Letting Go

This final semester of college has been the hardest one yet.  It’s ironic because I tried so hard to choose my classes in such a way that the last semester would be the “easiest.”  But life has a way of doing just the opposite of what you want or try to plan for.  Everything has been hard, from dropping one class and adding another at the last minute to having a class start a week late because an instructor resigned to having trouble getting the right textbooks. 

And then classes actually began.  There has been one class in particular that has gotten under my skin from the very first week.  And guess what?  It’s the class that I swapped with the other class that freaked me out after reading the syllabus.  Now I find myself wishing I would have trusted my first choice.  (Side note:  if you ever find yourself in the same situation…do NOT switch classes.  Always go with your first instinct.  Like a multiple-choice test question, your first choice is usually the right one.  I have a feeling this could apply to various life choices as well.) 

The lesson I am finally beginning to take out of all of this?  LET GO.  Maybe all of these challenges and all of this stress is God’s way of telling me, not so subtly, to let go of my perfectionist tendencies.  So, I’m trying.  I’m trying really hard to adopt a more laissez-faire attitude towards the next couple of months and to instead focus on the bigger picture.  Because in a few months, Russian, Central, and East European Politics will no longer matter to me.  (In an academic setting, at least.  I am fully aware that if I’m plugged into the news I am likely to hear about Russia.  But at least then I can stick my head in the sand and choose to be blissfully ignorant if I so wish.)  Because whether or not I get an A in this class, I will pass.  And then I will graduate.  And then I can move on to whatever adventures and challenges that are up next.  

I’ll let you know how it all works out in approximately 48 days, 6 hours, 56 minutes, and 33 seconds.


I Am

I am….






I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
I am a woman (hear me roar).

Our own words have power not only over others, but over ourselves as well.  I think we often forget that second part.  I’m often conscious of how my words will be interpreted by others or how they will effect them, but I usually don’t consider the effect my words have on me.  So I’m trying to be kinder to myself.  Because if we constantly tell ourselves something, we will eventually believe it, right?  Much better to build ourselves up than to break ourselves down…so treat YOURSELF as you would want to be treated.  I’m trying.