In My Distress...

In my distress I called to the LORD;
I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came before him, into his ears.
Psalm 18:6

Yep. That’s right, cried. I did that today. The reason doesn’t matter so much now, because it was more the conglomeration of everything about the next two weeks than any one thing. But it happened.

You know what though? Crying wasn’t the end of the world. In fact, after the deluge the world looked better. I was able to talk things through with my mom, Ashley, and others. We came up with some practical steps to get through the next few days and worked to solve some problems that were driving me crazy. I did what I needed to do to take care of myself, and moved on with my evening. Incidentally, I felt better having cried and released the emotion than I would have felt if I carried it bottled up inside all evening. Crying out allowed me to let go.

Later I began thinking that life is sometimes like a Psalm. I learned in Old Testament class last semester that over half the Psalms are laments. Each one is David crying out to the Lord about his trials, frustrations, sins, and battles.

The lament doesn’t stop there, however. Proper form includes 1) a cry for help, 2) a description in detail of the problem and 3) a statement of trust in the Lord.

Our lives are the same way. We are often caught crying out to the Lord, asking him to help us and to deliver us from our affliction. Yet at the end of our prayers and frustrations we are constantly brought to the fact that God is the almighty, powerful, loving, just, and merciful Creator of the Universe. We can and should trust Him with every little issue.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:28-31

I guess what I’m saying is that it’s ok to cry. David did. I did. Jesus did. We do.

 It is not, however, enough to stop at the cry. Nor should we just spew out every tiny detail of our problem to God (who ironically knows it all anyway). Rather, after doing both those things, we need to hand it back over to God, who had control all along, and let Him take care of it.

Sometimes the storm of emotions needs to happen, but grasp onto the supernatural calm after the storm. Have your cry, get over it, trust God, and move on.

The Power of Words: A Conversion Story

“She’s a convert,” said Marquita Smith, my journalism professor, Monday morning in class. She’s right, I am a convert.

You see, at the beginning of last semester I came and sat down in her office. I was scared to death and had no idea what I was getting myself into. I was a freshman and so the idea of college in general was enough to be unnerving, but on top of that I was scheduled to take News Writing I and I was terrified. I explained to her how my family didn’t get the newspaper and didn’t watch TV and how I didn’t have the first clue about keeping track of news, let alone writing my own news articles and finding my own stories.

I wasn’t sure I belonged in her class at all, and even if I had to take it I was sure I would hate it and do poorly in it. She took a minute to tell me that the class was in fact required for Public Relations minors and that I would be fine. She promised I would quickly learn what I needed to know about news values and writing stories and then sent me on my way. I was still hesitant, but I figured I would give it a try and see what happened.  Oh, by the way, I was kind of scared of her, too. Needless to say I wasn’t in a happy spot that day.

On the first day of class, Professor Smith began by instructing us that we would be expected to check the news every day. We would have current events quizzes at the beginning of most classes. In addition, accuracy was very important in news writing, so if we misspelled or misprinted any pertinent information, we would automatically receive a failing grade on that assignment. She would treat us as she would treat her reporters and the classroom as a newsroom. I left class that day feeling even less at ease than during my earlier meeting with Professor Smith. I didn’t really want to do this. I was intimidated and frankly scared out of my wits.

The next few weeks, I lived in fear of that class. I hated it. I was out of my comfort zone and routinely felt clumsy, clueless, and inept as I handled the issues of current events and news writing and reporting. I was scared of failure and hated the feelings of insecurity and lack of control that the class daily gave me. The first current events quiz, I knew maybe two answers of the five. I didn’t even think I was that good at writing. Things were not going as planned. I was frustrated and scared, but I kept going to class, hoping it would get better.

Gradually, I began to understand and engage with more of what happened in class. I was learning to pay attention to, absorb, and understand the events in the world going on around me. Throughout the semester, my news quiz grades got better because I began to understand what makes something news in the first place.  I developed habits of checking the news, gaining background information on current stories, and watching new stories develop.

To make a long story short, I progressively learned not to fear Professor Smith. Instead she has eventually become a trusted friend and advisor. I enjoyed learning things in her class and became a decent news columnist.  I have now published a few news articles and opinion columns in the paper and have edited many more than that. Since the middle of last semester, my view toward the world of news and journalism has been experiencing drastic improvement.

Not only was my view toward journalism improving, but I also caught the writing bug. Between News Writing class, some of my assignments for Gateway, and this blog that I began for Honors Orientation, I gradually discovered how much writing meant to me. I learned I can influence others with my writing.

Not only does it influence others, my writing also influences me. Like Dr. Stratman sometimes says about essay writing, “The more you write the smarter you get.” This means to me that sitting down with my laptop or a pen and paper allows me to process and outline ideas that before were just vague blobs in my head. By putting them onto paper, they become clearer, more refined, and stronger ideas. Ideas are powerful things; when refined they can create incredible change in a person and those around her. This is why I love writing. It’s not static and dead, but rather living and breathing. My stories come alive when I put them on paper. My ideas gain vibrancy and strength and actually can communicate effectively when I write.  

An amazing transformation and change had occurred in me. I was “a convert.” I no longer hate journalism. The same girl who swore she would never do journalism and never, ever imagined herself working with the school paper now loves her journalism classes and is excited about working with the student newspaper next year. What has gotten into me?! College had changed me, and I believe it is for the better.

Now, my experience in journalism this year isn’t the only thing that has affected and changed me. I aim to write about more of those things soon (but I have a few finals to get through first!). I want to take some time to reflect on the changes that my freshman year of college has instilled in me. Be on the lookout for what’s next in my college journey!