Faith, Hope, and Love

Dating is was my idol. Since I was at least six or seven, I've been obsessed with the idea of being someone's girlfriend. And not in a frivolous sort of way. I was always quite serious about my love life. Every guy I dated, I thought I would marry. And I treated each relationship with that level of seriousness (or with as much seriousness as a 12-, 16-, or even 18-year-old can). And I can't even say that I've dated a whole lot (although I have had my fair share of crushes), but when I did begin dating, very rarely was I single for long or not obsessing with my singleness. My first "serious" relationship started when I was 15. I had liked him for two years before that (along with some mini-crushes on a few other boys) and so when he finally noticed me and asked me out, it was amazing. Although it lasted for a little over a year, that relationship ended because frankly, we were young. And I probably scared him with how serious I was about the whole thing,...

If you've been reading the blog for a while, then you know I generally reflect on my love life every so often. And of course Valentine's Day is the perfect opportunity to do that. Not to gripe about being single or even to gush about the romantic thing someone did for me (because, sad to say, that's only happened ONCE... and while I acted all pleased at the time, it was a bit over the top and embarrassing for me. Note to future man: Public Displays panic me ). I reflect each Valentine's Day because I think love is a beautiful thing, and February 14th pretty much puts it right in your face. I don't feel sorry for myself because I'm single. In fact, this year, as I watched kids pass chocolates, carnations and roses, I didn't think once about not having someone to share the day with. For one, I was in the middle of losing a battle with a major cold/sinus infection that has me laying in bed and wasting a roll of toilet paper. But secondly, I feel extremely...

I can be a major worrier. I hate making decisions because I worry whether or not the choice I don't make would have been the better choice. I worry that others will hate my choices. That I will regret them. Every time I moved, I worried that I wouldn't make new friends,  find a good church, or end up hating my new apartment. I worry that I am not kind enough, or perhaps I'm too kind. That I am not giving enough, or that I give too much. That I am too aggressive, or perhaps too passive. I just worry about everything.  It's actually quite silly. Earlier this week, I heard someone else share about how much of a worrier she can be too. And her place of encouragement,  what calms her and eases her worry are birds. Every time she sees a bird, she stops worrying. The birds remind her of Matthew 6:25-34. Specifically verse 26--"Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns,  and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not ...