A Trip to the Park

I was never an artist. Not by the standards I grew up knowing "art" as. Hand me a pencil and I can write my name. That's about as much skill as I have with a writing utensil. But, if you give me a sheet of music or a camera, the term "artist" becomes everything I represent.

My friend and I took a trip to the greenhouse of a local park. I was inspired. When she first told me of her desire for adventure, my first (and only) question was, "can I bring my camera?" I craved satiating the negative energy I had pent up by exchanging it with creative energy. And that's just what I did.

Everyone has a story to tell. I love listening to other people's stories. I love venturing my curiosities into other cultures or lifestyles so I can see from a different perspective. I love being able to empower another to share their story. That's what this is for me.

You can call me crazy. I talk to flowers. But they talk back in ways that my camera can't capture. I can get pretty doggone close if you ask me, but to accurately portray the song of the petals and the dance of their aroma is beyond digital experience.

I don't know that I enjoy telling my story as much as I enjoy hearing others' stories. Which rings true for my position in relation to a lens. I tell my story if people ask, but no one usually does. I feel more natural being the listener than being the speaker. It's a good thing the world has so much to say.

The funny thing about being behind the lens is what you choose to see the beauty in. Some artists choose people, others choose places.

I love hearing stories. Real stories - I'm not really a fan of fiction. I think that's why I enjoy hearing about other people's lives. What they've been through, however big or small they may think it, is important. It's made them who they are today, so clearly it's valuable.

It's pretty common knowledge that without three essential things, flowers can't grow:

1) Soil

2) Water

3) Sunshine

Without soil, a flower has nothing to dig its roots into. It has no security, no belief it will be sustained. People need the same thing. Without security, assurance, consistency, people wither.

Water can provide life or death. The rain beats down, threatening the livelihood of survival of these fragile flowers. But without the rain, the flowers would die of thirst.

It seems a human necessity that we have struggles. We have storms of life. The rain beats us to the ground and we don't think we can get up. But we don't drown. We learn that the rain doesn't always have to destroy us - it can give us life and satiate our thirst. Sometimes, we don't even realize we're dehydrated until we take in that first gulp of humility.

Sunshine. It's finally spring and it's lovely to see the sun more often than grey clouds. I don't know about you, but when it's winter, I get really impatient for summer. I love the warmth. The sunshine is beautiful and comforting. It produces food and energy. But it can also scorch and steal away nutrients.

We need the sun, but we also need the rain. The good in our life is good for a while, but without some struggle, we could never grow.

Their colors are so incredibly unique. Even those that look similar can't ever be the same.

So it is with YOU. You can compare yourself to everyone else in the world, but no one will ever be as good of a "you" as you will. Stop comparing yourself, because you're ALL beautiful in your own special way. No one is more or less lovely than you.

The only perfect flowers are the ones that are made in a factory with polyester and plastic. Every real flower has a real struggle to survive, a time to grow, a point where they're at their most beautiful, and times when they feel a bit wilted.

But when you examine each one in a bunch, you'll find they all have their flaws, but when you put even the most different of them together, you can create something extravagantly beautiful.

People really aren't so different from flowers after all...

And this is Kacie. She's a Disney Princess. I'm not kidding. She's one of my favorite people. We met in choir my first year at SFCC. We've sung in Carnegie Hall, Grand Central Station, Pike Place Market, in the car, and various other locations... No big deal or anything.

"You have too many Simon Cowels in your personal judging panel."

It's a harsh truth. I know I'm my own worst critic. I just never realized quite what it all meant.

The other day after one of my classes, I had the worst anger. It was triggered by my own deficiency, but catalyzed by having light publicly shed on my disappointment. I had a bit of time before I had elsewhere to be and I knew I needed to calm down somehow or the rest of my day would fall apart. I walked into my teacher's office and asked if I could just sit. Most of what I was feeling was a struggle with my worth. I didn't realize how angry I was with myself until I sat down to let myself feel through it. I was hurt. My teacher continued to work as I sat there and simply thought about why and what I was feeling. Eventually, I had processed enough to want to talk about it.

Now, I've talked with this teacher about several things before. This particular topic has been no exception. We've discussed my insecurity, its source, and questioned why it exists. We've talked about everything from accepting "failure" to discerning my own value. Having someone completely honest who sees from an outside perspective is golden - if you don't have someone to do that for you, you need one. Or multiple. What I love about this teacher is the fact that she isn't afraid to tell me what I need to hear versus what I may be wanting to hear. She simply looked at me and told me, "You tend to be your own worst critic. But there only needs to be one Simon Cowel." Truth sometimes hurts. I have spent so much time focusing on what needs to be fixed that I don't have a voice that tells me what I do well.

So what about you? How many Simons do YOU have? I can guarantee you that if you're feeling a sting from that soul punch, you probably have one too many. Here's another question: from what or whom do you evaluate your worth? My answer came in the form of a circumstance - "this happened so this is my worth..." and "if this were different..." But let me tell you, if I continue to base my worth off what happened to me and how my life could've been different, my energy will be wasted. My situation may never change. So, what now?

Naturally, I started thinking about "what value do other people see in me? Why am I valuable to them? Why do they care about me?" I began evaluating my worth based on how I think others view me. I know what you're thinking. "RACHEL! Stop that! Don't look to others to determine your value!!!" Truth be told, it has actually turned out to be beneficial. I analyze the people who care to be around me, who I laugh with, spend time with, who love me and I think, "why?" There is no reason. It's quite perplexing to me. I grew up with conditional love. You have to be a certain way, do and have certain things in order to be accepted and important. And maybe I was just in the wrong place. Because now, I look at my life and the people who want me in theirs and they don't care what I can and can't do. They don't care what I do and don't have. They see me as valuable because I exist. I understand a lot of things; I've been told I'm pretty smart, but I can't seem to grasp this concept quite yet. People love me because I'm alive and human. Why can't I love me for the same reason?

Why is it so difficult to love myself when it seems so easy to love others? Is it because I know my flaws and other people don't see them? Or because I care about my flaws and other people don't? Am I the only one who asks these questions? Do people even see my flaws? People don't love me because I'm not flawed. People love me in spite of my flaws. And if other people can do that, then maybe I should, too.

Learning to love myself will be a journey. And I hope that you'll all stick with me for this journey. And maybe you need to join me on this adventure, I don't know. But we really all need each other in order to make it where we want to be.We can't do life alone. We weren't made for it. We have to support each other; it's the only way we'll be able to withstand the flames of life.

Tell me your story. Come along with me. Give some advice. Love people despite their shortcomings.
Until next time.
Love, me.

Through the FIre

"Worship is the heartbeat of God." -Bobby Moore

My church's college group recently began a series on worship - the nature of it, why we do it, and how we do it. It's a basic Christian necessity to worship and worship wholeheartedly, even when we don't feel like it.

Growing up in a Christian school, I heard many talks on worship, how it's important, how to "fake it 'til you make it." I'd heard messages before that mentioned how King David would worship, even in the midst of struggle. You can hear the struggle in his writing (Psalm 13, for example). I've looked at stories of people worshiping God and encountering incredible oppression for doing so, like Paul and Daniel. But I never really thought of worship the way I did when I heard the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abendigo last night. I'd heard that story dozens of times before and have seen the Veggie Tales version even more than that.

While King Nebuchadnezzar was in power, he ordered a giant statue be made for worship. When trumpets sounded and music played, the people would gather and bow down and worship this idol. Rack, Shack, and Benny (for spelling's sake), followed God's commands, so they refused to bow down. The King was not very happy about that. He ordered they be thrown into a fiery furnace to die if they continued to refuse. Still, they did not bow down. So they were sentenced to death. But here's where the story takes a drastic turn - they STILL worshiped God, even as they were being thrown into the "fireplace of doom." God sent a divine being to their rescue, and the fire didn't singe even a hair on their heads. The King saw this and had them released, proclaiming THEIR God was the one true God and He alone should be praised.

God is brought glory when we worship Him. But, when we worship, we are also glorified through Him. Rack, Shack, and Benny praised God, even to death, and when they were saved, King Nebuchadnezzar promoted them to power.

When we worship God through our struggles, He sends help to sustain us. We see the fire. We're in the middle of the flames and we can touch the embers, but we're not burned. When we worship, God is there to protect us from the pit of fire we can see and feel, but, like Rack, Shack, and Benny, not a hair on our head will be scorched. And not only will he sustain us, but He will elevate us. He will bless us beyond our imagination. And it was only yesterday that I saw this in my own life.

Last week, there was an accident at school and I saw more than I had desired to maintain my sanity. The trauma was nearly unbearable as I struggled from day to day to keep myself from bursting in to tears for no apparent reason. The whole event came at a really unfortunate time for me, since I was still processing some other things from earlier in the month. But worship has always been a saving grace for me, a sort of sustenance. The trek through this last week was a slow one and it involved little sleep and plenty of struggle, but at the end of it came more than I could've dreamed.

I doubt my abilities. Often. And that may or may not be an understatement. But my teachers have this crazy amount of belief and trust in me. Why? I have no idea. But they tend to believe in me more than I do myself. It was evidenced when I was called in to talk to the head of my program about something. She sat me down and said, "The 3rd year students will be leaving, and we have this practicum assignment that will need to be taken over. You'd train for it during Spring, and next Fall, it's yours if you want it. Some other teachers and I talked about students who we thought could handle it and your name came up." Ummm... What? Me? It was the sunshine at the end of a dreary thunderstorm of events. I'm still having a hard time believing it, and I don't know that I will until I get there. But in giving up my struggle this week to God, in praying for the persons involved in the accident, in talking with people who could support me through it, I found continuity of strength and elevation of esteem. God is glorified in me and through me. If worship is the heartbeat of God, and I'm His desire, then I am His heart.
I am His worship, and I will give me back to Him, because I was never mine to begin with.