I realize I haven't posted since Mission Trip, and that I left off in the middle of the week without sharing the rest of our journey. I truly wanted to finish those posts, but I found myself becoming unfocused and unable to apply myself to write.
This has been my most boring summer in a long while. The past two years, June through August have been jam-packed. Mission trip, babysitting, New G tour, band camp, etc. As exhausted as I was by the end, and how I felt I had no summer at all, I miss being so busy. I started the summer by getting in extra sleep and going to a few last graduation parties, then I left on mission trip, which was such a different experience than I'm used to. It was our first year without Jessica, and our first year with Scott, the new associate pastor at Wyatt Park. The whole time, I kept comparing my last trip with the three previous ones, and continued to be disappointed when it just wasn't the same.
That's the one regret I have this summer so far... I tried to make this the best mission trip ever by making recreations of past mission trips. I begged to go to Metropolis to see Superman. I was much more disappointed with the big group worship, because I had high hopes it would be exactly like the one in Copperhill. I wanted everything to be like before. I wanted the my past to be my present. I wanted those moments of finding God to come as easily again, because, the truth is, I've felt my faith slip through the cracks for a long while. I let it go, and put it in the corner of my mind that's a little dusty and try not to visit too often.
I've posted quite a few times about being at a crossroad at this point in my life, and I feel the pressure of my choices all at once, when I've barely been able to read the road signs before they're just a blur behind me. There are less than four weeks before I move into my dorm at Northwest, and I freak out more and more about it every day. I think of all the people I need to see again before I leave, and the people I don't want to let go when I say goodbye. I'm trying to be orderly about it all, by making lists of what I'm taking with me and what I need to buy. I do this to keep myself busy so I can't think of all the emotions that threaten to take me over. I do the same when I'm about to go on a scary roller coaster or when I'm cleaning out my closet. I disassociate myself with what I'm doing, that way I can trick my brain into thinking the outcome doesn't matter as long as it gets done.
Sometimes I have to wrestle with myself to become detached. I worry about not having Miranda with me for the first time in seven years. I fear that I'll get to college and realize that it's too much and that I will fail. I am terrified of my anxiety in new places without familiar faces. I want to be good enough, to be good enough for my parents.
Tonight was the New Generation Singers Homecoming. I got to the church right before the buses pulled up with the 80 kids and the sponsors, not used to being on this side of the windows. I held up the modest little welcome home sign I made earlier in the day, and waited for the hugging to commence. First up was Jenny, someone I confide in about nearly everything, and after her there were only a handful of others I knew well enough to embrace. I ended up puppy dog-ing it by following around one person until they had to do something, then switch to someone else. I did this for about fifteen minutes before I realized there wasn't a reason for me to hang around. I wasn't a part of this tour, so I shouldn't act like I was. So I left to eat dinner at my grandma's birthday party, and would come back when the concert began.
As soon as the performance started, I teared up. It didn't seem right sitting in the audience, watching, instead of being on the risers. I sang along to every song and even did some of the choreography with them, although I had to be a little more discreet so as not to disturb anyone sitting near me.
Let me tell you, if you have never witnessed a New G concert, then you don't know what you're missing. I knew what to expect song-wise, but I wasn't prepared for being so moved. In what direction, I'm still not sure, but I was definitely moved in some way. I was so excited to run up to the stage at the end to sing the Benediction with them, that I was shaking the whole time.
"The Lord, whom we love, whom we worship and adore, we will serve throughout this coming week. He it is, who binds us together, and he it is who sends us apart. To be God's people... Be God's people. Amen."
Watching and taking in this performance, I know I need to find my way back to my faith. Well, to a stronger faith. I've never given up on God, but I find myself ignoring our relationship, because I think that will help me focus on other things. It's the complete opposite. I need to move closer to Him if I want to find this peace I dream about at night. I hate asking for help, because I think it makes me look weak. I want to fix it myself so I can prove to people I'm worth something. But when there's something too broken or too far gone, I can't just give up on it, can I? I have to bring to the ultimate healer. Bring it to Him, and put it at his feet. Wrestling in my head leaves behind a bruised spirit and broken tears. I'm not an athlete, and I think it's time give up this sport.
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