The power of our past

“This is heart wrenching!” I watched my aunt breath heavily, releasing the tears building up in her eyes so that they could roll down her beat red cheeks.

We all stood with our faces glued to the window, watching the small lights blinking in the black of night until we knew that his plane had launched into the air, its destination: Okinawa, Japan.

A lump had formed hard in my throat before I finally gave in to allowing my tears to freely fall. Two years is too long for a mother to go without seeing her son. Two years is such a long time for a brave young man to agree to spend in Japan. But the beautiful thing about my cousin, Will, is that he doesn’t think that way. He does not think selfishly, but selflessly knowing that his duty in life is simply to serve.

His life has not been easy, it’s been full of ups and downs, naturally as life contains highs and lows. But Will had every excuse in the book to grow up and be angry, bitter, numb. Beautifully, though, he turned into quite the opposite: a strong young man with a zest and love for life, for peace. 

Growing up, long stretches of highways and stop lights kept our families limited to the amount of visits shared together, but coming home and being able to spend time with him before he left, I grew to admire him so much. The last night before his plane left, I brought a bowl of cookie dough and asked him if he wanted to share some. Across the bar in my basement he sat and shared stories with me about his training. Getting a spoonful of cookie dough, he said, “I got my wisdom teeth out while I was off training.”

“Did they put you to sleep?” I said, leaning over the wood bar, on my tiptoes.

“No, but they gave me a few shots to numb my mouth.” He looked down at the cookie dough.

My mouth instantly dropped, “You were wide awake? Did you hear everything?”

He nodded calmly despite my dramatic response; “I heard them break my teeth so they could get them out. It wasn’t bad though. The worst part was pulling the gauze out myself and seeing the blood fill the sink.”

I cringed, pulling my shoulders towards my head, “Oh my gosh, I can’t even imagine! Did you get to rest?!”

“Yeah! And then, the next day I was back out and training. It really wasn’t bad.” He nonchalantly scooped up the last bit of cookie dough, a smile still present on his face.

I shook my head in disbelief, “Cheers to you,” I held up my cup of chocolate milk, knocking it against his empty cup. He laughed and walked off to get some rest. I threw the plastic spoons in the trashcan and walked towards my room.

Lying in bed that night, I was still so astounded at what Will had shared with me. How strong he was reminded me of how selfish I can be and I realized how quickly perspective can change after exchanging stories with someone who has seen and been places that you have never even been close to experiencing.

It took catching up with my cousin to slap me across the face and remind me that I am not here on this earth to simply live for myself. It is stories like this that touch the hearts of people and I literally had the opportunity to experience Jesus’ love simply by being with Will for two days.

Before we left the airport, my mom hugged my aunt, whispering, “He’s a good kid.”

My aunt nodded, “Yeah, he is.”  

Sacrifice is beautiful; it warms the heart, especially when the person being sacrificed for has done hardly anything to deserve the sacrifice.

There are so many who choose to stay comfortable, to turn down opportunities because they don’t want to miss out on time spent with their family or friends; because they don’t want to leave where they love. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore my family and hate the thought of missing out an any time with them, but sometimes following your call is painful and utterly heart wrenching. Of course you are going to miss your family, you are going to hurt along the journey, but when I think about Will’s amazing opportunity, everything in me longs to step up. To hear people’s stories, go places I have never seen, do things I have never experienced. Why have we all reached the conclusion that the fullest life is sacrificing as little as possible and leaving your comfort zone a tolerable amount of times?

We need to be afraid, to feel urgency, to be excited and nervous. We need adventure, desperately; to trust what God has in store for us rather than thinking we can handle it. We need to say yes to that which we want to say no to, we need to do the unexpected, to do things for others in order to learn more about ourselves.

When I think about Will and who he has grown up to be, I swell with excitement and hope for the future. You see, our past has the power to make us bitter, or to change us for the better. Will took his disappointments and his painful memories and allowed them to shape him into someone who wanted to bring CHANGE. He allowed them to mold him into someone different. 

We have so much power, so much ability to change the things that we face, to affect others who are in low places where we have been. Instead, we complain, we become absorbed in ourselves and our own difficulties. Unaware of our power; what good will that do?

Trey,

Tonight at Quest was one of those nights where I so fondly remembered how much I truly love and appreciate you. It's not something that often slips my mind, but tonight the realization hit me square in the face-- while you stood there in front of me and all of my friends, I beamed with pride that I am your sister. Duncan and so many of our friends often tell me of how different the two of us are... and I guess I do realize that. We are so drastically different, we butt heads occasionally, and there are definitely moments when we fail to see eye to eye, but despite the many things we just can't comprehend about the other, we have such an understood relationship as brother and sister.
Your silent moments of patience and your willingness to claim me, even when disappointed, always remind me of Jesus' faithful love for me. You don't have to brag incessantly about me for me to see that you love me so much. It's in your drives to the horseshoe to lend me money, your helping me carry my groceries, your pep-talks when I am overwhelmed, your silent disapproval when I make a bad choice, your unbelievable readiness to always forgive. You see me when I doubt myself and you always are ready to push me towards the seemingly unreachable goal.
Like the time I went to the lake with you and your friends this summer. Wake boarding? It was a task I thought I was incapable of achieving. But you wanted so desperately for me to try, and when I failed you encouraged, "just try one more time, you were so close!" When I finally got up, those moments above the water were so unreal. I was afraid of failure, but I am so thankful my older brother knew that I had it in me.
I know that a lot of the times, I can be sassy and a lot to handle, and that I really fail at showing you my appreciation and my love for you, but I just wanted to write this out for you because my heart literally overflows when I think of how well you love me. Never has there ever been a better older brother, so patient, so caring; I am beyond thankful for you. I remember growing up, I always looked up to my sweet Bubba so much, I cherish our memories and so many laughs shared.
I know that now you're twenty one and I'm nineteen, but to me I'll always be your sissy and you'll always be bubba. Lowery, Hollis and I are the three luckiest girls in the world to have you as our sweet brother. Thank you for always being there, for believing in me, for giving me every reason to swell up with pride when someone asks me, "Oh, are you Trey's sister?" I so excitedly have the privilege of saying, "Yes! I am!" Thank you for showing me Jesus through your constant love and care.

I love you so much.
Mary Chayse

Say yes to just enjoying the journey of today.

In the rush of class and homeworks due,
Of deadlines, tests, the list of "to-do",
It's easy to lose the passion for living,
To grow calloused and bitter, to become unforgiving.

What can you do when your life seems nonstop?
But there's no time to loose and you can't stop the clock.
What have we forgotten in our goal of productivity?
How have we so quickly entered a state of passivity?

Maybe the fix would just be to say "no"
To always being productive, always being on the go.
Say yes to just enjoying the journey of today,
Filled with laughter and spontaneity; take time to play.

We have the rest of our lives to be productive,
To have a set schedule, for our lives to be constructed.
Of course there are things that need to be done,
But we also need to do things simply in order to have fun!

Create, play, laugh, take time for you!
Be adventurous, conquer your fears, try something new!
The Lord wants you to enjoy life, it is his desire!
Don't spread yourself thin; rekindle your fire.

One in five.

Normally, I shake off the things that people say,
With which I disagree, that I do not think are okay.
This time, though, I refuse to hold my tongue...
I think that something must be said, or that something must be done.

There is such a stigma against depression, cutting, and self harm.
Against the people that feel empty, who bring razors to their arms.
We label them as "emo," and, "oh they're just looking for attention."
Yet, in reality, we are too dense to realize our own misapprehension.

The statistics, they scream that there is something we do not see.
One in five people struggle, one in five could be in close proximity.
It could be the mother, the young adult; they could appear just fine...
They could look just like you; they're not of a certain design.

They may prefer rock music, or they may even like hip hop,
We think they must be a certain way, but this thinking has got to stop.
This problem is real, it is standing right before our eyes; these people hurt!
They are broken, they feel empty, they are struggling to see their self-worth.

This stigma keeps them from being open about the things they face.
Shouldn't we draw them in with love, with a warm embrace?
Anyone can struggle with self-injury. Anyone... including me.
Yet the majority of people around were unaware; they did not see.

I am tired of hearing jokes, "this song makes me want to slit my wrists."
Lightheartedly throwing the topic around, yet this problem still persists.
It is not some minuscule issue; it is an epidemic, hidden yet prevalent.
Can we forget the stereotypes? Can we notice that we all hurt, we're all human?

Our words can either draw people in, or push them further away.
We might come to find that the people closest to us struggle, to our own dismay.
So when reality hits us in the face, we can only hope that it's not too late.
That there were not things left unsaid, or things we wish we could unsay.
One in five. One in five. We encounter so many more faces than just five within a day.
As we interact with those faces, let us remember who exactly we portray.
He is the Potter and we are the clay.
"Mold us into something beautiful," this we pray.
There was brokenness in me, He so lovingly pieced back together after I'd gone astray,
Because loving those who are broken— this is the Potter's forte.