6 Things I Learned as a Senior

Currently, I am exactly eleven weeks away from my last day of high school ever. It's crazy to think that's actually true. It feels like only yesterday I was nervously eyeing the Senior class above me, wondering what it would be like to be in their shoes. And now I am. I'm a Senior. I'm in the oldest grade of my school. And like a friend of mine once said, I now have social powers.

But alongside those so-called "social powers" which entitle me to a number of responsibilities, I've realized a number of things about life. Become a Senior changes you. It makes you realize how fast time actually flies. It makes you suddenly wish you were 8 years old again so you could relive each moment and actually value it for what it is.

I'm in the last year of some of the best years of my life. I realized that sometime last summer. And now I'm spending it feeling like time has never gone by faster.

I may not have a PhD in, um, life. I'm only 18. But becoming a Senior has taught me several things. And I want to share some of these realizations with you.

1. Don't be afraid to lead.

Don't get me wrong here; not all of us are called to hold a clipboard and give presentations to a team of fifty people each week. Even on a smaller scale, not all of us are called to lead the entire school in worship twice a week. Or take charge in group activities at school.
But the truth is, there is always some sort of way for you to lead. My school calls it servant leadership. It's what Christ did, constantly. Servant leadership doesn't mean taking charge of everything and bossing everyone around. It means doing the right thing in a group of people who are doing the exact opposite. It means taking charge if nobody else is willing to, and doing the best you can with the job you're given even if you've never done it before and you don't know whether you're cut out for it. Servant leadership means not be afraid to show people what it's like to live a Christ-centered life. 
As a Senior, I realized that people start expecting you to take charge with things. It seemed like a lot of pressure at first, but ironically I started to notice that I was freaking out less about being in charge. I was less worried about what others would think and more interested in getting things done well, being a good role model, and being confident in who I am as a young woman of Christ. Senior year has taught me that it's not that scary to lead people. It's not that scary to be different. It may be hard most of the time, but it's definitely worth it.

2. Don't be afraid to say "no."

I said yes to way too many things last year. Not because I thought I wouldn't get the chance to do them later; just because I hate saying no. I like doing lots of things -- but usually it's not really what's best for me.
That's one thing God has been working on in my heart this past year; He's been teaching me to say no to things. He doesn't need me to be involved in every single thing possible at church and school and youth group. He wants my heart, and He wants me to try my best in the things that He calls me to be a part of.

3. Don't save up on your thank yous.

Sure, at the end of the school year there will be plenty of thank yous to say. I mean, that's what the Valedictorian is for, right?
Not really.
It matters to people whether they're appreciated or not. So, thank them. Thank your parents for feeding and clothing you. Thank your teachers for taking the time to make sure you actually understand things. Thank your pastor for loving you. Thank Jesus for saving you.

4. See your time as precious.

I can't tell you how big this one is for me.
I wish I could re-live each moment of my life. I wish I could grab each season, tough or easy, give it a huge hug, look my old self in the eye and whisper, "This is going to make you stronger." I wish I could grab my old self by the shoulders and shake me silly. I wish I could look my old self square in the eye and say, "Girl, get your act together. Stop wishing you were older. Stop caring so much about what other people think. Stop wishing you weren't exactly where you are right now." 

5. Do the Sabbath.

It seems sort of ironic to be putting this one in as well, seeing as I've just been talking all about precious time -- but it's true! The Sabbath is so important. God really does know what's best for us. God knows that if we work 7 days a week all the time, we will eventually explode.
So. Don't work on Sundays. Recharge. Take more time to listen from God. Listen to a sermon or podcast online. Read Pride and Prejudice. Watch chick flicks. I'm telling you; Sabbaths are really worth it.

6. Don't skimp on God-time.

When I was a younger teenager, I used to subconsciously roll my eyes when my youth pastor encouraged us to set aside time each day to read the Bible and pray for a bit. But then, a few years ago, things changed. I actually started doing it. And I actually started hearing from God. Let me tell you, daily time with Jesus revolutionized my relationship with Him!
Nowadays I can't imagine my morning routine without at least 10 minutes to read my Bible, pray, and journal for a while. It makes such a difference to realize afresh each morning that God has already gone forward into my day. God-time in the morning makes me so much more aware of His Presence throughout the day.
God surely speaks, but usually we need to give Him the time and space to do it.

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What are some major things you have learned in the past year?

The Mona Lisa and other truths

It's so amazing how God finds ways to speak to me on the most random of days. Yesterday was one of those days. And it was full of things that hit me, bam, and made me realize that it was God trying to get my attention.

* * * * 

The first of these truths hit me while reading through my Facebook notifications. You know those random links that appear on your newsfeed because you liked some page a million years ago and you haven't bothered to unlike it yet? No? Okay, whatever. Well anyway, there was a random post on my newsfeed yesterday called 3 things before you kiss my wife. Really interesting. One thing in it stuck with me.

1. The most attractive thing about me is Jesus.

The guy from the article said this: "Ladies, I hate to break it to you, but your body is going to get MESSED UP by life." My body and my looks are so unpredictable. They weren't created to impress the world. They will never be exactly the way I want them to be. 

It's time I realized that the only real, constant, attractive thing about me, the only real thing I have to offer, is my relationship with and love for Jesus. That is what I want my future husband to find most attractive in me. It's time I worked hard on loving and getting to know Jesus than working hard trying to be attractive in some trivial, physical way.

2. The things I want are not rights; they are privileges.

There are a lot of things I fight for in this world. One of those things is to be loved. To be treated as important, valued, and special. I fight to be heard. I fight to be seen as beautiful.

But all those things aren't my rights. In this fallen world, nothing like that will ever happen to me simply because it should, or because I deserve it. These things only ever happen as a privilege, as a gift from God.

In my relationship with Jesus, all these things I fight for in the world are given to me, because that's how much Jesus loves me. He loves me, and sees me as important, valuable, and special. I am beautiful in his eyes.

But it's important for me to realize that, in regard to my relationship with other people, these things are not my rights. They are my privileges. Instead of fighting for them, I should see them as gifts every time they do come to pass.

If I accept that truth, the way I treat others will totally change. I will stop fighting to be treated right and start being more thankful when I am. I will stop taking the patience and love of my family and friends for granted. It's not right for me to take that for granted. Because it's not my right to be treated that way. God has blessed me with beautiful, incredible people who tell me I'm special. I have no right to take that for granted.

And I also don't have the right to be angry when people don't shower me with gifts and hang on my every word. The whole world does not, and should not, revolve around me. In this fallen world, my relationships with others will never be perfect. But when things do go well, and people treat me like I'm special, I can be thankful.

3. Loving my neighbor means loving them like Jesus.

This was a huge new truth for me.

I've asked God many times to help me love people. I've also asked Him to give me His eyes for others. I must have realized somewhere in there that these two things go together. Loving people means seeing them from God's perspective. But I never really realized what that means.

Yesterday, my older sister and I were sitting on my bed in our pajamas, talking about Jesus. I had already been totally blown away by the incredible things she was saying, so full of wisdom and truth. (I'm telling you, doing a DTS with YWAM and spending six months away from your family does amazing things to you! Totally recommend it.)

And then she shared this point with me.

She said, "You have to realize that God loves everyone exactly the same. The people you find easiest to love, like your best friend, God loves the exact same amount as the people you barely take the time to notice or find extremely difficult to get along with.

"And God's love -- it's huge. It's like an artist's regard for the Mona Lisa -- awe, like you don't even wanna touch it because it's so precious and beautiful -- that's God's love for people. And that's how we should see others -- everyone -- with that awe. That, 'wow, I don't even wanna touch that person because they're so beautiful and unique'. That's the sort of love we should have for everyone."

I gotta tell you, loving people in that way probably isn't easy. In fact, it's probably super hard.

But we are called to do hard things. As Christians, we are called to make a difference, which means being different. And being different means putting our relationship with Jesus in the forefront of our identity. Being different means realizing that all good things come from Him and are privileges and gifts that we have no right to think we deserve or have a right to. Being different means seeing people with the awe and unconditional love that He has for everyone. Being different means loving those who are difficult to love.

Coffee shop weep sessions

It was just another Labor Day. 

I was in my usual beginning-of-a-long-weekend moods, all relaxed and happy in leggings, sitting in a coffee shop with one of my newest and closest friends. She was wearing pink florals and sipping iced tea. I had a coffee. It was the first time in a long time that we had taken the time to sit down and just talk, and I was comfy and happy.

After about twenty minutes of ranting about Biology classes and Extended Essays, our conversation began to steer more towards the sentimental side. My friend began to open up, spilling out a story about her old life back in Canada. How music and playing piano used to be her everything. How her dream used to be to open up a music studio with one of her fellow-pianist best friends. How blissful and easy life had been, and how her main ambitions were so within her reach. How she had taken everything completely for granted. And then, how her family had suddenly moved to Cambodia. 

I just sat and listened, taking a sip of coffee every now and then. When her story was over, I asked her, "Do you still see yourself opening up that studio with your friend after you graduate?"

She pursed her lips and looked down at her drink. "I don't know. It all just seems so far away now. If I still lived in Canada, yeah, maybe I could see myself getting back into music, getting a degree as a pianist, and pursuing the dream. But, I'm here now. And music isn't really such a big part of my life anymore. Other things have become more important to me, you know?"

I nodded. "Hm. It's funny how much a person can change in only a year." Then I realized something. "You're never going to be normal, you know," I said.

My friend gave one of her characteristic short laughs. "Yeah. I'm never going to be normal."

We both gave a little sigh, and let that sink in for a moment.

It was my friend who broke the silence.

"I feel like I've been talking for ages now. What about you, Sarah? How are you feeling?"

I bit my lip. Honestly, her story had touched me so strangely. I felt like it had tangled up all the strings inside of me that had bothered to make sense of my life as a TCK. Honestly, it broke my heart. It broke my heart to think about how she must have felt, coming to Cambodia. And in that moment, my heart broke for all the third-culture-people out there, and all the confusion and heartbreak and loss they would feel in their lives. My heart broke for the tears they would shed, and the pain that would come with every confusing moment, every tearful goodbye.

"Honestly, I don't know what to say," I said slowly, and then shakily added, "I don't really want to talk, because then I'll probably just start crying." She half-smiled knowingly, with tears already glistening in her eyes, and that was when I started to cry, too.

Thank heavens we were able to hold down the sobs. But we were sitting there, in the middle of a coffee shop in Phnom Penh, two drinks between us, sharing a little cry. We didn't reach out for each other. I didn't put my arm around her and say anything profound or earth-shattering. None of us even bothered to say that everything was going to be alright. Words like that just didn't fit into a moment like that. It was enough just to cry for a little bit.

I'm never going to be normal.

I'm slowly starting to realize that. I will never know what it feels like to reach the end of a school year and not cry. I will never know what it feels like to speak only one language, without a thousand others swimming around in my brain. I will never dread the thought of a plane flight, or feel like I belong in only one place. 

But I don't regret it. Any of it. 

I don't regret the fact that I've never experienced fall or winter or spring in my entire life. I don't regret the pain that comes with going "home" for the summer holiday. I don't regret growing up in a country where it's strange not to be sweating and where power cuts are pure torture. I don't regret not being normal. Honestly, I don't even know what to compare it to.

At my church, our pastor once encouraged us to come to the front of the room and surrender.

I find that such a scary word. Surrender.

And yet, in that moment, as I awkwardly slithered my way over bent knees out of my row and walked towards the front of the church, I realized there was a comfort there, too. It's scary to surrender. But it's also a huge, huge relief.

It's a relief to know I don't have to carry all this by myself. It's a relief to know that my huge, crazy, unknown future isn't in my shaky control, but in the control of the Master of the Universe. And although not being in control of my life may be scary at times, I realized at that moment, right at the front of my church, that it's a whole lot better than spending my entire life paranoid that I'm screwing it all up. 

I knelt down on the tile floor in front of the giant, warmly-lit wooden cross that hangs front-and-center in my church. I felt shaky, emotional in so many different ways, overwhelmed by the unbelievable joy and sadness I suddenly felt. 

It's so hard to describe how you feel when in God's presence, other than just to say that you're overwhelmed. I was certainly overwhelmed. And as I bent over, burying my face in my hair as I rested my forehead against my knees, I said to God, Alright. This is it, God. I'm giving you my life for real. You're in control. I'm giving you the reigns. Whatever it takes, God, let me experience all the pain you want me to as long as it means it's turning me into the person you want me to be.

And then I realized something. That's what you've been doing all along, haven't you, God? All these years, growing up in Cambodia? That's why it hurts. You're making me stronger. You're making me exactly who you want me to be.

That's a hard truth. But it's the truth nonetheless. I'm not normal. But that's what God wants me to be. My heart breaks a lot. But that's what God wants me to experience in order to show me, in a small way, what His heart is like. 

I asked Him a while ago to break my heart for the things that break His. And that's what happens when I sit in a coffee shop and cry because I know there are other people out there that have to say goodbye to people they love. That's what happens when I'm sitting in a car, astounded at the contrast between rich and poor in this country, and feel angry and devastated at the same time. I'm being shown, by Jesus, how He feels about the things that are going on in this world, and usually that means it hurts.

God's heart aches for this world. But He's also got a whole lot of joy that comes with it, which is so much more complete than any happiness I could ever wish for. His joy is another reason I cry; I cry when I watch baptisms take place at my church and when people tell me about the dreams God has put in their hearts about their futures. I can be content with the heartache in my life because it also means I have intense joy waiting for me. 

God has taught me a number of things, among which is the truth that He is in control, and I can trust Him. He's got my back. He's made me exactly the way He wants me to be. My life is wild and precious, and I've got plenty to look forward to.

1 Corinthians 2:9

But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.”

Lessons from a Week in the Forest

The past five days have been incredible. I spent an entire week with my class in the middle of the Cambodian forest, where we slept in stilt huts, ate MSG-ridden food, and did a ton of teamwork-building activities. But what I probably enjoyed the most was the amount of time we had to reflect on our identities in Christ. It seemed pretty cliché at first, but I realized after a while that it really isn't. God really spoke to me through these times, and I also loved spending time with Jesus in the early mornings, sitting in the middle of the forest. I believe God had a lot He wanted to share with me, and I hope that what I share with you will also speak to you in some way.

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Allow God to transform you into something new and beautiful.

In the Bible, Jacob lived a life that built up a reputation for himself that labelled him as a liar and a cheat. He eventually reached the lowest point in his life where he finally met up with God and said, "I am not going to let go of you until you transform me." Jacob literally wrestled with an angel for an entire night. God eventually agreed, and Jacob was completely transformed. His name was changed to Israel, meaning "may God prevail" and "he struggles with God", and he spent the rest of his life as a completely different person. He carried a scar from his past life though -- a hurt hip that meant he limped -- but he got through, and was a changed person.

We're all messed up in some way. I'm messed up. Even though I'm a Christian and I love Jesus, I'm messed up. Often I feel like, because I'm a Christian, my identity should be one of a "goody-two-shoes": the girl that's involved in her church and is a good example to those younger than herself. But that doesn't mean I don't have my flaws. I, despite being a Christian, am still in need of God's transformation. 

That's a hard truth. And being transformed is not easy. Heck, Jacob wrestled with an angel for an entire night before he was transformed! And he was stuck with a hurt hip for the rest of his life! But being made new is still better than remaining the same. Any day. 

God has put things in us to make us beautiful. He's given us a whole lot to be thankful for, and a whole lot more that gives us the potential to do really incredible things. But we need to make the choice of taking the first steps to use these things to be beautiful. And when we do, that is when the transformation can take place, and Jesus is able to begin to shape our true identity in Him.

Live a life according to Jesus' example.

I look up to a lot of different people and things for a lot of different reasons. I look up to Pinterest for photography ideas and recipes to try out (if you're curious, here's my Pinterest profile). I look up to my mother for things to do with life and faith, and some of my friends for things I admire in them. But what hasn't really occurred to me to its full extent is whether or not I really look up to Jesus. In difficult situations, do I really think, "what would Jesus do?" When I'm sitting with my friends, having a good laugh, do I really wonder how Jesus would act?

Jesus' mission was to stand with and stand up for the blind, oppressed, and the prisoners (see Luke 4:14-23). And if Jesus identified with such people, shouldn't we? Ultimately, the truth is that we are people called to live lives according to Jesus' example. We are called to model his grace, love, and humility. 

But something that really challenged me about this topic was this: Will what I choose to do with my future go along Jesus' example, or not?

Ouch. That really struck home for me. I feel like I've lived my life simply pursuing the dream of becoming a teacher and school counselor without really questioning it much. It just seems so clear to me. But this question really got me thinking: has this almost-life-long dream just been me all along, or has it been Jesus all along? 

I really do want to be a lot like Jesus. I want to be the girl that is nice to people without expecting anything in return. I want to be the girl that hugs a lot. I want to be a good listener. I want to stand up for what I know is true and right. I want to help people. I want to be there for people. I want to make people feel God's love.

It's not always that easy. In fact, it usually isn't.

Hard things happen.

Life isn't easy. Life is full of hard things that make us cry or make us want to scream.

Hard things are hard. I'm not talking about somebody sitting next to you and poking you incessantly in the arm. I'm talking about other hard things. Like expectations of others and yourself. Abusive parents. Bullies. Depression. These things are real issues in the world, and that they aren't things that should be swept under the rug or put away in a pretty box as though they're things that will take care of themselves. They're things that need to be thought about, acknowledged, given to God, and worked through.

Some hard things have answers. But those answers don't feel good. It's not easy to respond to bullies with love. It's not easy to admit you're in the wrong. It's not easy to ask for forgiveness.

Some hard things don't have clear answers. Sometimes, God doesn't make it so clear why you're going through such a tough time. We often don't see the reason for dying babies, or war. We often don't see why a loving God would allow such awful, difficult things to happen.

Some hard things change. And no matter the lack of a clear answer, there is hope. Eventually, things become easier. You get over the loss of someone you love. You move out of the cloud of depression and find a purpose in life again. The bullies move on to someone else. Sometimes, hard things change.

Sometimes you change. And sometimes, that's what the answer is. God uses hard things to shape us, change us, transform us. Jacob wrestled with an angel. I suppose you could call that a "hard thing". But he came out of it, transformed into something beautiful.

If I want to be transformed by Jesus, I'm going to have to let Him do what He wants with my life. If I want to be changed, hard things are going to have to happen.

You aren't defined by the hard things that make you fall. You're defined by how you fall and how you get back up again.

This was one valuable lesson that really stuck with me. What does it mean to be a Christian? How does being a Christian make you different from everyone else in the world (other than the following Jesus bit)?

Hard things happen to Christian and non-Christians. But when you look closely at people in the world, often it's the Christians that react to difficult times with patience, hope, and peace.

I'm not saying this is always the case. But I think that's what Christians are called to do -- respond to hard times in the way Jesus would. 

My identity in Christ is so much more than being involved in my church. My identity in Christ is so much more than having the "what would Jesus do" mindset. My identity is about so much more than that.

My identity is about showing love, even when it's hard to. My identity should be about responding to hard times with the hope and grace of Jesus, believing that He's at work in some way in every situation. My identity should be that of somebody running the amazing race of life with the joy and peace of Jesus, always striving to be more like Him.

Let me be honest. It's not going to be easy. In fact, according to what I've learned so far, it usually isn't. But I believe God's got an incredible transformation in store for me. I'm prepared to wrestle with angels as long as it means it's turning me into something beautiful.

Psalm 126:5 -- "Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy."

About Goodbyes and Therapy

I wrote this blog post on the 26th of December last year (2014), but I never really got around to posting it. I don't really know why. I read back on it just now and realized that it explains so well what I felt back then, despite the fact that I was so unsure about it at the time. So, a post written more than a month and a half ago, from the heart of a TCK, to yours. Enjoy.

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It's the last day of school. 

The assembly [chapel] area of my school is crowded with the entire population of the school, milling around, saying goodbyes.

In other countries, the last day of school may look a lot different. I wouldn't know. But what I do know is that it definitely doesn't look like this.

At my school, the last day of school is hardly one where kids shout for joy and squeal at the thought of the approaching summer. Kids don't run out the school gates the moment the school principal announces, "It is officially the end of the school year. Have a great summer!" They all stay behind to do one thing: say goodbye.

It's always been normal for me. The end of the school year is red eyes and tissues. The feeling of loss, helplessness. I remember each of my end-of-school-year days. How different they all were, and yet, how strangely similar they are to each other. Each of them end in tears.

For those of you out there, this may not really make much sense. And I really don't expect it to. But what I'm saying is that my life is full of making new friends, but it's also full of saying goodbye to them again. And making new friends again. My life is a never-ending cycle of hellos and goodbyes. And sometimes that hurts.

And I think, for me, life as a TCK has slowly made me more numb to these goodbyes.

I'm the kind of TCK that doesn't have many problems making friends. It doesn't take very much for me to open up to you and feel close and content and safe with you. But then when the goodbyes come along, I find myself not feeling very much.

It's not that I didn't value the friendship I had. It's just that my feelings aren't really accepting the fact that I have to say goodbye again. So they just don't accept it. They don't let me realize it was a goodbye until later. When everyone is gone, and I'm all alone, I realize what just happened. I just said goodbye to a really good friend that I may never see again. And that's when the floodgates open and I start bawling.

My sister graduating kinda put things more into perspective.

Especially now, as she's preparing to take flight as a real adult, making her own decisions and embarking on a scary and exciting new journey into the great big world, and I have to say goodbye to her. And it's hard.

But last night, as my family was singing Christmas carols and opening presents and praying together, the tears came. And my sister hasn't even gone yet. But it felt good to cry. It was the kind of cry that was all sadness but all happiness at once. It was the kind of cry that sort of helped me to make more sense of what I was feeling, and letting it out in a rational way.

I sort of realized around that point that it's actually really important for me to cry when I say goodbye. It's my way of clinging to the last I have of the person, and then somehow, in the midst of the sobbing and shoulder-shaking and face-reddening, I let go.

It's so important for us TCKs to have a way to let go. There's so much emotion in our lives. And there's got to be a way for us to let it out. Or at least, acknowledge it in a way that isn't anger and bitterness. Crying is my psychiatrist. And I know that it won't always work. But for me, there's a comfort in being able to just cry to a while, maybe be held by a friend that hasn't left me yet, or a family member, and then taking a deep breath and moving on.

A letter to my sister, on the eve of our goodbye

To my beautiful, brave, and incredible older sister:

So. It's happened. You've bought your first ever one-way ticket. You've sent in all the possible applications you could possibly ever send in. You've cried. You've laughed. You've dreaded this day for way too long.

There are so many things to say, and yet, now that it has come down to this one moment, I've found that I am almost at a loss for words. What do you say to a person that you've spoken to every day of your life, and yet you still have so much to say to? What do you say to the person that knows you about as well as any person possibly could? What do you say in the face of goodbye?

Early this morning, I was sitting at breakfast with mom and Maria, just going through the usual morning routine. You were upstairs, still fast asleep. I was chewing on my customary soggy Raisin Bran. Mom was thoughtfully sipping her coffee. Maria was grimacing at the label of her vitamin tablet packaging. We were talking about everything and nothing, and then suddenly we were talking about you. We were talking about the goodbyes you would have to say, and all the things you need to be thinking about right now.

It was mostly mom talking, rambling and sniffling just like she usually does when she talks about you and your future. And then, I said one simple thing that got me started as well.

"I wish I could take it away from her. Not the relationships she had, but the pain of when it all had to end."

And I started to cry. Because you know what? It really does make me sad. I was thinking about all the really difficult things you've had to go through these past few months. Goodbyes. Goodbyes. And even more goodbyes. It made me so sad to think that the only people who are really, truly constant in your life are dad, mom, Maria, and me. And in only a few weeks, you'll have to say goodbye to us, too.

I can't imagine how you must feel right now. I'm so scared for you, even though I know I don't need to be. I'm so afraid of that feeling you'll feel as you're on that one-way plane out of here, leaving behind the only life you've ever known and embarking on a journey to a life you still have no idea about. But most of all, I'm just really sad for you. I cry for you. There are times in my day when I think about you leaving, and I just need to cry for a bit -- not necessarily because I'm going to miss you, even though I definitely will. Mostly because I know that you're in one of those seasons that is full of tears and heartbreak.

But I'm also so excited for you. I'm excited for you, because I know that in the midst of all the sadness and goodbyes, there will be times when you will laugh uncontrollably until your stomach aches and you can't breathe. There will be moments when you stop what you're doing just because you want to soak up the joy of a moment of complete contentment. There will be times when you will sing, loudly and high-pitched, because you feel free and happy and comfortable with where you are and who you're with. There will be times when everything you've gone through before was worth it, because it brought you to one place of pure happiness. I'm excited for those things. Even after all the tears and goodbyes, there will still be moments where you will be happy. And I'm hopeful for those moments.

I feel all these things because I love you. Who ever said loving somebody was easy? It's painful. It consists of a lot of crying, a lot of sniffling, but also a whole lot of laughing.

I really am going to miss you. I'm going to miss your tall-person hugs that make me feel sort of small. I'm going to miss the way you join in a song I'm singing, about two octaves higher, all high-pitched and squealing. I'm going to miss having somebody in my room when I get home from school. I'm going to miss your random wife-training whims that make you clean the entire house in an afternoon. I'm going to miss the way you make the small good things in a day full of big bad things seem really important. I'm going to miss all of you, every last inch.

I'm probably going to look up at my wall of photos every once in a while and sigh sadly, and maybe cry for a bit. And you'll probably have similar moments in Switzerland or in college, when you just want to Skype your family at home even though it's 3am on our side of the world.

I love you so much. And even though it hurts sometimes, I'll never regret being your sister. I'll always be your sister. May we never do that awkward three-kiss thing. May we never shake hands. May we forever greet each other like we saw each other only yesterday, with huge smiles and nice tall-people hugs. I look forward to it.

Much love,

Your little sister, Sarah.

My Thanksgiving Thoughts

In my English class today, we were told to, in the mindset of thanksgiving, reflect on the goodness of God. I thought that, since I haven't written anything in a while due to my lack of time in the midst of studying, studying and more studying, it may be interesting to post my reflections.

Here goes.

What first comes to mind when I think about the goodness of God is the fact that we don't actually deserve any of it. Wait -- that may sound a little harsh. But let me explain.

One of the things that I find most unfathomable and amazing about God and His character is the fact that He, the Holy One, the creator and owner of everything in the universe, so full of love and purity, still created man, a being with free will, that chose to be evil rather than good.

And yet, God still loved us.

He still loved us to the point that He, even after having created us in His image, chose to send His only Son to become one of us and die the most horrible death, just to unite us once again with God.

I will never understand exactly why He did it.

But I know this much: It was because of His love -- the kind of love that we will never be able to show or feel to the extent that He does. He loves completely and perfectly, and it's so mind-blowing to me to think that He does! We are so undeserving. We deserve to be dead. We only exist because of the love and goodness and mercy of God. ...and not only do we live, but we also have the incredible opportunity to be in relationship with the God of the universe. It is only because of God's goodness that we, lowly and sinning humans, imperfect and full of laws, are allowed to speak to and be in relationship with the perfect, almighty God. What an honor!

There is nothing I can do to even begin to deserve it. It is God's goodness alone that allows me to live and serve Him.

I think that is the fact that makes me realize that having sin in the world or having to go through hard times doesn't mean that God is not good. Just because we feel pain sometimes doesn't mean that God hates us, or is trying to punish us, or has decided not to be good for a day or two. When we finally realize how undeserving we are to even live at all, any trial or pain will seem so trivial. No matter what we go through, God's goodness is still bigger than anything. And we are alive, after all, so that is a blessing in and of itself.

God is bigger and stronger than anything we will ever go through, and He has ultimate control -- so why worry? Why be anxious? The God of the universe, who has already proven His love to us in so many ways, is in control. The same God who loves everyone equally and unconditionally and unfathomably is in control -- so I'm sure we're going to be okay.

I know it's hard.

And I'm not saying that people should ignore hard times and pretend life is a piece of cake. What I'm saying is that because of the goodness of God, we're going to be just fine.

You're going to be just fine. This is my comfort, for you, today. Even if today is a good day, full of family and smiles and laughing and turkey and mashed potatoes. Hard times will come again, and you'll find yourself curled up on your bed with tears streaming down your face again. You'll have another day during which you feel like nothing is going your way and the entire world is against you. But I'm just saying... It really is going to be okay. God is good. He really is. He is bigger than what you're going through. He is bigger than difficult times. He loves you, and He's got it under control. So you are going to be just fine.