Give Until There's Nothing Left

I’m headed back to Bob Jones today and there has been no small amount of . . . reluctance on my part. This summer has been amazing, even more so because I wasn’t able to come home last summer. Lots of work opportunities, wonderful friends, hilarious memories, and family colored every day of my summer. That’s why I don’t want to go back. I’ll miss all of this.

Well, that’s really only one reason. Something else adds to my reluctance, my resistance to jumping back into college. I don’t like to admit it to you . . . to me . . . to anyone.

*breathe*

I’m scared.

Yeah.

The queen of “I can do this!” is scared that I can’t do this.

My throat gets thick, my breath comes faster, my heart feels heavy, and I’m pretty sure my eyes dilate every time I start contemplating how much will rest on me this semester. It’s as close to a panic attack as I ever want to experience.

I have three jobs. I’m taking 17 credit hours. And that’s the easy-peasy lemon-squeezy part. I’m also president of my society, leader of 90 girls. I’m a room leader responsible for two freshmen and their well-being. I’m a volleyball coach. I have to impress recruiters from accounting firms who are coming to select interns and future employers. I have to actually think about my future. And I’m taking harp lessons!

See? STRESS. Usually I look at challenges like opportunities for awesomeness wrapped up in shiny, difficult packages, but not this time.

So, I’m scared to go back and have to be so responsible. Mostly, I’m scared that I won’t live up to the expectations that other people put on me, and that I put on myself. I want to be a president that encourages a society, not just because we have fun, but because we grow spiritually together. I want to lead my roommates and be a godly example that they would want to look up to. I want to have more of an influence as an employee, a student, a leader, a friend, a mentor, a daughter, and a coach. 

I’m not panicking as much today as I have been the past few weeks though. I have this song that I’ve listened to a million times in the past week and its chorus says something like:

I’ll give until there’s nothing else. I’ll give my life until it all runs out. I’ll give and I’ll have no regrets. I’ll give until there’s nothing left.

You see, up until now, I’ve been focusing on me. How will this affect me? How does it make me feel? Will this work for me? But I’m realizing that it’s not about me at all, because God has given me so many opportunities for the semester and I would waste them all if I did them for me. My focus is turning from me and onto God and others. How can I impact my society for God? How can I serve Him best? What ways can I affect the lives of those around me? Who do I need to encourage? If there is a need, I want to meet it. All the things that take up my day shouldn’t be about me. And if I royally fail at everything, it’s okay. Really. Because I’ve given everything over to God and He knows what would glorify Him most. It is a dose of humility to my prideful spirit. I give it to Him because He can handle it when I can’t. He knows the outcome, now I just have to give until there’s nothing left of me. 

It is a good place to be.

And I will very gladly spend and be spent for you  --  II Corinthians 12:15a

Take Me Back

My mom just pulled out a textbook from my senior year and asked if I had anything overly personal that I wanted to keep out of it. I shook my head and immediately said no, but then when she opened the garage door to throw it in the recycle bin I stopped her. Who knows, I could've kept something in there that I might need!

Well, here's what I did find.


I liked to doodle in class.

A lot. Almost every page had some kind of word scribble or doodle on it. 

And yes, I have no earthly idea why on a talk about the good aspects of marriage, I have a heart and the word MONEY. Hmm. I think I'm probably as worried about me as you are.

*cough*

Aaaanyway . . .

The last pages in the books held my masterpieces.

I loved practicing my handwriting. There's a picture of me in my senior yearbook showing this exact doodle off. Seriously, I look so excited about it too. Is that a girl thing? None of the boys ever did that . . . they were usually too busy trying to make their handwriting so miniscule that it could not be read, and therefore not graded wrong. (they would never say that, but I knew that's why they did it)

I never thought I would be saving doodles from the recycle bin, but somehow, I really want to keep these. They're a connection to the 18-yr old me and I can't tell you how many times I've tried to remember what it was like to be 18. I know it was only two years ago, but those two years have changed so much about who I am, that's it's hard to remember not being . . .well, me. So, these doodles will be my ticket back to a place where my parents took care of me, my stress was nonexistent, and I had a room to myself . . .

I had a room to myself?!

I also had a star above my name.

Man, was I living in a dream world.

m(r)