About Me

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Just a twentysomething living my life and, as most my age, figuring it out as I go,

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Let Summer Begin!

First stop: Vacation! Spent a week and a half in the Carolinas with my family. Here are some pictures to prove it. 

Stopped by the Duck Commander/Buck Commander Warehouse
in West Monroe, LA
Climbed Chimney Rock
Visited Amelie's French Bakery in Charlotte, NC
Day trip to Mayberry (Mt Airy, NC), home
of Andy Griffith
Spent a day at Myrtle Beach, went to Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville
and walked around Broadway on the Beach

Took a carriage tour and walked down Rainbow Row in
Historic Charleston

Then I got back just in time to start my internship. I think I'm the first person in the history of ever to walk into one job and in a matter of hours, have a new job title. I am officially a youth intern again! Which meant leaving for Houston to do mission work that next weekend.
 [pictures to come]

To my fellow interns, share your best story of the summer so far. .....and GO!

Sunday, June 2, 2013


Earlier this semester, I clumsily spilled scorching coffee down myself, wrecking my left forearm. For a couple of weeks after the incident, that part of my arm was coated in burn cream, gauzed out and wrapped-embarrassingly-in an ACE bandage. I felt ridiculous walking around campus and having repeatedly to answer what had happened, and I wasn't clever enough to come up with a crazy excuse for my misfortune. I laughed at my ridiculous situation, but hated it all the same. I missed class that afternoon because I had to wash my clothes and go to the nurse, and, let's just be honest, it ached and itched under that wrapping.

Now, 6 weeks later, I sport a sweet pinkish scar around the underside of my left arm. Although it is hardly distinguishable except in the right kind of light, I find myself looking at it a fair amount. 
Tonight as I sat glancing at the scar, wondering if it would eventually fade, I couldn't help but start to look at some of the other scars I have attained in my life. I have several small ones from when I had a dog and would, as a child, pester him and carry him around like a baby until he turned on me. Two matching ones on the front each lower-leg from a summer at Work Camp, when we were breaking up branches on a trailer and one sliced up both of my legs simultaneously. No cool surgery scars, unfortunately, but the list goes on. 
Some I am ashamed of, wishing they would disappear. Others are just a part of me, with a story, however insignificant.  And I couldn't help but think of how every person has their own scars, each one carrying a story of their own. I saw a movie the other day where these two people were on a date, and they started talking about how they got all their scars (weird, right?). And in a way, I loved that! It made me want to sit, swapping scar stories with someone. But it also made me both notice my scars more, and wonder about the scars of others. I don't just mean literal, physical scars either. 

We all start out as this "pristine" creature-no scratches, no bruises and definitely no scars. But as life happens, we begin to be cut, and hurt, and form these scars inside and out. Some scars fade away with time, while others remain visible for life. But the beautiful-and tragic-thing about those marks is that they each come with their own story. No two scars were acquired the exact same way and no two people have scars in the exact same place. 
And what is even more interesting is seeing how people handle having those scars. When I first got my burn, I had several people tell me to put Mederma-or some other kind of cream like that-on it so it wouldn't scar. Many people want to do whatever they can to make sure those marks are not seen by anyone else. They cover the markings with different lotions and creams to make it fade as quickly as it appeared, or just cover it with bandages. Others share the stories of their scars with anyone willing to listen. They sport it proudly, especially, I've noticed, if it comes with some kind of crazy story behind it.
Just like that, we each have our own scarred hearts. Ones that have been marked up with life's events. Scars from struggles and pain, even marks from love brushing past us. And one day, there will be someone who asks about those scars, and you can go about it one of two ways: try to cover them up the best you can, or sport it proudly and share the story of how you got them. There is part of me that loves the prospect sharing scar stories (physical and emotional). To know those seemingly insignificant events in someones life that affected them somehow physically, cutting deeply enough into the tissue to leave a mark. And the same for the marks on our heart. Hearing people's life stories is such a beautiful thing to me. I wish I sought out those opportunities more. 
So to all you scarred people out there, don't be ashamed of those marks. Learn to share the stories behind them, because no matter how embarrassing they may be, they are beautiful just the same.
My birthmark-looking coffee burn scar.