I keep a journal, as most 20-somethings do. As someone who writes everything down, I love to look back on them and see both my triumphs and trials. Journals are a place to see growth, a written roadmap through every victory and every loss. I hold them close, as if letting them go would nullify the experience. They are the physical representation of every scar and strength I have.
This world runs at a pace that is set by comparison and accomplishments. To be the best, you have to do the most, have the most money in the bank, have the most accolades under your belt. And while busyness, accomplishments, and awards of the world aren't inherently bad, they can quickly spiral someone into holding these words about oneself higher than the words of the Father, the very one who knitted you together.
I was asked this week the question, “What tables would Jesus overturn if he walked into your church? Your life?” Immediately a few things came to mind, what I would consider “obvious” things in our society that Jesus wouldn’t be the happiest with. But as I was reading through John today, I was slapped upside the head with something that got thrust to the top of my list.
Here’s the thing about finding the beauty in the ordinary: you’ve got to fight for it. You have to truly seek it- past the distractions, past the pain, past the rush of this hurried life. Beauty in the midst of the ugliness of the world can be easily overlooked when we hold to our horizontal perspectives. You have to fight for it, because anything beautiful is worth the fight.
There are many reasons to get a tattoo. One is because you want to remember something, one is you want to be cool, one is everyone else is doing it, and one is because no one else is doing it. I’m sure there are many others, but those are the ones I can think of. But they aren’t mine.
I went to urgent care today for a very intense headache. It’s been something I’ve been dealing with for a long time, and I really wanted some answers. I was diagnosed with migraines a few months back and given a medication to assist when they happened again. The problem was that it wasn’t helping this round- hence the urgent care visit.
I have a roommate that works the floral counter in a grocery store. Naturally, there is an obvious bonus that comes from living with her (aside from the fact that she is a lovely human): It seems like almost every other day she comes home with a bouquet of flowers to brighten up our home.