The Beauty of "What If?"

                I realized something: I LOVE “What If?” “What If?” keeps me going. “What If?”  keeps me day dreaming. “What If?” keeps me coming back to who I am and what I need. Sometimes I learn more from not taking a chance than taking it, moving on, and forgetting I ever paused to think, “What If?”
                I've learned more from not acting than I ever thought possible-- not because I decided to let fear take over, but because I made the choice to be okay with not knowing the right decision before walking in the other direction. Life is confusing and multi-faceted; we can waste away waiting to have all the answers. “What If?” helps me understand what is important, not to society, but to me. Perhaps the answer isn’t always going for it and living without a sense of regret. That can get messy, and even a bit reckless. Our first instinct is not always the best. Our emotions tend to cloud our sense of truth and understanding.
                Maybe instead we should get better at noticing the “What If?” moments and reflecting on them. Sometimes, the answer may be to go for it. Other times, the answer may be in the beauty of the “What If?” that will stay with us the rest of our lives, better preparing us for the next time those two words become our reality.
                With each “What If?” we choose our own path. We take control of our lives. We use our free will to the fullest. Some may view it as running away or letting fear win. I view it as having the courage to walk away, even when the “What If?” blurs the clarity of our destination. Maybe, just maybe, “What If” is the fuel that keeps us going.

The Reality of Rape Culture as a 20-Something Woman

            Everyone has stories that create who they are and what they believe, for better or for worse. Although events leading to suffering differ, the core of suffering, the feeling of being alone, is the same. We are all looking for community, for comfort, and for warmth. Moments that cause suffering can become moments where we find what we need. As a Christian family, we can be a beacon of hope in a world of suffering, spreading out into the streets and inviting all to the banquet of love and acceptance.     
            In situations of rape, we can just as easily be a beacon of shame, casting shadows and making the survivor feel unwanted and unloved instead of offering guidance and a hand to hold. In a society so focused on sexuality, it is easy for us to try to qualify what makes something a crime against humanity. Innocent until proven guilty leaves the victim on the line, waiting to see if the Good Samaritan is real or just a story we tell inside the safe, white walls of a church building. The Urban Gospel Mission, a website for young Christian adults, posted an article last year on sexuality and culture. Instead of focusing on what Christians can do to influence culture positively, the focus was on women’s clothing choices. It ended with the words, “I hope by reading this article there will be someone who will consider this message and rethink of how their choice of attire is representing themselves and their view of God. Women, real beauty is found in Christ. And wearing modest attire is not only for the benefit and protection of yourself, but also to help the men around you from stumbling.” Even within an article that on the surface has nothing to do with sexual assault, the stage is set.
            We feel sorry for her if she wore jeans and was raped, but not if she wore a short dress. If she wore a short dress, she made him stumble and he could not control it. We view rape as a member of a jury, deciding when we should or should not walk alongside the victim. Instead of seeing the survivor as our sister, as a piece of the beautiful puzzle of humanity, we see her as a weak link that pulls us down.We cannot keep creating a culture of unsafe space. We cannot keep watching young girls try to figure it out on their own because we do not want to help them afterwards. We cannot keep refusing to talk about rape and sexual assault or pretend it’s not there. We have to face reality: one in six women. One in six. Not doing anything about women suffering creates a silence so piercing that it rings out across the nation, begging for the day we create a space of safety and comfort for those that need us the most. Our job is to be. Be there for one another. Be there for humanity. Be there for all we share life with. The true meaning of life together takes place when we see suffering, heartbreak, and pain through the lens of connection and understanding instead of separation and disengagement.

It's 3pm

         At 3pm, I will be done with this final. At 3pm, I can begin writing for fun, reading countless books, rambling with friends, and organizing my bows. At 3pm, anything is possible. 3pm. But what happens if I waste my month of no assignments and no deadlines? Is it even possible to waste time? What if my Chefville, nap, and Wii Fit addictions take the place of everything I want to do in the next thirty days? That's when I realized I am afraid of 3pm.          
        Since January, I have had a clear goal: Go to class, Go to work, Prepare for class, Prepare for work, Sleep when there is time, Socialize when there is time, Complain about not sleeping when there is no time, Complain about not socializing when there is no time. Simple. But now there will be an abyss where a schedule used to lie. What if I don't use it well? I have not written in this blog since Christmas break. What if that doesn't change? I haven't finished a book all the way through for fun in months. What if I've forgotten how to stay engaged to the end? Let's be honest-- I've never had a clean room. What if I can't break the habit? 
        I'm finished with my last final, but I am still waiting for 3pm. There's something about a deadline that is hard for me to break. I want to have time to plan for 3pm. I want to have time to decide what is next. But maybe that's not the point. Maybe we aren't supposed to plan life. I guess maybe Lennon was right when he said "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." Yet somehow that's less comforting. Did he mean we have no say? Do plans mean nothing? Or maybe the point of plans is to help us feel a part of our journey. Maybe plans are there to get us where we need to be when we need to be there. Maybe life is what happens when we are busy over thinking the future. Alas, my alarm just sounded. It must be 3pm.