It Was Worth It

It's been over two months since my internship at TWLOHA ended. Those two months have been very full. I closed the distance with my fiancé, finished planning a wedding, wore a pretty white dress while I committed to spending the rest of my life with the man I love, went off on a week-long vacation with my best friend to one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, came home to my ever-loving cat, and started searching for jobs. It's been a difficult two months, filled with questions and depression that likes to linger in the spaces of nothing to do and emails saying I'm not qualified enough. It's also been a beautiful two months, filled with mornings waking up next to my best friend and the fear of a giant ache that comes with missing someone slowly fading away.

With as full as these last two months have been, I haven't spent a whole lot of time reflecting on the time I spent in Florida. It's weird and hard to explain, really, but I almost forget that period of my life existed. I spend a lot of time thinking about Minneapolis and the time I spent there and the friends I left there. My heart aches for that city - for the lights I could see through my apartment window as the city slept, a calm moment in an area of chaos. I ache for the roommates I left behind - for the nights we laughed about the word "whimsical" and found community in such unexpected places. I ache for my other friends, too, for Joey and Michaela and Hannah and all the others. But I don't think about Florida. I don't think about the sunsets I watched over the river or the 7/11 I bought too many slurpee's at or the big wooden door that always stuck or the dog that ran through the office. I don't think about the messages I sent or the stories I heard. I do sometimes think of the people, though. Of the girls I woke up next to on my favorite morning, lying on the ground and sweating in the awful humidity. The people I cried to when parts of my past tried to haunt me and the people I celebrated with when I finally saw a gator in the wild. I do think about them, but I think about them in a way that feels disconnected from the whole experience. As if they were a part of something different.

I think my experience in Florida was more difficult than I like to admit. It was, and is, difficult - because it was difficult in a different way than my difficult seasons usually tend to be. It was a season where my depression faded and rarely flared up, where joy found me more easily and laughter was a part of most days. Maybe that's why it's hard to think about - because it was a time when I felt "fixed," but I've since found that I may never feel completely whole and void of my illness. But it was difficult. Living with eight people is difficult - plain and simple. Responding to emails and hearing stories of the hurt that people feel - that's difficult. And I think I came in with unrealistic expectations. I tried really hard not to, but that's a hard thing to do when you're about to do something you've wanted to do for about as long as you can remember. So, it was hard. There were days when I forgot why I was there - when I focused on conflict or on the difficult parts. It was hard.

But it was also worth it. In so many beautiful ways, it was worth it. It took me two months to come to that realization. To stop being bitter or hurt over the difficult parts and to remember the good ones that outnumbered the bad ones. Today, I got a package in the mail. An unexpected surprise - a signed copy of Jamie's book, If You Feel Too Much. I haven't read a book since I graduated because I ended up reading too much during college and kind of got sick of it. But today, I picked up that book and started reading. I read words that touched me before I even knew the internship existed - words that spoke into the very dark seasons of my life. I read words that encouraged me while I was in Florida - words that reminded me to keep going, to remember why I was there. And I read some new words, too. I think the title, "If You Feel Too Much" resonated with me today - because that's exactly how I felt. Too much and not enough all at once. It was impossible to read Jamie's words without thinking of the ones I had the privilege of writing to supporters reaching out for help; and that was both painful and joyful. I took some time to finally sit down and reflect on the time I spent in Florida - to remember that it did happen and it was a part of my story, no matter how difficult or exciting that may be. Because it was both. And it is both, as life always is. And after reflecting on the days, weeks, months I spent working at the greatest organization in the world, I came away with one truth screaming louder than the others: it was worth it.

My time at TWLOHA may have been difficult for me personally, but it was worth it. If one email that I sent gave someone the courage to keep fighting for their story - it was worth it. If one of my fellow interns walked away with a new friend - it was worth it. And I know I sure did walk away with some amazing, life-long friends. Friends whose voices sound a lot like home and whose texts feel like wild Friday nights that turn into sleepy Saturday mornings. So that makes it worth it. The people I spent time learning under, who took me under their wing and taught me the words to say or the numbers to enter - they made it worth it. Lauren and Jessica and Lindsay and all the others. The stories I got to hear from strangers through computer screens and the ones I got to share with roommates on walks in the pouring rain at midnight - that made it worth it. The blog post I wrote and the ones I threw away, the nights I spent crying over Taylor again and again, the days I made tiny steps away from the monster in my past, the 5k I ran as a present to myself - it was all worth it. Every single second.

I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to end this, because I'm sure this is only the beginning. I have a lot to think about and process if I want to keep reflecting on all that happened in those three months. So, for now, I'll leave you with the few paragraphs I found in Jamie's book that hit way too close to home today:

"Why did a group of young people put their lives on hold and move to Florida a week ago? Why would they trade everything they know, all their normal comfort and quiet, for a crowded house and endless hours of this word 'community'? Why would they want to join a conversation that most people run from?
We're trying to fight for people with kindness, with words that move, with honesty and creativity. We're trying to push back at suicide with compassion, with hope. We're pointing to wisdom, pointing to medicine, saying that hope is real, help is real. We're fighting for our own stories, our own friends and families, our own broken hearts. We're saying there's nothing we can't talk about, nothing off-limits. We're kicking elephants out of living rooms, making room for life.
You. It's about you."

And might I add: it was all worth it.

When Passions Change

If you had asked me four years ago what one single thing I was most passionate about in life, I would have quickly and without hesitation said, "To Write Love On Her Arms." I'm embarrassed to now admit that I would have been able to rattle off facts about Jamie and that I spent too many car rides staring out windows daydreaming about interning with TWLOHA while simultaneously finding a Florida boy to fall in love with. I was 17, so give me a break. I was facing my personal struggles with self-injury and depression, and TWLOHA was the hope I needed. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, and I held it so dear to me.

Fast forward a few years - to last summer. I was still very passionate about TWLOHA, but new passions were budding. I was working at a youth center and it was a job that never felt like I was going to work. I was interning at a student ministries position with a church I loved. I was mentoring a few students, and I had never felt happier. I was in the middle of finishing my Youth Development degree, and each day I was falling more and more in love with the program. I had never felt more at home.

A few months later, I applied for an internship with TWLOHA and when I was accepted, I couldn't have been more excited. It was surreal to feel like I had come full-circle. From a 14-year old girl first hearing about TWLOHA and being amazed that someone else had put my pain into words that didn't feel like so much hurt, to a 21-year old woman who had just finished college and was going to go be a part of the organization that changed so much of my life.

Now, I'm exactly one week from being done with this internship. The experience I've had here is one I'm not sure I'll ever be able to put into words. I still have to remind myself sometimes that this is real and it's happening and I'm actually working with TWLOHA. I have loved going into the office every day and getting the chance to respond to emails sent in by our supporters - people asking questions and sharing stories. I have been let into so many different stories of people hurting and people celebrating and it has been absolutely incredible. I have also gotten a chance to help do the behind-the-scenes things at TWLOHA. The things you don't think about when you think about us. Bank statements and donor databases and a love/hate relationship with SalesForce.

Mostly, I have met people who have left very big footprints in my life. People who I have laughed with, cried with, and lived with. People who are willing to travel hundreds of miles just to celebrate my wedding with me when I have only known them for a few months. A girl who owned 40-something TWLOHA shirts before we started getting them for free, and another who had just heard of this a few months prior to coming here. People who have not judged my incredible love of anything free I can get my hands on, and people who have held me up when the stress of planning a wedding and hitting month 11 of being long-distance with my fiancé got the best of me. People who have taught me to love and to love well, and others who have extended that love to me when I had done nothing to deserve it.

I have learned more about community than I ever thought possible in these past few months. I have also learned so much about myself. I have learned that I love crepes, I still hate running, and I am a lot more redneck than I originally thought. I have learned that I suck at loving people sometimes, and that at other times, I am really quite good at it. I have learned that depression does not define me and that as much as it is okay to not be okay, it is okay to be okay, too. I stepped into the scary unknown of a world where depression didn't haunt me every day, and I've come out alright. I have struggled and I have celebrated. I have failed and succeeded. And I have learned a lot about where my passions lie.

I was afraid of this term ending for a little while. Because this is something I have wanted to do for so long, I was afraid that it would feel like I accomplished my dream and now there wasn't much left to do. I was afraid that I would feel empty. And actually, the opposite has happened. One of the most prominent things I learned throughout my time here was that TWLOHA is no longer the thing I am most passionate about. I am still very passionate about this organization and the work it does. I have nothing bad to say about TWLOHA. This organization is full of wonderful people making a big difference, and I have cherished every second I have spent working here.

But, for a while, I have felt like something was missing. I have felt like I wasn't working out of my greatest passion. It has been so difficult to work where I don't interact with or mentor students regularly. I've learned that maybe my heart for student ministry and youth work is where my biggest passion lies now, and I've learned that that's okay. It doesn't mean my time here was wasted. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate and love that I had this experience. It just means that I leave here with a full heart and better knowledge of who I am.

It was very scary to come to this realization, and for a little while, I felt like I was doing something wrong or failing in some way. After talking to Zeke and some of my fellow interns, I realized that I'm feeling so afraid because for a long time, this was my greatest dream. I thought I would come here and then I could just kind of float by for the rest of my life. But God won't let me off that easy. And change is a scary thing, but I'm learning to embrace it. I'm learning to embrace the fact that the God I serve is a God who is constantly molding and changing me into the daughter He wants me to be.

So, here I am. One week from finishing up one of the coolest experiences I have ever had, and my heart is full. I am ready to walk away from here, not as a different person, but as a person more true to myself and to what I believe God is calling me to. I'm very excited about what is to come, and I'm also very afraid - because other than getting married, I have no plans. But I'm going to learn to be okay with that and let God direct my path and continue to pray that His plans become my plans, because they are far greater and far better than my own.

Happy New Year

The ball drops and fireworks. Resolutions are made.
People scream and people kiss and is it possible to change?
Is it really truly possible to leave the past behind?

 The above words were written three years ago by someone I look up to a lot, founder of TWLOHA, Jamie Tworkowski. New Year's Eve has always been my favorite holiday because of the beauty of a single moment: because of the hope of change, because of the thought of moving forward - leaving the past behind and becoming new. This NYE, I found myself surrounded by the same friends I have been surrounded by for the past 18 or so years (maybe not on NYE specifically, as I imagine when I was three years old, I spent NYE at home, but you get the point). I was incredibly grateful for the people in that room, for the lifelong friendships I have been so blessed by. I had fun laughing and playing games, watching the ball drop and screaming countdowns. I brought in the new year with a kiss to my fiancé and I was joyful.

However, I didn't want to look back on 2014. I didn't want to, as I usually do, think of the change that year brought me. I think I knew it would hurt too much. 2014 was, hands down, the hardest year of my life. I walked through the grief of losing one of my closest friends from high school. I celebrated with my best friend/roommate as she walked across the stage at graduation, and then felt the pain of that loss as we said goodbye the next day. I spent seven months away from Zeke, three of those not knowing if we were going to even make it out of the summer. I spent my last semester feeling completely alone, as most of my friends had already graduated or moved on to other things. I battled the greatest depression I have ever faced. I spent days in my bedroom, crying for hours on end. I watched entire series' on Netflix because I was afraid to feel. I stopped turning in assignments on time because I didn't care. It was awful.

But I made it. As I look back on the worst year of my life, I find so much victory. I graduated college a semester early. I finished an 83-page paper about the thing I am most passionate about. I got accepted to a pretty competitive internship. I went to counseling for the first time in years, finally accepting that I needed help and understanding I couldn't do it alone. I walked into a doctor's office and asked about antidepressants. I asked for help grieving the loss of my friend on the one-year anniversary of his death from almost-complete strangers. I kept a resolution going that I made three years ago to stop eating meat. I said "yes" to marrying the love of my life. I made it. I made it. I made it through.

As I look forward to 2015, I am equally terrified and thrilled. In eight days, I will move to Florida and start an internship I have wanted since I was in high school. I will move to a place where I don't know a single person and start a new life for myself. I will live with eight awesome people and create memories I'm sure will last a lifetime. In 138 days, I will say "I do" and start the greatest adventure of my life. And from there, I have no idea where I will go. I do know that I will walk out of 2015 a completely different person (literally, since my name will be "Elyse Lawson" eek!), and I hope that I will find more healing in this new year.

Am I ready for what 2015 has for me? Heck, no. But I am excited, and I am hopeful. And I know I have a God that will be there for me every second of every day.

Celebrate Every Little Victory

Recovery is a journey that has many ups and downs. I'm learning how vitally important it is to celebrate every step forward, no matter how small (or big!) it may feel.

Remembering to eat dinner.
Getting out of bed in the morning.
Going to the grocery store.
Asking someone a question.
Answering a question in class.
Going to class.
Going to counseling.
Going to a small group/recovery group.
Attending a community event.
Driving to a community event, getting to the parking lot, and leaving.
Doing the dishes.
Taking a shower.
Washing the dog.
Taking a walk.
Exercising.
Calling up an old friend.
Writing.
Singing a song.

Be proud of yourself today, friend. Look at how far you have come. Look at all the things you have done. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

Remember: you are worth love, respect, and celebration of how far you've made it. Celebrate your victories today. Love yourself. Self-care is so important.

An Open Letter to My Future Daughter, if She Struggles With Depression

I’ve been struggling to write this letter for a long, long time. I feel like it’s something that I need to write: a story I can’t not tell. I don’t know if this will ever reach you or if you will even exist. But, I think that, at some point, I realized there is no manual to this. There is no step-by-step guide that helps you through the complexities of living life with a mental illness. And I can’t write that.  I wish I could, but I can not tell you how to magically feel better, because if something like that exists, I haven’t found it yet. But I do think I can offer something. A few pieces of advice or things I’ve learned throughout my 7-plus-year struggle with this terrible illness.

There will be days when you need to remind yourself that your bedroom is not the world. It will suffocate you, you will feel the walls crashing in, the weight of the world outside of those four falls will be too heavy to bear. But, my darling, you need to find a way to get out of that bedroom. I know, it’s so, so hard. It feels impossible. And maybe some days, it is. That’s okay. Try again tomorrow. And tomorrow, find the strength to get out of bed and live this life you have been given. Remember that you have a story that this world needs to hear.

Please, remember, it is not your fault. I’ve learned that depression and shame are good lovers. They find their place in the bedroom of your mind and they fester, for weeks, months, years. They will tell you that it is your fault, they will tell you that you need to just be normal, they will tell you that nobody wants to hear you cry. Honey, you can not let them win. You have to fight those thoughts, because they are not true. You are not at fault. It is not your fault. It is okay to feel sad and to feel alone and to feel ashamed. It is okay to not be okay. It is not your fault that you feel this way.

You need other people. You can not fight this alone. Asking for help is an extremely difficult thing to do, but please, do it. Go to counseling or find a friend or a teacher or ask me about my scars. We are people and we were created to live in community with other people. Do not let this illness tell you that you are not worth other people’s time. You are worth every second this world has to offer.

You are not alone. Depression has a great way of telling you that you are the only person that feels this way. You are not. Community is vital.

Your story matters. You have a unique story that nobody else in this world has, and this world needs to hear it. Out of the 3 billion people on this planet, you are the only one that can tell your story. You have something to offer this world that nobody else can. So find a way to tell it. Scream it from the rooftops. Write it, paint it, sing it, play it – I don’t care, just know that it is more valuable than anything else in this world.

Celebrate the little victories. This morning, I made breakfast for myself and I wept tears of joy. There are so many little steps to recovery, and I want you to feel free to celebrate every single one. You went to the grocery store? Fantastic! You remembered to do the dishes? Awesome! You asked for help finding something at the bookstore? Way to go! You are wonderful. You are worth celebrating. You are worth love. You are worth love. You are worth love. Please, try to learn to love yourself. Self-care is so essential, and it is not selfish. It is not selfish to love yourself.

Failure is a part of life. There will be days when you don’t do so well. It’s okay. You are only human. We all fall. Don’t let it keep you from getting back up. Feel free to struggle. It is okay. Forgive yourself, my beautiful little girl. Do not harbor unforgiveness against yourself in your heart. You do not deserve that.

Recovery is coming. Depression will try to steal all your hope. Do not let it. The road to recovery is long. It is so hard. But it is also good. There are good days coming your way. It gets better. I know it doesn't feel like it does, but it does. One day you will look back on where you are now, and you will be so proud of how far you have made it. Remember to laugh. Remember the sound of your favorite song. Remember to scream those lyrics if you have to. Remember the way the sunset looked that one day when you were with the people you love and you were happy. Remember the times you let the sun hit your face and you smiled, and you knew that it wasn’t fake, because nobody was around. Remember to let yourself get angry, so angry, at this godforsaken disease. It is okay. Honey, the struggle you are going through now is so worth the reward at the end. You will make it. You can make it. The good days are coming. Do not give up.

Do not give up. I love you. You can do this. I am so proud of how far you have come and I am so proud of how far you are going to go. My love for you is not conditional. You do not have to earn my love by being happy. You do not have to be happy to be worthy of love. I will love you every day of my life and I want you to know how vital it is for you to not give up. Someday you will be on the other end of this. I promise. It’s worth the fight. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

For Those Who Did Not Receive Healing

Let me start this off by saying this first and foremost: I do not claim to be a theologian. I do not claim to have all the answers or to know everything. I am simply writing from what has been on my heart lately, and everything expressed in this post is personal opinion. I understand that not everyone agrees with me, but I ask you to please respond with grace.

Okay, let's get started.

John 5:1-9a:

Afterward Jesus returned to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish holy days.  Inside the city, near the Sheep Gate, was the pool of Bethesda, with five covered porches.  Crowds of sick people—blind, lame, or paralyzed—lay on the porches. One of the men lying there had been sick for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him and knew he had been ill for a long time, he asked him, “Would you like to get well?”“I can’t, sir,” the sick man said, “for I have no one to put me into the pool when the water bubbles up. Someone else always gets there ahead of me.”Jesus told him, “Stand up, pick up your mat, and walk!”Instantly, the man was healed! He rolled up his sleeping mat and began walking! 

My God is awesome. It is SO cool to see how he heals people in the Bible and today. It is awesome that He is the same God today as He was thousands of years ago (Hebrews 13:8). I love watching Him move and seeing people get healed of physical, spiritual, mental, and emotional needs. It is one of my favorite things to see my God touch people's lives in tangible ways.

That being said, let's take a closer look at the passage above. It says that there were crowds of sick people. Crowds. And for whatever reason, Jesus chose to heal only one. For that one guy, I'm sure it was awesome. Life-changing, even. But what about the tons of others? What about the people that were still sick and watched this happen? I don't know why Jesus chose to only heal one person, and I don't think I ever will. All I know is that He is sovereign and I will trust that He knows what He's doing.

As most of you know by now, I have struggled with clinical depression for a long, long time. Growing up in the church, I went to healing revival after healing revival, begging God to heal my mind. I would say to Him, I'm leaving this here at this alter and I declare healing over my mind. When I walk away, I will no longer struggle with this. And I would walk away and the next day I would still be sad. It got discouraging. What people in the church said to me was even more discouraging. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I have been told to "just have more faith" or to "believe more" or to "just ask" or to "choose joy." I will be blunt here: I am so sick of hearing that. I am so sick of people telling me inadvertently that I don't have enough faith or that I'm not asking enough. As if I hadn't thought of that. As if I hadn't thought that a little more faith would help me through.

I don't think me asking 500 more times or worshipping harder or saying the right words is going to get me healed. Why? Because healing is not about what I do. It is about what God does. And falling into the trap that thinking it is about me will only leave me either A. prideful or B. more hurt. If God is going to heal me, fantastic. I will receive that and I will be so thankful for it. But if he doesn't, still I will praise him. Because it's not about me. It's not about the way I ask to make the words just right or the way I do anything, really. It's about my sovereign King knowing more than I ever could about what is best for me, and me having the faith to follow Him in that whichever way He may lead. And I think that sometimes, the faith to follow even when the healing doesn't come can be so much more difficult, and so rewarding.

If you're reading this and you're in a similar boat as me, I want you to know that I am praying for you. If you've been struggling with some type of illness for a long time and haven't yet received healing, please understand that it is not your fault. I am sorry if you have been lead to believe that it is. Please, dare to have the faith to follow even when the healing doesn't come. Because I promise you, our God is still good. He is still faithful, He is still true. The healing may come, and it may not. I do not pretend to understand why God does things the way He does. I know, it can be frustrating and discouraging. I want to encourage you to talk to God about that. He can handle it. He can handle your questioning and your frustration, you anger and your pain. He is a good God, full of many good things, and He is holding you tonight, even if you can't see it right now.

He loves you, oh He loves you so much.

Percentages Do Not Define Me

When I was younger, my parents put me in a soccer league. My dad had played semi-professionally before he busted his leg, my mom had coached, and my brother was awesome at it, so naturally, I was placed in a soccer league. We quickly found out that sports was not my thing. I hated running so I didn't do it. In the middle of games, I would literally sit on the field and pick dandelions. It was a disaster. We also quickly found out that I am tone-deaf and pretty bad at anything musical. So, what do I have to offer? I'm smart. I'm good at school. I've always excelled in the classroom, going far beyond what was expected of me at every grade level. I found my niche in the school.

When I was in fifth grade, we had a "strikes" program. For every homework assignment you missed, you would get a strike. At three strikes, there would be small penalties and then it added for each one. If you managed to make it through the year with no strikes whatsoever, you got to go to a special pizza party. I've always loved food and I'm good at school so I thought, "Hey, this is awesome! Something I can actually win!" This turned into incredible anxiety for ten-year-old me. I remember countless nights spent lying awake re-thinking every moment of the school day, trying to make sure I remembered every homework assignment. I would watch the clock turn to 3AM and lie in bed crying and feeling sick to my stomach about missing something. I would check and re-check my assignment book and wake my parents up asking them to help me remember if there was any homework. It was terrible. I have never struggled with anxiety as much as I did that year.

I ended up making it the whole year without any strikes, and I went to the pizza party at a bowling alley. I remember sitting there thinking, "This wasn't worth it." Even then, I knew that this was becoming a serious problem. I wish I hadn't won that year. That pizza party taught me that perfectionism gets rewarded. If you never miss a single assignment, if you turn everything in ahead of time, if you get straight A's, you get rewarded. I found my identity in this. I was smart. I was good at school.

My brother struggles with learning disabilities. Growing up, I hated the school system for the way it failed him and allowed me to excel. It never seemed fair that our report cards would become a defining statement of our worth. Mine always had A's, while he struggled to pass classes. It wasn't fair. It wasn't okay that I never seemed to measure up to the ridiculous standards I held for myself.

The first paper I turned in in college got a 96%. I looked at that grade and I was disappointed. I lost sleep over it. That four percent destroyed me. I looked over the comments over and over again, vowing to never make the same mistakes again.

Throughout college, I have always done fairly well. I have managed to get all A's except for one B every semester. You'd think I'd be happy with this. You'd think I'd look at my grade card and feel pride in knowing that I'm doing well. If I'm being completely honest and vulnerable with you, I have never once looked at a grade card during my three years here and felt anything but complete disappointment. B's make me feel stupid. I am smart, that's what I have going for me. I should be able to pull of straight A's.

As I start my last semester, I have already spent a good amount of time pouring over every syllabus, trying to find a way to get my 4.0 this semester. I have found out that if I get a 4.0 this semester, I will be able to graduate with a 3.8. I tell myself that this will make me happy, but I know the truth. I will NEVER feel good enough as long as my worth is defined by a percentage. There will always be room for improvement, I will always fall short of perfection.

God has really been working in me for this last semester. I've dismissed it as senioritis or just being done caring about school, but that's not me. I do my papers weeks before they're due. I have never procrastinated anything before, and this semester, I find myself not caring quite as much. But this is still a journey. This is still going to be hard for me to work on this semester. So I ask you to join me. Pray for me, if you remember. If I start talking to you about the stress of school and making sure my grades are perfect, remind me that my worth is not determined by a grade. I am not a letter. I am not a percentage. I am a child of God. I am good enough in that.

So, here it goes. My last semester. I wish I could say that I don't care what grades I get this semester. I wish I could tell you I'm done aiming for that 4.0. I'm not. But I'm working on it. I'm slowly letting go of letting those marks define me. And I think that, in the end, if I am able (which I am because I have God and He's fricken awesome, let's be honest) to let go of this perfectionism and find peace in wherever my grades fall, I will be ten times more proud of myself than I would be with a 4.0.

Depression and Manna

Exodus 16:18-21a: "And when they measured it by the omer, the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. Everyone had gathered just as much as they needed. Then Moses said to them, 'No one is to keep any of it until morning.' However, some of them paid no attention to Moses; they kept part of it until morning, but it was full of maggots and began to smell. So Moses was angry with them. Each morning everyone gathered as much as they needed."

To say I am going through a rough season of life would be an understatement. As many of you know, I struggle with depression, and let me tell you, it has been so hard lately. I have at many times felt so alone. This past summer, I moved home, and I loved being with my family, but it was hands-down the hardest summer of my life. I didn't have any friends in Ann Arbor since my family moved after I graduated high school. I was missing Zeke like crazy as well as all my other friends from NCU. As I have now moved back to North Central, it has continued to be a difficult season of my life. I still miss Zeke since he is out in Cali changing the world, and I have been incredibly overwhelmed with what this last semester brings. My depression is still haunting me and oftentimes, it feels like I can't make it through the day.

God has been bringing me through the Old Testament lately, and I have found myself relating a lot to the Israelites. Many times, with depression, I feel so lost and it feels as if all of my effort is just having me go in circles. God has been teaching me a lot through the Israelites about seeking Him even when it gets hard and remembering what He has done for me in the past. Today, I read this verse (above) and I realized it is exactly what God has been speaking to me lately.

With depression, every day is a fight at times. It can get hard to get out of bed in the morning and it can get hard to make it through each day. As God teaches me to lean on Him alone, I am reminded to daily ask Him for the strength to make it through the day. That is my manna. And so many times, I get ahead of myself and think, "If I can barely make it through today, how in the world am I supposed to make it through tomorrow?" But then God reminds me that I only need enough for today. That is so hard, but it is so rewarding. It is so humbling to have a God that can give me enough each day and I just need to trust Him and stop trying to take it into my own hands.

20 Things I Learned When I Was 20

I somehow keep forgetting that tomorrow is my birthday, but alas, here I am, with two more hours of being twenty years old, and I take the time to reflect on where God has brought me this year. I am so thankful for all the blessings that twenty brought me, even though it was a very difficult year in very many ways. Anyway, here's twenty of the many things I've learned this past year:

1. Sometimes, you relapse. It's okay. Keep trying.
2. If you want a relationship to work, you have to fight for it.
3. You must fight for community. You sometimes need to take a while away from people. Learn to distinguish between the two. Don't let fear keep you from loving people.
4. Get a job that you love; one that makes you feel like you're not even working. Do that for the rest of your life.
5. Sometimes you'll be the only person that cares. Keep caring.
6. There comes a time in your life when you have to face your fears. When that fails, climb on the table with your roommate, scream, and call your boyfriend. Buy mouse traps the next day and try again.
7. God is not a feeling.
8. It is 100% okay to feel differently than everyone else in the room. Form your own opinions.
9. Driving stick shift sucks. Learn anyway.
10. Best friends are hard to find. When you find one, hold them close.
11. Plan your meals out before going grocery shopping or you might end up spending $50 on snacks.
12. Manage your money well.
13. Don't be afraid to love yourself. Self-care is essential.
14. Impromptu dance parties are good. Impromptu dance parties in the middle of finals week are great.
15. Going to counseling is hard. Go anyway.
16. If you don't work through the things that have happened to you in the past, you will never move forward.
17. Middle schoolers have an insane amount of energy. I'm getting old.
18. You are more blessed than you realize.
19. You may find friends where you once had enemies.
20. Life is hard. Keep trying, keep trying, keep trying. 

The Day I Stopped Wearing My Purity Ring, and How the 90's Ruined My View of Relationships: Coming Out of the Closet on Purity

I grew up in the church in the 90's. And for those of you who also grew up in the church in the 90's-early 2000's, you are most likely all-too-familiar with the era of "kissing dating goodbye." I bought into all of it, too. I rolled my eyes at couples in the hallways, tucked away letters to my future husband in my notebooks (which, by the way, are HILARIOUS), and read books about the evils of dating more than I actually read the Bible they were talking about. And don't get me wrong, that era had some good things come out of it. It probably saved me from dating a lot of losers, but it also really wrecked my view of relationships.

I always swore that I wouldn't date someone until I KNEW that they were the person I was going to marry. I didn't want to waste my time or my purity. This, it seems, was a pretty good concept. It was a good concept until I actually got a boyfriend. Three months after Zeke and I started dating, we took a week-long break and were extremely close to breaking up. Why? Because I didn't know if I was going to marry him or not. Now, it seems ridiculous that we almost broke up for that reason. Of course I didn't know if I was going to marry him. I barely even knew him! I had only spent three months with him. But, I felt, it was either make or break at that point. And, praise the Lord, He has taught me so much about dating since then. Looking back, I would have missed out on a truly amazing man of God that pushes me to be a better woman of God every day simply because I, like a normal human being, wasn't ready to commit to spending my life with him after only spending three months being his girlfriend. Now, almost two years after becoming his girlfriend, I know that I will marry him. But it's been two years, people. I didn't need to know at three months, I didn't need to know at one year. I just needed to keep God first every single day and let Him lead us.

When I was thirteen, my dad gave me a purity ring. I wore it every single day up until a few months ago. Growing up, my view of purity was always this: wait until you're married. That was it. Not "wait in the Lord" or "seek God first," nope. Just wait until you're married and then you get to have all the sex you want. While that is true, it should not have been my focus. My focus was not on the Lord, at all. I was remaining pure because of my love of my future husband, not because of my love of Christ, and come on people, can we say idolizing? From day one, my focus was always on guys first, Jesus second. And, friends, that has been a struggle every day of my life. Zeke is a wonderful man. He is not God. And all to often, I put Zeke before God, and I think that may have stemmed out of my original view of purity. 

Another problem that stems from the only "wait until you're married" view of purity is what happens when you mess up? We all do, in some form or another. What happens when one aspect of our purity is no longer there for our future spouse, whether it was stolen from us or we gave it away? In my former view of purity, that just meant that it was gone. It was gone, and I was lost in a world of shame and condemnation, and I didn't mind giving it away again, because, hey, it's already gone, right? Also, what happens when we find our future spouse but aren't married yet? I always knew that putting guys before God was a struggle for me, but I was in for a whole new world of struggle when it came to maintaining my purity when I had found my lifelong mate. Why? Because "True Love Waits" told me to wait for my future husband. He's here.

I no longer wear my purity ring. To me, it symbolizes years of a skewed and broken view of purity. I now try to focus more on loving the Lord than loving my Zeke, waiting in Christ and devoting my life to Him instead of devoting my life to waiting for my future husband. And I make mistakes, oh do I make mistakes. But the wonderful thing about my God is that His grace is all-suffienct and always enough for me.

Ps. If you're interested, here's a great article that inspired this post. He's a much better writer than I am. :)

I Think God is a Writer

It's 1:30AM, and I can't sleep. It's 1:30AM on a summer Friday night. It's 1:30AM on the night after God began revealing something new to me, and today, it's still keeping me up.

I'm sure there will be more posts about this at some point, when I start figuring it all out and God teaches me more. But for now, it's 1:30AM and I'm up writing this blog post, because I can't sleep, and because I am a writer. Because I think God is a writer, too.

This all started yesterday. I woke up to do some devos and lately, they have been kind of dry, so I've been really desperate for something new from God. And He gave me something new. Something I'm still trying to unpack and fully understand - but something very new, and very exciting. And then I went on a run and ended up stopping at the Stone Arch Bridge because I saw flowers as a memorial for what I'm assuming is a suicide victim. And I stood on that bridge for a very long time, my heart completely broken for the broken. And I had a one-on-one earlier this week and was able to talk about my dreams and the passions God has given me for the broken, and I spent a few hours looking at plane tickets to Seattle. And I spent time with a man who I can see being in my future. And I don't know, I've just been processing a lot lately, and here I am writing all of it - because I am a writer. Because I think God is a writer, too.

If I could, I would write it in a way that makes more sense, but for now, I can't really find the right words. So instead, I'll leave you with a journal entry from the day God started showing me this:

I think you're a writer God. Because you invest so much time into me and love me in this unique way. You're quirky and you write billions of stories. You pay attention to details and paint sunsets only a writer could. You make things for your eyes only and delight in those hidden things. You show off, too. You display your characters for all to see and you take pride in those creations. Your heart breaks when theirs does, too.

You stay up all night, don't you? Tirelessly working on a story. And yet, you're so much more than a writer, as I can understand it. Because you let your stories go. You let them have the choice to take the pen. Even when it's better for them to let you write, they still take it. And yet, you're still there to take it back when they've realized they've failed. When they come to you broken, you gladly and forgivingly take that pen back. You write in things that fix them. You heal them.

You love words, don't you? God, I think you're a writer. I, too, Lord, am a writer. And, as a writer, it's hard for me to let someone else write my story. It's hard to let you have the pen because I forget. I forget that you know how the story ends. I forget that I'm only a character. I forget, and my pride gets in the way, and I try to be the writer. I think that, if I have control, I can write my story better than you ever could. How silly of me to believe that - to think that a character could take the writer's place. I'm sorry. 

The journal entry went on a lot more about control and how I so often feel the need to have it over God, which is just stupid of me. But I so often try to write my own story and forget that God is the most perfect writer out there.

There will be more posts about this when it makes more sense to me, but for now, this is all I have. Because I am a writer, but I am not the perfect writer - God is. And there are some words I may never know how to say.

Or perhaps God just hasn't given me them yet.

The Love of Christ

It has been quite a while since I last posted on this blog. To be honest, it's because I didn't have much to say. Last semester was really rough for me, especially in the spiritual aspect of things. I was very stagnant in my relationship with God and didn't really make a whole lot of progress. I kind of went through the motions and did the minimum. I'm disappointed in myself looking back on what I could have done/been last semester, but I am walking forward and choosing to make new and better choices, especially concerning my walk with Christ.

This semester has started off with a great start. I have been much more faithful in spending time with God daily and have been so blessed by Him. I have been loving my floor and the girls God has placed in my life as well as my incredible boyfriend who continues to love me and help me draw nearer to the plan God has for my life. I recently (today, actually) got a job and am enjoying my classes thus far.

Something that God has really been laying on my heart lately is His love for me. I know, I know. It's cliche and girly. But it is real and it is something God has really been working in me. I have had a few amazing realizations about His love such as: if we fully knew and understood Christ's love for us, we would not still be living the way we did before we knew that love, and that His love is two-fold: it causes us to dwell and be in awe, but it also causes us to look beyond ourselves and share it with others. And tonight at Praise Gathering, God just spoke to me about His love for the entire two hours. It was so amazing. I can't really put it into words, but I thought I would share my journal entry from tonight with you guys so hopefully you can grasp the love that I was feeling from Him.

Your Spirit is so thick in this room. Your presence is so great and sweet I don't even know what to say or write. I don't know how to describe your love. It is something that even I can fail to say. It can not be put into a box comprised of ink and paper. It is free-flowing and unending. It is so incomprehensible to a mind so small as mine. Even a mind you created to make words form sentences can not even begin to capture the love you have for me. I am at a loss for words, grasping at strings, trying to find verbs, and racking my brain - the brain you created for such a purpose as finding words - can find but none other than "I love you, my child. I love you. I love you."

You love me with a love that is deep and passionate, a love that is holy and mighty and strong. A love that is not merely a good feeling but a love that overcomes all feelings of incompetency. A love that, in making me understand that I am, in fact, imperfect in describing the sheer vastness of Your glory, makes me understand that I am made whole and beautiful in Your arms. Because I am a girl searching, grasping, desperate for the love of a perfect Father that does not do me wrong. Here I stand broken, unsure, and unholy. Here I stand trying to find all the right words and fining nothing but despair and doubt. Here am I, a girl in awe of the love You have for her that you so freely give.

You love me with a love that is restorative and redemptive. A love that disciplines, corrects, and motivates. A love that does not let me stay at the place I am at. You love me with a perfect love, the dance of a father and his princess. The love of a man for his bride, of a mother for her child, of a good and perfect king for his people. You love me with a love that is unchanging regardless of my continual failure. You love me with a love that you acted upon and died for. You love me in my imperfections, in my sin, in my lust, in my greed, in my depression, in my unhealthy strive for perfectionism.

For You could have created anything and You created me. You could dwell anywhere and You chose to dwell in me - in my heart. In the heart of a daughter romanced by her King. You created me on purpose for a purpose and believing anything else would be devaluing to the life You gave because of this love. You love me with a love that leaves me craving more of You every moment of every day for Your love does not fail or leave me.

How foolish of me to believe I could ever run from you. How silly for me to think I could ever comprehend You or the love You have for me. Nothing stands in comparison to even an ounce of Your presence. Nothing tastes as sweet as this love. I will love You for the rest of my days.

Teach me to love You and others with a love even half as selfless and sweet as the love You have poured out upon me here tonight. Teach me to be as desperate for reaching the lost as You are for reaching Your people. Teach me to dwell in Your presence and love and not reject or run away from such a perfect example of grace and mercy. Teach me to embrace Your love and to allow it to change me from the inside out - to a girl passionate for Your people. Teach me to allow Your love to mold me. Show me how once Your love touches me I can not claim ignorance or walk away unchanged for Your love is a love that drastically and dramatically changes everything it touches.

I stand in total awe of You. How could I, a girl broken and bruised, impure and forsaken, be worth a love so thick and real? And still You love me, in all of my failures and doubts. You chose to love me with all of my dirt. How am I worthy? How do I learn to accept such a love? 

For Your love is perfect and it does not go away. Your love brings freedom. Your love brings revival. Your love brings the dead to life. Your love changes everything. Your love forgives and redeems, it keeps no record of wrongs.

The same love that gave sight to the blind and rose the dead to life lives in me. That same love is now upon me - something which I can not fathom or understand. Your love is unfailing and unending. It brings the dead in me to life and to a point of pure surrender of all wants and desires, for how could I, after experiencing this love, ever want anything more?

I give you all of me tonight, Lord. Take every part of me. I love you, too. 

God's love is so amazing, guys.
Blessings,
Elyse

Rocky Beginnings

Wow, it has been a very long time since I have even thought about this blog, and oh my, a lot has changed since the last time I posted. I finished my first year at NCU, had one of the worst summers ever, and finally came back home. I'm now about a month or so into my sophomore year of college and have a lot of things to share with you guys. I'm a DL (discipleship leader) on my floor and loving every second of being able to pour into girls' lives, I've got a new boyfriend who is honestly the most amazing man I have ever met (besides my daddy, of course), and I'm just kind of living life as it goes. I'm insanely busy (I should probably be doing homework right now, actually) and learning how to manage school, being a DL, spending time with my boyfriend, Jesus, and friends off of the floor has been quite a difficult thing to do and is something I'm still learning. Keeping God first in the midst of all of this busy-ness is difficult sometimes and has been a struggle for me, but I'm learning.

When I came back here, I was so excited for this year. I had been counting down the days since I left last year (I'm serious - I had a count down app on my iPod). I could not wait to finally get back home and see all of my friends again and get back into the swing of things. Things here last year were amazing. I loved every second of being at this school. The beauty of the city left me breathless every night. I had the most incredible friends in the world and was just living it up so big. It was all new and exciting and I was finally independent. I remember just sitting in the car on the way to Applebee's (since we literally went there about twice a week) and thinking to myself "This is it. This is the best moment of my life." And I would think that multiple times a week. The people crammed into Austin's tiny car with me had become my second family and I could not imagine life without them.

Going back to the mitten state for summer was one of the hardest things for me to do. I hated this summer. Absolutely hated it. The only good things that came out of this summer were finally dating Zeke and finally getting out of Bedford when my family moved to Ann Arbor. Sure, getting to spend time with my family was great, but my heart ached to be in this city again.

So, I came back here expecting things to be just like last year. I came back expecting to run and scream and hug everyone and just jump back into the swing of things - going to Applebee's or having a dance party every night. I expected to be care-free and left breathless by this city. So far this year, life has been anything but care-free. It has been busy. It has been rough. I has been difficult. It has been trying and stretching and depressing. It has had good moments, yes, but over all, this year has been really hard on me.

I think that one of the main reasons this year is so hard is because I keep comparing it to last year and it's hard for me to accept that last year is over and that this year is not going to be exactly like last year. People that were a huge part of last year aren't here anymore and it's time to move on and make new friends. It's time to let go of what happened last year and make new memories. It's just hard. Because I'm busy now, because I have responsibilities now, because I don't have time to just have fun every moment of my life. I have to grow up and I have to do grown-up things, and sometimes doing grown-up things means letting God lead you through some rough stuff. About a week or so into being here this year, my boyfriend and I decided to take a break for a week and learn how to get God in the center of our relationship again. That was rough. God's shown me that I'm not going to know the future this year because He's going to teach me to trust Him more. That's rough. I'm busy. That's rough.

It has been a rocky start. There have been moments, days, weeks - where I've just wanted to go back to the mitten state. I've wanted to throw in the towel and take a year off. I've wanted to go back to Ann Arbor and spend time with my awesome family and not have to worry about what meeting I have to be at or what paper I have to write. I've wanted to give up. But I know, deep in my heart, that God has planned for me to do this. He has prepared it for me and set me in this year for a reason. I'm not here by mistake. I know I'm supposed to be here and I know that eventually, this year will be even better than last year. It just takes some time. I have to keep reminding myself of these things. I have to remind myself that I am a DL on the best floor ever and that God has placed these girls in my life for a reason. I have to remind myself that these girls are amazing and fun to be around and I always have a blast whenever I get to spend time with them. I have to remind myself that God has blessed me with a pretty stinking awesome boyfriend. I have to remind myself that my best friend is the hugest blessing in my life. I have to remind myself that God's got me and that even though things may be rough right now, they won't always be. I will get into the swing of things. I will learn how to manage my time. I will learn how to be a leader on this floor and to glorify God in everything I do.

I will be okay, and this year will be amazing. New memories will be made. Last year was great and that's awesome, but last year is over. It's time to live for this year, and this year will rock.

Looking Back: What I Would Have Said

Today, I got a Facebook message from my friend Amanda (side note: check out her blog, it's great!). Anyway, the message was asking if we could tell our junior-high self one thing, what would it be? And that got me thinking. What would I say to my junior high self? What would I say to my high school self? What would I say to the girl that walked into this school nine months ago? What would I say, if I could?

It may be silly to think this way, but I know I would have a lot to say. I would tell my junior-high self to keep my eyes on Jesus, always. To never walk away. To  chose my friends very wisely. I know, now, that my junior-high self would have never listened, as rebellious as I was. I would have done the opposite, but I now wish someone had told me these things. I wish someone had told me that life isn't perfect and the world I was finding out about is a scary place, but that doesn't mean you have to hide away from it, burrowing deeper into yourself, not allowing anyone to even come close to cracking your shell. I wish someone had told me that the friends I chose then were going to impact me in ways I never wanted to be impacted. I wish someone had told me to never, ever pick up that razor blade for the first time. I wish someone had told me I was worth more than every scar, every lie Satan had thrown at me. I wish someone had told me, and I wish, with everything in me, that I had it in me then to listen.

I would tell my high-school self that those four years suck. They suck, but they are filled with memories that will last a lifetime. I would have told myself to hold onto the few good moments and cherish them because they won't last long. I would have told myself to work less and spend more time with my best friend, because moving 700some miles away makes your best friend a stranger. I would have told myself that those friendships weren't going to last forever, they simply weren't, but that they were friendships I should have been more grateful for. I would tell myself that my worth is not found in relationships with boys. And, now, too, I wish someone had told me these things. I wish someone would have told me that high school relationships are the most pointless things on the face of the Earth and that boys lie and it sucks, but that there are actually good ones out there, so don't lose hope. I wish someone would have told me that a broken heart is not the end of the world, that there are much worse things that could happen to you, and that sometimes you just have to suck it up, delete his number, and move the heck on. I wish someone would have told me that girl talk is a deadly thing, that you need to spend more time praying about something than you do talking about it, and that gossip destroys friendships. I wish someone would have told me that the mistakes I made didn't define me. I wish someone would have told me that high school is pointless - that you don't need to work your butt off and freak out about every grade, because North Central really doesn't care anyway.

I would tell my nine-month-ago self that it gets better. That the first month of college is the hardest month of your life, that you will spend hours crying and praying that God will bring you through this. But I would tell myself that God will, in fact, bring you through this. I would tell myself to spend as much time as possible with Phoenicia, because she is going to become the most incredible best friend you will ever have. I would tell myself to loosen up a bit, that it's okay to be silly and be yourself around people. I would tell myself to cherish every moment, every memory, every trip to Applebee's, every walk to the Stone Arch, ever all-nighter, every baseball game, every ounce of laughter, every friendship, every late-night talk about God, every chapel service, every second in the prayer room, every Just Dance game, every movie, every single moment. I would tell myself to hold onto them with all that I've got because those moments have been all put together to make up the best fricken year of my life. I would tell myself that in nine months, I would be crying and begging God to make the time pass as slowly as possible because I love this place so much. And I wish someone had told me this. I wish someone had told me that the time flies way too quickly and that the friendships I made this year are going to be the people I'll know and cherish for the rest of my life, so I better take my time getting to know them. I wish someone had told me that the last week hits you like a brick, that it's the hardest thing in the world to realize that your best year of your life is almost over. I wish someone had told me to slow down and to cherish all of this.

I wish I could tell myself. I wish someone had told me. And perhaps someone did. Perhaps someone told me in junior high to chose my friends wisely, or in high school to focus more on God than relationships. I'm sure that somewhere along the way someone had told me these things. But I didn't listen. It went in one ear and out the other. I didn't pay attention to their words of wisdom and that's a shame, but it's something I can stop doing now. I can stop going back and wishing I had told myself these things or that someone had told me these things, and I can realize that right now, this moment, I will look back on it someday. And I don't want that day to be filled with "I wish I had listened"s. I want to take advantage of  the wisdom of the people around me and actually listen to them. I want to listen to myself. I want to listen to God. I want to look at my life in the light of "in ten years, what am I going to want to tell myself now?" and I want to listen to those things.

So I will. I'll try, at least. To listen more. To myself and to my God and to my parents and to my professors and to my friends. I'll try to make it so that ten years from now, when I look back on the best times of my life, I won't have anything to say but "good job."

Stories

Today is Wear TWLOHA day. I haven't posted about the organization TWLOHA much yet, other than to note a few quotes from the founder (and my personal hero) Jamie Tworkowski. I'm not sure why I haven't posted about it yet, other than the fact that it just hasn't really come up yet.

I love TWLOHA (To Write Love On Her Arms). For my readers that don't really know what that is, in a nut shell it is an organization that seeks to speak into the darkness of depression and to reach out to those dealing with self-mutilation and other similar addictions. It's an organization that I stand behind fully. I am passionate about their cause. If you want to know more about them, I'd encourage you to check out their website here. 

TWLOHA is encouraging their supporters to wear TWLOHA apparel today in an attempt to open doors and make opportunities to spread their message today. They are encouraging people to tell their stories. TWLOHA is all about stories. They talk a lot about the fact that you are a living story and your story is important.

All of this is not to simply state my support for an organization that I love, but to segue into what I've been wanting to post about today: the concept of story. Stories fascinate me. Perhaps it is because I am a writer and have an incredible love for words, but the fact that I am a living story is so amazing to me. Every day of my life is a new page, and I just think that's so cool. I am a living story, and that means that I have something worth telling people.

A few weeks ago, someone spoke in chapel about stories. I loved the sermon and look back at my notes often. Something that he pointed out was about who we're allowing to write our stories. Who has the pen? Who is in control? I know that often times, I try to be the writer of my own story. I try to take control, and I always fail. I always screw it up. But I've found that when I release control and allow God to write my story, He is faithful. Psalm 139:16 says "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." God has already written our stories. I just think that's so cool. God already has this incredible story written out for us, and we just have to walk in that story and let him take the pen.

One thing I've been praying over today as Wear TWLOHA day is Psalm 139:11-12. " If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,' even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you." I've been praying that stories will be told, that people would have the boldness to stand up with shaking knees and voices and tell their friends that they are currently, or have in the past, struggled with things like self-mutilation. I've been praying that through that, the hope of Christ would be revealed and darkness would be defeated. I've been praying against the strongholds of depression and addiction. I've been praying that lives would be changed and healed today.

I want to encourage you to tell your story. It is worth telling and you have been given it for a reason. No matter what mistakes you've made or things you've struggled with, God has a reason for your story. I believe that telling our stories will change others. I believe that that's why God gave us these stories. I believe that if we are not telling our stories we are not allowing God to work through the story He has given us.

I know it's hard to tell your story sometimes. It's hard to stand up and talk to someone that's struggling with something you've once struggled with and say that you've been there too. It's scary. It's not an easy thing to do, but I know we should. I know I should.

I don't freely tell my story. I don't just open up to everyone about what I've struggled with in the past. It's not something I usually share. But I've realized that I am robbing God of the ability to work through me when I refuse to tell the story He's given me. When I refuse to reach out to the girl downtown with scars up and down her arms and tell her that I know there is hope because I have personally been delivered from struggles with depression and self-mutilation, I am making my story useless. I went through those things for no reason if I don't use my story to reach others for Christ.

So today, I will tell my story. I will be vulnerable. And I will be very, very afraid. A lot of tears will be shed today, by me, and by many others in the world. But knowing that there are countless others out there wearing TWLOHA apparel and standing with me, speaking stories of hope and truth, makes it a little bit easier. Because others tell their stories, I will have the boldness to tell mine. Because Christ gave me this story, I will make Him known through it.

No Complaints

I complain a lot. I'm pretty sure that about 70% of the things that I say are complaints, if not more. I don't know why I complain so much, I just do. It fills the time. It seems like the only thing to say sometimes. It's not like I have a horrible life. I love my life. I am so blessed. But I still complain, a lot.

Yesterday, out of the blue, I decided that today I would not complain at all. I dragged two of my friends along with me on my adventure of not complaining so I had some moral support and people to keep me accountable when I started complaining.

I realized I complain a lot more than I thought. Before today, I didn't realize how much I complain. And it's about useless things, too. I say I'm tired a lot. And really, who cares? We're in college. We're all tired, and me sitting here complaining about my lack of sleep isn't helping that fact. I also complain in my mind a lot. Most of the things I have to think are complaints about something. And even though I took the time today to try hard to make sure those things didn't leave my mouth, I still thought them a lot. As I was on my way to my Global Perspectives class this morning grumbling in my mind about how cold it was outside, I asked God to help me take my complaints and turn them to praises. I began to think of how awesome God is every time I wanted to complain about something, and let me tell you, it really changed my whole day. I had a much better attitude because instead of wasting time thinking about all the little things that are wrong in my life, I took the time to thank God for all the big things that are right in my life.

As I was in the prayer room talking with God today, I looked up verses about complaining and found Phillipians 2:14 :

"Do everything without complaining or arguing."

 And I thought to myself, Do everything without complaining or arguing, Elyse. Everything. Not just today. Every day of your life. Do your homework without complaining. Write your papers without complaining. Walk in the cold without complaining. Clean your room without complaining. Serve others without complaining. Study without complaining. Pull all-nighters without complaining. Be tired without complaining. Don't just not complain when things are good, but also when things are not so good. Do every single thing without complaining.


It's not easy. Today was difficult and I did screw up, but I've read that 21 days makes a habit. So for the next 21 days, I am going to try my hardest to not complain. I am going to instead praise God for the things I have. I am going to be thankful and mindful of Him instead of wasting time complaining in my head. I'm going to do it, and I'm going to watch God change me from the inside out and it's going to be wonderful.

I encourage you guys to do the same. And hold me accountable. When I start complaining about the fact that I have to get up for my 7:45 class, remind me of my commitment to God. I'm going to need people to do that for me. I just want to encourage you guys to remember that everything you do reflects Christ, and I'm not saying this from some holy high-horse, because trust me, I screw up all the time, but I think that if we, as a body of Christ, committed ourselves more to thinking and talking about God's blessings instead of complaining about the small stuff, we could see God change a lot of lives and do a lot of really incredible things.