i'm going to warn you right now, at the beginning of this post: it's going to ramble, the words most likely wont make any sense, there will be scattered thoughts, but i promise you that it means something, somehow, to someone.
these next few months are going to be life c-h-a-n-g-i-n-g for me. in more ways than a slinky can get tangled. for instance, i'm graduating college, road tripping home, coaching tennis, road tripping ACROSS THE COUNTRY to start an internship, all while trying not to let my mind get lost in the clutter in between the transitions.
anyways, i started looking at all my things, trying to figure out how to pack it all up, what i'm going to donate, and i found a letter i wrote to myself a couple years ago, and i want to share it with you. but first, here's some backgroud: i used to be a younglife leader. it was great. i can say with everything i have those girls have a piece of my heart, and will forever hold onto it. i got to learn from them, and walk through life with them. one day, i challenged them (and me) to write a letter to themselves, telling them something they think they need to here. and keep the letter somewhere, anywhere, hoping one day they will find it, read it, and learn something from their past self. so today, i found mine. it was one sentence... "if you continue to look for other things, how can you see what's here?" one sentence that seemed to define the summer of 2012 without me realizing it until now. two years later.
that summer, i got the chance to work at a younglife camp in virginia. away from edmonds. and away from vegas. going into it i knew one other person. and worked in the store. when i first got my job assignment i wanted to switch with the other 20(+/-) peers i hadn't met yet. i thought my gifts would have been better utilized on the ropes course, or as a lifeguard. in my mind, i wasn't girly enough, or pretty enough, or fashionable enough or nice enough, or outgoing enough to be in the store. i told myself i'd never worked retail, and knew nothing about inventory. but i didn't fight it either.
and i'm glad i didn't, i got to sing at the top of my lungs and dance my heart out while cleaning every day while others had free time. i got to learn about life in a new culture. i got to meet, and have conversations with so many people. i got to love. and above all, i got to learn from a few really awesome girls (like this one. and this one.)
one of my most favorite parts about this experience was being able to sit in the front of the store, on the rocking chairs, watching everyone start their day, seeing people wander around the camp. it was a new culture that i had never known.
and i was finally learning to see the beauty in front of me.
although these last few years have been difficult, (you know, with the completely new way to see the world and all). i think i'm starting to understand what i meant in that sentence.
*disclaimer. when i sat down to write this post, this is not what i had in mind, but these are the words that happened to come out. raw. unfiltered. and mildly spell checked. welcome, to my brain.*
these next few months are going to be life c-h-a-n-g-i-n-g for me. in more ways than a slinky can get tangled. for instance, i'm graduating college, road tripping home, coaching tennis, road tripping ACROSS THE COUNTRY to start an internship, all while trying not to let my mind get lost in the clutter in between the transitions.
anyways, i started looking at all my things, trying to figure out how to pack it all up, what i'm going to donate, and i found a letter i wrote to myself a couple years ago, and i want to share it with you. but first, here's some backgroud: i used to be a younglife leader. it was great. i can say with everything i have those girls have a piece of my heart, and will forever hold onto it. i got to learn from them, and walk through life with them. one day, i challenged them (and me) to write a letter to themselves, telling them something they think they need to here. and keep the letter somewhere, anywhere, hoping one day they will find it, read it, and learn something from their past self. so today, i found mine. it was one sentence... "if you continue to look for other things, how can you see what's here?" one sentence that seemed to define the summer of 2012 without me realizing it until now. two years later.
that summer, i got the chance to work at a younglife camp in virginia. away from edmonds. and away from vegas. going into it i knew one other person. and worked in the store. when i first got my job assignment i wanted to switch with the other 20(+/-) peers i hadn't met yet. i thought my gifts would have been better utilized on the ropes course, or as a lifeguard. in my mind, i wasn't girly enough, or pretty enough, or fashionable enough or nice enough, or outgoing enough to be in the store. i told myself i'd never worked retail, and knew nothing about inventory. but i didn't fight it either.
and i'm glad i didn't, i got to sing at the top of my lungs and dance my heart out while cleaning every day while others had free time. i got to learn about life in a new culture. i got to meet, and have conversations with so many people. i got to love. and above all, i got to learn from a few really awesome girls (like this one. and this one.)
one of my most favorite parts about this experience was being able to sit in the front of the store, on the rocking chairs, watching everyone start their day, seeing people wander around the camp. it was a new culture that i had never known.
and i was finally learning to see the beauty in front of me.
although these last few years have been difficult, (you know, with the completely new way to see the world and all). i think i'm starting to understand what i meant in that sentence.
*disclaimer. when i sat down to write this post, this is not what i had in mind, but these are the words that happened to come out. raw. unfiltered. and mildly spell checked. welcome, to my brain.*