Tuesday, November 22nd, 2016

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I’m inspired and uninspired. I’ve been loved and I’ve been hurt. I feel like I’ve found my purpose, yet I still feel lost.

I’m broken.

But we’re all a little bit broken. We’re all built with a need to grow and to change. We’re programmed to be faced with the worst of times, only to discover we are far stronger than those small adversities. And we’re never supposed to reach a moment when we know exactly who we are and why we were placed on this Earth because, then, what would be the point of living if not to be continuously searching to cure our confusion. So I’ve simply come to the conclusion that God created me to write a broken story.

This semester has been filled with ‘I made it’ moments. Walking down Michigan Avenue, feeling at home in city that once terrified me. Being able to stand up to rejection and being content with my quiet moments. Finding the little things that make me feel alive. Because, truly, getting to read every article submitted to Little City Mag, getting to intern for an incredible company, and getting to sit in classrooms and learn about the passions that burn most brightly within me never fails to bring my life back into focus. Simply knowing the things that make me feel the most like me has changed every single one of my days.

But a year ago today, I scribbled in the lines of my journal – “I’m in one of those situations where just one more bad thing could send me over the edge, and I could wind up in a puddle of tears. It’s not even real things, just little things.”

I was trying to maneuver my way through my first semester at college. I was trying to figure out what it meant to be a Christian in college – planning my course to avoid the hookup culture and the party scene, these incredibly foreign concepts. I was more alone than I have ever felt in all of my time on this planet, nor did my personality type permit me to making a change. I was coming up on my first college finals week. I was trying to figure out how to deal with wounds that I thought were long gone. I was trying to deny the pains that needed tending to.

It’s funny. Though, I can hardly recognize the girl who thought those words, she faced the same things I do. Though, I have grown into a person I certainly wasn’t a year ago, I’m no less confused and hurt and near “the edge” than I was a year ago. And though my good moments may be a little more plentiful than she was given, my change has not subsided the brokenness glued to my existence.

Our stories are filled with many of the same things – with highs and lows, hopefulness and discouragement, joy and trials. Because, at the end of the day, we’re all broken people.

God created us as broken people. He left a void in our creation so our thirst for Him will never be fulfilled by something that is not Him. And that’s the thing I will take away from this year, most of all. Not trying to deny every possible cause for my suffering, not resisting an existence that is overflowing with imperfect moments. It’s accepting my broken story and turning to a God who never fails to fill in the cracks.


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