Student Teaching Memories

I spent my semester of student teaching in a 95% White, high class, suburban elementary school. With SMARTboards and computers in every room and an iPAD cart, there was no lack of resources. However, I have never seen so many hurting, needy children as I did in my second grade class.
Let me remind you that the children in a second grade class are either seven or eight years old. There were students in my class who were anxious, clinically depressed, and severely overstimulated. No seven year old should be taking anti-depressants. I sadly heard the words, "I'm stupid. I never do anything right" from more than one of my students. No seven year old should believe that about themselves.
But what the perfect place for a Christian to be! To show these children the love that they clearly do not receive at home. To pat them on the back and ask about their day. To look them in the eye. To pull them into the hallway and let them cry about their feelings of stress, anxiety, and fear. To just listen to them, when it’s clear that their parents are far too busy.
I definitely feel like I was put in this class for a reason - a reason that goes far deeper than teaching the long E sound and how to use a ruler to measure. Every morning as I drank my coffee and prepared for the long day of teaching, I would pray for each student by name, knowing that most likely, I am one of the only people who are praying for them. For some of them, I am the only person to say, “You’re smart” and “You did well” and “You’re not a bad kid.” Every day I felt thoroughly used by God, and I am so thankful for this experience.

Student Teaching Update

After over two months straight, I finally get a week off for spring break! It's been tough to keep up on blogging and social media, so I thought I'd post an update!

This semester I have been student teaching in a local 2nd grade classroom. I have absolutely LOVED it. I feel so comfortable teaching, using classroom management techniques, and creating fun activities. I have grown so much as a teacher, as a woman, and as a Christian.

I have been so busy, between student teaching 8-4, working 4-6, and lesson planning and/or babysitting at night. My friends complain they never see me anymore. Student teaching has sucked my social calendar dry, which stinks because I'm trying to lead a Bible study and help friends plan for upcoming weddings. I definitely don't have enough hours in my day. It doesn't feel like I'm in college anymore. It feels like I have a real job (only..I don't get paid).

I have had so much fun teaching the students about motion (rolling, spinning, etc.), Native Americans, chapter books, measurement, and soon starting a unit on opinion writing. I love teaching them how to learn.

During this spring break, I am nannying a ten year old boy, so I am spending a lot of time in the woods, playing games, and watching cartoons. While he's currently playing games on his iPAD, I'm in the middle of writing lesson plans for next week, and stressing out over which school districts are hiring. I never really get a break, do I?

I know that I am doing what I am called to do. Even on the weekends, I find myself thinking about the kids, and praying for them. I love them so much, individually and as a class. It's a difficult class, but I am learning so much, and I am grateful for each one of them. My co-op has been absolutely amazing and inspiring. I love learning under her.

Only one month of student teaching left. As soon as we get back from break, I'll be teaching whole-day. I'm so excited! It's only going to get harder, but I know that I'm only going to grow more.

21 Before 21: Twenty One Acts of Kindness

Today, I have exactly 2 months left of being 20.

On December 21st, I will turn 21. It will be my golden year.

There is a myth that when you turn the age of your birthday date, you will have the best year of your life. Of course, I am so excited for this golden year. I've been waiting, and waiting. And then I realized - why wait?

Why wait two whole months to do something great and extraordinary?

So I have decided that in the last 2 months that I have of being 20, I am going to do something memorable. Something more than just having fun and living my own little life. I am going to do 21 acts of kindness before I turn 21, before my golden year.

Acts of kindness could be anything. Notes, gifts, surprises, donations, etc.

I am so excited to start this new journey. I want to live in such a way where I am always looking for ways to love others and make them feel special. I can't wait to blog about what happens.

We are blessed to be a blessing. And this 21 before 21 challenge starts now.

Wild Thing Paper Co.

As you know, I had a crazy, adventurous, memorable summer traveling to three different countries. And I have to admit, I have the travel bug again.

Recently, I have had opportunities to go back to several different parts of Asia, to Iceland, to the Caribbean, etc. My adventurous bones are screaming with anticipation. I'm not ready to announce where I am off to next, but I know I need to start raising the funds.

With that said, I opened up an etsy shop to raise some money for my next adventure. My summer was so jam-packed with craziness and memories that I could not keep them to myself. I made some postcards of my favorite shots and am selling them. I'm also selling some paintings, although only one is on the site right now. Everything is absolutely original and created by yours truly.

That's all I'm going to say because I want you to see it for yourself. Please go visit my shop. I am so, so, so excited! Click here.

Summer Readings of a 20 Year Old Traveler

I love reading. I remember spending hours at the library as a little girl, and that passion has never died. When my schedule allows, I love to hike out into the woods and read until the sun goes down.

This summer I had the opportunity to live in Asia for two months. The first thing on my packing list was books. I knew I'd be backpacking for most of my time, so I couldn't bring many books, but I also don't have a Kindle, so I needed to bring at least a few. So I brought four (The Lovely Bones, The Kite Runner, The Help, and Wild). The rest of the books were borrowed from friends, traded in,  or stolen from our guest house (still feel bad about that one).

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold 
       This was my second time reading this book. I hardly ever reread books (I get bored easily) but this one enthralled me just as much the second time. There was so much symbolism that I didn't pick up on the first time because I was too worried about catching the killer. So if you've read it, read it again. If you haven't read it, read it, and then read it again. Warning - it is a little gruesome and has to do with the author's beliefs on an afterlife, so I understand that it's not everyone's favorite reading material.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini 
       My friend recommended this book to me. He praised it so much that I actually did not believe that a book could ever be as wonderful as he described. However, the middle eastern culture was displayed beautifully. I truly fell in love as I read about the love and betrayal of two best friends eating naan and flying kites. Which made it just that much harder to read the ending. While I admit that I often cry at the end of books, this time I didn't. I shut the book, laid it on the floor, and stared at my ceiling for the rest of the day. Once the shock wore off, I read it again, picking up on so many hints that I had missed the first time. It's honestly my new favorite, and I think everyone needs to read it.

The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins
        I had already read these a few years ago. But I was so excited to join the bandwagon and read them before the movie came out, I sped-read and missed a lot of details. So I took my time and reread them all (The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and The Mockingjay). They are easy reads, so they were perfect for after a long day of working, or for while waiting to hop on the next plane. They are aimed for a teenage audience, but are still good reads.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett 
        I had already fallen in love with the movie before even realizing the story was based on a book. So when I saw it at a thrift store a couple months before I left, I knew I had to read it. It is 100% full of both humor and raw emotion. I found myself laughing out loud at one scene but in the next chapter fuming with anger. It breaks my heart at what people used to go through, and even more, at what is still going on in this world when it comes to racism. God bless Kathryn Stockett for writing this book, and bringing so much attention to this issue.

Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
      The book inspired me right off the bat. Young single woman traveling the world? Count me in. I found myself jealous of her as she wrote about her travels to Italy, India, and Indonesia. The book was separated into three sections for each of her destinations. I found that I most enjoyed the first section, liked the second, but found myself fighting my way through the third section. The third section (the "love" section) isn't really my kind of reading, so maybe that's why. But I still recommend you read it - at least the first two sections!

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed
       I hear that this book was inspirational. And in a way, it was, as a young single woman (again!) took on a long, dangerous hiking trail all by herself. But there were also many parts that broke my heart. Mostly it was the easy going way she talked about her infidelity, family's deaths, abortion, casual sex, etc. There were many humorous parts, and I do envy her bravery and self-discovery, but I wish her worldview was a little better.

And The Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini 
       When I found this book and saw that it was the same author as The Kite Runner, I jumped at the chance to read it. It was not nearly as good as The Kite Runner (I'm convinced nothing is!) but it was still a remarkable read. The culture is beautifully depicted and there are so many intertwining stories, I loved trying to fit all the pieces together. It was definitely not a boring read and the end left me wanting to know more.

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp
        During one of the many weeks I was sick in bed, my friend gave me this book to read. It could not have come at a better time. While the rest of my friends were working hard in an orphanage, I was lying in bed, literally not able to do anything. This book is all about finding joy in the little things, even when things go terribly wrong (like fighting dengue fever thousands of miles away from a good hospital). While some parts were a bit cheesy and lovey dovey for my tastes, it was an incredible read, and I have grown a lot because of it.

Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom 
        This book was incredibly short, which is usually opposite of what I read. It was sweet, with so many life lessons jam-packed into such few pages. I ended the book feeling so inspired and wishing that I could have met Morrie but then ultimately wishing that I could be just like Morrie. It inspired me to be inspiring, which is something that I am still working on, leading me often to think of this book.

With all that said, I've read over a dozen books this summer, so now my library is completely read and reread. Now I need recommendations for what to read next! Any suggestions??

Why I Travel

This will be my last blogpost for a while. For about three months, to be exact.

You see, I have a busy summer planned. I'll be visiting the Midwest, hiking the Himalayas, spending time in Bangladesh, and working at an orphanage in Haiti. Leading right up to my senior year of college. 

Why?

Why is a twenty year old girl quitting her jobs, leaving her friends, and emptying her savings account?

Everyone is different. The reasons I am traveling could be completely different than the reasons of the man sitting next to me on the plane. But this is why I travel. 

At first, I wanted to travel for a simple reason - We don't know when we will die so I want to get as much out of life as I can. I want to experience everything, take pictures, try new things, die happy. Sounds like a good life, right?

In fact, this was my mentality until about three weeks ago. But now my reasons have changed.

Yes, life is short and we don't know when we will die. But rather than trying to get the most out of life, I want to put the most into life. 

When I die, let's be honest, no one will remember me after a few years. All of my memories will die with me. All of my trying new things and checking things off my bucket list, while is fun and an important part of life, will not mean anything to anybody but me. And all of the pictures I take, no matter how artsy, will be forgotten or lost or ruined.

Now I travel to enjoy nature. To meet people and make them feel important. To breathe in new air. To hold orphans and tell them that I love them. To learn from other cultures. To grow. To change. To become the best person that I can be. To teach others. 

Maybe somehow, someday, I can change the world. Or a little piece of it. Maybe I can help a sexually trafficked girl feel like she is worth more than how much money she makes in one night. Maybe I can encourage an orphan to trust again. Maybe I can be a good example of love. 

And of course, while I do all of that, I'll be checking things off my bucket list and having the time of my life. But that's not the goal anymore. That's just an added bonus.

So that's what I'll be doing this summer. I'll be living it up and pouring out love all at the same time.

I cannot wait to journal my stories and eventually share them with you all. For anyone who remembers, thank you in advance for praying for me. I know I'll need it.

I leave in three days. I'm ready to travel the world. 

To Fly, To Be Free

For a long time, I was sad because of things that happened to me. I was discouraged because of things in my past, things that I never told anyone, things that no one would guess happened to me.

"Jessica is the quiet, innocent one," people will say. But that only makes me even more sad. If they only knew.

I found a poem a couple weeks ago that I became obsessed with.

to fly

right through the walls

to fly

right out the window

to any place but here

- Charles Bukowski 

I liked this poem so much that I made a painting inspired by it. The painting was of birds. I imagined myself as one of them, flying away, running away, forgetting everything. 

Everything that happened to me was terrible. I would not wish it on my worst enemy. When I think about it all, I feel so overwhelmed. How can so many bad things happen to one little girl? I get angry and sad and so tired. I want to fly away, run away.

I know that running away wouldn't help anything. The memories are still there. The effects of my past are still there. The scars are still there. But just the idea of flying sounds so wonderful. To fly. To be free.

I don't feel free at all. My past haunts me. My mistakes haunt me. Things that were never even my fault haunt me. It's like I'm standing here, trying to live my life, but a big gray cloud has surrounded me and is slowly turning into steel bars. I'm caged in. 

I was at an open mic night tonight. One of my friends sang the old song His Eye is On the Sparrow. There is one part of the song that she sang so beautifully that I nearly cried. It inspired everything that I am writing about; God revealed so much to me through just two little lines of the song. "I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free." 

Here's the thing. I am free. Everything that happened before, it hurt and it was terrible and it left the ugliest scars. But I'm out of that situation. I'm out of the abuse and the fighting and oppression and the lies. I am free. 

I feel haunted because I think about it. I entertain thoughts. I lie in my bed and wonder how life could have been different. I cry over wasted years. That big gray cloud that is hindering my vision and that huge cage that is holding me back - they are not real. They feel real; they feel so heavy. But they're not real. There is nothing holding me back. I am out of that situation. I am free.

I'm still sad and mad and frustrated about the things that happened to me. And my scars are still just as ugly. But they have no control of me anymore. I am not caged in by them. My past is not a part of my life anymore. I have grown up and moved on.

That painting, the one that was originally inspired by Charles Bukowski's sad, hopeful poem, has now taken on a whole new meaning. I still imagine myself as one of those birds. But instead of flying away, I am singing and flying and dancing and living because I am free. I am soaring through the air. I am flying toward the sun. I am happy. 

So let me sing and let me fly and let me dance and let me live. I am free. 

(Photo: original artwork inspired by Charles Bukowski's poem)

Becoming Brave

I have a great plan for my life. It's exciting and adventurous and wild. I want to backpack Europe and then live in the rainforest and then hike the Himalayas and then roadtrip through Mexico in an old jeep. My plan is perfect.

But what if my plan isn't God's plan?

Everyone quotes Jeremiah 29:11. I don't doubt that God has a plan for my life, but what if God's plan is for me to be a stay-at-home mother in Pennsylvania? That wouldn't be a bad life and plenty of women daydream about doing just that, but for me, I can't imagine ever settling down in one place. I'd rather be homeless on the streets of France in the middle of my backpacking adventure.

The last couple months have been really tough as I struggled with this. How am I supposed to know that God's will is truly better than mine?

I had to write a paper this semester on the book of Romans. I chose the passage of Romans 8:1-13 because it was some really nice Scripture and it seemed like I could get it done fairly easily. But as I read it, I was hit with conviction.

The whole passage is about the difference between a person who lives according to the flesh and one who lives according to the Spirit.

If a person lives according to the flesh, he is controlled by his own desires. While this sounds terrible, like a desire to cheat or a desire to murder, in my case, it was simply my own future desires that were controlling me. I wasn't trusting God and was instead focusing on what I wanted in life. I was pursuing what would make me happy, what would make me comfortable.

Now, I don't want to run away to Europe just to make memories. I would want to befriend people and share the love of God. I'd want to help out in anyway possible. Isn't that a worthy cause? Isn't that acceptable? Isn't that a fair reason to choose my plan over God's?

Verse 8 says simply, "Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God."

Even though I have good intentions, I can never please God if I am purposely choosing my way over His. And this was the biggest slap in the face.

I want to please God. I want my life to mean something. When I get to heaven, I want God to be proud of me and for my bravery of letting God take control of my life.

Because that's what it is. It's bravery. To let go of control takes a lot of guts. For the last couple of months, I've been too scared that my life wouldn't be great if God was in control of it. This is where faith comes in. This is the difference between living by the flesh and living by the Spirit.

If I lived by the flesh, I could do whatever I wanted whenever I want to. But to live by the Spirit means to be willing to do whatever the Spirit wants whenever the Spirit wants.

While I studied the passage, the last verse (Romans 8:13) says to put to death the deeds of the flesh, of your sinful nature, of your own desires. When Paul wrote this, he wrote it in the present tense. This means that we must constantly, daily put to death our own fleshly desires and give control back to God.

And that means maybe I won't get to ride a motorcycle across Ireland or work in an orphanage in Thailand. But I know that God gave me an adventurous spirit, and I don't think He would let that go to waste. So I'm trusting in Him that He'll send me somewhere, anywhere. I just have to have the faith that wherever He leads me will be better than my own plans.

Because let's face it - doing it myself hasn't worked out so well lately.

It's time to have faith and live by the Spirit. It's time to see where God takes me. It's time to live out the amazing plan that God has for me. It's time to be brave.


Photo credit to Natalie Hagen photography. 

Dear Future Husband: I Pray You'll Have a Bad Day

Dear Future Husband,

I don't know who you are. I may not have even met you yet. But I just wanted to let you know that I've been thinking about you. I pray for you. I used to pray the same thing every day. "God, please bless him and keep him safe and give him a good day. Amen."

And I do hope that God blesses you and keeps you safe and gives you good days. But recently I've been praying for something different, something more.

I pray you'll have a bad day. 

I pray you'll be stressed, but learn how to work under pressure. I pray that you'll lose the friends who are discouraging you. I pray that you'll have to wait in line to stretch your patience. I pray that you feel weak, so that you'll never be proud. I pray that you make mistakes but then you figure out how to laugh them off, even when you feel terribly foolish.

I pray that the storms are hard so that you appreciate the sun. I pray that the hurts you go through are just growing pains as you become the wonderful man you're meant to be. I pray that you realize that life is worth it, even on the worst days. I pray that you have to face your biggest fears, and I pray that you win.

And someday, when we meet, you can tell me all of your stories about when you failed, when you fell, when you stood back up, when you tried again, when you scored the goal, when you passed the test.

You have a great life ahead of you, and I can't wait to be part of it. 

Love, 

Jessica

Restlessly Eager.

Good things take time.

But I am so restless.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a patient person. I can be polite while I wait in line at Starbucks, and I even am kind enough to let other cars cut in front of me on the highway. But when it comes to big things, the important things, I am completely impatient. 

One of the definitions for the word 'impatient' is restlessly eager. That's me. 

When good things start to happen, I jump at the opportunities without thinking things through, without taking time to process, without taking time to pray. I want to rush through the formalities and the small talk. 

I want to say, "Move over and let me try!" before I have the proper training. I want to say, "Won't you just kiss me already?" before the first date. I want to say, "I'm ready!" when I am no where close to the starting line.

Because I feel ready to take on the world. And I don't understand why I have to wait for degrees, for appointments, for interviews. Why can't I just have it now? 

I am restlessly eager.

I give the best advice. I tell all of my friends, "Don't worry. If it's meant to be, it'll happen." It's pretty easy to give advice, isn't it? It's 10 times harder to live by it.

Who cares if it's meant to be? If I give a little push, if I give a little shove, if I hint enough, if I beg enough, maybe it'll happen. Maybe I can make it happen. If I try my best and if I pray hard enough, maybe the cute boy upstairs will suddenly fall in love with me or job opportunities will swing wide open. But as much as I beg and plead, this isn't the way it works.

It's funny, and actually kind of sad, because it's taken me 20 years to figure out that rushing these good things actually just turn them sour. 

You see, I've done this before. I see something great and I run for it. I don't take the time to see if it's just a phase, to see if it's truly what's best for me, to see if it's what God wants for me. I just jump at it. If it's a good thing, shouldn't I have it? Shouldn't I pursue it?

And yes, there will be times that I do need to pursue love or pursue adventures. But sometimes - no, all the time - rushing it does more harm than good. That's something I've learned from countless broken hearts and too many crushed dreams. 

You can't rush a baby to be born and then be mad when she comes out with underdeveloped lungs or a heart that can't beat on it's own. 

Usually, the most beautiful things take time and effort and patience and kindness and gentleness and compassion. You can't rush it.

It hurts. Because I want it now. I want a good life now. I want love now. I want adventure now. I want everything now. I want to fast forward through all the pain and the nurturing and the effort it takes to make something beautiful and just get the results.

But after so, so long of rushing and ruining what could have been beautiful, I've decided to wait. To let things play out.

Because if it's meant to be, it'll happen.

Dream Well, Live Well

"We are here to laugh at the odds 

and live so well 

that death trembles to take us."

- Charles Bukowski

I was looking at my bucket list today, adding to it. I'm always adding to it. And I realized that I am a dreamer. I don't think there's a realistic bone in my body. I dream and dream and dream.

I want to write a book. I want to publish a novel. A best-seller. It would be fiction because that's all I like to write. I like pretending to be different people in different places at different times. I like imagining adventures. I like falling in love with my characters. I'll be a modern-day Jane Austen. I'll be bigger than John Greene.

I want to backpack across Europe. I want to explore Ireland, experience the cultures of England, hike through France, befriend people in Austria. If I were ever to run away, look for me in Europe. I'll be sitting at a cafe, writing my book.

I want to ride on the back of a motorcycle. I want to go skydiving. I want to go white water rafting. I want to go rock climbing. I want to have so many adrenaline rushes that my heart never slows down.

I want to learn everything. I want to learn how to make pottery. I want to learn to speak French fluently. I want to learn how to knit. I want to learn how to make the perfect green smoothie. I want to learn how to sew without breaking the sewing machine (sorry, Mom). I want to learn how to become a really great photographer. 

I want to get married. To some, this is a realistic goal. To me, this is a dream. I truly believe in soul mates. And my soul is crazy. So it's hard for me to believe that there is another soul as crazy and wild as mine.

I know that most of my dreams are pretty far out there. I doubt I'll ever have the resources needed to publish a book. And I don't have thousands of dollars and months to spend hiking my way through Mount Blanc. And I may never have the opportunity to go white water rafting. And I'll never have enough time to master a million new hobbies. And who knows if my soul will ever find a match?

So what will happen if my dreams never come true? 

I'll cry. I'll grieve the memories that I'll never have and the knowledge that I'll never learn. I'll miss the places I've never been to and the people I'll never meet. 

But what if, against all odds, my dreams do come true?

What if my novel gets published and future writers are inspired by it? What if people from all around the world travel to art museums just to see the Jessica Lee collection? What if my Instagram is filled with pictures of me skydiving or rappelling down a mountain? What if I spend a year of my life, traveling through Europe and learning how to make the perfect cup of coffee? What if I meet a man who is willing to keep up with my wild soul?

I would rather have dreams that never come true, than never dream at all.

I want to live well. And you can't live well, unless you dream well.

Soul Searching and Spring Cleaning

Today is the first day of spring. Everyone is wearing dresses and posting hopeful pictures of flowers. I, on the other hand, rolled out of bed 15 minutes before work, put on a baggy sweater, and blared Mumford (mostly Little Lion Man) on repeat just to match my mood.

Now I know that I could have done yoga or read the Bible or done something to make myself feel better. But sometimes it's okay to be sad, especially when you have a good reason. And I have a very good reason.

I am doing the most painful thing a person can ever do. I'm soul searching. I'm discovering myself. I am finding the ugly parts of me, trying to figure out when, how, and why these things turned dark, and  then the hardest part - trying to turn them beautiful again.

It's hard enough even discovering the ugly things. I find myself saying, "I never even knew these things were here!" Almost like finding the fast food leftovers that have been smelling up the whole car. But unlike finding the rotting fries, I can't just reach under the seat, say, "How long have you been in there?" and throw the problem away. I actually have to deal with it.

Have you ever tried to fix something you didn't even know was broken? Or try to find something when you don't even know what it is that is missing? I guess that's why it's called self discovery. Discovering the unknown parts of me, the person who I used to think I knew all about.

Only when I decided to start soul searching, I thought I'd find all sorts of buried treasure. I wanted to uncover new talents or amazing characteristics that would open up doors to all sorts of opportunities and remake me into a better, smarter, kinder person. But so far, all I've discovered are negative habits that started years ago and hidden secrets that I am no where close to uncovering.

People love spring because when the snow finally melts, we find a million new mysteries. Baby animals and green grass. And the sun always seems just a little brighter. Maybe with spring will come my beauty, too. Kind of like a spring cleaning of myself. If only it was as easy as sweeping up dust bunnies and shaking out the curtains.

It's more like someone ripping open your chest, exposing the parts of your heart that you didn't even know existed and you didn't even know hurt until the cold air blew on them; and someone yelling, "Look! Look what's inside of you! Look at what you've done! Look at who you are! Do you want to change? Do you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

And then comes the scalpel and the chisel, trying desperately to straighten out all the twists and turns of a hurting soul.

Let the spring bring pain, change, and beauty.

Remember Your Loveliness

I remember being young - probably about 6 or 7 - standing on an old, black leather ottoman and holding a bouquet of fake red roses that I got from the dollar store. I put on music, stood up tall, held those oversized flowers and made my mom take a picture. I was pretending that I had just received the Olympic gold medal for the most flawless figure skating performance that anyone had ever seen. Because I, in my 1st grade innocence and oblivion, knew that I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

So what happened? What changes inside us? When does it become more beautiful to wear eyeliner and highlight your hair than simply to brush your teeth and (maybe) put on a clean pair of socks? When do the compliments change from "You're so beautiful" or "What a pretty girl!" to "Wow, have you lost weight?" or "I love what you did with your makeup - it makes your eyes pop!"

When does this happen? Is it an age? Does a switch get flipped?

I'm tired of spending money on clothes, but I have a fear that if I wear my favorite shirt (denim chambray) too many times in one month, people will think I'm ugly. And if I don't wear eyeliner (which I don't because I can't figure out how to do it without looking like I got punched in the face), I don't feel as beautiful as the rest of the girls around me. And if I don't dye my hair, or cut my hair, or curl my hair,  or do whatever is going around on Pinterest, I won't be lovely.

And I realized today that this is something that I've learned, that we've all learned. I'm not sure where I learned it first.

Was it the 6th grade "Your shirt doesn't say Aeropostale across the front?!"

Or maybe it was music, because after all, the only song that my brownish-green eyes can relate to is Kelly Clarkson's sad breakup song "Behind These Hazel Eyes" while every other song is devoted to baby blues.

Or maybe it was the countless movies and TV shows that broadcast unrealistically gorgeous expectations of what girls, and guys, are supposed to look like. I mean, how can I watch Pretty Little Liars when Aria and Hanna dig through the dirt all night and still have better hair than me?

But somewhere in the middle of all of this, we learned what beautiful is, and we were taught that naturally we do not measure up.

So we change things.

Haircuts or extensions. Bleaching hair or shaving it all off. A sleeve of tattoos or makeup to hide every freckle. Beards or clean shaven.

And that's the biggest lie that we've learned to believe. That if we want to be beautiful, if we want to be handsome, if we want to be lovely, we have to change something.

But that's simply not true.

Some people think it's of the devil to wear any hint of mascara or wear any clothing that shows off your body. I grew up with the words "God made you beautiful just the way you are" and "Modest is hottest" repeated over and over.

Personally I thank God everyday for makeup to cover-up blemishes that I swear only show up on class presentation days or date nights. I also thank God for push-up bras so that I can pretend to have more than an A cup. (A cups in college? Seriously?)

But neither of those things make me beautiful.

I saw a girl coming out of Starbucks last week with her hair dyed redder than the Little Mermaid's. She looked so cool but that hair color didn't make her any more, or any less, beautiful.

Nothing you can do will ever make you more or less lovely.

I discovered a beautiful poem today, but one line really stood out:

"Sometimes it is necessary

to reteach a thing its loveliness."

- Galway Kinnell

You're already lovely. I'm already lovely.

All the makeup in the world, all the hair dye, all the best clothes won't make you or I any more or less lovely.

I wish I could say something to make you believe it. And honestly, I wish I could believe it completely myself. 

But after years and years of learning what to change or how to put on eyeshadow or what stores to buy clothes from, I think it might take more than just one passionate blogger to reteach the world their loveliness. But like the next few lines of the poem reads:

"To put a hand on the brow 

of the flower 

and retell it in words and in touch 

it is lovely 

until it flowers again from within"

So I'll just start with telling you. Telling everyone I see. You're beautiful. Not just your outfit (because next month it'll probably be out of style) or your makeup (because mascara only lasts so long before it dries up). 

But you, me, we're beautiful.

Your blue eyes and my hazel ones.

Your button nose and my parrot one.

Your big smile and my tiny one.

Your short body and my tall, lanky one.

Your long hair and my short curls.

Everything in between.

We, with or without makeup, with or without hair dye, with or without new clothes, with or without piercings and with or without tattoos, are lovely. And it is necessary that we learn that.

Again, this blogpost came straight from my journal, which I wrote this in immediately after reading Galway Kinnell's "Saint Francis and the Sow".

Haiti has a Hold on my Heart

I'm not even going to try to explain it. Because if you weren't there, you wouldn't understand.

Friends who had gone before told me so many stories. They told me exactly what I would see, who I would meet, what smells would be in the air. I even knew some of the children's names and some of their beautiful language before I ever set foot on their soil. Culture shock won't get me, I told myself. I know what to expect.

But I sit here, writing this at the kitchen table, Bon Iver playing in the background, and I'm crying at just the thought of what I saw and what I experienced.

Culture shock is an understatement. As I stood on the back of a truck as we rushed through the unpaved roads that twisted through the villages, I was sure that this was not real. In fact, it still doesn't feel real.

I had seen it on TV. I had seen it on the internet, probably under a big blinking tab that said "Give". And I probably did give. Oh, you poor thing, living in a sorry excuse for a mud hut. Sure, here's ten dollars. Hope this helps. Maybe I'll remember to say a prayer for you tonight. 

But it was so much more than the dirty, crying faces that I had seen on TV for my whole life.

This was real.

I wish I could tell everything. I want to tell everything. But I can only tell one story.

The last picture in this post is of a beautiful little girl. I don't even know her name. I asked so many times but I was never able to pronounce it.

She befriended me. She held my hand. She showed me around the beach. She gave me gifts of seashells and live crabs and broken glass and trash. She sat on my lap and she danced with me. She brushed the hair out of my face every time the wind blew.

She told me I was beautiful, and I told her she was very beautiful. For that day, for those few hours, we were best friends. She was my favorite person. She still is.

Like I said, you won't understand. You can't understand. Because I was there, and I don't understand.

What's the big deal about a little Haitian girl brushing the hair out of your eyes with her dirty little hands? I don't know. I don't know what the big deal is. I don't know why I proudly display those broken seashells on my shelf. I don't know why I think about her everyday. I can't explain it to you, because I don't even know the answer.

Haiti ripped my heart open, slapped me in the face, tore me apart. And even with all of that going on inside me, I've never felt more complete.

I swear, Haiti brings out the best in me.

I'm Sorry for Being Selfish.

I had a breakdown today. And then I had a breakthrough. Funny how they seem to go together.

I have tried so hard to not be selfish, that that's exactly what I've become. My thoughts have been consumed about me - what happened to me, what I'm doing wrong, how I could be better, how I am bothering everyone. I heard a quote today -

"True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less."

C.S. Lewis

I've been spending so much time, effort, and money on trying to be a better person when I should be using those resources to get to know others, loving them and blessing them. Because me moping around literally does nothing. There are a million people feeling the exact same way as me, and I'm doing nothing for them in the name of selflessness.

At the end of my life, God isn't going to say, "Wow, Jessica, you were so selfless, lying there on your bed all day, thinking you didn't deserve anything." No. When I die, I want to be remembered as a girl who loved others so much, always cheering them and encouraging them. 

Who cares if I don't "deserve" happiness - does anyone? Who has right to say that one person is more important than another? If I heard someone telling a girl that she was worthless, that she deserved nothing, that no one cared about her, I would be furious. So why do I treat myself that way? What makes me so much worse than everyone else? Nothing. And me constantly thinking of myself (and how bad I am and how useless I am and how bothersome I am) is selfish. Completely selfish. 

So I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that for these past few months, the only person I really cared about was me and how "terrible" I am and how "worthless" I am and how "unlovable" I am. 

I'm sorry that I always ask permission before telling stories. (Example: "Can I tell you something?" "Are you too busy?" "Do you mind if I say something?" "Want to know something?") If I believe that every person is valuable, and I do, then I am valuable too and I shouldn't be so scared to share my thoughts, my feelings, my secrets, my life with others.

I'm sorry to the 99% of my friends who I am fake with. I tried to be selfless by only showing you the happy side of me, when in reality, I cry myself to sleep and wish that more people knew my darkest secrets. By only showing you part of me, I was selfish, not letting you truly be my friend. Maybe I've hidden myself from everyone because of pride, or shame, or maybe even good intentions - I'm not sure. But I don't want to do it anymore.

And I'm sorry for apologizing too much. If anything goes wrong, I think it's my fault. If you're having a rough day, I put the blame on myself and how I'm a terrible friend. I thought this was me being selfless. It's not. It's taking the focus off of you and what you're going through, and instead putting it on me and how I'm not a good friend and how I need to do better. 

I'm sorry if I've ignored you or hurt you. I probably just assumed I didn't deserve your friendship. I don't believe people when they say they care so I put up a lot of walls. I'm really sorry that I do that. I wish I didn't, and I truly am working on it.

But this selfish selflessness ends today. I'm not going to feel bad about myself for no reason. I'm not going to view myself as invaluable or useless or anything else. I want to prove to others that they are loved, not by loving myself less (what message does that send?) but by loving myself completely and saying "Join me, let's love everyone, let's love ourselves." 

I've been wondering lately how to be a good example in this world. Well, maybe if I climb out of the pit I've put myself in, I can actually be seen. Because I'm worth being seen and the words I have to say are worth being heard. I know that now.

One last apology. And this one is to myself. 

I am so sorry for putting you down, hurting you, not getting help, calling you names. You're good. You try so hard. You deserve the best. You've been through a lot. But you're going to be okay now. And I'm going to love you. 

This post was written straight from my journal. If it doesn't apply to you, that's completely fine. This is here for me. (Sorry if that's selfish. Ha. See what I did there?)

Photo credit: Natalie Hagen.

I am not a blogger.

I am not a blogger.

I am, however, a wild thing. Taking the phrase from my favorite children's book, I am someone who is never satisfied with everyday life. I am a dreamer. I am a reacher. I want everything that life has to offer me. 

I am curious. I want to know everything. I want to discover everything. I like all things woodsy and outdoorsy. I am a traveler. This world is so big, and I am so small, but I promise you that I will see it all.

I am all these things, but I am not a blogger.

But I realized something today. I am truly having the time of my life. Halfway through college, a thousand lessons learned, a million dreams still not reached, and nothing holding me back.

So here's to this blog. To record my memories and maybe even inspire others.