Bittersweet Doesn't Even Begin To Describe It...

As we pulled out of the county limits that quickly became home in Fall 2012, thick drops soaked the windshield falling from a storm-cloudless sky. It was as if God was perfectly articulating exactly how I felt.

 This town. This sweet town, that except for a long legacy in the South's most cherished tradition, would normally be a no-name Alabama town. Tuscaloosa. It holds the hearts of thousands upon thousands of once 18 year olds who pulled in one blazing August day and rolled out four (if not seven) years later completely changed, grown, and off to conquer their piece of the world.

I'm not really sure how to sum into simple words the way the Lord has moved, blessed, and completely destroyed yet redefined that naive little 18 year old who rolled into Tuscaloosa in that jean-blue 2003 Nissan Xterra.  But as much as these words can't and won't do these past four years justice, I shall try.

Tuscaloosa. Ttown. The Happiest Place on Earth. It's not home because I simply lived there. It is now home because this was the town where I not only found out who I was and wanted to be but realized the immeasurable depth, grace and power of the Lord. I succeeded in ways I never imagined I could, yet I just as equally failed and fell short on more than a handful of occasions. In this town, I realized how much more I could do if I let the Lord lead me and guide me and shape me. I discovered talents I didn't know I possessed. As I learned who I wanted to be and who I AM as a child of God, my dreams and desires shifted and expanded. They became tangible. They became real.

This dixieland college town blessed me with friendships that grew and shaped me. Not always was it comfortable or easy, painless or positive, but, without a doubt, it was always, always a blessing. Every single soul I called friend during these past four years is easily the single piece of this college puzzle I will cherish most. Wether a friend for a season or a friend for life, you've blessed me, stretched me, comforted me, brought joy and loved on me during a time where the ground was ever shifting. I thank you.

But today, as I packed up my final house in this favorite town of mine, I was overcome with a grateful joy. These have easily been the best four years of my life. Every good, awful, hysterical, psychotic, silly moment spent here has been the best of my life. Someone asked me if there was anything I could change, anything I would do different. Without hesitation, I responded with a definite 'NO'. No, because every moment, good or horrendous, has shaped me into the women who packed up her final room in zip code 35401. And to be honest, I'm quite fond of the woman who is writing this. Was I always? Absolutely not. Were there moments that stung like no other or choices of revenge I wish I could undo? Absolutely. But each one, each lesson learned, shaped me and taught me how strong I was, how powerful my God was, and how much more I should demand out of life.

To those of you who will head to Tuscaloosa in the Fall, soak up every moment because one second you are standing in Bryant-Denny, shaker in hand, singing Sweet Home Alabama for the very first time, and, by the time you finish the final verse, you are crossing a stage in cap and gown shaking the President of the University's hand. Cherish this town. Cherish it's traditions. Cherish the people it will bring you. Because you my friends, you are now the lucky ones.

#WifeMe

#RollTide

Dear Delta Gamma,

In Fall 2012, I pledged to you that I wanted to join your sisterhood and become a part of a community that has built up and united women for generations. Tonight, I reaffirmed my commitment and became and alumni.

Over the past four years, you blessed me with memories. Oh so many memories. You gave me women who would not only encourage me to be who I am, but challenge me to strive for more, for better. They have held me up when I didn't think I could stand. They have celebrated with me when I got a spot in a fashion show or an internship I completely didn't deserve. They have laughed with me when I star-fished the ground, and walked beside me as I learned how to dodge the punches. You blessed me with women who I'll stand next to on the day they pledge to love the man of their dreams forever, on the day I pledge to love a man forever. Women who will stand up for you, who will teach you how to stand up for yourself.

This sisterhood is more than just two greek letters. It is a support system, a family. Thank you for teaching me we don't all have to agree to be able to create positive changes. I've learned that everything in this world is out to get you. If you're still standing, there is some force, situation, scenario that is trying to knock you down and get the best of you. You taught me that standing alongside 400 women lessens the devastating winds of destruction.

I know tonight was not goodbye because my journey has just begun in your sisterhood. However, it is goodbye to this phase. To the phase where I found myself. Where I grew into a woman I am proud of. Where I found my voice, my strength. Thank you for the space to grow and the encouragement to get here.

I have no idea what his next chapter looks like. I'm not even sure where to begin my alumni journey. But, I do know that the foundation that you've given me the space and security to build is strong enough to launch off of.

I am proud to be a Delta Gamma. For Strength. For Hope. For Life.

#WifeMe

#AnchoredForLife

Big City | Small Town

It's not that the sky-rises lie.
It's that they hide.
The pasts
Their secrets
Tucked behind doors with as many locks as there are hours
Dead bolted against new corners
Sealed against the light
Screaming to not be trusted
Yet silent to the halls

It's not that the little houses don't hold indiscretions.
They do.
Lies and secrets
Scandals and shame
But they are mere whispers
Of what-were's and yesterday's truths
They aren't dead bolted or sealed,
But neatly swept
Under a rug that has been crossed by hundreds of feet.

#WifeMe

#BigCityAdventures

NYC - My Dreams. God's Lesson.

It's funny how we think we know ourselves so well. We think our plan is the best. We think the path we've picked out to accomplish our dreams will the most rewarding. We think our plans are without fault. Yet, without fail, every time the Lord has graciously let me live MY dream/plan/idea, I realize how much deeper his knowledge of me is.

6 months. I spent 6 months applying to internships. SIX MONTHS! I treated it like a full time job. I spent on average an hour to three hours a day researching, applying, tweaking my resume, tweaking my cover letter, updating my portfolio. Hours upon hours of applying only to get rejection emails-- if an email came at all. Faster than I'd been able to get the applications, inquiries, and emails out I was getting rejections. Six months. Six months I was diligent. I was pushing. As a girl who had no connections to the world she was trying to enter, I worked hard. I left no stone unturned. If it was available, I had applied to it.

Fast forward six months, here I am at home. Nothing to show for the previous six months other than failed interviews, lost time, and an email folder full of rejection letters. One night, I'd had it and poor Momma got to weather the Hurricane of Feels that came sweeping in. I broke. All the hours, all the effort, all the dreams that were slipping through my fingers came rushing out in streams stronger than the mouth of the Mississippi. How had I walked away with no internship? How am I going to be a senior in college and not have any design experience. How am I supposed to get a job?

"Don't quit." Two words. Words which slid of Momma's tongue in a way that made you believe maybe you did have an ounce of perseverance left. With frustration on one shoulder and defeat on the other, I let the storm pass and then recollected my marbles and decided that I'd figure out something to do -- even if it wasn't a big internship in the city.

One week. One week after the Hurricane of Feels I had an offer. With a faster turn around than the Earnhardt pit crew,  I'd gone from totally doomed in my career path to a full-time PAID design internship in NYC. My, how God moves. I worked and worked for 6 months. I learned perseverance. I learned dedication. I learned how to challenge myself and think out of the box. Then, in one week from application to offer, I was hired.

It's funny because NYC was always the dream. This was where I wanted to be. This was where my life was going to be. However, one night while riding the ferry home after a long day, I realized that this isn't where I necessarily want to be. See in all of God's graciousness, he has allowed me to live in the city of my dreams. He has allowed me to understand what life is here, and frankly I don't think I want it.

I miss the water. I miss being able to escape. I miss the fresh air. I'm thankful for my time here. I am thankful that I will be able to say I did it! I lived here! But, if or when the Lord calls me elsewhere, I will willingly go. Because this summer the Lord has shown me that he knows me better than I claim to know myself. He knows that this city is not where I would be my happiest. He knows I need water, and space. He knows I need to be able to escape to the mountains, or stand in his forests and remind myself how GREAT my God is! Work is fantastic! And I could NOT have gotten a better job! It is by far my favorite thing about the city, and it already makes me sad to think I have to leave in a month. But work can't be my life. People are my life. Time with them are my life. Experiences and adventures with the people I love THAT is what my life is.

God knew. He gave me the greatest job while he showed me a glimpse of my plan. A plan that I thought was thought out and perfect, yet held gaping holes not even reparable by patches.

God's plan. God's time. You call, Lord. I'll go.

#WifeMe

Desire for More

When we were little, playing in the fiery Georgia clay was so much more than risking the wooden sting on our bottoms for ruining ever inch of our cotton clothing while making mud pies in Momma's nicest pans. It was a way to escape the mundane and pretend even for just a little while that you were more than that barefooted, slow-talkin child. See, I remember the feeling of putting your foot down in the clay. Feeling the cool, smooth fiery red ooze up around my toes, yet the magic happened when you pulled your foot off. There in the good Lord's ground in His country lay the imprint of my foot. MY foot. When you're hip high, you believe your foot will stay there forever. It won't ever leave. Permanently impressed in this world. Isn't that the dream? The hope that somehow, someway something we do, anything, will leave a permanent mark on this world?

These day's I don't even feel close to that little girl who believed her footprint would forever be in the world. How did I lose that? Honestly, this ladder climbing track that I have been on doesn't thrill, excite or scare me. They said go to college. I went. Pick a major that will give you a stable career, they said. I picked two. I'm coming closer and closer to the end, I can actually see the end, and yet all I see is another step on a ladder bolted to a ground with a padded flooring underneath.

I feel stuck. I'm ready to do something that scares the living heck out of me. That seems impossible. That seems just plain crazy. The South is more than just my home. It is the very breath of me. It is forever etched in my DNA. It comes out in how I talk, what I hold valuable, and even in my obsessive need to add just onnnneeee more cup of sugar to the tea because it's not quite teeth-rotting sweet yet. Now, I'm not talking wear-white-britches-after-Labor-Day crazy or having the nerve to walk into the grocery store without your face did and hair tall. No! I'm talking about moving clear across the country because you think part of your story may be there crazy. Crazy like traveling to other countries, countries that take "third world" as a compliment because they know that category is above them, just for the chance to tell their stories crazy.

I'm ready to clock-out of the monotony of this predictable job I've labelled as life. I'm ready to go. I want to fall back in love with this world. Each sunset, every sunrise. I'm ready to be so engulfed the excitement an uncertainty of life that I end up losing myself. Then maybe, maybe when I come out on the other side, I'll be able to be the one sitting on the rickety rocking chair while the crickets sing a soft melody in the background. Then with all eyes locked and ears perked, slowly, I'll begin to verbally paint the experiences that have come and gone.

#WifeMe

#StayTuned

Pause

You think you're flying and avoiding

Running away 

Ignoring

But it's when you finally stop and break

Freeze

Recuperate

That all our mess

All our stress

The very things we were fleeing

Lay stacked around

Suffocating

So where do we start?

Where do we begin? 

Picking up the pieces

Cleaning

Renewing

Undoing

Piece by piece

With feet thus frozen

We start over 

Slower

#WifeMe

The "Semester Of Valerie" Has Officially Come To A Close

Another semester. Another set of finals finished. (Still waiting to hear back on the whole 'passing' part.) Another break to mentally prepare to do it all again. And with that, the "Semester of Valerie" has ended!

At the beginning of this semester, I decided to take a semester and 'just do me' as it is said. The rules? No boys. But not just no dating. No taking them to date parties. No looking. No constantly asking or saying "Why am I so singglllleeee???" No. None of that! Why? That's easy.... I was catching myself more times than not commenting on my singleness. And umm hello... we all hate those girls that are so caught up in complaining about the lack of a man in there life that they can't a) be happy for those who do have one or b) the fun times they are living right then. I was bound and determined to not become one of these girls, thus the "Semester of Valerie" was born. 

As I sit here at the end of the semester, I can say it was the most rewarding semester of my life. Now was it always easy? Absolutely not! I'll be the first to admit-- I spent the whole first part of the semester kicking and screaming and internally fighting it. But then eventually, I let that go. It slowly but surely became easier. I eventually let go and gave it to God. I realized that God's perfect timing is no where near my desired timing. And as much as that sucks for a planner like myself, it is ok. I realized that he is faithful and sovereign and won't forsake me in this area. Do I want to be a wife and a mother more than anything else in the world someday? One hundred and fifty percent!! Is that day today? No. Am I ok with that? Yes! Because right now in the waiting there is still a whole lot of life I need to live by myself. I have stories to live. Stories to write. Stories to experience. I have challenges to face and battles to win.

See this semester taught me I am ready to fall in love. Fall in love with a job. With a city. Fall in love with an adventure. With a way to serve. But not a man. (Not yet anyways). But mostly, I think I gained freedom. I don't constantly wonder when or even IF I am going to meet Mr. Right. I don't try and plan my day/life around where should I go and what should I do to try and seek him out. Because when we are ready for the each other, the Lord will get us in the same place at the same time, and in THAT I find freedom. I find freedom in the sovereignty and faithfulness of my God. So here's to finding where I want to be. And here is to falling in love-- with a town, with a job, with life. 

Because even still, GOD. IS. SO. GOOD.

BUT let's be honest.... a semester titled the "Semester of Valerie" wouldn't be complete unless there were some major epic fails along the way. I got my roommates car towed. We got t-boned. (No... not in the same night.) I turned 21. I get invited over to watch my friends set up their Christmas decorations only to turn into the stepping stool, so they could hang the 'Happy Holidays' banner and then get my hair caught in the tree during the process. I sat in the ihop bathroom trying to plan the best escape route when the person in the stall next to me answered their phone thus revealing they were a boy #Panic (Just so you know... IIIIIII was in the correct bathroom!) I survived Pendragon. I broke the slats at the head of my bed, thus flinging my mattress up feet-first and sending me flying into the wall, and then ate my frustration in the form of a bagel. (Yes, because that's going to solve the problem...) Our house was plagued with a lizard. The lizard won. So many memories to be thankful for. 

#WifeMe