Not Alone Series: What I Know Now

Linking up with Jen at Jumping in Puddles and Morgan at Follow and Believe for the Not Alone Series!

What would you tell your former self about being single if you had the chance? What have you learned that you wish you could tell your younger self?

To make things consistent, I'm just going to pick an age and address my younger self at that age. 19-year-old Bek, here's what I wish you knew:

I wish you knew that you are fearfully and wonderfully made and that not just any guy {as my dad would say, "we don't want someone just converting oxygen into carbon dioxide!"} is worth your time, effort, or thoughts. There will be guys who are cute, guys who are kind, guys who love Jesus, and guys who convert oxygen into carbon dioxide. You are worth more. Enjoy being friends with guys, but hold your horses and wait for God's best.

I wish you knew that you can be honest with your girl friends. You're all fighting similar battles, and it makes life so much easier knowing that you're all on the same side and rooting for each other. Get vulnerable, be honest, and encourage one another in your journeys. You're going to have to ignore both your comfort zone and the "judge a book by its cover" thing you've got going on in order to meet and make some quality friends, but they are worth it.

I wish you knew that while your body changes size, your character remains constant. Yes, take care of your body: go to Zumba classes and limit your ice cream intake. But also take care of your soul: spend time with friends who build you up, read books that teach you about others and about yourself, and don't take yourself too seriously. Be fun while you get things done, and remember that relationships with people are far more important than completing a to-do list.

I wish you knew that while Kentucky may not be the most obvious or even logical choice, it really is the perfect place for you, and you're going to make lifelong friends at school and at church. While it hurts to leave home for 2 infinitely long years, it hurts even more leaving Kentucky. And that's good, because it means you fully gave your heart to your new family, that you invested and sowed and built relationships, and you will see them again. Trust me. Many times, though it's never enough times.

I wish you knew that if a guy doesn't pursue you properly, he isn't worth it. And if he does pursue you the right way, it still may not work out, and that's not a poor reflection on either of you. Remember Pastor Trout's words: the right person in the right way at the right time. I'm still believing that God's story is going to be more amazing than whatever I can imagine.

Funny Friday: March Madness Edition

This is one of those deep dark confessions times that will end in laughter. If we were in person and I was telling this story, you might start out believing that this is a serious, deeply personal story, and then when I got to the end, you would look at me incredulously and burst out laughing.
I'm giving you this warning up front because body language and tones are absent from blog posts, as evidenced from the fact that this is a blog.

Can you tell it's Friday? This is how Bek's Brain operates at the end of a long week.

moving on to the actual story.

Introduction:
Once upon a time I was in high school. This was sophomore year, my first year in high school with actual other classmates {yay homeschooling!}, and really my first sustained interaction with...boys. Yep. Family of girls + homeschooling + only one guy my age on the island we had just moved from = steep learning curve in 10th grade! Oh, did I mention that my class had eight guys!?!?!? Yeah. Steep learning curve.

Background:
My church's classical academy is pretty awesome. Intense and awesome. We have one dance every year...it's a ball, literally and figuratively, and we invite our parents and teachers and the mayor of our city, and we all have a dinner and honor people and dance the night away...until about 9:30pm. Truth. {Usually we all go to Red Robin afterwards, because what's the point of dressing up if you can't strut your stuff, right!?}
So this dance is called our Ambassadors' Ball, because we are all ambassadors of Christ and we like to dance {I'm sure there's a deeper, more spiritual meaning for the name, but like I said, I joined in 10th grade and never found out}. The Ambassadors' Ball happens in May, because then it's finally starting to warm up enough to wear ballgowns.

Scene:
Math class, one of the best parts of the day. Also truth. I loved {and still love} math, and I loved {and still love} our math teacher, Mrs. C. She is one of the most patient and fair teachers ever, and she makes The Best Rolls In The History Of Rolls. Also truth.
I think that we were enjoying said rolls when I hear some male classmates talking about "the dance" and how exciting it all was and how they were looking forward to "who made it" and things like that. I was slightly confused, but said nothing {Insert Mark Twain quote here: "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and confirm it."}.

So there I am, minding my own business, enjoying my roll, and my bestie comes and sits next to me and asks "So are you excited for the big dance?"

And I think to myself isn't it a bit early to be thinking about the Ambassadors' Ball in March!? And so I say as much, and Lola looks at me incredulously and says "Not our dance. College basketball!"

And honest-to-God this is what passes through my head: Aww, the basketball players have a dance! That's sweet...and weird, but ok. They have a dance for everyone in their league. That would be fun...but I'm still confused.

So I say to Lola: "The basketball players have a dance?"

And she bursts out laughing.

And I kinda laugh too, but am still bewildered.

Lola enlightens me: "They call the big tournament 'the dance.'"

Oooooooohhhhhhhh. Right. That makes perfect sense. Not.

And that is the story of how I learned about basketball, their dance, and yet another reason of why I don't follow sports.

Heart of a Man...and a mom!

Hey, readers. So yesterday I had the most amazing time witnessing, and experiencing, almost, the role of a mom for her sons. I was playing in the pool with some of the kids I work with, and it so happened that I was the only girl in that area of the pool; there was the main guy counselor and then probably 6 elementary-school-aged boys. Two of the boys are 6, and I adore them.

They were swimming with me earlier, but when the guy counselor got in the pool, all the boys went and tackled him. Their love and desire for adventure and "male bonding time", but the two younger ones were a little intimidated by all the big-boy wrestling; we were in a swimming pool, after all. So the little boys would go fight their dragon, so to speak, and then come back to me for a rest and breath. I got to tell them how exciting it was that they were going and attacking the counselor, and by doing so, I was fueling their desire for more. So they went back again! And then they came back to me for a little comfort.

This was the sweetest moment: realizing that I will do this with my sons and husband. I will tell my sons to go "attack" their daddy, and they will come back to me when they're scared, and I will get to tell them that they really can tackle Daddy, and they will conquer their fears, and if they get hurt, I'll be here for them.

I read John Eldredge's book Wild at Heart and have thought about the manly desire for conquest ever since. Because I have a mom's heart, I have to remind myself to let boys be boys, even if it means they get rough. Boys can't be expected to sit still for very long, and that's not a bad thing. I hate that society has emasculated men and boys. REAL men is what our culture is looking for, even as they attempt to force boys into girls' molds. I encourage you to read Wild at Heart if you haven't already. Or if you have, reread it...we all need reminders about the heart of a man.