Monthly Archives: October 2011

The Little Things


Sometimes, I think God puts people and for lack of a better word “stuff” in our life to prove a point. Perhaps, it is even to get our attention. So over the past couple of days I am pretty sure God has gotten my attention by two things: losing/finding my debit card and through interviewing a genocide war victim.

I went home for the weekend because it’s fall break. Saturday was one of those perfect fall days, and I was blissful. I hung out with some of my best friends, and I didn’t have a care in the world.

My break was wonderful until Monday afternoon I drove up to the Starbucks window. I reached into my backseat and grabbed my purple wallet to get my debit card. As soon as I unzipped it, panic took over my body. Where was the gray piece of plastic that held all the money to my name?

I immediately went into my own form of panic. I was having all sorts of weird panic sensations, and when I reached the window I told the barrista, “I’msorryIcan’tpayforthisdrink Ihavelostmydebitcard.” . I freaked out. There are truly kind people in this world because the man just smiled at me and gave me my order.

I had other stops to make and errands to run, so I just decided to push it out of my mind. I had just run to the bank, and all my money was there. I reasoned no one had stolen it. I had simply lost it. I eventually returned home, and in a calm manner I searched my backseat and went through all the clothes I had worn in the past three days. However, it was in none of those places.

My best friend suggested I call the place we were Saturday to see if it was there. The entire time I was looking for the card, I was praying out loud. I kept telling God he had to help me find this debit card. He obviously knew what would happen if I didn’t. Luckily, the restaurant we were at had my card. I apparently dropped it on the way out, and the family behind my friends and me turned it in.

God got my attention Monday for certain, and he got my attention today. It wasn’t as little as my debit card (well, that is probably important actually, but still). I am doing an article for my college newspaper on the Holocaust/Genocide Studies Conference here this week, and my path crossed with a victim who survived genocide in Rwanada.

I barely talked during the whole interview. Nothing I could say or ask could contribute. I did simply ask if anyone had told her story before or at least written an article on her. She humbly said no, and I told her that was about to change. Her story needed to be shared, and I wanted to be the one to share it.

I am not going to go into detail about what she went through. When I write the entire story, I’ll definitely share. Point being, though, I am blessed beyond measure. I didn’t have to go through the horrific experiences she did. God never placed any trial of that size in my life. Who am I to even complain about anything? Compared to that, I should be perfectly content knowing I can live in a country where I am free. A country where no one is chasing me or my family. A country that is for the most part entirely peaceful.

Francesca Battistelli sings in her song “This Is The Stuff” one of my new favorite lyrics about in the little of our mess, we usually forget about big we are blessed. I am guilty of that on a daily basis. I get in small panics about little stuff, and I forget God’s even in the picture. Today showed me God is in everything. Big stuff or little stuff. Most importantly, God is blessing me beyond measure, and it would be silly of me to ever forget that.


Pushin’ down on me


I don’t remember the last time I did a handstand. When I was little, my living room was my jungle gym. I always loved watching the Olympics, and I remember trying to always imitate different moves of those gymnasts by hopping on the couches and doing different flips. My mother hated it. My grandmother encouraged it and straightened up the pillows once I was done with my “performance.”

Tonight, I felt the need that same little kid urge. I wanted to do something a little crazy. Normally, I am a very refined girl of sorts. I keep my emotions in check. I don’t go around crying or stomping my foot in anger. I keep my game face on and my big girl panties as my mother would say. I like control. So, I am constantly controlling myself and my movements. I don’t like anything out of line, myself included.

After a rocky evening of sorts, I went over to some friends’ apartment to hang out and just catch up. College is crazy, you know. It’s Thursday morning right now. My sleep schedule is skewed, and I live on naps. Thank God I grew out of my hating nap phase.

Nonetheless, college contains lots of pressures. Between school, work, and my social life, things get hectic and sometimes it feels like the whole world is just exerting all its force on top of me. Perhaps, the universe is even pointing and laughing at me while doing so. I would know that’s for sure.

This evening, the world exerted another force on me. Yes, it’s quite common. It exerts it on me daily, but I decided to test gravity tonight. Once I saw one of my friends do a somersault in the floor, I got the urge to do a handstand. So down I went. I placed my fingers into the white carpet and launched myself into place. I am an adult and this is what I do with my freedom: handstands in the dining room.

I from there started a trend and two of my other friends started doing it with me. I loved gymnastics as a kid. I loved doing back-handsprings and back tucks. It was a stress reliever in my middle school days. Yes, I was a stressed out eighth grader. Don’t judge me.

From there I continued doing handstands against the wall. I even turned my handstands around and walked myself stomach first back into the wall. I called it “wall flopping.” In the pictures that we took, it looked like I was hugging the wall in handstand form. However, gravity soon reminded that I can’t just keep hugging the wall like that. What comes up must come down. I am sure one of Murphy’s Laws addresses that concept.

In my typical awkward fashion, I crumpled to the floor in some weird way. I quickly wondered if I broke anything because I just face planted into the carpet and my limbs were just sprawling and landing in all different ways. I didn’t break anything, though. Embarrass myself? Well, that is hard to do considering I do that on a daily basis. For the normal human being that might be considered an embarrassing moment.

After I crumpled, I soon erupted into a fight of laughter and rolled on the floor. I don’t remember the last time I let myself do anything like that. To let all the pressures pushing down on me just go. I am not going to lie. It felt nice. It felt nice to not be in complete and total control. It was just to let off a little steam.

College is rough place to be. I have scholarships to keep and grades to make. I have articles to write and jobs to do. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love being here.

Sometimes, I think we all need that reminder to not let all the pressures suffocate us as it pushes down. Maybe I should let myself go a little more often and crazy. Well, not too crazy. Wall flopping and handstanding are as wild as I think I can go.