Why is it that insults cling to us so much tighter than than compliments do? Think about it. No matter how many compliments you receive, all it takes is one nasty remark to take a little bit of bounce out of your step.

Or a lot of it.

Why is it that it's hard to recall certain compliments but I could easily spout off a list of specific hurtful things that people have said to me? Why do we take insults so much more seriously than we do the kind things people say to us?

I am helping out at Vacation Bible School at my church this week and a certain remark a little girl said to me yesterday is what triggered this blog post. It was just one sentence, yet it made my heart hurt and got my brain thinking.

During the middle of a lesson about Noah's Ark this little girl turned to me and whispered,

"Someone on the bus told me I was ugly."

It is the middle of July. We were learning about Noah's Ark.

This was obviously something that has stuck in this precious child's mind since some unfortunate afternoon on the school bus. It came back to haunt her on a sunny summer morning at Bible school.

This particular little girl is absolutely beautiful. With golden blond hair and huge expressive eyes, she is clearly not ugly. Besides, I think children are too young to be 'ugly'. They still hold their innocence, seemingly untainted from the world and its cruelty. At least that is how children should be.
We all know that isn't always the case.

Anyway, this mean comment was probably made by some obnoxious bully who most likely doesn't recall the incident at all.

That is the worst part.

When we are insulted, we can't forget it. However, when WE are the ones being cruel, it is easier to block it out. Pretend it never happened. Pretend that we are still the victim.

That's just it. We live in a broken and fallen world full of vicious cycles. When we are hurt we find a way to hurt others in return.

It's only fair, right?

I know you have all heard the 'anti-bullying' talk time and time again. No one can say it isn't talked about enough in schools.

Then why is it that so many kids face hell every single day they step foot in their school? Why are middle schoolers commiting suicide? How is this happening right underneath our noses?
Why are little girls questioning their value at the young age of seven?

Why didn't I have the words to say to that sweet girl with the big eyes and a hurtful comment replaying over and over in her head?

I can't answer those questions. I can't make up answers that sound graceful and poetic and make you want to cry and hug someone. I can only offer you this.

Until we can truly start loving one another, none of this is going to go away. Until we fully grasp what Christ meant when He said, "Love your neighbor as yourself" we will continue to hurt one another. No required class in school about bullying is going to solve anything unless kids truly understand what love looks like. Most kids go home to a broken family of shattered relationships where their only view of 'love' is mom and dad screaming at each other every night. How are they supposed to know any better?

The answer is Jesus. Not religion, not fancy words. Not mushy blog posts written by such a flawed and unworthy individual such as myself. Just Jesus.

He is the definition of love. He doesn't view His children the way that we see each other. The way that we see ourselves. Can you imagine how it breaks His heart to see how we treat each other down here? He is the answer to all of this...He is proclaiming that every day. Why don't we listen?

My prayer for you is that you will join me in pursuing Christ in our actions. In the things that we say to each other. In the things that we think about each other. We are such mean and sinful people...helpless people.
We can't do this on our own.

Do you know what the comfort in this is though?

He doesn't expect us to.


 

No. That is not fake.

Two days ago, a very dear friend and I traveled to Sioux City and got our bodies permanently inked. Here is my explanation:




When I was younger and I heard the word tattoo, my mind would instantly dance to the kind that came on gum wrappers or the kind in the grocery store that you would beg mom to have a quarter to buy.
Cheap.
Little to no meaning behind it.

Temporary.

As I grew older and learned what a REAL tattoo was, I was shocked. I was confused as to why someone would allow a needle to poke you repeatedly as it etched a picture into your skin. It sounded like a cruel form of torture.
Expensive.
A big commitment.

Forever.

In high school I began viewing tattoos differently. I chose a bunch of pretty much meaningless pictures of the internet and put them in a folder titled 'Tattoos!!'. I wasn't ever really sure if I would get one, but it is fun to collect things.

Shells. Stamps. Rocks.

You get the point.

This summer I was thinking a little more seriously about getting a tattoo. I went through a couple of ideas and I had really reached a dead end. One day, as I was just about to close my laptop in despair, my eyes landed upon a picture of a swallow tattooed behind a woman's ear. It looked so graceful, so vibrant. A splash of color on the ivory canvas of her skin. I was hooked.

I started to do some research on the history of swallow tattoos. The wheels in my head started turning and I knew.

This was my tattoo.

The actual tattoo took about an hour each. I cried like a baby. Ouch. They say the foot is one of the most painful places to get a tattoo...but honestly, I probably would have cried wherever they put it. I never claimed to be tough.

I walked (err..limped) out of the tattoo parlor drained and quite a bit poorer...but at peace. Content. I was happy with my choice.

A swallow tattoo is signifies a journey behind you. An achievement. My research revealed that sailors would get a swallow tattooed on their chest when they had sailed 5,000 nautical miles.

I had reached my '5,000 miles' point in my life. I look back on these last eighteen years, and I am happy at where I am at today. From moving to Iowa from Colorado to my ups and downs of high school, it has definitely been a journey. I look back to what God has done in my life. His faithfulness through my weaknesses. His love as I failed him time and time again. He has blessed me with a beautiful family, irreplaceable friends, and His provision of my every need. I smile as I look back on my life, as I replay conversations in my head, as I recall the first time I really understood the reality of what Christ has done for us. There are no words for that.

This tattoo represents this turning point in my life as I make the transition to college. It represents not only my past, but also my future.

A swallow tattoo was a comfort to sailors because it represented home. A swallow was typically the first bird that they would see when shore was approaching. This is significant to me. Even though I am leaving home, I pray that I never get too caught up in my new life that I forget about the ones that shaped me into the one I am today. Even though my parents aren't too thrilled about his new addition to my body...I got this tattoo for them too.

It wasn't an act of rebellion. I didn't get it to make my foot look 'hot'. (Is that even possible? Feet are gross.) I know not everyone are into tattoos and I respect that. I'm not trying to impress anyone with it.

I got it for me. It will walk with me wherever life takes me.
It is a reminder to slow down and breathe.

A reminder to call mom and dad to let them how much I love them.

To look back on what God has overcome and what He will continue to triumph over.

Every action has a reaction. A consequence.
Some actions trigger glorious responses, these are the type we are proud of.
However, sometimes our actions cause destruction. Pain. Ruin relationships.

These are the kind of actions I am going to talk about.

This is going to be an extremely personal blog post that I have been debating with myself about posting. In fact, I may type this whole thing out and it will remain living in my drafts folder. We'll see.

Basically, I have been sorting through a lot in my life lately. I have been asking myself some tough questions that are triggering me to think about just what type of woman I am growing up to be. As I stepped back and observed what my actions were showing and as I examined where my heart was at, I realized something.

I had lost sight of the godly woman I wanted so badly to be. I had no idea where she was.

As I staggered back at this realization, an even heavier one hit me.
 
I had lost sight of the One who was the very reason I was striving to BE that kind of woman for. No, I'm not talking about my mysterious Prince Charming or knight in shining armor. I'm talking about a Father who I have claimed to love these last couple of months. The One who's heart I was breaking. A God who saw through my facade and loved me anyway.

You see, I had drifted. I had allowed silly things like a crazy schedule, a desire to be attractive and a selfish plan for my life to push me farther and farther away from the only One that has mattered this entire time. I had stopped concerning myself about His plans for my life and focusing only on what I wanted out of it.

That's all it took.

I know I have changed. I know others have noticed it. Hey, some people probably liked the change. Others may not have even noticed. But I know I have hurt people, confused people.

The worst part of it all is that I have not been the picture of Christ that I was striving to paint. It scares me to think of all the people that I have been such a horrible witness to. I feel like I have wasted so much time.

I only have about a month before I head to college in August. My goal is to set things right. I have praying that God will remove this selfish fear of what others think about me and that He would give me the boldness that He deserves. I pray that I am not tempted to water down the Gospel to please people or to keep myself from being offensive. I may have already offended some of you reading this. Others may have stopped reading this at the first reference to Christ. I also know that I may lose some of you who have been reading this blog

It has never been my intention to 'shove my religion down anyone's throat'. I believe that we all should have the freedom to choose how we live our lives. With that being said, I firmly believe that Jesus is only One who will bring you a full and eternal life. I refuse to be ashamed of that.

I will leave you with this verse. It is one that I found recently that really ties into what I have been experiencing lately. Here goes:

The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in Him for eternal life. 1 Timothy 1:15-16

Fall; verb.

Definition:

1. To descend freely by the force of gravity. 

Falling should be the easiest thing to do. 'Descending freely sounds simple enough. Blissful even. What a lovely string of words. Complete and total surrender to a natural force.

However, gravity is a heavy word. Any creature who dreams of flight can assure you of this.

Falling can feel a lot like failing.

2. To come by chance.

'The job fell into her hands.'
'His birthday falls on a Tuesday this year.'

Sometimes we don't have a choice as to when we fall. Sometimes we fight it. Sometimes we wish it upon others.

Sometimes we rejoice when fate causes us to fall in a good place.

3. To pass suddenly and passively into a state of body or mind or a new state or condition.

Perhaps this is the scariest form of falling. The kind that will send a shiver down a spine faster than the thought of a physical fall. The fall that most people long for most fervidly, yet dread with the same gusto.

To fall in love.

The act of giving another human being the chance to destroy you. To leave the safe and steady stage of independence to once again learning the childhood lesson of sharing. Sharing not only physical belongings, but sharing your feelings. Sharing your secrets. Sharing your world.

I don't know about you, but I most certainly believe that 'falling' is a terrifying verb. An uncomfortable word that demands more than I am willing to give sometimes. An action that won't occur overnight or as smoothly as romance novels portray. There will be no background music like the movies.

The individual that provokes you to fall will be a flawed one. Be prepared to cry. Be ready to be disappointed. Realize that you are flawed too. But most importantly, be willing to laugh at yourselves in the midst of your imperfections.

I have never truly fallen in this form. I have stumbled, but I have a lot of learning to do before I get to experience this horrifying and beautiful descend. I have a lot of people to meet. Decisions to make.

However, no one plans on falling. I pray that I don't schedule a time for me to. Love shouldn't be rushed. It shouldn't be imitated. It shouldn't be mocked.

It just happens.

It all just falls into place.