one year

This post was originally going to be a long, sappy post about how much 2018 changed my life and blah blah blah. It was going to be pretty teachy and I was going to attempt to come out sounding like I was all-knowing.

It is now February, so it's a little late for that post. Instead, I'm going to be vulnerable and talk about when my year actually seemed to start and how it progressed.

A few days ago, Trump presented the State of the Union Address, and according to my rather conservative newsfeed on Facebook, it was one of the best SotU speeches of all time. I saw the Livestream running on Facebook but couldn't actually tune in.

Last year, though, I did. Under the allure of a few bonus points for government, I was all over Trump's first-ever State of the Union address- and by "all over", I mean that I did it at the very last moment possible (February 5 at 9 o'clock-technically it was due by class time on the fifth but I was at a golf tournament so I worked with it) to ensure that I would get credit for watching.

I woke up about an hour into the speech surrounded by my concerned parents and terrified sister. I was lying on my side, as one is supposed to be positioned after they have a seizure. It was the second one I had had in my whole life, the first being four years before at church.

THAT is when my 2018 started.

I don't mean that in a dismal way, really and truly. The only long-term effect of the second seizure is that I now have to take two pills every night before I go to bed. I'm blessed to say that I have not had another seizure and my life is in no way subjected to my epilepsy.

While there were no other long term effects, there were a couple of short term ones.

The first was simply stress and anxiety. For the next two weeks, I was stressed and anxious. Besides the whole State of the Union response thing I had due, I was already behind in other classes, for no reason other than being rather lazy and battling a severe case of "senioritis". We were knee-deep in thesis interviews and website creation, gearing up for Orchestra competition, preparing for AP tests, and doing something in forensics that I don't particularly remember because I was probably not paying attention as we went through it (sorry Mrs. Flynn). Also, I was in season for golf, which meant I missed a lot of Mondays to tournaments and basketball season was still raging which meant I cheered at games about twice a week. So, walking into class on Wednesday the 7th, (I had missed Tuesday for a doctors appointment with my dude, Dr. Majid) I felt an overwhelming sense of dread, stress, and anger at myself for not being more productive and actually doing my work. More on that later.

In this season, I learned the truest nature of ministry. I was not the vessel or the messenger, but the student. I watched from the sidelines as God pleaded with me to accept His ministry and to be a part of it. It's hard to admit weakness and learn dependence. I'm still very bad at it.

The second short-term effect was that I could not drive for three months. That sucked, well and truly. My schedule was already crazy enough, so tacking on having to find a ride to everything was enough to make my head spin. My sister was subjected to my early morning practices, and I was subjected to her schedule fluctuations. Kate Holbrook, Elizabeth,  and Katie drove me to golf every time we had practice. Jo and Reagan Wilson split up taking me to focus. Heather drove me, Lauren drove me, Stella drove me, Mrs. Cade drove me. My parents drove me a lot- literally so many people drove me places that it bordered on insanity (whether you are listed or not, know that if you drove me anywhere in this season I am unbelievably grateful to you). I felt like a burden. In my heart of hearts, I completely convinced myself I was. It was undoubtedly the hardest season of my life. One night I was telling Heather that my parents were coming to pick me up from focus but that it would be a while. She told me that next time she would just take me home. I argued with her for like ten minutes about how that was unnecessary and way out of her way. She looked at me- "Lucy, I want to do this for you. I want to spend the time with you. I'd love to serve you in this way." I don't know if I cried in the moment, but I sure do cry every time I think about it. Ministry is treating someone who feels like a burden as if they are a blessing.

Two days after my seizure, I showed up to school ready to take the world by storm and complete all the things I had missed and be completely on-par with all the students who had been in school. This dream may have been accomplished had I been on track before my seizure, but, alas, I was already fighting through a crippling case of senioritis. Regardless, I marched into school that morning an hour early to make up some missed quizzes and catch up on some reading. I sat down by Mr. Keeling's desk and pulled out a piece of paper to make up a quiz about super PACs and realized that I had no earthly idea what the definition or significance of a Super PAC was (leave a comment below because I still don't know). Anyway, I sat in there for a good ten minutes simply staring at the paper. Obviously, Mr. Keeling noticed my internal struggle and said very gracefully that most of the grade struggled on this so he did not even know if he was going to count it. Still, I was unwilling to swallow my pride and told him I would figure it out. When he left the room a couple minutes later, I made my escape. Later that day, he confronted me and I thought he might force me to sit down and write an answer. Instead, he told me that the teachers were all worried about me, and there for me completely if I needed any help or anything. Ministry is recognizing a need and striving to meet it, even if the one struggling is unwilling to accept it.

That same morning, I went to Mr. Davis's room to catch up on my Crime and Punishment reading and prepare for the inevitable reading quiz we would have. I was approximately 50 pages behind- there was NO way I would finish that in the thirty minutes I had before class. The stress of it all finally caught up to me, and I broke down crying on the desk. Like full on. Mr. Davis, I think, knew that I didn't really want my moment of weakness to be acknowledged and left the room. He came back five minutes later- Mr. B (our principal) in tow. Mr. B came over, brought me some tissues, and told me that my teachers were all willing to alter my workload in the next couple weeks as I adjusted. Of course, I was prideful and lightly told him that I would be okay and then tried to shoo him out of the room. He obliged. Once he left, Mr. Davis came over to my desk, knelt down and prayed over me. I could cry just thinking about it. As he stood up, he told me to calm down because he did not think he would be giving us a reading quiz that day. To this day, I wonder if he cancelled it because of me or if he was genuinely not going to give one. After that, I splashed cold water on my face and went back to class as my four classmates were arriving for class to start. Mr. Davis never mentioned my breakdown, and the class went on like normal. Ministry is speaking to God in the silence, and being graceful enough to let Him fill it.

Ministry is the hands and feet- driving you around and turning you on your side and kneeling by your desk and clasping in prayer. Ministry is the eyes and ears- watching the toll life takes on you and being in-tune enough with our brother or sister to notice the difference. Ministry is the mouth- speaking truth and grace over you even when you are to stubborn to appreciate it.

Ministry is the body of Christ- His living, breathing earthly vessel- and it is a very beautiful thing.

Since that day, it has been increasingly easier and easier for me to recognize and accept ministry. I saw it in motion at Kamp, with the counselors of seven-year-olds, thirteen-year-olds and everything in between. Ministry happens on the streets of New York, and in the great rooms of soroity houses.

It happens wherever Christians live and willingly let themselves be used.

Ministry is a living, breathing organism- it's the Body. I have been challenged by this ever since that season of my life, and hope now you will be too.

Deuces,
Lucy

"And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me." 2 Corinthians 12:9