My dad didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He just sat on FaceTime with me as I sobbed.
I looked up at him as I tried to take a breath and slow down my tears, but it didn’t work.
“I’m just so confused, Dad.”
“I’m sorry, Scooter. I wish I could help more.” He looked just as helpless as I felt on the other end of the video call. “Everything you’re feeling is valid.”
Sitting here today, this post is one I truly don’t have the all the answers to.
As I’m writing it, I’m still fighting the feelings I’m attempting to write to you about.
Since starting back at UF, I’ve been in one of the hardest semesters academically I’ve had so far. On top of that, like always, adjusting to living on my own again has wreaked havoc on my body and pain levels. But lately, my shoulders have hurt more than ever.
I knew this could happen one day. As a full-time crutches user, you can probably imagine what I put my shoulders through daily. And admittedly, shoulder stretching and care has been the one thing that has fallen through the cracks in my PT routines.
And now I’m feeling it. Bad. In one week, I think I broke down crying four times, not always in private, just solely because I was in so much pain.
My physical therapist and even friends tried to help me stretch, but my shoulders are so bad, no one could do much. And the massage therapist at my PT clinic couldn’t see me until next week.
Last week, I sat on the mat in PT and felt like I was begging for relief.
I felt completely lost and helpless. This crazy semester plus my body trying to remember how to do a college paced life on my own, has wrecked me. Physically, mentally and emotionally.
In fact, on that phone call with my dad, my sobs were mostly not because of my pain. I was crying and have cried in recent days, because I am struggling to process what I’m feeling.
Let me explain.
I feel like I’m split evenly in thirds.
One part of me looks at my life, my complete independence, my community and my school that I love so dearly, and I am earnestly overwhelmed with thankfulness. I know full well that God has blessed me immensely. And I pray that never gets lost on me.
But I also feel the pain I’m in, knowing it will probably never go away. I do something small like go to Publix or do my laundry, and the simplest things feel so hard somedays. I feel these things and part of me wants to be so mad that I’m like this.
But then I look at the first part of me, that’s aware and thankful. I look at friends of mine who struggle even more than me physically. I look at them, knowing in another world, I should be right where they are. I start to feel like I have zero grounds to be upset or mad. And I feel guilty for being upset about my pain or my struggle, and I know I should never take how far I’ve come for granted.
So basically, I have been an emotional mess the past few weeks.
I’m thankful because I love my life, especially here in Gainesville. I have independence, the best pals out there and a heck of a family cheering me on.
I’m also mad. Because being disabled isn’t fun and it’s hard. No matter how high my pain tolerance, it feels like it’s been failing me lately. I look at my lifetime of pain and physical struggle ahead of me, and I get really scared and sad sometimes about how it affects pretty much every aspect of my life.
And after I get done being sad or mad about it, guilt literally eats me alive inside. Because truly, I’ve come so far. And it could be worse. So how can I be upset, when the Lord has given me such a great life?
My tears have been more turmoil than anything.
How do you process three completely conflicting emotions?
I’m hard on myself, I always have been. About school and just about dealing with my challenges.
In the midst of this, that’s still been true.
I’ve told myself to just suck up the pain, ignore all the confusing feelings and keep going.
Clearly, it hasn’t been working very well.
I prayed for answers, and writing this, I’m still praying the same thing.
I don’t have answers. I’m still fighting to process and be okay with everything I’m experiencing.
I lead a group of junior girls in bible study. They’re such a sweet spot in my life, and I love them lots. As we shared about life Monday night, I did all I could not to breakdown too bad in front of them as I tried to explain all of this to them.
After I finished, I swallowed the tears I was holding back, and looked at them. “Sorry, long and confusing tangent we didn’t need. I’m a mess.”
“Yes, we did.” One of them said. I didn’t look directly at her because I knew I’d lose it.
“You’re pain and emotions are valid, Jordan. Don’t beat yourself up.” Another one chimed in. I don’t think they know how much I was holding back the waterworks.
As they showed me love and as we prayed for one another, I was reminded of my dad telling me the same thing.
My feelings are valid.
My pain is valid.
I’ve found myself in Psalm 139 lately.
In my confusion, I don’t think there’s anything more comforting than reading about my God who knows me fully and hems me in from all sides.
It’s okay to not have all the answers. All my days are written and planned in his book.
And I think those are my points in this post:
Life is hard. It’s confusing. It’s okay to feel things that don’t all make sense together. And there’s actually no way we can have all the answers.
As I still wrestle with my pain and feelings, I’m trying to rest in being known by God.
I’m believing that everything I’m feeling is valid.
But ultimately, I’m hemmed in. I’m covered. And He is sovereign.
This will pass. And one day, it’ll make sense.
Because even though my emotions are valid, better yet, He is sovereign.
Two words come to mind: answered prayers.
Before I stepped foot in the Dominican Republican for Summer Staff with Mission Emanuel, I began praying for this summer and asking others to pray with me. I put a list of prayer requests on the back of my support letter, and every time I talked to someone about my trip, three main requests swirled around in my brain:
That everything we did was a living representation of Christ and the Gospel; health and safety and physical endurance; and for strong relationships to form within Summer Staff.
If I am completely honest, I would present those requests to people, with full faith God would come through on the first two requests.
I’d seen him move in the DR before, I know he is there at work blessing Mission Emanuel. I’d experienced the way he so obviously carries me when I’m there and miraculously, on every trip before, I was never in the physical pain I expected to be in with my Cerebral Palsy.
Before the trip, the last of those three requests was the one I really wrestled with.
“I don’t know,” I remember telling one of my best friends before I left school, “I’m nervous about that part. It’s just the three of us plus our leader. I kinda know Nicole, but not that well. And I know Sydney and Summer know each other, so I’m just worried it will be hard for me to come in and be friends with them, when all of them have a base of knowing each other. Plus, I never know how people will react to my physical situation, so that always makes me nervous.”
Let me tell you something: one of the best feelings is when God proves you wrong. Looking back on our trip, surrounding that request and even the two I just told you I was confident about, God blew me away with this trip. On all fronts.
In the middle of our time, a man on one of the teams that came down asked me how long we’ve known each other.
“As a group, we’ve only been together a few weeks. They knew each other before, but I really didn’t know any of them before this.”
He looked at me and smiled. “I would’ve just assumed you have all known each other for years. Don’t lose sight of the fact that this is special.”
That wasn’t the last time someone asked us the same question and gave a similar response. We all agreed from the first day that our situation, just four of us on Summer Staff this year, was unique. What I don’t think we could’ve predicted was exactly how our friendships would grow in the matter of just a few weeks.
Without a doubt, from the first day on, these girls showed me more love, acceptance and friendship than I ever thought possible. Without a doubt, I believe God knew better than we did how bad each of us needed these friendships, all for different reasons. Without a doubt, in just a few weeks, these random girls transformed into lifelong friends of mine.
Putting us together on Staff and making us click the way we did is something only our God could do. Even in the smallest ways, I saw how God was and is completely woven in our friendships.
I mentioned before that my physical situation makes me nervous coming into every new friendship. I never know how people will react to the girl on crutches, and one of the biggest things I’ve had to fight in my life is believing I am burden to people or that I slow my friends down.
Nicole, Summer and Sydney showed me from our first day together that they didn’t care that I was disabled. From the way one of them never minded carrying my plate of food and told me to stop apologizing about it, to the way one of them always found my walker when we would arrive at the Mission each day, I truly feel undeserving of the way these three loved me so well.
I haven’t told them this part specifically, but one of the ways that showed me love so well, was completely silent. And as I experienced it one of our last nights, I silently let a tear escape as I felt the magnitude of something, something I don’t think they even realized they did daily.
My entire life, I’ve just wanted to keep up. In a very literal sense, from the time I was in a walker in kindergarten to now, on crutches in college, it’s always hard for me when I’m walking somewhere with a group of people. Most of time, I end up in the back, trailing behind. I know that when this happens with friends, I’m never purposefully left behind. But nonetheless, those moments I find myself trailing behind groups, are always hard. Because I know it’s nothing anyone does on purpose and because of my fear of slowing my friends down, I rarely say anything. I just crutch faster. Before I go further, trust me when I say I’m so aware of how the Lord has blessed me insanely well with friends who accept and love me in college. I am in no way discounting how blessed I’ve been with the people in my life. I am just so thankful for this unique situation of our Staff and the clear picture it painted for me.
As I found myself in this tiny squad of Summer Staff, I never found myself trailing behind or struggling to keep up. As I would hop off the bus, the three of them without fail, would be standing there with my crutches in hand. As I slowly pushed my walker over crazy terrains, they were right by my side, often holding the back so I didn’t lose my footing. As we walked back upstairs every night, they always waited for me to make it up the lobby stairs and never left me behind as we headed to our room. When I fell behind the big groups on the way to dinners, they fell behind too.
By the middle of the first week, I silently noticed how they consciously never left me. I noticed how it was a conscious choice by them, but they definitely didn’t realize how much it meant to me.
I walked into Summer Staff, fully expecting to feel out of place. But I never did.
Asking for help is something I struggle with. Though I still asked them every day at meals and other times, when they told me I didn’t have to ask or apologize, I knew they meant it.
They were there. Everyday. I never really needed to ask.
We partner with Mission Emanuel to join in their mission of loving their neighbor, building community and being the body of Christ.
And through these friendships that I now forever cherish, I personally experienced exactly what we try to do for the people of the DR.
My Summer Staff pals loved me well and carried me, without making me feel like an outsider.
Friends, that is the body of Christ. That is the family we are called to be a part of.
Nicole, Syd and Summer: I love y’all so much. Thank you for the laughs that filled our room nightly, the honest words that we shared and for how true your friendship is.
Here’s to one of the best summers I’ve had, with some of the best people I know.
To a God who cares and knows what he’s doing.
And to a God who constantly proves me wrong, in the very best way.
I didn’t know Alexander. But now, I’ll never forget him.
What blows me away constantly about God, is his ability to place people in each other’s paths, for the perfect reason, at the perfect time.
What blows me away constantly about God, is how his plan is worked out so far in advanced and is constantly moving.
The Dominican Republic has had part of my heart since I first came here in 2012. The ways Mission Emanuel (ME) builds meaningful, lasting relationships and loves so deeply, is such a clear depiction of the Gospel to me. And from that first trip, I knew this place, these people and this mission were forever going to be a part of my life.
When I decided I wanted to go on Summer Staff this summer with ME, it all started happening so fast. I filled out my application and found out a few weeks later that I was accepted. And as I started the fundraising process, I was completely shocked and humbled by how fast I not only reached, but surpassed the fully funded mark.
With the way it was all so quickly falling into place, I couldn’t help but think that God might have something super special planned for my summer in the DR.
Now after the first week, I can tell you that that is so true.
I didn’t know Alexander. But now, I’ll never forget him.
It really all started back in January when my dad went on a trip. He called me and told me that they were working on a house for a lady named Mari, who had a son with Cerebral Palsy (CP). He said that her son had passed away, but this house was such a picture of promises being fulfilled. He said he told her about me, and he thought it was so special that he was there to work on the house.
Last week, months after Dad’s trip, I passed buckets full of concrete and painted walls on that same house.
And at the end of the week, I met Mari. I met her as I handed her the keys to her new house. She held me as tight as she could, and we both wept.
Mari looked at me and the people around us, and thanked us over and over.
She called me family and told me that when she saw me, she looked at my legs, and her heart leapt. Because of her son, Alexander, who God made like me, we were connected.
Though I didn’t understand her Spanish, others translated for me. As she held my face, she told me: “God makes people like you and my son. You are a child of God, and you are beautiful.”
Words didn’t come. I just nodded and smiled and hugged her, as more tears streamed down my face.
Questions are something I believe none of us can avoid, because we are human. And we don’t know that plan that God has in advanced and always moving.
My entire life, I’ve fought questions. I wonder why a lot. Why I have to live in pain, why I can’t walk. Why I know hospitals better than the average kid. Why as a kid, I went to more PT sessions than play dates.
I know God made me this way. But when I think about it, it’s easy to see that in a negative light. It’s easy to see the way I am as a bad thing. It’s easy to let pain and negativity overflow and fail to seen any purpose in it.
I sometimes also struggle on the opposite side of the spectrum. Because I realize how the Lord has immensely blessed me with resources, I wonder why I’ve had the chance to constantly improve my situation, and some others don’t have that chance.
Simply put, my medical challenges can make it really easy for me to be mad and confused for a lot of reasons.
As I stood in the middle of this house and held a weeping mother in my arms, I cannot explain to you fully the feeling I had. But in that moment, I saw a small piece of God’s plan coming to fruition.
Our lives are forever woven together. And it’s because of years of planning on our God’s part.
From the doctors who walked alongside me to get me to a place where I can physically be able to be in the DR, to Mission Emanuel being there to stand by and carry Mari through the darkest times, to my dad being in that first group to work on her house, God was in every second leading up to our emotional hug.
I’m not claiming to now magically and fully understand God’s plan. But I fully believe our God is an intentional God. And this moment painted a picture of that part of his character.
I fully believe that God constantly gives us glimpses of his perfect plan and that those are some of the most beautiful moments.
I will never forget Mari’s words to me. As she wiped my tears, and I heard her call me a child of God and beautiful, I can genuinely say I’ve never believed those words more fully than when she told me those things.
In that moment, I felt like Heaven was meeting Earth. People from Illinois to Florida to the Dominican, stood together in support of one family. Who is all their own family.
Like it says in Nehemiah, the joy of the Lord is Mari’s strength. It’s my strength. And it’s the strength of every hand that has worked with Mission Emanuel.
Today, I am thankful for an intentional God. I’m thankful that family means more than just blood. I’m thankful for a God who loves, cares and plans. And I’m thankful that joy found in him isn’t dependent on circumstances, but everlasting.
I didn’t know Mari’s son, Alexander. But now, I’ll never forget him.
I see it when I look at you.
But your walls are built up high.
Your heart is on lockdown before anything new or anyone new can get close.
Not until you’ve had months to figure it or them out.
But even then, you usually still keep part of your heart in a tight grip. Just in case something goes wrong. You want to be able to get away with something untouched.
There’s a few of people close to you, who somehow have gotten behind those walls completely.
They know things you don’t have to tell them. They even know some things that you’ve never technically told them, or anyone.
They figure out what’s going on in your head with you, and sometimes before you.
But they even wonder sometimes.
Your life has been full of more joy than anything else. What exactly caused you to build walls so high?
I see it when I look at you.
You’re tough. Sometimes too tough.
Because you’re that kid who maybe had to grow up too fast.
Not that you wanted to. It was because of things you couldn’t and still can’t control.
But even in the midst of those things, the good and the hard stuff, you were just that.
No matter what you were facing, you were still a kid.
You just had to grow up fast. So, your mind was sometimes ahead of your heart.
Meaning that you knew what was happening, and you knew what you needed to do to get through.
But that didn’t mean you escaped all the hurt.
And now that you’re older, you see how some things you said were “no big deal” affected you more than you thought they would.
Those things are what the walls everyone is saying you’ve “built up so high” are built out of.
I see it when I look at you.
That one best friend who’s not a best friend anymore.
That one person who’s actually gone. You’ve stopped telling yourself that time heals. Because it still hurts in the deepest places to miss them, even after a decade.
That one appointment that didn’t go right.
That one hallway that has little to no good memories.
That one thing that one person said to you years ago, that cut too deep.
That one relationship that’s years old, and also years gone. You wish you could forget it. Because when your best friends ask you now what it was exactly, you can’t give them an answer. You don’t even know the answer. All you know is that it hurt.
That one time you didn’t listen to your gut. And now, down the road, everything in you wishes you did in that one moment.
Those empty promises he never fulfilled.
Those things she said that were completely out of left field.
I see it when I look at you.
And your walls are built up high.
But that doesn’t make your smile any less genuine.
Like those people close to you know and remind you daily, this life has so much joy.
Like everyone else, you’ve got a story.
You’re smiling because you’ve let all these things be part of your story.
You’ve learned from them. They’ve made you stronger. And you know you’re not alone. Everyone’s got something.
You’ve allowed yourself to cry when you need to and laugh too. Thankfully, you’ve probably laughed more.
You’ve allowed yourself to see God’s purpose in every good and hard thing you’ve faced.
So, you’re smiling.
Your walls are built up high, because your imperfect and human. And that’s okay.
I know, because I am you. Mine are too.
But if there’s one thing I know to be true, it’s that honesty is one of the most powerful things someone can have and experience.
Writing is how I get there. To the honest places.
May these things I write be honest.
May they help you get to honest places as much as they hopefully help me.
Welcome to From 3West’s second blog series: 21 Things I’ve Learned at 21. In September of last year, that was the title of a blog post, in which I listed out 21 things I’ve learned in my 21 years. My goal is always for my writing to be authentic and to write about where I am at. So, these posts will not be in order of my initial list.
Here's post #3 in the series, and #12 on the original list.
Dreams and plans change. And that’s okay. It’s a good thing, actually.
“I don’t do that anymore,” I chuckled at a friend who had just ask when my next sports article was dropping and who I was currently writing for.
On my way home later that day after that conversation, I passed a bench in the middle of campus. I smiled, because during my freshman year, I would sit there coming up with story pitch after story pitch and tearing through every ESPN Mag or Sports Illustrated I could get my hands on.
My freshman year, I was locked in and set on pursuing sports journalism. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else, and I wasn’t open to anyone (including, maybe especially God) telling me that sports journalism might not be it.
I dove in my freshman year and got tons of experience. Which I’m so grateful for. But I remember getting deeper in and realizing I didn’t love the culture of journalism. And that the sports world still has part of my heart, but it’s a different beast when you’re working in it.
I remember walking out of one of my journalism classes one day, running to the bathroom and crying in a stall. Because I felt it like this might not be it, but I didn’t know what else I would do.
I knew and still know that I want to write for a living. But at that point, sports journalism was the only capacity I allowed myself to dream about writing in, maybe subconsciously blocking out every other option because I wanted this so badly. Even if part of me felt off and like this might not be it.
I walked into college saying: “I will not be the kid who changes her major.”
Guess what? A year in, I was that kid.
And I was scared. I felt my dreams changing, and I didn’t have a concrete answer to what my “dream job” was. Frankly, I still don’t think I do.
I’ll tell people that I want to write and tell stories, that’s all I know for sure. I’ll tell people that sports media isn’t totally out of my options, I could maybe see myself working in healthcare communications or even ministry.
Or I’ll just be a writer, trying to piece together books or something, broke and living in my parents’ backyard, in a tiny house. (Kidding, Dad.)
But the not having a concrete answer to “what’s your dream job?” anymore, really scared me at first.
Does it still scare me sometimes? Sure. Absolutely. Especially when I have moments where I realize how fast college is going by.
This semester, we’ve been studying 2 Timothy in bible study. One theme I’ve seen in Paul’s letter to Timothy is him constantly reassuring Timothy that God will prepare him for “every good work.”
As I’ve wrestled with not knowing what I want to do exactly and what my life is going to look like, I’ve found comfort in two things:
God will prepare and is preparing me for whatever he has planned, and I can rest in following his will for my life. Meaning it’s okay that I don’t have everything planned out, in fact, it’s impossible for me to plan everything for my life out.
Which, now that I’ve wrestled with it, is comforting. But that has definitely been a hard one to actually rest in. Because I am 100% a planner.
It’s been so convicting as God’s taught me about resting in his will and plan. Because I’ve seen how my career isn’t the only thing I’ve tried to hold onto, white knuckled and not give to him.
I’ve done it with my medical situation, trying to tell God what he “needed” to do with every surgery.
I do it with my future relationally and as a whole, probably mostly giving into fear and insecurities. I tell everyone that I am destined and pumped to be the single, crazy dog lady. But when one of my friends stopped me mid-joke the other day and hit me with the “what if that’s not it?” I realized how much I’ve let fear overshadow that part of my life, and I’ve attempted to white knuckle that from God too.
I know I’ve mentioned him in a few blog posts, but Bob Goff is one of my heroes. As I was sitting in my parked car waiting for my PT office to open for my early appointment Friday morning, thinking about what I’ve been learning about my dreams and plans changing and finding rest in God surrounding that, Bob tweeted this:
“God is never as nervous about our future, or as concerned about our past, as we are.”
Dang. I cannot tell you how hard that hit home when I looked down at my phone and saw that notification, just as I was reflecting on how I it has been so freeing to slowly learn how to loosen my grip on my future and what I think I want.
Dreams and plans change. And that’s okay. It’s a good thing, actually.
Because it might just mean that you’re learning to listen to and rest in a dependency on God.
Welcome to From 3West’s second blog series: 21 Things I’ve Learned at 21. In September of last year, that was the title of a blog post, in which I listed out 21 things I’ve learned in my 21 years. My goal is always for my writing to be authentic and to write about where I am at.
Here's post #2 in the series, and #6 on the original list.
Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can't lose... forever.
When I was a sophomore in high school, a simple slogan entered my life and silently began to drive what I did and how I approached life.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched the show. It is my absolute favorite.
When I found NBC’s Friday Night Lights, I was instantly hooked.
I have a concerning amount of Dillion Panthers shirts in my closet, and someone saying the words: “I’ll watch FNL with you,” is 100% a sure way to my heart, and a cure to any bad day I’m having.
I know that I love the show so much partly because I am my father’s daughter, and a sports fanatic. And I grew up on football.
But I know another reason why the show has my heart.
It’s because the motto of the team hits home for me. Time and time again, Coach Taylor will stand in the huddle of players and say: “Clear eyes. Full hearts.”
And all in perfect unison, his team returns with: “Can’t lose.”
If you ask me, the simple slogan is powerful and about so much more than just winning a football game.
It’s become something I live by. And something that keeps me grounded when the challenges of living with a disability and just life in general try to creep up on me.
Let me break it down for you.
Clear eyes: Possibly the hardest part of the motto for me. As I’ve fought with CP my whole life, I’ve seen how easy it can be to let the hard stuff and the untrue stuff fog my vision.
Even with friends and a community in Gainesville who have become a family to me and who love me so incredibly well, one of the easiest traps for me to fall into is believing the lie that I’m a burden to people. Time and time again, even obviously seeing the way these people love me so well, my vision becomes foggy and I worry about burdening them with my challenges.
It’s so easy to doubt any plan God has for me when I see friends getting married or landing their dream job. It’s easy for my vision to lose sight of trusting His plan and to wonder how much my CP is going to affect my relationships and my career.
The farther I move into life, the more crucial I find having “clear eyes” is.
“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your[a] life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.”
Clear eyes to me, means that verse. It means setting my eyes on the things above. It means not letting things I can’t control trip me up.
It means trusting God.
Full hearts: When I think of having a full heart, I instantly think of all the people I love.
I think of my family. I think of the incredible friends I’ve made in Gainesville and how I’ve truly never had friends like them before.
A full heart is abiding in a God who loves me regardless of all my flaws and downfalls.
The things that give me a truly full heart, are eternal. Investing in God and people is eternal.
It’s joy that’s not affected by pain or circumstances.
It’s a hug from my dad that still feels the same way it did when I was five. It’s the way my mom and I have the best time together, always. It’s the way my brother makes me laugh until I cry.
It’s the way some of the most meaningful times I’ve had have been sitting on a dorm floor, eating cookies, talking to these people I’ve found in college, whom I don’t deserve.
A full heart to me, means having relationships with an eternal God and people who show and point me to him every single day.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Can’t lose: the formula seems simple. If I have those things, I literally can’t lose. No matter what this world throws at me, I just can’t lose.
If I keep my eyes and vision clear, fighting the lies that are way too easy to believe and depending on my God that is bigger than all of the lies combined, my life and my joy won’t be affected by my circumstances.
If I realize that things of this world won’t fill me up, only God and time with people who point me to Him will, my heart will never not be full.
If I live according to those ideas, I can’t lose.
If I live by those ideas, any challenges I face, like Cerebral Palsy, don’t take center stage in my life. They’re just things that I have to figure out a way around.
So, yes. A slogan from a TV show has driven a lot of how I live my life.
A simple slogan from a TV show is the reason and the way I’m able to smile through pain.
A simple slogan from a TV show is something that keeps me grounded.
A simple slogan, and a simple formula that in my human condition, is harder to follow than it should be.
But I’m thankful for the reminder and direction it’s served me through the years.
Thankful for a merciful God and incredible people.
So, with that, say it with me friends.
Welcome to From 3West’s second blog series: 21 Things I’ve Learned at 21. In September of last year, that was the title of a blog post, in which I listed out 21 things I’ve learned in my 21 years. My goal is always for my writing to be authentic and to write about where I am at. So, these posts will not be in order of my list. In fact, I am jumping in at #21 on the original list.
Things will happen in God’s timing, not mine. And I’m thankful for that.
I immediately gave her a look.
“But, rowing on a rowing machine or even riding a bike, that has to do more than just that.” I said to my PT, who just told me that one of the best things I can do right now is to just walk.
My physical situation with Cerebral Palsy (CP) is ever-changing. And right now, I’m faced with the question yet again: do I want to have more surgery down the road?
My tibia is still crooked on my left side. It’s causing my foot to drift in, which as you can probably guess, causes some tripping, especially when I’m tired. My doctor decided not to fix it last surgery because we hoped that with a fixed, straight femur, muscle memory would take care of my drifting tibia.
To some extent, it has. But not enough. So, in this last year of the two-year recovery, my primary focus has been training that foot to not drift inward.
I can wholeheartedly and truthfully say that I have gone hard in this most recent surgery recovery. I haven’t always been able to say that honestly in the past. But in the case of number 10, I have been determined, giving it everything I’ve got.
The rowing machine has become my constant companion, and I can go a long time on a stationary bike. The gym is honestly my getaway spot every week.
But as I talked to one of my PTs recently, I expressed how I’ve been thinking a lot about how we might have to go back in and fix my tibia.
She looked at me and said: “Keep working as hard as you're working. But I think one of the best things you can do right now on top of all you’re doing, is to just walk more. Focus on form, and train it.”
I, looking for the fast-paced and more fun solutions like my rower, didn’t like that answer.
When I’m just walking, slow and focused, I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere. When I’m literally thinking about what muscle to fire next, trying to learn how to walk, I get frustrated.
But when I’m going fast on a rower or a bike, it’s not slow, and I feel like I’m getting somewhere.
So, when she told me I needed to do the thing that my brain dubbed as the “slow option,” I didn’t like that.
I didn’t like the idea of just practicing walking. Because I can’t control it as much as I can control how fast I row or ride. I mean, I could walk faster. But if my brain isn’t firing the right muscles, then the training won’t do its work... I knew that this meant going slow.
Going slow isn’t my idea of timing when it comes to improving my physical life.
I know I’ll never be perfect. But I’m determined to beat as much of CP as I can. And I’ve never wanted that to happen slowly. I want it now.
Living in this college bubble, I’ve noticed how big of a tendency this is for kids my age, or maybe everyone: we want things on our timing. And the timeframe we often have in mind is now and instant.
We’re in a constant state of thinking and worrying about the future and trying to figure out how we can control most of it.
As I talked to more and more friends about life and the future, it was interesting to see the different things that we all choose to worry about most. It’s fascinating to see how some things are easy for one person to completely trust God’s timing with but hard for someone else to give it to him.
I’m worried about my career and what I’m doing, while one of my friends rarely lets her mind waiver from: “God will put me exactly where he wants me.”
And then there’s possibly one of the biggest things people tend to worry about during college, relationships. For a lot of years, I told myself that a relationship and marriage wasn’t in the cards for this kid on crutches. Though I see my flawed thought process around this now, it is a lot easier for me than for some of my friends to say, “If God wants something to happen, it’ll happen,” when it comes to relationships.
My point is, everyone worries, and everyone worries about different things. As humans, it’s natural for us to want things on our timing. It’s natural to want control.
But as I just walked the track at the gym yesterday, thinking about which post to start this series with, it hit me that God invites us to “just walk” into what he has every day.
The fact is, he’s got everything already mapped out. And he invites us to just walk into his plan, because he’s already got a greater one than any of us could even wrap our heads around.
“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”
It sounds so simple. And theoretically, it should be. But I’ve learned that trust and giving up control, even if we don’t truly have as much as we think, is tough. Even though the reality, again and again, is that God’s timing is always better and never-failing.
I think learning to “just walk” with the Lord and how to rest in his timing this year, will be a beautiful thing.
So, on the literal side, if any of my UF pals want to be my walking buddy, let me know. Seriously. I’ll be putting in some miles around that track.
But on the spiritual side, challenge one of this series is to rest in God’s timing and to just walk into whatever he has.
Even if it's slow. Even if it scares you. Even if it’s not what you want. Even if it’s not what you think you need.
The Switchfoot fanatic in me will leave you with lyrics from one of their new songs, Let It Happen:
Let it happen, let it happen
Tomorrow knows what tomorrow knows
You can't make it get here sooner
Let it happen, let it happen
I don't hold what the future holds
But I know You're my future
Her pencil just kept scribbling on the paper. And my heart rate shot up a little bit more as she moved further down the paper.
“Your jokes are catching up to you.” I thought in my head.
For months, knowing I was a little behind in school because of changing my major and taking less credits every few semesters so I can give my body a breather or focus more on PT, I had been joking with my friends that I was actually a sophomore. Even though I really thought I was only a semester behind. No big deal.
But a few weeks ago, I sat across from my adviser’s desk as she wrote out a plan for the rest of my college career. By the time she finished, my graduation date was set for either Spring or Fall 2021. A full extra year to year and a half.
“I’m actually a sophomore.” I thought, walking out of the office. Feeling like I was living in a twilight zone.
I bee-lined it to Starbucks. Coffee fixes all my issues, right?
I got my coffee and waited to fix my coffee behind some random guy. As my cousins like to say, I like coffee with my cream.
“Sorry I’m taking so long,” random guy said.
“You’re fine, I’ll be here forever anyways. Spring 2021 to be exact.” Flustered me said.
“What…?”random guy questioned.
I internally face palmed. Any of my best friends know that I ramble when I’m either tired or stressed. In that moment, I was both of those things. I only had 5 hours of sleep a night all week. Thus, I had just informed a fellow coffee addict way too much about my life.
“Nothing. I’m so sorry. Rough morning. I didn’t mean for that to come out. Take your time, no worries.”
He gave me a confused smile and left quickly.
Once I sat down at a table, I literally just stared at the paper that had my future written out on it.
How did this happen?
I was literally sitting across from a friend a few weeks ago, at this exact table. I was telling her that college has made me no stranger to God wrecking my life plans.
Freshman Jordan’s plan: graduate in four years, land a dream job at ESPN and move right to Bristol, Connecticut.
Sophomore Jordan’s plan: realizing I love sports but probably don’t want to work in sports media, my plan turned to healthcare communications. Good. Set. Solid plan.
This year’s plan, thinking I was a Junior: I don’t know. Sports? Eh, maybe. Healthcare? A stronger maybe… can someone just pay me to write?
All I know is that I’m graduating in four years, buying a dog and finding somewhere where my horse can be in my backyard or right around the corner from me. Okay, ambitious I know. But a girl can dream, right?
As I sat at that table again a few weeks ago, clutching my coffee, I realized that my life’s plan just got wrecked. Again. At least the graduating in four years part.
I prayed nobody was watching me, because I definitely felt the tears coming.
“What am I doing? I don’t even have a “dream job” anymore. All I know is I love to write, and I think I’m okay at it. Do I just try to turn my blog into something? Do I finally write a book? I guess I have the time, now that I’m going to be here for two more years. Two more years? I honestly can’t even wrap my head around that.”
My mind was racing.
I started to make a list in my head of things I needed to try or do to attempt to figure out my life.
“Wait. That doesn’t even matter. Because God, you just seem to be a fan of knocking over all my plans. So why even try to plan?”
I stared at the paper some more. I let a few tears fall, not really caring at this point if anyone saw. My phone buzzed.
My brother, Hayden, replied to my frantic text: “Who doesn’t want to be in college longer?”
He’s right. College is fun. Adulthood sounds scary.
Wiping my tears, I thought: “So, what’s my problem?”
Most of your friends will be gone. You’ll be behind on life. You still don’t know what you want or what you’re doing. That’s your problem. One side of my brain said.
But then the probably more logical side of my brain jumped in:
You’re 21. Nobody really knows what they’re doing. This extra year isn’t something to be upset about. Because congrats, you get an extra year to year and a half of the most freedom you’ll ever have, to figure things out.
College is a really special time, and I know this.
It’s a time with some much freedom, so many people and opportunities.
With half a cup of coffee left, I decided to try and listen to the more logical side of my brain and shift my focus around this extra college year that was just plopped in my lap.
I know God has a plan, he must because mine constantly gets wrecked. But I’m learning that that’s something to be grateful for.
So, I’m telling myself that He has a reason for this extra year at UF.
I know that this is more time to invest in really solid people, relationships and community.
I know that it will be a really cool thing to be able to go a full four years with the sophomore girls I lead in bible study.
I know that it’s okay not to have my life and career figured out. But I know that this extra year is a blessing as I try to figure out what I can.
My prayer has become that God will do something special with my victory lap(s) and clearly show me His purpose and reason for keeping me at UF.
But I think the important thing here isn’t about how I get an extra year of college, it’s about plans. I think it’s okay and good to plan.
But where I have tripped up is when I lock in on my plan, with no openness or room for God’s plan for me.
Author Bob Goff is one of my biggest heroes. Fittingly, as I was writing this post, he tweeted this:
“God invites us to be part of His plans, not approve them.”
I’ve spent so much of my life mad because God surprised with something that didn’t fit in my plan. So, I was mad at Him because he didn’t run it by me first.
I’m learning that when your plans get wrecked for God’s plans, it’s one of the most beautiful things that can happen in life.
So today, I'm standing in the rubble of my wrecked plans, expectant and excited for what God has.
The bags under my eyes were heavy, but my smile was big on the other end of our phone call.
I told him about my day, and I remember laughing about something.
“Hey Scooter, you should write when you're happy.”
My dad’s words that came after my recovered laughter confused me a little.
“What do you mean? I do write when I’m happy.” I said.
“I know. But you also turn to writing when you’re struggling a lot of the time. Which isn’t bad, it’s good. But you haven’t put anything on your blog in a while.”
“I know, I’ve just been so busy I –”
“I know, trust me. You have. I’m not critiquing you. I’m just saying. Write when you’re happy.”
My dad was right. I haven’t put anything on here in a while. Reason being 75% actual busyness, and 25% major writers’ block. In fact, a folder now lives on my desktop named “Don’t Press Delete Just Yet”.
Collateral damage of months of writers’ block, where I’d get halfway through something, get frustrated and wonder if I should just trash it. But ultimately, my hope that I’ll come back to it wins and lands it in that folder.
I described my semester as a “rollercoaster” to my friends the other day.
This semester, my lows have felt like true low lows. Some gut-wrenching, like a stomach-flipping, massive rollercoaster drop.
My "last" surgery never seems to actually be the last. And there continues to be uncertainty around whether I’ll have more surgery or not. I’ve had more Hydrocephalus headaches and side effects than ever. I am still fighting chronic pain from my CP. I’ve struggled with feeling change happening in certain relationships close to me. I’ve prayed for a softened heart. And fear has often filled my head as I’ve thought about the future.
But while this semester has been really difficult at some points, my dad was right.
It has also been a really good one. Because I’ve learned a lot about what true joy is.
This semester, my rollercoaster highs have been high highs. Because I’ve learned a lot about what joy can be like, and it is eternal when you get it right.
True joy is early mornings, with coffee, spent in the Word. Even if an early morning means only four hours of sleep the night before.
True joy is remembering on a late-night FaceTime call, full of laughs, that my relationship with my brother will never change. We’ll always be two kids, who have each other’s’ backs and know how to make the other laugh hardest.
True joy is having phone calls with my grandma every Sunday.
True joy is eating pizookies in the middle of a busy week with a best friend, who has been a best friend since high school. And just knowing she’s going to be one of my best friends forever.
True joy is having sophomore girls huddle in my room every Tuesday and getting to witness growth in their walks with Jesus.
True joy is having my junior bible study come over the next night and getting to be challenged and loved by them, better than I deserve.
True joy is answering a friend’s call to “be irresponsible” with her, and going to get ice cream, late at night, when I really, really should be doing homework. True joy is not feeling guilty about it.
True joy is sitting in a parked car, talking to a friend for hours.
True joy is watching my parents together, and their story continue to unfold. True joy is realizing what a great example they have set for me and Hayden. True joy is seeing God’s hand in their story so obviously and tangibly, and something I love seeing and watching more every year.
True joy will always be coming home to an excited dog.
True joy is spending hours on top of my horse, in a big field, forgetting that I’m actually in the busy city of Orlando.
True joy is realizing that my identity is set in Christ. And it doesn’t rest in my grades, my disability or other people.
True joy is realizing that yes, I most likely will wake up in some sort of physical pain every day of my life, but that pain is a daily reminder that I can’t ignore that I need Jesus to get through the day. The joy is in the fact that because of my pain, I can be rooted in what’s important. Because of my pain, it’s hard to waiver from my need for Christ.
True joy is the small things. It’s realizing that the simple things are the things that matter. The things that will last.
This semester has rocked my world in so many ways.
But joy has been the underlying lesson and tone, even in the midst of some really hard stuff.
Dad, you’re right. Writing my words when I’m happy is important.
But I might argue that writing them down when I’m joyful is even more important.
There’s a difference, trust me.
This joy is eternal in ways that happiness never can be.
I’m thankful for a rollercoaster of a semester, growth and more lessons learned.
It’s almost time to say peace out to Fall 2018.
And I’m crazy thankful for all it has put me through.
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Romans 15:13 (NIV)
In no specific order, here are 21 things I've learned in 21 years: