It's a trust issue

So, my friends and I are all really and unfortunately obsessed with finding our husbands. Typical freshman girls, right? Thanks, college. Anyways, we've all thought we've found some guy who is worth our hearts and have, in some way or another, obsessed over, talked about, talked to, and thought about way too much. We build these beautiful little fantasies in our minds that show us getting two rings in 4 years, one for each hand. Let's just say that the Aggie ring isn't the only one on our minds. And then all of these little plans and cute thoughts and time spent involving this boy comes crashing down, normally with tears and anger and more heartbreak than we'd like to admit.

In short, the four of us came into college expecting what every girl expects: to find our husband.

But that's our plan. Our misguided, cliche, painful, wistful plan. And our plan, in the end, won't get us very far. And where it does get us will get us on the wrong path in the wrong direction. It's like we'll be going south when we're supposed to be headed northeast. It just wouldn't be right.

So what is right?

I guess the better question would be "Who is right?" and the answer is simple: God. The knower of our hearts and the writer of the eternal storybook. He penned the tale that we're living. So He knows exactly what's going to happen.

The real issue that my friends and I are coming across is actually trusting that His story is better than anything on Oprah's booklist or the Times' top 10. We can read those books; we can't read God's. It's not something you buy at Barnes and Noble. It's something that leaves you hanging and wanting more. At least, that's how we're supposed to be. Unfortunately, we have a bad habit of not thinking that it's exciting enough or that it isn't going the way it should, so we start trying to rewrite it. Ever tried to rewrite a published book? Probably didn't work out so well, right? That's because the author knew his or her plan for the story and, even if you didn't like it, that's how it was and, if it was written well, everything came together.

Let me assure you, God is a master storyteller. His stories are flawless. Everything is purposeful and nothing is an accident. Characters will come and go. Stories have high points and low points. We have to trust that everything is meant to be how it is. And when we don't know the general outline of the story, it's hard to trust that everything will come together.

But it will.

God has this beautiful story for us that He made specifically for everyone.

The hard part is trusting that His is perfect and our's is not.

So, who's on the horse?

Cast your minds back, ladies, to your Disney days. Remember that handsome prince and how he always had a horse and he rode in and saved the day for the damsel-in-distress? Remember wanting to be the princess/damsel and suddenly really liking horses and boys who rode them? The man on the horse was two things: the love of your life and your rescuer. This post is going to focus more on the latter because I really don't have the desire to express my intense desire for a husband right now (thanks but no thanks).

What I want to focus on is the fact that the man on the horse is the rescuer. You're in trouble, maybe some crazy woman with too much makeup poisoned your apple or maybe your mom wants to keep you locked away because you have great hair. Regardless of your situation, you need someone to come save you because you really can't rescue yourself. The situation is beyond your control. You can do absolutely nothing about it but something has got to happen or else you're going to come completely undone. And, frankly, you're far too precious to not be saved.

So here's my question: who do you turn to when your world is falling apart?

Your answers may vary. Friends, parents, siblings, mentors, etc. Personally, I go straight to my mom and close friends. My mom is a phone call away and my friends are literally right across the hall. And I can cry to them and they'll hold me and talk to me and love me and tell me that everything is okay. But the sad truth is that, while they say that everything will work itself out, they can't do anything about it either. They all may look like the valiant hero, but there is literally only one person/being who can take your hand and pull you on the horse and ride into the sunset-streaked horizon, leaving the danger far behind.

And that, my friends, is Jesus Christ.

The thing is, you can't do anything to earn this. He braves the battle because He loves you. And He doesn't come at your every beckoning. He comes when the time is right for Him and, ultimately, for you. After all, you're the one who got yourself in that situation anyway. Only when you are ready will Jesus come and pull you out of the hole you fell into.

To clear some possible confusion, Christ never leaves us. Ever. But He will only pick you up and carry you off when you are ready and He saves the day when the time is right. He won't fix all your problems. But He will, without fail, save you. His infinite love to you won't falter even for a second and He will happily pull you out of the pit.

Turning to Him with all of your issues is the answer. He's the guy on the horse, coming to save the day. But you have to keep faith that He's coming, even in the darkest moments. He's coming. Be patient.

The simple things in life

"Tomorrow I'm going to get the new Rick Riordan book and buy the Lion King on DVD!" I exclaimed yesterday to my friend Ben, to which he promptly announced that it sounded like the dream day of a six-year-old.

I'm so misunderstood.

But today (well, I guess technically it was yesterday, but we'll just say today [Tuesday]) was a really spectacular day. I got to sleep in a little bit, did some studying, did most of my homework, and headed to lunch and class. I rocked my history test (I think) and marched back to my room to finish the rest of my homework. After that, I watched my boys clinch the American League West championship for the second year in a row--go Rangers! I'm so proud of them.

Ben and I both needed to run errands, so we headed over to my car out in Narnia (not really, but it's pretty dang far away). I acquired the latest "Heroes of Olympus" book, Son of Neptune, and was very happy with myself. Call me quirky. Then we went to Target because I wanted to get the Lion King before the Disney Vault inhaled it again and Ben needed a calculator.

Then it was Breakaway time. A&M owns all with it's amazing Bible study on campus. It's such a blessing to be able to proclaim my faith proudly and boldly. Then I ate dinner with sweet friends, had a Skype with a friend, and then buried my nose into the book, hauling through 150 pages of it (out of 521). I expect to be done by Thursday evening. Unfortunately, school doesn't stop because a new book comes out and I still have tests that need to be studied for.

INTENSE NERDINESS STARTS HERE.

The only "bad" part of my day was when I started crying because the main character who I watched grow up in the earlier series doesn't remember anything about himself. It is devastating. This kid is one of my favorite book characters of all time and he doesn't even remember who he is.

Here's my critique: Rick Riordan should have had two series going at the same time. One that focused on the Greek camp and one that focused on the Roman camp, the books coming out about six months apart from each other. That way readers could know both the main characters, Percy and Jason, well and feel for them more. Because right now, all readers are going to lean more towards sympathizing for Percy because we know him so much better. Not to say we don't like Jason; we just know Percy because we saw him go from the "There-is-no-way-my-dad-is-a-Greek-god" to the leader of his camp. We just met Jason at the peak of his awesomeness and didn't see the journey that got him there. What's the saying? The journey is more fun than the result? I would say that's a fair statement about these books.

Anyway, that's my two cents. Take them or leave them.


Yes, this is what I do at 1 in the morning: analyze book series intended for 12-year-olds. Don't you dare judge me.