"You can't wait for college? It's not all it's cracked up to be."
"It's not youth camp anymore." "To all those seniors who say 'can't wait for what the next chapter holds,' it holds agony and textbooks. That's what it holds." Dear future college self, please don't be like this.
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I've always thought I wanted to be those hardcore missionary martyrs that when they get tortured or get their head chopped off, they have an amazing testimony and say some beautiful words right before they die that inspire others. I've always thought if I was ever in that situation I would be brave and daring. For some reason I've always thought that I wanted to die for Jesus in a tragic courageous way. Because of his sacrifice for me on the cross. But I was thinking about all these morbid death things and suddenly a phrase popped into my head. I don't care how you die. I care how you lived. Ever since I was little I have been making survival kits. They have recently morphed from compasses and ropes to more modern things; I decided to make a blog post about it so you can make one too.
Whether you're going to Panera Bread, a boring airport, or an exotic jungle, you'll need to customize this kit to your survival needs! Need help? Let's get started! It's Saturday now, a day where I can feel rested and productive, relaxed and peaceful. Ahh.
The weekdays are so hectic. I'm around people too much. I have a lot of work to do, and not much time in which to do it. But even though I'm almost cringing while saying this, I'm going to say it anyway. Don't live for the weekends. Warning: this list you are about to read may consist of actually adventurous stuff, some questionable experiences, and maybe something not even crazy at all.
Proceed.... Are mission trips just vacations other people pay for? Do they actually help anything? Or, are they a waste? Last summer I traveled with my youth group to Mexico for a mission trip. It was amazing, and I learned a lot. However, before we left, missionaries there cautioned us; they warned us against the mindset of trying to “save the world” or being “Santa Claus” to the natives. We had asked what they wanted us to do - did they want us to bring supplies, do construction or paint something for them? Their answer was no. As I opened my glistening mouth to the taco meal ahead, I realized the goodness of it all. The spicy meat and the juicy tomatoes made a perfectly acidity component to the creamy cheese and bright lettuce. It certainly looked beautiful enough to eat, but the flavor though.... Phenomenal. It had tasted even better. I enjoyed the meal to the fullest, only a few beautiful moments ago. Sometimes however, it doesn't look beautiful at first. Like a maple bacon donut or broccoli or a cold pool or a scary piano competition. You know it might pay off someday but it's not fun to take the first step toward it. In life, the first bite is the hardest.
You either nibble, or go all out. To take the first bite of something new, you have to go out of your comfort zone; you have to take a chance; you have to step forward and go for it. When you take the first bite you may have no idea what is coming next. You might be pleasantly surprised. You may be shocked, or you may be disappointed. Same with the first takeoff, dive, jump, or Go big or go home, is what I always say. And that's why the second bite is my favorite. A soft breeze from the open windows refreshingly floats around me as I write this piece. A mason jar crisp with water is at my side as I think about the rest of this year. It is February now, not the start of 2017 but not the end either. Every day is a fresh start, a time for change, a new perspective, a wiped-clean surface. A time to reflect on the past and hope for the future. Today I realize I want to do something different than before. Than 2016 or all the other years. I don't want to go through cycles of working and working only to find myself burnt out, sluggish, and weak as I lay on the couch feeling guilty. Today I realize I need a consistent schedule of planning and productivity and also moments to myself. I need goals and checklists and then a walk. Or a nap. Or just a time of "resting my eyes." ;) Oftentimes I need a break from this life, especially when my introverted personality pops out. I just really need to breathe. Breathe. That's my word.
The blustery wind enveloped the old wrinkled woman as she lay shivering upon her husband's grave. She grasped her threadbare coat closer to her as she tried to stay warm by Frederick's cold, dark tombstone. She had made a promise, and she would keep it. Ever since Frederick had lay dying in her shaky arms twenty-two months ago, she had kept the promise that she would never leave his side. She had helped feed him his beloved chamomile tea, brought him ice chips in his feverish state, and stroked his brow during his last breaths. She had helped nurse him, bury him, and lay his tombstone...never leaving his side....twenty-two months ago. |
about the authorAs a 21 year old aspiring teacher, Karissa loves to write, travel, play piano, and read. Many creative things have her heart. archives
November 2021
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