The Best Part of Waking Up

When was the last time you were nervous?
I am one of those people with road anxiety. Usually it creeps in while I'm driving in busy traffic or on an unfamiliar road. But sometimes I'll be in a car and a blinding wave of fear washes over me. The other day, it was when my mom was driving. Every turn, every changed lane, every new street seemed to be wrought with peril. And that was the afternoon I became a backseat (uh, passenger seat) driver.

What is something you learned in the last week?
I think I'm learning more about patience. These days, it feels like there are constantly rotating articles on Facebook that are all meant to counter each other. Like "I Waited Until My Wedding Night to Lose My Virginity, and I Wish I Hadn't," vs. "I Waited Until My Wedding to Lose My Virginity, and It's the Best Thing I Ever Did." Or the two articles that were pitifully posted back-to-back on my Facebook feed one day: "Robin Williams didn't die from a disease, he died from his choice," vs. "Robin Williams Was Sick, Not Selfish."

People sometimes forward these articles that share hateful, judgmental opinions simply because the writers word their arguments in compelling ways. Recently there seems to be this great need to make your opinion known on every controversial topic, whether or not anyone wants to hear it.

For a while, I felt only anger with the people who were posting ignorant articles out of this bizarre need to make a political point or start an internet argument. I "blocked" and "muted" people left and right. But this week, I am slowly gaining patience. Instead of unfriending, I'm stopping to pray over the person who is clearly struggling to feel love or kindness towards someone whose beliefs are different from theirs. I'm learning that just because I have an opinion, it does not always need to be shared.

This week, when fuming over something frustrating I had heard discussed at dinner tables and posted all over Facebook and shared on the news, I stumbled across something powerful during my quiet time. 2 Timothy 2:16-17 says, "Avoid godless chatter, because those who indulge in it will become more and more ungodly. Their teaching will spread like gangrene." 2 Timothy 2:23-25 says, "Don't have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Opponents must be gently instructed, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth."

What story does your family always tell about you?
My family frequently shares the way I read books and told stories as a child. Growing up, I never really played with toys like most children play. I would line them up on counter tops or the edge of a bathtub and I would tell elaborate stories about them. Describing each toy character in detail was enough to light my imagination aflame with tales of kidnappings and pirates. Before I could read, I tried so hard to make sense of written language. Apparently as a toddler, I would drag books into my playroom and stand over them while telling stories dramatically, making up the words when my illiterate brain could not make sense of the scribbles. I guess I've always been a storyteller. 

At what age did you become an adult?
I don't even know if I can describe this in a way that can be understood, but each blog post of mine has a tag. If you click on the tag, you can see other posts that are similar. (For example, this post's tag is simply "Emily," because it's just a Q&A about me.)

I was organizing my tags a few months ago and found that up until about the end of my freshman year in college, I had tagged any of my gender specific posts as for "girls." After that point, I began tagging them as for "women," without even realizing what I had done. Sometime during my first year or two of college, I had begun to grow into an adult.

What is the best part of waking up?
My favorite moment after I wake up is looking towards the window to see sunshine streaming from beneath the blinds. It is then that I know I'm a part of a brand new day. (So when I have to wake up before the sunrise, I may be thinking murderous thoughts.)

What are your answers to these questions? Answer them below or in your own blog.

One year ago: I will not flee from your hug.
Two years ago: My poor head!
Three years ago: I've discovered Instagram.