20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson One

1. Take advantage of the time you are responsible for no one but yourself.

There are few times in our lives that we have few obligations. For some of you, this time may have seemingly passed. And for others, you may be experiencing it now. But even if this lesson applies to the thirty minutes you have during naptime, read carefully.

Sometimes we take for granted the fact that we don’t have to hold someone’s hand as they choose which tie looks best for work, or whether that lipstick is too daring for daytime. (Ladies, it never is.) For some of us, we don’t have to wake up because someone has the sniffles or sees a monster beneath their bed.

 

These years we live with little obligations and responsibilities are spent wishing that we had someone next to us or complaining that a midterm is approaching. But we must learn to cherish the only agenda we have in our lives right now—our own. Our time will come when we must coordinate and calibrate his and hers or his and his or hers and hers schedules. Our time will come when we can’t sip on wine and watch The Notebook on a Tuesday because we feel like it. Our time will come when we can’t wake up at 6am on Homecoming Saturday and decide not only is it appropriate to have beer with our eggs, it is expected. Our time will come when our grandparents and parents aren’t the ones there to hold our hands through this crazy maze we call life. Our time will come when our worries turn from taking tests to praying for hope.

 

Hold on to the time you have when your only responsibility is finding yourself and creating who you envision when you think of you. Make an imprint where you see potential while there’s no one there to ask you why.

 

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

New Series: 20 Lessons I've Learned at 20

 

Living isn't merely existing or breathing.

Now, this is coming from someone who thinks in grey scale and majors in news & information. I'm sure if you asked a biology major who thinks in black and white, you would get a much different definition of living. But for time and sanity's sakes, let's say simply breathing and letting life pass you by in scenes isn't enough. It isn't sufficient in defining living.

In the twenty years I have spent living, I have learned lessons worth sharing. Now, these are simple lessons. These are not the secrets to life. I have not gone sky diving, bungee jumping, climbed Mt. Everest, or saved the world. I'm not Ghandi, I'm a college-aged girl from Ohio. But I have been pooped on by a bird, had my heart broken more than once, gone on some incredibly awful first dates, had braces, survived middle school, and ran a 5K. Which, honestly, are all victories in themselves.

So here's to all of you out there-- the ones who have cried into tubs of ice cream, tripped walking upstairs, wet yourselves a little from laughing, gone all day with your fly unzipped, and been pooped on by a bird. This series of posts over the next few weeks is for you. We are all survivors in our own way, and because of these small victories, we have learned and we have lived. I hope you enjoy my 20 Lessons I've Learned at 20. Because I sure love uncovering the feeling-- the feeling I get after brushing off the dust (or bird poop) and drying up the tears-- the feeling I know I'm going to be okay.

 

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose 

complaints → blessings.

 

Complaints are something we speak each day; they are uttered beneath our breath, struck through our brain, and yelled in times of desperation. From insignificant to life threatening, gripes and complaints slip from between our lips without second thought. But what if we turned every complaint we have into a blessing? What if we could shift our thinking from garbage to gratefulness?

Instead of focusing on the chilly temps, let us say thanks for being affluent enough to afford a coat.

Instead of cursing from beneath our breath about a spilled stain, let us be grateful for the kids God has blessed us with who create them.

Instead of furrowing our brows at early morning alarms for work and school, let us say a prayer for being fortunate enough to have a job and a means to education.

Instead of letting the housework overwhelm, let it remind you of just how lucky you are to have a roof over your head.

Instead of feeling guilty for eating that last bite of chocolate lava cake, feel grateful you are fortunate enough to eat. (And feel gracious enough to share a bite… with me…)

Let the discouragement motivate.

Let the curveballs teach.

Let the complaints say thanks.

And let your heart open to every day’s disguised blessings.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

less like friends, more like sisters.

Introducing a heartwarming story on one of God’s gifts to this earth. It has been approved for effectively treating minor hopelessness, cold-heartedness, frowning, sadness, doubt of love, and lack of inspiration. Side effects are rare, but do include: active tear ducts, “aww” noises, grins, swelling of the heart, laughter, drowsiness, loss of appetite, and runny nose.*

*Okay, so the last three are just for my own personal enjoyment. False advertising, my apologies.

Morgan and I have known each other since we were six. I mean, as much as you can actually know someone in kindergarten. She actually strongly disliked me. Which, I can’t really blame her for considering I felt it was my duty to tell everyone what their position was in the ever-so-popular game among kids… “house.” (This part becomes ironic later.)

The years went by, and I felt the responsibility to serve as commander of my peers slowly subside. My brain-to-mouth filter never really faded, but Morgan’s disinterest in me, did. We slowly started to become friends as the years went on, and at no particular “aha!” moment we did become best friends. (I know this is not the most exciting and/or fairytale story, but stick with me.)

Morgan crept into my life and became my sister, my support, my counselor, and my best friend. She was by my side through my first (and second) heart break. She wiped my tears when I didn’t understand why God took my family. She is the only person that could get into my head and stop me from crying every tear inside my body when my cousin passed away. She is also the reason I haven’t ended up in Juno, Alaska when I was going to Columbus, Ohio.

Now, “house” isn’t just a game. It is real life, as we are current college roommates and are in search for an apartment. Though, now, she has a much different role in my life then she did when we were six. Instead of playing a pretend mother, daughter, maid, or dog, she plays a true friend. (Although considering how moody I can be, she probably wishes for the days when she pretended to be a mother, daughter, maid or dog.)

When many people get married, they claim they are “marrying their best friend.” I, on the other hand, would be lying if I ever said that. My best friend will always be the one that held my hand when we walked on stage to speak to our graduating class for the last time. That title will always go to the girl who I called after my first kiss. She will always be the girl who carried my books when I broke my ankle, gave me a place to stay when I bickered with my parents, and wore sunglasses with me at night when my eyes were swollen from crying. My best friend will always be the girl who my nieces consider their “bonus” aunt. Morgan will always be the one who held my hair while I was sick over the toilet. My best friend will be the one zipping my wedding dress up and standing next to me when I finally say, “I do.” She will be the hand I hold when I need girl talk. She will be the one that I support no matter what. And, she will always be the person I call my best friend.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

a tribute.

People enter and exit our lives every day, every month, and every year. Some leave us unaffected, while some leave us wanting more: more lessons, more love, more inspiration, or more time.

Very few, if any, exit with us wanting more of all of these: lessons, love, inspiration, and time.

A year ago today, one of those select few left this temporary home we live in. He left us wanting so much more. So. Much. More.

Of the last 365 days that have passed, not a single one passed without a thought or memory crossing my mind. We were left wondering why God would take such a beautiful heart and pure soul. We searched, we prayed, we questioned, we mourned. We begged for more. So. Much. More.

It is human nature to want more of a good thing. Blessings are no different, even if they come into our lives in the form of people. Those blessings exit our lives and we are left with cold, blinding grief. But after the grief slowly and painfully starts to leave our bodies, we are left with sweet memories, love in our hearts, and a guardian angel above us.

We must never forget the love, the memories, and our angels. They give us reality of life and heaven. They remind us of how short our precious lives are, the significance of love, and the protection only an angel can provide.

Last year at this time, I said goodbye to a lot: high school, familiarity, my home, and my cousin. I stood on a stage and promised my angel that I would live life through him. I promised I would experience the things he never got to for the both of us. I squeezed his hand and made a promise to him.

Every day I want more. So. Much. More. But when it comes down to it, I am left with his sweet memories, his never-ending love in my heart, and one kick-ass angel watching me navigate this temporary home.

We miss & love you, Ian- forever & always, together & apart.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

sunshine after starvation.

It’s so easy when faced with trying times to throw in the towel and accept that you’re life has taken a turn for the worse. It takes strength, remarkable character, and a strong sense of purpose to find light in the darkness and use the towel to dry your tears and rise above instead of using it to sulk and sink down far below.

We have a rough time at work, receive a bad grade on an exam, or even face the most natural part of living- death- and think God is punishing us.

But what if the trying times last for four years? What if the times include over six million people dying? What if those times were filled with starvation and constant fear?

This was the circumstance for Wandy Woloski, a Holocaust survivor. She was detained as a little girl, and her chilling story is remarkable beyond words.

After her telling of overcoming starvation, death, and fear, she was asked one question that revealed a response which shook the entire room.

A young woman rose from her seat and asked how she feels toward the Germans now that the Holocaust is all said and done. Wolosky replied in a confident tone without a single pause of doubt,

 “I do not hate. Because hate would destroy me.”

Undying, tried and true, raw courage. But then, it got better. She wanted the whole audience to remember a few words:

“When you see an injustice, speak up. If someone looks a little bit different, don’t laugh at them, help them. You are the next generation- you are going to (maybe) tell my story. Life is so precious- you can think today is bad, but tomorrow is going to be a better day.”

Wandy closed with a poem with more words of inspiration:

 “Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day, perhaps tomorrow the sun will shine, there has to be hope for another day.”

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose.

small heart, big purpose.

When two people decide to have a baby, they envision a purpose for their child- what they will accomplish, the person they will become, and what they will contribute to society. They also envision whose eyes they will have, what color their hair will be, and pray to God they will not have Aunt Gertrude’s wonky second toe.

We form this purpose in our heads for our unborn children, wondering what role in society they will fulfill. Or, maybe, what essential role they will create for themselves in this fast paced world. We wish for them a heart filled with happiness and love, a mind full of knowledge and curiosity. We wonder whether we will have the hands to give them the life they deserve and the love they yearn for. We also wonder what they see through their tiny eyes and what they feel with their tiny heart. Our minds ponder what babies dream about, or more importantly, what on God’s green earth they have experienced to have nightmares about.  

The beautiful baby above fulfills a heart for many people. She is the driving force behind her parents’ lives. She is the light in which her sister walks, and she is God’s gift to this world. She serves a purpose greater than what her tiny mind can fathom- while we all sit, ponder, and wait patiently to find out what purpose she is envisioning for herself.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose