finds me, and makes me into something beautiful. 

Childhood Fuzzies

Do you have any special, particularly fuzzy material goods from your childhood?

I sure do.

There is a funny story about my Blankie (which, yes, was creatively named Blankie). My mom was making it for my baby cousin, Zach. She had it all cut out and pinned together, but before she could sew it, I took it out of her sewing box and cuddled up with it, pins and all.

She took it away and stuck it back in the sewing box.

I took it back out and cuddled it some more.

So, finally, she said, "Ok, you can have it, but let me sew it first!"

So, I have had for about 13 years of my life, a boy-themed, small square blankie that was meant for my cousin.

(If you're wondering, Zach still got one. Mom made him a knew one.)

And let's just say...its a little LOVED.

BEHOLD!



THE BLANKIE. I took it out to look fondly at it (I do this every once in a while), and was amazed at how many rips and worn spots there are on this poor little quilt!

And than, there is, of course, the Teddy Bear.

Every child should have a teddy bear. It should be a law.

My beloved bear, Oatmeal, has been with me since I was two. And he's quite loved himself!

Naaaawww...isn't he cute?

He has a permanent place on my bedside table, where he can be grabbed and randomly hugged whenever necessary. I love him very much.

Both of these things will be with me till they crumble to dust. I love them both. They are the two things I loved most as a little girl, and I will never lose the peace and happiness that comes with the memory of being small enough to curl up on (or under) my Blankie, with Oatmeal tucked under my arm.

I love childhood fuzzies. 

CLUE

Last night three of my younger siblings begged me to join them for an impromptu game of CLUE. I reluctantly agreed, expecting boredom and ultimate humiliation. In order to fend off as much of this as I could, I brought my camera along, in case something amusing should happen.

This is what followed:

In the Ballroom...

Ms. Scarlet's had enough of Mrs. Peacock...

In the Library...

"That's it. I'm never speaking to you again. I thought I meant something to you, but I was wrong!!"

In the Dining Room...

"Clear the room, you two! This is between me and Ms. Scarlet!"

"You wouldn't kill a lady!"

Oh, dear...

In the Kitchen...

"Professor, you broke Mrs. White's heart!?"

"Oh, come now..."

Back in the Ballroom...

Mr. Green tries to talk a desperate Ms. Scarlet out of an act of desperation.

Back in the Library...

"That Professor Plum. He left me. It's over." *tears*

And, back in the Dining Room...

All alone. In the dining room. With the revolver...

I lost miserably, if you were wondering. I've never seen a shorter game of CLUE...Joe won in like, fifteen minutes! What a shame....just imagine what would have happened if we'd played even longer?

The moral of the story is to play board games with your siblings. I think....