A Time For Everything: A Letter to My 23-Year-Old Self

Some of you may have read the letter I wrote to my 13-year-old self that I've posted previously. This letter was published in The Empower Young Women Project by Katelyn Martin, which is available on Amazon. Writing this was a great experience for me. In fact, I've read that letter several times since it was included in the book - not because I'm a narcissist, but because it's a great processing tool. Sometimes I need to hear my own advice over and over again to reflect on the change, progress, and development that has occurred in my life.

After posting the first letter, I mentioned wanting to write another letter to myself in the near future. Tonight, as I decided now would be the perfect time to do so, an idea came to mind - what if I wrote a letter to myself every year?

Not all of my ideas click right away, but this was one I could commit to immediately. This year, I thought of it a bit late, as I turned twenty-four three months ago. But after this one, I'd like to write a letter to myself around my birthday every year, addressed to the girl of the year before. Writing allows me to self-reflect, process and accept change, and get my thoughts onto paper, almost like cementing them and letting them dry. Anyone who knows me know that twenty-three, although filled with blessings, was a whirlwind for me. That being said, it's time to pour the concrete.

06.17.17

Dear Molly,

You just turned twenty-three, and your twenty-four-year-old self is proud of you for how well you brought it in. A year from now you'll look back and say, "that was a good one." You'll be glad you forced all of your friends to get insulting hats at Dick's Last Resort and squeezed them into a photo booth with them in Faneuil Hall. You'll laugh a lot together,  and it will turn into a memory that you'll be happy you can hold onto. Keep celebrating life with the people you love the way you did that night.

It's promised that there is a time to laugh and a time to weep. In the same week of incomparable joy, your heart is going to shatter. You will be engulfed in so much pain that you'll question if it'll ever go away. You'll be sitting at a stranger's kitchen table (because you took up dog-sitting to help pay the bills), crying until your eyes run dry. You'll spend the night sitting on the floor, curled up in a thick, plaid blanket, underneath the curious nose of a Bernese Mountain dog. In the weight of your sorrow, that dog will place her paw on your shoulder from above you. You'll be reminded that God is able to comfort you in ways you didn't think He could during your lowest moments - and that time, He did it through a dog with the same name as the sister who never got to cry with you. Use this as evidence that when you're hurting, you are never hurting alone.

There is a time to mourn and a time to dance. Six days after you mourn, your younger sister will get married in the church you grew up in. After one last sleepover together in her room, you'll take a deep breath, leave your grief at home and stand next to her proudly as she walks down the aisle just as beautifully as you imagined. You'll lay out her train, hold her bouquet, write a speech that brings tears to the eyes relatives you've never seen cry, and cherish every moment of a night you and your sister will never forget. And did I mention how much you'll dance? 

There is a time to plant and a time to uproot. Your sister will join your closest friends in moving away to other states, this time Hawaii. You'll say another bittersweet goodbye, feeling sad to see her go yet joyful to see her enter an exciting new phase of life. Once she is planted, you'll soon be uprooted. In your journey of figuring out what comes next, you'll decide to apply to a competitive graduate school two weeks before the application is due. To your surprise, you'll get in, and you'll move home.

There is a time to tear down and a time to build. Once you quit your job and move out of your first apartment to return to the town you grew up in, you'll realize how much building there is to do in yourself. You'll once again drive along the backroads and stone walls you fell in love with. You'll realized that not much has changed despite the fact that you have. You'll have to figure out how you fit back into this place, and it's going to be hard. Memories will flood you. Process them. When they knock on the door, invite them in. You are a worn, chipping house under renovation - let yourself be torn down and rebuilt over and over again. 

There is a time to mourn and a time to dance. Three weeks after starting graduate school, you will come home to a note on the table saying your grandfather isn't doing well. Angels will lead him in before you wake up the next morning. You will mourn again, this time with your thirty-six family members who will all be under the same roof for the first time simultaneously in your lifetime. As you remember the dry, gentle soul your grandfather was, you'll be reminded of the love he left behind, and again that you will never hurt alone. Beauty comes from ashes. Your sister will fly home from Hawaii, and on her first night back, you will dance with her in your kitchen.

There is a time to love and a time to hate. Love will surround you through your parents, the old friends back home you missed so much, the new friends from school and church you desired, and the person who will show you that it is possible to fall in love again. Your heart will open itself up again, and you'll begin to let the walls around it be broken down. But you will cross paths with people that will stir an emotion in you closer to hate than you've ever felt. The walls will form thick again. You will be belittled, blindsided, and told you aren't good enough. You will be taken advantage of when your back is turned and your story will never be the same because of it. Don't hate the people who harmed you. Pray for them, find it in yourself to forgive them, and believe that you are more than who they made you to be. You are not a failure. You are not an object. You are who those you love say you are. You are wonderfully made with purpose. You are successful. You are brave. You're a songbird.

There is a time for war and a time for peace. You will wage war against your demons. You'll learn to recognize Satan by his alias, F41.0. Don't succumb to him. Put your feet on the ground every morning ready to conquer him. On the days you don't win the battle, you don't lose - you learn. You learn that there is only a white flag to wave when you make it yours to hold. Surrender each fight to the One who fights for you, and there you will find peace. Hold onto these moments, the ones you find your breath. You'll need to collect them and learn how you found them in order to find them again. Be patient with yourself - learning to let go isn't an overnight fix. I write you from the battlefield, but I promise there is beauty there.

It's in the quiet moments alone, and in Sunday mornings. It's in the nights you spend in with your parents. It's in hours-long phone calls with friends you miss, and the adventures with those around you. It's in the kitchen dances with your sister, in watching one of your best friends get married, in discovering sangria tastes really good with fireball in it. It's in a family of different accents and bacon cheeseburger pizza. It's in the moments you can manage to laugh at yourself. It's in the closure that comes with looking your past in the eye. It's in the boldness you find within you after a crowded square counts down from ten and the clock strikes midnight. It's in the eyes of teenagers feeling understood by you. These times of building and laughing and searching and peace are swords piercing into the times of tearing down and weeping and mourning and war. Use them as your weapons, and know that there is a time for everything.

And when all else fails, take the hands of those who reach for you. They might want to dance.

Ephesians 3

thanks, bailey.

while writing this, I listened to:

that hotel // donovan woods

words // gregory alan isakov

new start // jole

honest // joseph

the life i keep // whitley

The Robbers

05 Nov 2016

There's been an attempted robbery.

As they peered through the window,
we found ourselves frozen in fear.

NO TRESPASSING
They ignored the sign,
justifying their right to be there.
Later they'll say they "didn't know it was there".

We didn't know you were there, either.

"Hands up!"
"Put down your weapon!"
The burglars retreated.

Some of them were acquitted.
Others weren't, swimming away with their
d i s g u s t i n g crimes
because you can rob a bank if your judgement is impaired
and the bank never told you that you couldn't.

Right?

Yet some of us were left alone and wounded,
others had cherished treasures taken away forever,
but from me they took nothing.
I don't know why. I'll never know why.

But I still tremble at the thought of someone
taking something that wasn't theirs to have and
the image of robbers
picking our locks
will haunt us
until someone else guards our doors.

Gratitude.

When Thanksgiving makes its annual appearance every November, the typical holiday-associated themes usually come to my mind: my big Irish family, the jokes, the beer (we once made a menu of twenty-eight selections), and the dry, but sweet humor of my grandparents they've held onto for over ninety years. I usually feel a sense of pride sitting at that long, busy dining room table. "Moll, can you pass the gravy?", my uncle would shout from the other end of the table, "actually you know what, just give it a nice toss."

In past turkey days, I'd like to think I've always had a lot of gratitude. Every year, I look at my family members, thankful to be a part of who we are despite how crazy we can be. I reflect on what I have, feeling blessed and wholesome. The thoughts that come to mind in anticipation when I think about Thanksgiving come to life.

But this year was different. It was a lot different.

My family stayed home, just the four of us. At one point, it was actually three of us. My sister split her time between our family and her new in-laws. While we waited for her, I actually sat down to watch football. We ate together later on after she came home, and the usual turkey was replaced with scallops (I didn't mind this change). But when we ate, a strange silence filled the room. There was no long, busy dining room table. There weren't many jokes made. My dad drank milk with dinner. That might have been one of the weirder parts.

This year was our first Thanksgiving without my grandfather, who we called Pe (my cousin couldn't pronounce 'Grampie' to the fullest as a child). He passed two months ago after an incredible ninety-seven years of life. Although his legacy was long and filled with accomplishments, it made for a holiday with a lot of missing pieces. My preferred Thanksgiving Day plans were shifted. I wouldn't hear his deep, but gentle voice let out corny one-liners:

"I've got a good one - an Irish man walks out of a bar."

I already miss that.

There are a lot of things I've found myself missing this year, and if I'm being quite blunt, I haven't been all that thankful. Thanksgiving was definitely different, but the rest of my life has been too. I've spent more time mourning the past than celebrating the present or looking toward the future. I consumed a lot of time reflecting on this realization last Thursday, and it reminded me of a quote I fell in love with in college:

"Gratitude turns what we have into enough."

Remembering this sent conviction into my core as I thought about how much I've just been craving more out of life, as if it owes me something, as if life itself isn't enough. I've spent a lot of time wishing for what I once had instead of focusing on what I have now. But wishing hasn't fixed anything. The hard truth is, wishing Pe was at the table that day wouldn't bring him back. Missing my sister and closest friends in other states hasn't brought them back to New England. Longing for the love I once experienced hasn't made Prince Charming magically appear at my doorstep. Waiting for the future wouldn't make it come any more quickly. Imagining my dream job hasn't gotten me the next diploma. Desiring a different Molly hasn't changed her for the better. All of this has only made me feel more empty.

Processing this has led me to one, challenging question: if I lived with more gratitude, would what I have be enough?

In the last few days, I've made an effort to reverse every longing thought into one of thankfulness. As I pondered this last night, I thought my heart was going to explode. Over and over again, I thought of everything and everyone I've been blessed with, and I despised myself for ever thinking it wasn't enough. The fact of the matter is, I have more than enough. And I'm grateful.

I'm grateful for the big, loud, crazy family I was born into. Every uncle, every aunt, every cousin, regardless of how well we get along. In you I see myself.
I'm grateful for parents who have provided me with everything I need and incomparable support. I'm grateful they've taken me back in with open arms while I'm in grad school. I'm grateful for the kindness and child-like optimism I got from my mom, and the extroversion and love of sports I got from my dad.
I'm grateful for my grandmothers and Poppa, who all have the ability to warm me up with their adorable laughter or tear me up with wisdom I could write a book with.
I'm grateful for Pe, for the ninety-seven years he had, for the family he raised, and for the legacy and memories he left behind for all of us to carry.
I'm grateful for a sister who lives in Hawaii, because she's finally able to be with the love of her life - or the brother-in-law that I now have. I'm grateful for the surprise in her coming home for three months. I'm grateful for the times we were able to share under the same roof, dancing in the kitchen and whispering when we were supposed to be sleeping. I'm grateful that after being born fourteen weeks early at one pound, six ounces, she made it. I can't imagine life without you.
I'm grateful for my best friends - near and far. I would be absolutely lost without them.
I'm grateful that Avery and Amanda are in different states, because it only means they've begun their own adventures that will only take them to where they want to be. I'm grateful for the partners in crime they've been since 4th grade, the level of weirdness I can reach with them and only them, and that I was lucky enough to score the find-one-get-one-free best friend deal.
I'm grateful that Emily is in Nashville, where she can experience a year of firsts with her new husband, who is really cool, by the way (looking at you, Will - grateful for you too). I'm grateful for the fact that we can tell each other everything, from our deepest pains to the juicy secrets we once giggled on our beds about, and the countless letters on monogrammed stationary I've collected from her.
I'm grateful that Tara is in Los Angeles, where she is living out her mission to bring light to a broken world. I'm grateful for her serious side and silly side, that she encourages me to write more and is always up for a dance party in the car.
I'm grateful that Bonnie recently gave birth to an absolutely perfect and healthy bundle of joy. I'm grateful for the sleepless nights we had freshman year giggling about nothing. I'm grateful that she was the roommate who became one of my most cherished friendships.
Even though they're far away doesn't mean I don't have them anymore. Our friendships spread wider than the miles that separate us.
I'm grateful for the friends who are near me. For Errin, our eighteen-year friendship, the fact that she's just always been there, how silly we get, and our mutual love of cupcakes and wine. For Kailyn, the faith and strength she's modeled for me, the four graduation caps she's worn with me, all the shirts she's let me blow my snot on, and her creativity in finding free yet enjoyable activities (homemade pasta sauce). For Caitie and her impossible way of empathizing with absolutely anything I'm going through, the quirky yet perfect gifts she's given me, and our shared affinity for elf culture. For Amanda and Janine, their 100% success rate at making me laugh until I start developing a six-pack, and willingness to watch vines for over an hour.
I'm grateful that I'm only ninety minutes away from the shore I fell in love with. For 19 Atlantic Road, Good Harbor Beach, Applebee's runs, Ocean Lawn, drinks at Soma, half off burgers at Fibber McGee's, Plum, Cabot Street, and trips into Boston. I'm grateful for all the people who are there when I come back. For Rachel, her contagious laugh, her knack for adventure and spontaneity, and the way she appreciates how weird I am. For Sarah and Amanda, the old coworkers who became friends and show me daily how to be a world-changing social worker. For Rebecca and Elizabeth, the roommates who turned into the people I can always count on for a girl's night out in heels or a cozy night in with (satin) pajamas. For Bailey, who I grew up with yet didn't get to know until she moved to Massachusetts. I'm grateful for her way of always initiating time together and absolutely hilarious way of telling stories.
I'm grateful for my bros, who show me daily that trusting, God-loving, selfless men actually do still exist. For Alex, his kind heart that heart breaks over the hurts of his friends, sense of humor, and understanding of what it means to be a pumpkin. For Brett, his constant availability to talk whenever you need to, his impeccable taste in music, and our tradition of shotgunning beers. For Thad, his unfailing selflessness and hospitality, his heart for service, and the new puppy he's provided us with. For Jake, his genuine appreciation for his friends, and the voicemails he leaves me after a few drinks. For Cody, his willingness to ask the tough questions, and the ridiculous stories that are always sure to provide entertainment. You are all a space I feel safe in. Thank you.
I'm grateful for The Harbor community, Neil Hubacker, and John Prickett for providing a space to make my faith my own at a place that feels like home to me. I'm grateful for each and every single college student there, who I've grown to love like younger brothers and sisters, and the mentors who I've grown to appreciate like older ones. When I ask myself how my faith became what it is, you are all the reasons why.
I'm grateful for Lifesong, for providing me with new friends and a church community I honestly didn't think I would find.
I'm grateful for Gordon, the faith-based education I was incredibly lucky to have, the community that gave me the best four years of my life and the friendships that will last a lifetime.
I'm grateful for Rhode Island College, who by a miracle agreed to give me my Master's degree. I'm grateful for understanding yet challenging professors and hilarious classmates who persevere through the workload with me. I'm grateful that day by day, they are becoming my friends.
I'm grateful for my bosses, George and Helen. I'm grateful that they've provided me with a job and a little bit of income while I work through school. I'm grateful for the life lessons they offer when the restaurant slows down, and for their pizza.
I'm grateful for the big things. For the ocean and how small it makes me feel, for the stars and how I see God in a moonlit sky. For the quiet town I grew up in. For my health and education. For laughing and for crying. For the fact that I can live without the fear of danger or the risk of persecution for expressing my faith. For knowing what it is to be loved.
I'm grateful for the little things. For dogs, photographs, words, cheeseburgers, coffee, journals, over-sized sweaters, heels, crunchy cheetos, glasses of red wine, guitars, holding babies, dancing, adventuring new places, comfy beds, the Today Show, the Red Sox, Patriots, and Duke Blue Devils, March madness, and my car, also known as my private concert venue.
I'm grateful for music, for the way it puts into words the things I never know how to say, and the way it forces me to feel. I'm grateful for how many live shows have taken my breath away.
I'm grateful for this season of singleness, and how much time I can devote to my family and friends. I'm grateful for the person who put me in it. If it weren't for him, I never would have known how to turn to God and the people who will never leave in the most gut-wrenching heartbreak I've ever experienced. I never would have known that stronger than a woman who is happy next to a man is a woman who is just as happy on her own.
I'm grateful for life itself, because the fact that I'm sitting here, writing this, breathing in and breathing out, should be enough.
I'm grateful for a loving Father who thinks I'm enough. He doesn't criticize every move I make. He doesn't run out of love for me. He doesn't grade my papers. He rejoices in me: who I was, who I will be, who I am. He's covered me in grace I don't deserve. He speaks to me when I least expect to hear Him. He gave me all of the above, and yet if He took it all away He would provide everything I need. In the darkest, most frightening and vulnerable moments of my life, He was in the room. He's building my houses.

How on earth could I ever for a second want anything more, when I already have more than I ever could have imagined? How could I live in the past when there are already so many people and places that followed me into the present?

I challenge you to write down everyone and everything you're thankful for. It won't be long before you see that you have plenty, right now. Allow it to lessen the amount that you want, and maximize the amount that you give. Let it motivate you to cherish every moment that you're given, even if those moments look differently than you pictured them to be. Accept that life will never be perfect. Take all of the things that you love in your hands, but be willing to let them go. Be where you are. Be present. Be okay.

I truly believe that having gratitude not only turns what we have into enough - it turns who we are into enough.

 

While I wrote this post, I listened to:

"My Oldest Friend" - Andrew Belle

"Atlas Hands" - Benjamin Francis Leftwich

"Up & Up" - Coldplay

"To Build A Home"- The Cinematic Orchestra

Top 25 Alternative Songs from the 2000s

... at least in my fine opinion.

As an avid lover of music, I'm in the process of narrowing down my top 20 all-time favorite songs. This is an impossible task. To break it down, I decided to make several "top" lists first from the genres and artists I've been the biggest fan of. I started with alternative genre, which was so ridiculously challenging, I had to narrow it further to a time frame: 2000-2009. This list took me FOREVER to solidify. There are so many songs from this genre and era that shoot me right back to middle school, and I narrowed it down to twenty-five. These are my personal favorites that I continue coming back to time and time again, even in 2016. What are yours?


Honorable Mention: "Bob and Bonnie" - Houston Calls (A Collection of Short Stories, 2005)

This one is a hidden gem, but when you listen to it there's only one way your mood can to go: up. Not too many songs make me feel more giddy, as it follows a couple whose love has outlasted the triumphs of time.

"Does he still look at you the same way now?

Feel the same as thirty-eight years ago, and how?"

25. "Enjoy This Drive" - Rookie of the Year (The Goodnight Moon, 2006)

This sounds like a song dedicated to a girl, but plot twist: it's from the band to the listeners, asking them to give their album a chance and "let this line win you over". It worked for me, boys. The bridge includes one of their more acoustic tracks, "Consider This Summer".

"Hum along, if you find it in your heart to try it."

24. "Losing Grip" - Avril Lavigne (Let Go, 2002)

Avril was my FAVORITE in 5th grade. I may or may not have performed one of her songs in a talent show that year (don't bring it up again). This entire album is a banger, but this one is the one that brings me right back to the time she inspired teenage girls around the world to wear heavy eyeliner.

"Why should I care?

You weren't there when I was scared

I was so alone"

23. "MakeDamnSure" - Taking Back Sunday (Louder Now, 2006)

This one just never gets old. No other explanation needed.

"I just wanna break you down so badly."

22. "Lullaby" - The Spill Canvas (No Really, I'm Fine, 2005)

If anyone ever serenaded me to sleep with this one I would marry them immediately. Not really. But it's one of those songs.

"You shine so bright it's insane, you put the sun to shame."

21. "Discovering the Waterfront" - Silverstein (Discovering the Waterfront, 2005)

The emotion in this song is so well-portrayed that I feel sympathized with when I listen to it. This one is pretty clearly pertaining to the ending of a relationship that although was painful and manipulative, is one that is hard to leave behind.

"You ask for my heart, you know that I'm down

But not the way you lie to me and tear it all apart, and beg for me to stay

I've sailed off to sea, I'm not coming back"

20. "Everything Is Alright" - Motion City Soundtrack (I Am the Movie, 2002)

If you don't remember this you need to scoot yourself right back to 7th grade and try it again. The meaning behind this song is debatable, from abusing drugs to suffering from an anxiety disorder. Either way, we all need to be told that everything is fine at some point, am I right?

"Because I hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes

Talking to strangers, waiting in lines..."

19. "Don't Go" - Making April (The Egg Hunt, 2009)

This one is a later/less popular song for them, but it's by far my favorite. Typical "begging to get the girl back" song, but a good "begging to get the girl back" song that stands out to me lyrically (see below). It probably worked.

"The broken sidewalks looked like states

I stood on Tennessee and begged for you to stay

But you kept your eyes down low

And you took the Colorados home"

18. "My Heart" - Paramore (All We Know Is Falling, 2005)

The meaning behind this song is a toss-up: I once heard a rumor that it was about of a friend of the band's who was killed in an accident. However, many think this is about rediscovering God. Either depiction has immense sentimental value, and because of that I get goosebumps whenever I listen to it.

"It's been so long, since I've heard the sound

The sound of my only hope."

17. "Wonderful" - Everclear (Songs From An American Movie Vol. One, 2000)

This song is an anthem for any child who has watched their parents go through a divorce, young but not naive enough to actually believe the sugarcoated comfort they receive.

"I just don't understand how you can smile with all those tears in your eyes

When you tell me everything is wonderful now"

16. "Best of Me" - The Starting Line (Say It Like You Mean It, 2002)

8th grade graduation, anyone?

"We got older, but we're still young

We never grew out of this feeling that we won't give up"

15. "You Had Me At Hello" - A Day To Remember (And Their Name Was Treason, 2005)

He never thought he'd trust again, but look! He's falling in love. And he writes about it beautifully.

"You gave me butterflies at the mailbox"

14. "Amazing, Because It Is" - The Almost (Southern Weather, 2007)

Most people would probably think that alternative + Amazing Grace = ? 

The Almost proves most people incorrect.

"I was so scared of everything you put in front of me,

I've been marching to every part of me"

13. "The Ocean" - Mae (The Everglow, 2005)

If you didn't have this in your AIM profile at some point, you probably never had an AIM profile.

"I need you here tonight just like the ocean needs the waves"

12. "Down" - blink-182 (blink-182, 2003)

Because it's just a classic and I relate to it, alright?

"Your vows of silence fall all over,

The look in your eyes makes me crazy"

11. "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" - Brand New (Deja Entendu, 2003)

This song is another piece of proof to their lyrical brilliance, this one written with incredibly subtle references to Greek mythology:

"Petrichor": the smell of rain

"-Ichor": the fluid that runs through the veins of gods

"You are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins"

I know, right?

10. "I'm Still Here" - Vertical Horizon (Go, 2003)

This one is from one of my favorite bands of this time, and in my opinion they're severely underrated. 

"Where you are I'll never know

But I'm still here."

9. "What Sarah Said" - Death Cab For Cutie (Plans, 2005)

Holy moly. This an incredibly convicting song and a dagger to the HEART. I once took a sociology course in college in which we had to complete a project analyzing a song about death. I chose this one, because boy does it have a lot to pick apart. This song is about the sharp reality of losing someone and how it forces us to reflect upon the impact another's life may have one us.

"Love is watching someone die, so who's gonna watch you die?"

8. "You Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground, I'll Be The Wings That Keep Your Heart in the Clouds" - Mayday Parade (A Lesson In Romantics, 2007)

Say that five times fast! One line in this song can change the entire meaning behind it: "And El, I'll have you know I'm scared to death." El could be a girl, but could also be "God" in Hebrew.  This song covers all the bases when it comes to fear and doubt in diving into faith, and the vulnerability it takes to do so.

"I could stand here for hours just to ask God the question

'Is everyone here make believe?'

With a tear in his voice He says 'son, that's the question'

Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?"

7. "Konstantine" - Something Corporate (Ready... Break, 2000)

I used to scoop ice cream with a guy who had an impeccable taste in music like me, so one weekend we switched ipods. This was the best find.

"Did you know I missed you?"

6. "Walking By" - Holiday Parade (This Is My Year, 2007)

Some may think this is ranked way too high because the lyrics are pretty basic, but it makes my heart all gross and fluttery and ugh I'm sorry.

"Every time you walk in the room,

Can't help myself, I wanna be with you"

5. "Where Do You Go" - National Product (Luna, 2007)

I used to be obsessed with their song "Love Me", but this one turned out to be their song that I continue listening to years later. Mainly because they spell out an entire line and I love screaming it in my car... I mean, what?

"Do you m-i-s-s-m-e-a-t-a-l-l?"

4. "One Year, Six Months" - Yellowcard (Ocean Avenue, 2003)

Their old stuff is good, their new stuff is good - Yellowcard continues to slay after all these years, and their music will continue to even when they say their goodbyes to the music industry (did you cry too)? This is my favorite song off of the album we all came to love in 5th grade and continue to love to this day.

"Follow me there, a beautiful somewhere

A place that I can share with you"

3. "Say Goodnight" - The Click Five (Greetings from the Emrie House, 2005)

I know what you're thinking - really, Molly? A song by The Click Five is in your top 3? Yes, really. When it comes to this song I'm rather biased as it pulls hard at the heart strings, but this one-hit wonder of a band deserves some credit on this one even if it's a bit poppy. Give it a chance!

"Your voice is heaven, but it hearts

Your words are memories, but they burn."

2. "Hear You Me" - Jimmy Eat World

If you haven't cried tears to this one you may not be human and should seek medical attention. I say this for two reasons: 1. Its lyrics provoke the memory of someone who we've loved and lost, and 2. It captured the hearts of teenage America when it played as Austin finally kissed Sam in A Cinderella Story. He's still sorry he waited for the rain.

"And if you were with me tonight, I'd sing for you just one more time

Sung with a heart so big, God wouldn't let it live."

And here's the moment you've all been curious for (or just skipped straight to, no judgment if you did)...

The number one of its time:

1. "Blinded (When I See You)" - Third Eye Blind

Not my all-time favorite song by these guys (their best was from pre-2000), but its up there. They still killed it with this song especially in the next decade. This song is a sunny day with the windows down and it never gets old for me. The reason it's number one is because I don't know why I love it so much - I just do.

"Time passes and it tells us what we're left with,

You become the things you do

Me I'm a fool, spent from defiance, yeah you got me but

I didn't give up on you."

So, how'd I do everybody? Feel free to comment below on songs you think I missed, ones you commend me for including, or one maybe you had never heard before but now love. 

With love,

M

Girl, Rock That Pimple: A Letter to My 13-Year-Old Self

Last summer I was asked to participate in a project that entailed writing a letter to my 13-year-old self. I thought this was an incredible opportunity, as it was the perfect combination of three things I love doing: writing, self-reflecting and providing insight to those who may benefit from it.

This letter was recently included in the publication this project turned into: "The Empower Young Women Project" by Katelyn Martin. It is currently on sale on Amazon, and I highly recommend it not just for the young women in your life who may learn from the thoughtful advice within it, but for yourself, women and men alike - it's important for everyone to know where young women (and men) have come from.

I decided to write a post including my letter so I can allow others to read it and hopefully encourage them to reflect on what they would tell themselves as a young teenager. I haven't changed anything in it since writing it, as everything said was sincere and real at the time. However, I plan to write a response to myself in the near future, as we sometimes learn ten years worth of life lessons in nine months.

Until then, I hope you all enjoy this.

July 30, 2015

Dear Molly,

You just turned thirteen. You’re officially a teenager. This is exciting – you’re practically an adult and suddenly you know the answer to everything. Right? Wrong. You are still living out your childhood and the learning process called growing up is just merely beginning – pay close attention. The following pieces of advice are coming from your 22-year-old self, who also does not know everything but knows enough to look after you. She knows your fondest memories and your deepest regrets. Trust her.

First, the only attitude that is going to impress those around you is a positive one. Be nice. Respect people, including your parents, your siblings, your friends, your teachers, your coaches, your elders, and especially the ones you really don’t like. They’re the ones that need respect the most. That will give you the attention you’re so deeply craving.

Stop trying to impress the “popular” girls. They will befriend you, but your friendships with them will not last. Stay true to the friendships that have stayed true to you. Build friendships with people who love you for who you are. Have sleepovers. Make music videos with your friends (and make sure you save them forever). Be silly. Be young. Be present. And for the love of God, put your phone down.

The shirt you’re about to buy? Put that down too. You don’t love that shirt. Only buy clothes that make you feel like you’re glowing.

Don’t listen to the kids who pick on you. They only do it because they’re hurting. Hurt people hurt people.

Use deodorant.

One day you’ll have the courage to tell the boy you have a crush on that you like him. He’ll reject you, and you will cry. It’s okay – being rejected does not mean you are any less special. Accept yourself. Love yourself.

Go ahead, use a tampon. They are not as scary as they sound. I promise.

Stop worrying about what everyone else is thinking about you. Only worry about what you are thinking about you.

The amount of likes your selfie got does not matter. If you like the girl that’s in the picture what more do you need?

The big pimple on your chin that feels like a boulder creeping under your skin? Girl, rock that pimple. Own that pimple. And stop thinking you’re fat. You’re not fat.

If you ever wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and don’t like what you see, you need a new mirror.

Smile.

Don’t wear bright blue eye shadow. I know you’re trying to look pretty, but you look much better naturally. Also, don’t put bright blonde highlights in your dark brown hair. Your friends will make fun of you for it for the rest of your life.

Don’t undermine your accomplishments. You deserve to be proud of yourself, but stay humble.

Don’t be afraid about high school. Those years will be some of the most appreciated in your life. Cherish them.

You will regret dating the majority of the boys you dated. Being single is okay. You do not need a boyfriend to be worth something. Boys will take up a lot of time you could have spent having sleepovers and making music videos with your friends.

Don’t try sneaking a picture of the cutest boy in school. He’ll catch you doing it and it will be really embarrassing.

When you’re fifteen, you will meet the guy who will end up becoming the love of your life. You’ll feel it the second you meet him, but you’ll ignore it for the most part. That was a good choice. You were too young to see it at the time, but as you get older, you’ll realize he’s different than the rest. You’ll just know. Hold out for the guy who makes you just know. He’ll change your life in such a way that regardless of whether it lasts or not, you will never be the same again because of the way he loves you.

Your heart is going to get shattered. It is a part of life and it is inevitable. There will be nights you cry until you think your eyes will fall out, and there will be mornings you wake up and doubt anything valuable is going to come next. That’s okay. There is nothing wrong with crying or with vulnerability. It isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign that you are strong enough to be honest with yourself. Don’t be afraid to open up to people about your feelings or ask Mom for advice when you need it.

Work hard. Really, really, hard. Stop procrastinating. Do everything to your fullest ability. You can’t regret anything if you know you gave it your everything.

Stop comparing yourself to others. Someone will always be better than you are in some way. Be okay with your best and don’t you dare let anyone tell you that you aren’t good enough.

Be thankful for your family. Stop arguing with them. One day you will be in an apartment with no air conditioning, paying a rent you can barely afford, and trying to make a life on your own. There will be nothing you miss more than home. Appreciate home-cooked meals, the fact that you don’t pay the cable bill, and your dog.

Speaking of your dog, cuddle with him as much as you can. One day you’ll come home from school and your Dad will tell you it’s time to say goodbye to him. Hold him. Hold him so tightly that even years down the road, you’ll still remember the touch of his soft fur and velvety ears between your fingers that always brought your comfort.

Drive carefully. Stop speeding.

Get involved. Don’t put your talents to waste. Your teammates will be your second family.

Sometimes people will pressure you to do things you don’t want to do. Say true to yourself and what you believe in. Say no thank you, but don’t judge people who live differently than you do.

Dream. Set another goal and get after it.

Don’t take anything for granted. Be selfless. Put others before yourself, but give yourself enough grace to take care of you.

At the end of your teenage years, both Dad and Poppa will be diagnosed with cancer. It will hit you like a brick wall. You’ll feel alone, but you are not. Don’t get mad at God. Don’t lose hope. Pray. They will both be cleared by the time you graduate. There is a light at the end of every tunnel. Be strong, be brave.

Laugh. Laugh until your stomach hurts. That includes at yourself – you can’t take yourself too seriously.

Take lots of pictures.

Eat cake while your metabolism is going at the speed of light.

Be thankful.

Forgive.

Don’t rush growing up. I know it all seems cool – getting your license, going to college, finding a job. But being an adult comes with a lot of responsibilities. Enjoy the fact that you don’t have as many right now. Take it one day at a time and don’t wish your years away. When you’re 22, you’ll be missing the days you were 13 and didn’t have a care in the world.

You’re 13. You are young and full of wonder at the years to come. If there is anything I want you to do, it’s to stop worrying. You do that a lot, but I’ll let you know on a little secret that only I can tell you – you’re going to be okay. You have a bright future ahead of you. Your life will never be perfect, but it sure is beautiful.

Like you – never perfect, but surely, undoubtedly beautiful.

The Pinata

November 5, 2015

And right when I least expected it, there It was.
Its undeniable beauty, charm, and alluring temptation caught my eye like a blinking streetlight in the middle of the night.
It was different from the others I had seen; something about Its vibrant colors and child-like nature made my heart skip a beat.
It called me in.
The way It just loosely drifted where the wind blew It made it impossible to look away, as if It was directly saying "Go ahead. Give me a chance."
And I couldn't say no. I wanted whatever was inside.
I approached It, cautiously but with wonder, slowly but with haste, and took a whack at It.
It jerked away quickly in response and wandered back slowly, completely unbroken.
Without hesitation, I took another swing. This time my efforts left a dent, but  It still refused to break.
I hit It another time, this time with more force.
Nothing.
Now the frustration was building inside of my body as my heart began to burn, but I wasn't letting go without a fight. I knew what I wanted. I knew It held promise.
"Enough for today," I said to myself, "maybe tomorrow, or the next day, or the next..."

I came back everyday for weeks upon weeks until they turned into months, but I still couldn't get It to come down from where It was knotted so tightly.
Perhaps someone once tied It a little too securely.
But I wasn't giving up. There were times I almost thought It would open, that Its beautifully colorful pieces would fly through the air as I caught whatever came out of It to keep to myself.
Oh, the joy the vision of that held in my head.
Other times I felt too exhausted, almost to the point of hopeless, as if I had nearly accepted that I wasn't strong enough to keep trying.
"You'll always be there, over my head as I beg you to come down."
But I couldn't walk away,
"It'll be worth all of this effort", I promised myself each night as I faded away to sleep, dreaming of the prize It held.

One day, when the construction of my confidence was almost complete, I pursued another attempt.
But today was different.
Today It was gone.
So I ran, full speed until I could find It.
No matter where It was, I still wanted It.
And just as I thought that maybe now was the time to finally let go, to finally open my clenched fists of the fantasy I pictured beyond Its cardboard walls,
There It was - with all the promise the world could offer, retied somewhere new, and this time not as tightly.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Finally."

Thinking I could take down Its prideful refusal to move with one blow, I went at It with all I had.
But there It stayed, swaying and stubborn over the defeated limbs It was teasing.
"I can't do this anymore!", I shouted at It as if I expected a satisfactory response that might offer comfort, "I can't take another day of this false hope!"
I resented It.
I lost trust in It.
I almost hated It, for all that time It lured me in only to stay right where It was despite Its desperate begging to come down.
I broke.
I picked up my bat and I swung, over and over and over again as if nothing would come next if I failed to complete the mission my heart sent me on so long ago.
I was relentless, fearlessly striking It with controlled yet desperate hands as hot tears revealed themselves from where they had been hiding, and with an exhausted breath I gave in.
And in that moment, as I threw away the bat, I looked up from the ground I had fallen on, to see that
It had broken and almost in slow motion,
As its knotted string slipped loose
And its colored exploded
It
Was
Falling.
And when It finally joined me there on the ground, broken and vulnerable after the fight was fought and the white flags were risen,
I surrendered on my knees in tearful defeat and felt the most heart-wrenching, heavily-sinking disappointment as I studied all of Its aesthetically shattered pieces on the floor.
Because then was when I realized that to my dismay, but not to my surprise, that the entire time

It was Empty.

"I Found" - Amber Run

Learning To Let Go

I think from here on out I'm going to stop apologizing from my lack of posts and gently ask you to not expect me to post too consistently. As much as I'd love to have an hour or two to literally sit and write every day, that does not happen for months on end. But I'm here tonight, and that makes me so grateful! I've been itching to blog for weeks and I finally caught a good moment to curl up with a little wine, a couple candles, and a lot of writing material to approach this one with. I hope it was worth the wait (I say this as if you were waiting for it. You probably weren't but that's alright). Also, disclaimer: this is one of my more vulnerable posts. Bear with me. Thanks)!

Five years ago to the day, I was at the tail end of my eighth and final cross country season. One crisp autumn day at practice, coach decided that our form during races while going downhill was terrible - he explained how we were locking up our bodies, as if we were afraid to fall, and that it was slowing us down when we could be taking advantage of the downhill momentum. He instructed us instead to loosen our limbs as much as we could - expanding our arm span to further widen the strides between each step. In his words, "you have to learn to just let yourselves go."

As a senior, I was the captain of twenty-one girls and therefore was depended on by my coach to be a leader - the one who goes first. So of course, he volunteered me to demonstrate what a proper downhill should look like - "Molly, you're the captain here. Why don't you show the girls how it's done?"

I laughed as I confidently strutted to the top of the steepest hill of our course. I gazed down the yellow grass that sloped to the flat surface at the bottom of the incline, assessing the difficulty and carefully planing out my steps before taking the first one. When I felt ready, I went for it - I leaped my leg out in front of me and let the other follow, transforming every joint in my body into jello. I felt as if I had a hold of myself for maybe the first five steps, and then quickly realized I was doomed when my legs began moving with too much speed for the rest of my body to handle. I guess this is why they say it's the captain that goes down with the ship.

Before I knew it, my legs had completely given out behind me as my body slammed into the ground halfway down the hill, my face planted into the muddy grass, and my legs ending up over my head as I front-flipped my way to the bottom. And then I just laid there as my coach and teammates burst into hysterics (which is okay, because I was doing the same). Since our course was in the back of our fairgrounds (yes, the one I passed out at), the grass was covered in cow droppings. That day was the day my teammates endearingly coined, "the practice Molly literally ate shit."

I got up and tried again, the next time more successfully. After each attempt, I slowly began to develop the art of letting my body go in a somewhat-controlled form without ending up covered in crap. With each meet that went by after that, I used each downhill to pass as many people as I could. It quickly became my favorite part of each race, aside from the end.

Several autumns later, I'm in a completely different stage of life but I'm still learning to just let myself go - except I'm currently in the position of front-flipping out of control. For as long as I can remember, I've been running through life in a locked-up position: planning my future carefully before I take a step to ensure everything goes exactly how I expect it to, kind of like I did that day at cross country practice right before face-planting. And that's exactly where it lead me today - a place I never pictured myself in when I took the first step into this new stage of life.

I'm over ten months out of college (what), I can barely pay my rent, my job is beyond mediocre and not a day goes by that I don't think "what the heck am I doing?" Before I had a purpose in waiting this season out, but to my own surprise the relationship I planned my life around no longer exists. I'm suddenly trying to figure out what the future looks like by myself, and I'm in a space where I literally don't know to do that. This has caused me to wrestle with a ton of emotions, a lot of soul-searching, answer-seeking, confusion, hurt, and hopelessness, to be honest. I haven't thought about Molly's future with no one else attached in five years. It's one of the most strange and uncomfortable places I've ever been.

To deal with this, my natural, control-freak instinct wants to carefully narrow each option down and carefully plan out the next step in my life - and that's where I'm being challenged. I just returned home from a college retreat with my church here, now that I'm a college ministry leader (which is an absolute blessing, by the way). Last night during our last session, Todd Roberts, pastor of Antioch Sheffield in England (I know - awesome, right?) spoke about making ourselves available to God's call. It's less about being called to a specific vocation or ministry, and more about making ourselves available to what God has for us. During his message, he asked "Are you making yourself available, and if not what is it that's holding you back?" It hit me like a brick wall. I realized that for the last five years, I've just been waiting for the ultimate call, never really feeling as if I'm right where I'm supposed to be. And it never really came because I was never available enough for God to use me the way He wanted to - the relationship I was planning everything else around was holding me back.

Another addition to God's art gallery from last night.

When Todd found himself in this position, he felt God was telling him to sacrifice the American Dream - stop worrying about finding your wife and settling down. Nothing has ever resonated with me so much. I've never wanted anything more than that - to settle down, start my life with someone I love, and have a family, a dog, a house that looks like Pinterest threw up on it, a Subaru Forester with a youth league soccer bumper sticker (I know, someone slap me please). But last night I realized that I've been living my life with my body locked, my mind fixated on the idea of that - and I wasn't going anywhere too far until I was moving toward that. Last night was also day one of God teaching me, "you just have to learn to let yourself go."

So here I am - letting go. Of the American Dream, the ridiculously good-looking husband, the rustic, quote-filled house, the yellow lab, and not just the things of the future, but the present - my job, my finances, the opinions of my family, my comfort, and the things that make sense. I'm available, and I'm ready for anything. I'm at the top of the hill again, but this time I'm not planning out my steps - I'm taking the free fall, trusting that my eternal Coach is there to keep me from falling as those I'm leading watch on. I have no idea where it will take me, and I'm scared out of my mind to let go of the control of the future I've always clenched in my fists - but I'm excited to see what happens as I surrender that to the One who holds my future. I'm already slowly seeing the beginning of this journey - but I'll wait to see it come to fruition a bit before I share that part with you all.

I was given some hope last night, as I had a bit of deja vu. Three years ago (almost to the exact day), I was a sophomore in college on my own retreat as a student. The message was the same, and I decided to let go (temporarily) of the things that were holding me back. The band called those who were making that decision to surrender themselves to God's call to the front - and as I knelt before the Father, I sobbed - but I had never felt so free. That year, I experienced the love of God more closely than ever before, and at the end of that spiritual high I was baptized. Last night, I decided to permanently give up control of my life and make myself available to whatever it is God has for me. I was again called to the front to kneel down and receive prayer. I again felt the freedom I hadn't felt in three years. It may have been a completely different retreat with totally different musicians, but as all of this happened the band played the same song that had played in that very moment three years ago. Here it is, of course today's song of the day:

"I Surrender" by Hillsong

"Here I am, down on my knees again

Surrendering all, surrendering all,

Find me here, Lord as You draw me near

I'm desperate for you, I surrender...

...Lord have Your way in me."