I Recognize Myself in Celebrities

What is there to say that hasn’t been said already? People have already written so responses to the VMAs that my head is spinning. Some I agree with, and some I don’t. But I do know I don’t despise anyone for the choices they made there. Instead, my heart simply breaks for them.

Why would it break? I can promise you it’s not because I think I’m better because I’m in my little corner where I’ve done nothing bad in my life (which isn’t true, just to be clear). My heart breaks for them because I remember. I remember life before Jesus. I remember the need to do my own thing so people respect me. I remember the desire to be loved but not stopping to ask myself how do I let that happen? How do I let down the walls around my heart so I can experience love? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I was happy to do my own thing while assuring people that I was following Christ.

I remember when I finally found the courage to stop running and ask God and myself the tough questions. Why? Why do I feel this way? I thought everything was supposed to be better after my “conversion” in 8th grade. Why do I care about what people say about me? Why do I always try to impress them? I want to be me. I wanted so desperately to be the “real me,” but I had no clue who the real me was. If I didn’t know who I was, how can I be real?

I remember reaching rock bottom.

Not many people have reached rock bottom. The way you get there is always different, but you know it when you’ve reached it.

Rock bottom is lonely, and you have no sense of direction to know where you should go next, what you should do to get out. Your only thought is how wretched you are. You see yourself, your real self, for the first time.

In my moment of horror of my wretched self, I remember how God immediately came to my side and told me He loved me. He loved me! That’s all He said, and He said it again, and again, and again!

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Those three words were the only things that drew me out of rock bottom. I did nothing. I could do nothing to pull myself out from the pit I was in. All I could do was sit and soak in God’s love for me.

When I watch people breakout in anger against celebrities, I can’t join them. How I live my life is all I should focus on, not how they live theirs.

Sometimes, though, I do wonder if there’s anything I can do to help. I’m just a girl from Northern Virginia who’s been living in Kentucky for the past three years, what can I do? And God reminds me that all I can do is pray. And since I already know I can’t do anything, I let the God who can do something act.

Confession: I Don’t Like the First Page

I have a confession to make: I hate first pages.

Typically when I’m writing a paper for school, the introduction paragraph is the last thing I write. This is simply because I hate it so much. I would honestly rather jump into what I actually want to say then spend half a page leading up to what I’m writing about.

Why? There’s something about looking at the first page and not knowing where to begin that overwhelms me. While I love writing stories and creating worlds, making a point to sit down and write the first word of the first sentence for the first page is like nails on a chalkboard. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the story. If I mess that up then what’s the point in continuing?

But that is the point, isn’t it? The first page opens the door of exploration and discovery. Yes, I may do the introduction last. Yes, it may not be perfect. Yes, I will probably mess up on my first draft. Beginnings are hard, but we do them anyways.

There is a certain type of risk involved with beginnings. Beginnings signify the start of something new. Maybe for you beginnings don’t ruffle your feathers; if so, let’s talk sometime. However, for me, beginnings are not easy, but they are worth it. They are worth the uncertainty because somewhere deep down I know something good comes out of beginnings. I believe they help us grow and challenge us to be bold and adventurous. If we live our lives forever scared of the first page, then we will never experience the joy of the story.

I have another confession to make…nope, that’s a lie. First pages still intimidate me, but I’ve found beginnings are worth the uncertainty and risk.