Hello, friends. I made a resolution early on in the blogging process that I wouldn’t write unless I have something to say. I have a lot of things to say, but they are big and though I’ve been trying to find the words to articulate them, I don’t think this is the right time to bloggify them. I found myself still really needing to write, so I decided just to write about life. The unequivocally normal, not-that-awesome, just stuff life.
I have a job. It’s actually a very fun job, and I like being able to say I have a job. I’m learning a lot about how to work and be an adult and fill out paperwork. I am, also, learning that when you are shy people think you are ignoring them (you’re not, you didn’t hear them and random eye contact makes you uncomfortable). It’s okay to ask people questions. They know you’re new and have no idea what you’re doing. It won’t kill you to be in an elevator alone with strangers. You can eat lunch completely by yourself, and you will in fact prefer it to eating with people. Being alone is not something to be afraid of. Work is way more fun than you think it will be.
In one week, I will be in school. At boarding school. Without my parents, and living with 20+ people I have never met (hi guys, I know you’re reading this). I am equal parts scared out of my wits, and also very excited. It’s like stage fright: I’m backstage, watching the audience fill up, and freaking out because what if I forget all my lines or trip and fall or miss an entrance and what if it is terrible and nobody likes it. I know that I’ll do fine and I’ll love it and have a great time, but my heart is still beating a million times a minute and my palms are sweaty enough to wring out. But then it’s amazing, gets a rave in the Times, transfers to Broadway and wins the Tony. And it’s awesome. Which is exactly what this is going to be. Tony award-winning awesomeness.
People are great. There are the kind who you can go out for lunch with after three months and have so much fun with, laughing the whole time and taking crazy photos with in public. There are the kind who you Skype with at one in the morning because they live in a crazy time zone and they have amazing news that makes you cry tears of joy. There are the kind who message you all the time about silly stuff and tell you that you sound stupid and go to bed, whose texts you screenshot and you love them to death. There are the ones you buy you the nerdiest shirts and send them to you. The kind who are blood-related to you who put you in headlocks and jam out in the car to hipster alternative music. The kind you’ve never met but still message you saying how excited they are to. Or the kind you write thousand-word emails to pouring your heart out and the really cool things Jesus is teaching you, and they reply and you are learning so much from them. Y’all, the last year has been such a struggle for me in terms of community, and feeling loved is always something that’s hard for me to do unless people are like, HEY SARAH YOU’RE AWESOME AND I LOVE YOU. Words and quality time are my love language, people, and it’s been really cool to feel that the last few weeks.
Letter-writing is fun. Letter-writing forces you to be intentional. I’ve written ten letters this summer, and here’s what I’ve learned: intentionality is the best thing you can do for yourself and for the people around you. Ask them what they need from you. Pray with them, pray for them. Celebrate with them and grieve with them. We are all in the same boat. You guys. No one in your life is a celebrity, even if they are. They are people. Stuff happens to them, and you’re struggling too. Run with it. Go deep for real. This relates to the paragraph above: you need people around you. It’s good to have that.
The camp high never goes away. You don’t want it to, anyway, but it doesn’t. Anything anyone ever says to you is now brain food. God uses the small things in really big ways. When he shows you more of himself in the mundane intricacies of your life, it’s really humbling. You are not insignificant. You are loved.
Starbucks brand hot chocolate (the mix you add to milk) is what all the food in heaven is going to taste like.
Write your Honors Lit Essay while listening to indie folk music. Trust me on this.
A good jazz album on a rainy day cannot be beat.
Don’t reread texts you send at midnight. Just…no.
Laugh. Your mom and her friend are funny. Like, you and your friends-level funny.
Journal every day. Pray hard. Look for God in the scary things.
Make sure you remember your lunch, phone, keys and chapstick.
Reply to texts.
It’s okay to get in an elevator with other people. Say hi. Chances are, it’s just as awkward for you as it is for them.