During my first year of college, I learned an incredible amount of stuff about the mind, body, and soul. I can now spew some pretty nifty facts about social psychology, western civilization, english literature and several other random topics. I spent countless hours pouring over my books (or just skimming) and drafting perfect essays (or just throwing them together), but even with all that I learned inside the classroom, I can honestly that I learned the most outside of the classroom.
The hard thing about learning outside of the classroom is that there is no syllabus, schedule or lesson plan; instead you must seek out opportunities to learn. While my classes taught be about life, my friends and peers taught me how to live life, and how to love it. Below is a list, (half-serious/half-light-hearted) about some of the things that I learned this year.
1) How to hug a tall person. Yes, you read that right. After about a month of school I was told that I needed to learn how to hug properly (and thus conquer my fear of hugs), and "hugging lessons" (and laughter) ensued. I am proud to say that I've conquered my fear of hugs, and now I'll even smile while I give you one.
2) How to do homework while at the gym. I'm glad that I learned how to master the art of using the elliptical and reading a book. It took a few times dropping my glasses, books and phones in order to perfect my form, but it's a skill that's much needed for people like me who just can't seem to find enough time in the day to do everything.
3) How to eat salad with a spoon, and yogurt with a knife. My schedule doesn't pause just because they are out of utensils at the Dining Hall, so you learn to make do. (Don't worry a fork and spoon are still preferred).
4) How to avoid the elements. After one too many days with sopping wet shoes, you learn how to get from one end of campus to the other without ever really going outside. It takes some extra time, but dry (frizz-free) hair is worth any amount of time. You also find some neat hallways and random classrooms while you explore.
5) How to laugh at myself. I never realized just how funny my license picture was until I saw 60 copies of it on a friend's wall as a Birthday prank. Now I simply have to strike "The license pose" to get an instant laugh out of my friends. Seriously what is with my face?
6) How to be wrong. As hard as pride is to swallow, humility is much more becoming on any individual. Trust me, it's much better to have plans on a Friday night than to be right in a pointless discussion. While being right on a test is super important, a sign of a true friend is letting the other person be right (whether or not they really are). At the end of the day the fact up for debate probably won't effect your friendship, but constant bickering will.
7) How to pay attention. While taking notes in class is important (seriously learn how to do that people), taking mental notes of your friends is way more beneficial. I love listening to my friends talk about what they love, and often randomly ask things, like their favorite type of donut (chocolate glazed and jelly) or candy bar (dark chocolate Mikly Way and mint Aero). While knowing it is important, it's best to put that knowledge to good use, particularly during finals week, specifically with Tim Hortons. Seriously getting someone their favorite donut is a sure-fire way to make any day better.
8) How to be quiet. Sometimes the void doesn't need to be filled with sound. I'm learning to be okay with that.
9) How to be a woman of few words. I'm learning that not everything needs an explanation or justification.
10)How to be me. While some people say that they "need to find themselves" at college, I think that it's less about finding a new you, and finding the you buried deep with in. While high school is a place you are easily defined (athlete, nerd, geek, prep etc.), college is a place where you decide what you will be defined as. Rarely do people do a complete 180° while at school, instead they just choose which part of them will be their defining feature. Once I stopped caring about how people would label my style, I found out what I've really loved to wear all along. The me that I uncovered loves skinny colored pants, sweaters with shirts underneath and dresses.
Obviously I haven't learned all there is out there, but I can't wait to head back to school and hit the books to learn more. Okay, mostly I can't wait to see all of my friends and start my new job, but hey the books thing is kinda cool too. I hope you got a laugh out of this list, but I also hope it made you think about what life lessons you still need to learn, I know I did. Learning doesn't stop when the books close, and I'm sure happy my friends are always willing to put in some overtime to help teach me (there's a lot left to do).
This is just a place for me to attempt to organize the craziness in my head. Ever since I can remember, I often organize my thoughts into mental journal entries, and I've decided that I should finally start doing something with all the stuff I have stored up there (I need the room for important stuff).
Friday, 31 July 2015
Friday, 24 July 2015
The Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Pancakes of Life
If you are like me, sometimes you set really high expectations for yourself. I mean really high expectations. Like on a scale of 1-10 you have about .4 of wiggle room. The great thing about high expectations, is that when you meet your expectations, you feel pretty super. After all they were pretty high. The downside, is that when you don't quite reach those goals, you sorta feel crummy (to put it politely).
Now you have to understand, I was the kid that would wake up before my mom on a Saturday morning with a picture in my head. I would spend all morning trying to get the thing from my head to the paper. My mom laughs about the fact that by the time she would wake up I would always have a pile of crumpled up papers around me. The pictures in my head would never transfer exactly the way I imagined, but I usually did a pretty great job trying. Each attempt would have at least one part right, but I just couldn't rest until the picture as a whole was perfect. The problem was: it never would be. I would spend all morning working, but have nothing to show.
While the pile of crumpled up papers around me used to be cute, I've grown up, and now it's a problem. I'm starting to realize (because of a lot of great people) that I still do this to myself. Countless times in life I "crumple up" my failed attempts, not willing to look for individual successes, but instead, focusing too much on the whole. I let my expectations be my only guide on what's success and what's failure.
You always hear people talk about that one moment that really changed their thinking. Well today I had one of those moments. This morning something as simple as making pancakes made me realize that often our tiny "failures" don't really take away from the big picture.
If you've ever seen me cook you know that it's sorta of organized chaos. Okay who am I kidding, it's pure chaos and since I was pressed for time, I searched up a recipe. I followed the recipe... sort of. I used whole wheat flour (instead of white), almond milk (instead of homemade buttermilk), cinnamon (instead of "pumpkin pie spice"). I eyeballed the sugar and I may have omitted baking soda. My assistant may or may have not poured AN ENTIRE BAG of chocolate chips into the pancakes. To say that the pancakes looked like the picture would be a lie. But guess what? We devoured them. All day I was hoping that there were some left. I may not have made the blogger's "Fluffy Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Pancakes," but they were our perfect creations. My pancakes may not have turned out how I envisioned, but they sure made me happy. Stick with me on how this applies to life.
Today as I finished teaching kids at camp, I breathed a sigh of relief. The train wreck was over. I stuttered, stopped, rambled and fumbled through my lesson, sang off key and tripped more than once. The image in my mind of how today would go was nothing like reality. I was immediately gripped by a wave a shame. I had failed. My expectations were high, and I fell short of them.
But just as I wanted to hang my head in shame, a little girl stood up, grabbed my arm, squeezed it tight and said, "You are my favorite counselor." A smile not only covered my face, but it traveled down to my core. Despite my obvious imperfections, when she looked at me, she saw something special. She saw my passion, my enthusiasm, my joy and my hope. She didn't have a list of what I needed to do in order to be a success, she had an idea on how she needed to feel. Her huge smile was a clear indication of her enjoyment.
In life there will be times when we fail by the standards of most. I "lost" a lot during high school sports. In my mind: Effort was appreciated, but it wasn't rewarded, victory was. I honestly wish I would have realized sooner that it wasn't the standings, or the outcome of the game that people would remember, but my attitude. They would remember the passion I poured into my attempt. They would remember the way I loved on my teammates, the way I cared for my enemy, the way I respected the officials. They would remember ME not what I did.
In life, it is so easy to get so caught up in the big picture, that you start to look past the details. I want you to see little success in what would otherwise be called a big failure. I want you to remember that even when it seems that every chance of success is gone, if you pour your heart into what you do, you can never truly fail.
Now you have to understand, I was the kid that would wake up before my mom on a Saturday morning with a picture in my head. I would spend all morning trying to get the thing from my head to the paper. My mom laughs about the fact that by the time she would wake up I would always have a pile of crumpled up papers around me. The pictures in my head would never transfer exactly the way I imagined, but I usually did a pretty great job trying. Each attempt would have at least one part right, but I just couldn't rest until the picture as a whole was perfect. The problem was: it never would be. I would spend all morning working, but have nothing to show.
While the pile of crumpled up papers around me used to be cute, I've grown up, and now it's a problem. I'm starting to realize (because of a lot of great people) that I still do this to myself. Countless times in life I "crumple up" my failed attempts, not willing to look for individual successes, but instead, focusing too much on the whole. I let my expectations be my only guide on what's success and what's failure.
You always hear people talk about that one moment that really changed their thinking. Well today I had one of those moments. This morning something as simple as making pancakes made me realize that often our tiny "failures" don't really take away from the big picture.
If you've ever seen me cook you know that it's sorta of organized chaos. Okay who am I kidding, it's pure chaos and since I was pressed for time, I searched up a recipe. I followed the recipe... sort of. I used whole wheat flour (instead of white), almond milk (instead of homemade buttermilk), cinnamon (instead of "pumpkin pie spice"). I eyeballed the sugar and I may have omitted baking soda. My assistant may or may have not poured AN ENTIRE BAG of chocolate chips into the pancakes. To say that the pancakes looked like the picture would be a lie. But guess what? We devoured them. All day I was hoping that there were some left. I may not have made the blogger's "Fluffy Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Pancakes," but they were our perfect creations. My pancakes may not have turned out how I envisioned, but they sure made me happy. Stick with me on how this applies to life.
Today as I finished teaching kids at camp, I breathed a sigh of relief. The train wreck was over. I stuttered, stopped, rambled and fumbled through my lesson, sang off key and tripped more than once. The image in my mind of how today would go was nothing like reality. I was immediately gripped by a wave a shame. I had failed. My expectations were high, and I fell short of them.
But just as I wanted to hang my head in shame, a little girl stood up, grabbed my arm, squeezed it tight and said, "You are my favorite counselor." A smile not only covered my face, but it traveled down to my core. Despite my obvious imperfections, when she looked at me, she saw something special. She saw my passion, my enthusiasm, my joy and my hope. She didn't have a list of what I needed to do in order to be a success, she had an idea on how she needed to feel. Her huge smile was a clear indication of her enjoyment.
In life there will be times when we fail by the standards of most. I "lost" a lot during high school sports. In my mind: Effort was appreciated, but it wasn't rewarded, victory was. I honestly wish I would have realized sooner that it wasn't the standings, or the outcome of the game that people would remember, but my attitude. They would remember the passion I poured into my attempt. They would remember the way I loved on my teammates, the way I cared for my enemy, the way I respected the officials. They would remember ME not what I did.
In life, it is so easy to get so caught up in the big picture, that you start to look past the details. I want you to see little success in what would otherwise be called a big failure. I want you to remember that even when it seems that every chance of success is gone, if you pour your heart into what you do, you can never truly fail.
Monday, 20 July 2015
Family: Love runs thicker than Blood
I know that the real saying is, "Blood runs thicker than water!" but work with me here.
The saying means that when push comes to shove, your family has your back. You know, on television shows it's the reason the big brother beats up all the bullies picking on his little sister. It's the reason that the cousin takes the fall when they all get busted. While I know the saying is true (that family should be their for each other) I have a bit of a problem because blood does not define a family, love does.
A few weeks back, I saw a little boy passed out on his father, exhausted from a long day of playing. The son had no hesitations as he nestled up closely to his dad, his head seeming to fit perfectly on his father's chest, and the dad had no trouble perfectly wrapping his arms around him and snuggling close. Just by seeing this, you could tell that this man loved his son more than anything, and that this son trusted his father as his hero. And as moving as the whole scene was (I may have teared up a little), perhaps the most incredible thing to me, was that they were not a father and son by blood, but by love.
It really got me thinking about the fact that you are not born into a family, but you become a part of one. For many people, the family that they are born into becomes the family that they grow into. But for some, their family becomes the people who surround them, love them, and support them, even when their "blood family" is long gone.
I feel so blessed to have been born into an amazing family, but I feel even more blessed to have been adopted into an equally incredible one. While we may be strangers by the "law," you would never be able to tell that by looking at a family picture. Seriously, don't we look pretty great?
When I tell people about my family, usually they are caught off guard by two things: 1) I have a different last name than my parents. 2) How much of an age difference there is between my sisters and I. More than once I have been innocently asked, "Are they your real sisters?" I know the question comes from pure motives, but it still cuts deep. How could they not be my real sisters? I rocked them when they were first born. I helped them learn to swim, run, bike and play. I've held their hands while they had their cuts bandaged.I yell the loudest at their games and cheer the longest at their successes. I've cried, prayed and laughed with them. To me the fact that I've done life with them, far outweighs the fact that we have different fathers.
As I've matured, I've come to realize more and more what family really is. I remember crying after my grandfather passed away, thinking about how hard it would be to fill the void that he left. It kind of shocked me when the thought crossed through my mind that he wasn't "technically" my grandfather. We shared no blood, and our family tree was likely not connected for centuries. Yet this man joked with me, spoiled me and cared for me. He came to get me when I called at 4 am and he assured me that the monsters under my bed wouldn't get me. He didn't "have" to love me, but he chose to make me a part of his life. He made me his family.
Over the years, I've been so blessed to be part of so many other incredible families. I've been welcomed into many different homes, churches and groups. I've shared meals, gone on adventures and on more than one occasion have embarrassed myself. I've been brought to movies, games and restaurant, but most importantly: I've been taken into many lives. You get to be a part of something incredible, where you laugh with the new family's kids, you swim with the cousins, and flip around with the grandkids. You share memories and funny stories, and no matter how long you are together for, you share love.
So while I was born into the Hobbs/Grivois family, I've become the part of so many more. I feel so blessed to not only be loved by my home family, but by my college family, my camp family, my church family, my best friend's family... and well the list could go on forever. You see family isn't the people you share blood with, it's the people you share life with.
The saying means that when push comes to shove, your family has your back. You know, on television shows it's the reason the big brother beats up all the bullies picking on his little sister. It's the reason that the cousin takes the fall when they all get busted. While I know the saying is true (that family should be their for each other) I have a bit of a problem because blood does not define a family, love does.
A few weeks back, I saw a little boy passed out on his father, exhausted from a long day of playing. The son had no hesitations as he nestled up closely to his dad, his head seeming to fit perfectly on his father's chest, and the dad had no trouble perfectly wrapping his arms around him and snuggling close. Just by seeing this, you could tell that this man loved his son more than anything, and that this son trusted his father as his hero. And as moving as the whole scene was (I may have teared up a little), perhaps the most incredible thing to me, was that they were not a father and son by blood, but by love.
It really got me thinking about the fact that you are not born into a family, but you become a part of one. For many people, the family that they are born into becomes the family that they grow into. But for some, their family becomes the people who surround them, love them, and support them, even when their "blood family" is long gone.
I feel so blessed to have been born into an amazing family, but I feel even more blessed to have been adopted into an equally incredible one. While we may be strangers by the "law," you would never be able to tell that by looking at a family picture. Seriously, don't we look pretty great?
When I tell people about my family, usually they are caught off guard by two things: 1) I have a different last name than my parents. 2) How much of an age difference there is between my sisters and I. More than once I have been innocently asked, "Are they your real sisters?" I know the question comes from pure motives, but it still cuts deep. How could they not be my real sisters? I rocked them when they were first born. I helped them learn to swim, run, bike and play. I've held their hands while they had their cuts bandaged.I yell the loudest at their games and cheer the longest at their successes. I've cried, prayed and laughed with them. To me the fact that I've done life with them, far outweighs the fact that we have different fathers.
As I've matured, I've come to realize more and more what family really is. I remember crying after my grandfather passed away, thinking about how hard it would be to fill the void that he left. It kind of shocked me when the thought crossed through my mind that he wasn't "technically" my grandfather. We shared no blood, and our family tree was likely not connected for centuries. Yet this man joked with me, spoiled me and cared for me. He came to get me when I called at 4 am and he assured me that the monsters under my bed wouldn't get me. He didn't "have" to love me, but he chose to make me a part of his life. He made me his family.
Over the years, I've been so blessed to be part of so many other incredible families. I've been welcomed into many different homes, churches and groups. I've shared meals, gone on adventures and on more than one occasion have embarrassed myself. I've been brought to movies, games and restaurant, but most importantly: I've been taken into many lives. You get to be a part of something incredible, where you laugh with the new family's kids, you swim with the cousins, and flip around with the grandkids. You share memories and funny stories, and no matter how long you are together for, you share love.
So while I was born into the Hobbs/Grivois family, I've become the part of so many more. I feel so blessed to not only be loved by my home family, but by my college family, my camp family, my church family, my best friend's family... and well the list could go on forever. You see family isn't the people you share blood with, it's the people you share life with.
Thursday, 9 July 2015
"Taylor will you play with me?"
It's the question that every adult dreads after a long day of being all adulty (School, work, whatever).
"Will you play with me?"
I know that during most of high school I hated to hear the words. I mean after a long day of "learning," clubs and sports, I only had one thought on my mind: Sleep. Well, I mean sleep eventually, but first probably texting friends and facebook, but I mean I definitely wasn't thinking about playing with toddlers. My whole thought process changed before my senior year though. I realized that it would likely be my last complete summer home for a while. The thought of having a new normal really makes you rethink your priorities, and I realized that mine were waaaay to "me-centered." To combat my selfish attitude about my time, and to make sure I soaked up every possible minute with my sisters, I made a vow:
I would say yes to play EVERY SINGLE TIME.
It didn't matter where, when or what, I would drop everything to play with my sisters every single time that they asked. Did take me longer to do chores? Did I miss out on some much needed suntanning time? Did I realize that I was a little out of shape? Yes, but I can honestly say that it was the best summer ever. I laughed harder, tickled better and cuddled longer with my sisters than I ever had before. I grew up that summer by being a kid again.
Unfortunately, I had to grow older, and for the past two years that means less time at home with my sisters, but that summer experiment is still with me. I understand that I can't stop the aging process; I have to mature, become more responsible, and do things I don't always want to do (aka work/file taxes/pay for college). That's inevitable. What isn't necessary, is that I give up the joy of play.
After that summer, I made a vow of sorts in order to make sure that I never lose the child-like wonder that I have cherished for so long. I'm sharing it with you because I think that in our fast-paced, success-based society it is easy to forget the joy that we once had as children. It's easy to care more about work, school and toys than the people that we are blessed with. So here it is, my 5-part vow to be a child every chance I get.
I vow to...
1) Always JUMP into a pool. Never scoop to feel the water, never take the stairs, never slowly crawl over the edge: Jump.
2) Always chase butterflies (usually moths). It doesn't matter if I'm not wearing butterfly-chasing appropriate clothes. I run. I trip. I jump. I flail my arms around like a mad-man. I clasp my hands tight and I don't let that little guy go.
3) Always have a snowball fight. I can never put a snow-ball fight on hold to go put on warmer clothes. If I am hit by a snowball as I get out of a car carrying a full load, I will turn around, put my stuff down, bend over, scoop up a hand-full of snow, and start running.
4) Always give piggy backs. There is no excuse for not giving a piggy back (unless I have a signed note from my doctor.
5) Always laugh. Sometimes kids' jokes aren't actually funny. Usually my first thought isn't, "That's hilarious!" Usually it's, "Huh?" But I will laugh, a deep heart-filled laugh at every joke I am told by a kid.
So with these vows I promise to Always Play. I promise that no matter how inconvenient the timing is, no matter how gross the game is and no matter how tired I am, I will always make time for play.
So yesterday did I rip off of my socks and shoes to jump into a disgusting little pond, to wade knee-deep in filthy water on the hunt for frogs? Darn tootin' I did. Why? Well I had 6 little girls who really wanted "Aunt Taylor" to play with them. And did I carry a giggling kid way farther than I probably should of (my back is killing me)? Yup! Did I run up a hill at full speed? You bet. And did I jump in the pool right after I had finally dried off? Of Course. Why? Because no matter how old I get, playing will never grow old.
Tuesday, 7 July 2015
The best GPS ever
It's been a while since I've written a post and most of you are probably wondering where I have been. I would like to start off by putting the rumors to rest:
1) I was not in jail.
2) I was not abducted by aliens.
3) I did not become a hermit in the Northern Canadian wilderness.
I was actually gone to Camp Good News for Christian Youth In Action Training School. Basically it's a place where around 120 kids from all over come to learn about how to minister to children. This was actually my 5th time going to CYIA, but it was my first time being a leader and cabin supervisor.
Being a cabin supervisor meant that I led nightly devotions, and on the last night we got to talking about seeking God's will for your life and how that looks. It got me thinking about all of the things I wish I would have known when I was in their place, beginning to think about what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I told them a bit about my college story, and it seemed to be an encouragement to some of them, so I hope it is for you too! I wish I could say my story is perfect, but really it's in the imperfections that you see God the most.
My story actually begins with CYIA 6 years ago. On the 4th day of the program, you go out and find strangers on the street to share the Gospel with. From Day 1 I fell in love with this "Open Air Evangelism." I absolutely love it, and year after year I was told that I was pretty good at it, and was told year after year that I should be a missionary. Eventually I just assumed that it was God's plan for my life. I never really asked Him, but hey, I mean these people seemed to be in tune with God's will for my life, so I figured I would go with it. My answer to the question "What to you want to be?" was "missionary" for a few years, but something just didn't feel right. While I loved doing it, at the end of the day I never pictured myself spending the rest of my life doing it.
That's when I decided to bring God in on my planning process. Listen, the people who told me to be a missionary were great people who know me pretty well and they may have thought that they had my best interest in mind, but God has them beat by a mile. He not only knows the number of hairs on my head, but He actually knows my future (Jeremiah 29:11). Once God got in on my planning process, things changed drastically. I started listening to His soft whisper above the deafening roar of those around me. It was then that I realized that God was not calling me to full time missions, but wanted me to minister to others in a "secular profession."
It was scary to think about how many people I would disappoint by going into *gasp* psychology, but at the end of the day the most important people in my life did not care what field I went into, only that I was following God's call. So often we are scared to pursue what we really feel led by God to do, simply because it's not in the plan that others have for us. It was tough to swallow all of the "Oh..."s and "Hmmms" of disapproval that became all too common. Over time however, I began to have confidence in my career choice, because I knew that God, the Creator of the universe, had hand-picked the path for me.
Fast forward a year and it was August 2014. I was laying in my bed panicking about Cedarville. What had I gotten myself into? I mean there was NO WAY that I could do it. Honestly, the finances were just not working out properly. I remember talking with my parents and we came to the conclusion that if God truly wanted me at Cedarville, He would provide a miracle. It's pretty easy to say that, but learning to trust in Him, well that was a struggle. My parents and I were praying earnestly for direction, and when we got to school we found it. I remember my Dad looking at me and saying, "Taylor, I just have a peace that this is where God wants you." By seeking His plan, and trusting that He could overcome earthly barriers, we were able to find peace in the midst of chaos. What seemed impossible now seemed perfectly planned.
Once I got out there and settled in, I was scared out of my mind. Not for the first few weeks, I mean it was like a vacation. But after the first month... I mean how was I supposed to survive so far away from home? Why was I in Ohio again? Seriously had I lost my mind? Then a dear friend reminded me that I hadn't simply gone there on a whim, I had followed God's direction. God provided strength and on I went. Even when it seemed impossible to stay on time with all of my assignments, He helped me push on. When I was worried that my grades wouldn't be where I wanted them, He provided that extra .01 to push them ahead (seriously it's amazing). Time and time again He helped me succeed beyond my own human ability.
Finally springtime rolled around which meant that financial aid packages became available. I saw mine and my initial reaction was to laugh. Like seriously, I don't think they really can assume that my family will give THAT MUCH money to my education. While I initially laughed, I soon cried. Quite a bit actually. No money = no Cedarville. So I started looking at other schools that seemed to be a "better choice" but nothing seemed right. I spent a few days looking, but mostly I prayed a ton. I couldn't understand why God would drag me out to Ohio, only to desert me after one year. I mean hello, I had made connections, I had voted for next year's class officers, I had gotten a Tour Guide spot, I was pretty locked in. This was where I wanted to stay. I know that God usually speaks in a soft whisper, but this time He was shouting, "TRUST ME!" So I did, and slowly the obstacles because more manageable. The old saying is trustworthy "If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.
Anyway I guess that all of this is to say that sometimes finding God's will is a bit like using a GPS. Your GPS has your final destination in mind from the moment you begin, but unless you are perfect, as you get going things start to happen.
Honestly, it's no less scary to trust God, except God isn't a GPS. He doesn't make mistakes. He won't be confused by the random bypasses in Columbus. He won't lead you down a dead end only to yell "RECALCULATING" at you 10 times. Just when all hope seems lost, He'll show up and provide you with the knowledge, strength, or skill you never knew you had. So yes, it's scary, but remember that if He's calling you to do something, He'll give you the tools to complete it. Sometimes it's encouragement from a stranger, sometimes its nailing an audition, sometimes it's acing a test. No matter what the obstacles may be, God's got you covered.
1) I was not in jail.
2) I was not abducted by aliens.
3) I did not become a hermit in the Northern Canadian wilderness.
I was actually gone to Camp Good News for Christian Youth In Action Training School. Basically it's a place where around 120 kids from all over come to learn about how to minister to children. This was actually my 5th time going to CYIA, but it was my first time being a leader and cabin supervisor.
Being a cabin supervisor meant that I led nightly devotions, and on the last night we got to talking about seeking God's will for your life and how that looks. It got me thinking about all of the things I wish I would have known when I was in their place, beginning to think about what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I told them a bit about my college story, and it seemed to be an encouragement to some of them, so I hope it is for you too! I wish I could say my story is perfect, but really it's in the imperfections that you see God the most.
My story actually begins with CYIA 6 years ago. On the 4th day of the program, you go out and find strangers on the street to share the Gospel with. From Day 1 I fell in love with this "Open Air Evangelism." I absolutely love it, and year after year I was told that I was pretty good at it, and was told year after year that I should be a missionary. Eventually I just assumed that it was God's plan for my life. I never really asked Him, but hey, I mean these people seemed to be in tune with God's will for my life, so I figured I would go with it. My answer to the question "What to you want to be?" was "missionary" for a few years, but something just didn't feel right. While I loved doing it, at the end of the day I never pictured myself spending the rest of my life doing it.
That's when I decided to bring God in on my planning process. Listen, the people who told me to be a missionary were great people who know me pretty well and they may have thought that they had my best interest in mind, but God has them beat by a mile. He not only knows the number of hairs on my head, but He actually knows my future (Jeremiah 29:11). Once God got in on my planning process, things changed drastically. I started listening to His soft whisper above the deafening roar of those around me. It was then that I realized that God was not calling me to full time missions, but wanted me to minister to others in a "secular profession."
It was scary to think about how many people I would disappoint by going into *gasp* psychology, but at the end of the day the most important people in my life did not care what field I went into, only that I was following God's call. So often we are scared to pursue what we really feel led by God to do, simply because it's not in the plan that others have for us. It was tough to swallow all of the "Oh..."s and "Hmmms" of disapproval that became all too common. Over time however, I began to have confidence in my career choice, because I knew that God, the Creator of the universe, had hand-picked the path for me.
Fast forward a year and it was August 2014. I was laying in my bed panicking about Cedarville. What had I gotten myself into? I mean there was NO WAY that I could do it. Honestly, the finances were just not working out properly. I remember talking with my parents and we came to the conclusion that if God truly wanted me at Cedarville, He would provide a miracle. It's pretty easy to say that, but learning to trust in Him, well that was a struggle. My parents and I were praying earnestly for direction, and when we got to school we found it. I remember my Dad looking at me and saying, "Taylor, I just have a peace that this is where God wants you." By seeking His plan, and trusting that He could overcome earthly barriers, we were able to find peace in the midst of chaos. What seemed impossible now seemed perfectly planned.
Once I got out there and settled in, I was scared out of my mind. Not for the first few weeks, I mean it was like a vacation. But after the first month... I mean how was I supposed to survive so far away from home? Why was I in Ohio again? Seriously had I lost my mind? Then a dear friend reminded me that I hadn't simply gone there on a whim, I had followed God's direction. God provided strength and on I went. Even when it seemed impossible to stay on time with all of my assignments, He helped me push on. When I was worried that my grades wouldn't be where I wanted them, He provided that extra .01 to push them ahead (seriously it's amazing). Time and time again He helped me succeed beyond my own human ability.
Finally springtime rolled around which meant that financial aid packages became available. I saw mine and my initial reaction was to laugh. Like seriously, I don't think they really can assume that my family will give THAT MUCH money to my education. While I initially laughed, I soon cried. Quite a bit actually. No money = no Cedarville. So I started looking at other schools that seemed to be a "better choice" but nothing seemed right. I spent a few days looking, but mostly I prayed a ton. I couldn't understand why God would drag me out to Ohio, only to desert me after one year. I mean hello, I had made connections, I had voted for next year's class officers, I had gotten a Tour Guide spot, I was pretty locked in. This was where I wanted to stay. I know that God usually speaks in a soft whisper, but this time He was shouting, "TRUST ME!" So I did, and slowly the obstacles because more manageable. The old saying is trustworthy "If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.
Anyway I guess that all of this is to say that sometimes finding God's will is a bit like using a GPS. Your GPS has your final destination in mind from the moment you begin, but unless you are perfect, as you get going things start to happen.
Sometimes you try to listen to your friend who SWEARS that there is a short cut up ahead, so you take the turn. Occasionally they are right, but more often than not you end up going down a dirt road for 5 miles. Then, you do what you should have done all along and listen to the GPS which gets you back on track. It's so easy to just buy into whatever ideas others may have for your future. Even if people think they have your best interest in mind, they may not really know. The only way to truly know is to trust the original Source.
Sometimes you get Maple Street and Maple Ave confused and well, that's never good. So what do you do? Well, you stop and reorient yourself and then carry on your merry way. Sometimes we start off on the wrong path, but there is no shame in humbling ourselves and admitting our mistake. God will provide direction but you have to be willing to look at it.
Sometimes your GPS is a bit outdated and you keep going in circles. So after your trip, you plug it in to your computer and get it up to speed. While you might think you know God's will enough to follow it perfectly, you should still check back in often to stay up-to-date.
Sometimes it seems like you are going down an impossible road, and you begin wondering if your GPS has Portland, Maine and Portland, Oregon confused. You wonder how you could possibly make it. After all, it's scary to trust a piece of technology. But in the end you make it. It's scary to trust God, but just like a GPS doesn't just tell you your destination and then go blank, God doesn't just leave us to wander. If He is really calling you to go somewhere, He will remove any obstacles in your way.
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