Only a Man: "I'll give you what you need."

There's a song by Jonny Lang that always reduces me to tears. It's called Only a Man and essentially it's a man, talking about his life leading up to a point where he breaks down and realizes that he's nothing more than human and rededicates his whole being to God. At the end, he and God are having a conversation. He's somewhat doubting the whole thing and after the man promises to give God his desires, God says, "I'll give you what you need." That line inspired this post.

            I’ve got a lot of obsolete things in my life. I’ve got selfish ambitions. I’ve got this sense that I’m better than some people (I think you call that pride). I’ve got a truck that needs a little work. I’ve got a bunch of blog posts where I whine about ridiculous things while maybe only one where I talk about God. I’ve got a bunch of songs about heartbreak, all suggested from a friend that refuses to talk to me anymore. I’ve got a lot of ironic things that I’d love to whine about too. I’ve got two cats that are more trouble than their worth, both of whom I let outside on occasion in hopes that they don’t come back. I’ve got regrets that hit me like a brick every time I attempt to go to sleep. I’ve got thousands of pages of unfinished novels, cluttering up my hard drive, stories that I’ve given up on because I got bored. I’ve got the keys to my house and truck that I don’t go anywhere without. I’ve got eighty bucks in the bank and a wad of dollar bills in my wallet. I’ve got clothes in my closet that I’ve never worn but can’t bring myself to give up. I’ve got a lot of burnt bridges (and a matchbook just in case I need to ignite anymore). I’ve got air condition and a nice cozy room. I’ve got a lot of great story ideas floating around in my head. I've got Candle (Sick and Tired) by White Tie Affair playing on my stereo. I’ve got bottled water in the fridge, and of course the tap if that runs out. I’ve got respect from people that I probably don’t deserve. I’ve got oxygen in my lungs.

            The list goes on and on, only I’m too tired to continue. The past several weeks have been a bit trying, but I’ve learned something tonight.

            Everything, all of this is obsolete  and you don’t need any of it. When you really think about it, a lot of this stuff is hard to get. I spent one night on a curb waiting for a toe truck to come and pick up my truck to take it home. A couple years back, I spent maybe an hour tumbling around in a bush trying to capture my favorite calico kitten from the litter that had been born down the street. And if I could get back all those hours spent on failed manuscripts (“chasing plot bunnies” as a dear old friend would say) I’d have too much time on my hands to spend on things that would eventually matter. And while breathing is typically easy, tell that to an asthmatic.

            I don’t know if I’m getting off topic here or not and I’m too emotionally exhausted to go back and reread this to figure it out. What I wanted to say is that it’s easy to tell your mom that you need a new pair of shorts because it’s summer finally, and it’s just as easy to tell God that you need a social life because summer's two weeks in and you've spent your days googling octopi because you're so. dang. bored. But sometimes, it’s good to take a step back and realize that you don’t need to tell God about all these things that you are in dire need of. Because He knows.

            And there’s something that we too often seem to forget. We don’t really need any of this at all. That’s right guys: despite what Mrs. Harbin told us in second grade, we don’t need shelter or food or water. Or even air. Yeah, we do essentially need it to keep from keeling over, but we don’t need any of it in the grand scheme of existence.

Indeed. There’s only one thing we truly need. Can you guess what it is?

God. Duh. (I’m not trying to sound smart, that’s just about what it sounded like in my head when I came to the conclusion.) We only need one thing, dead or alive, and that’s God. He’s all we’ll ever need because God's pretty dang good at making sure we get the things that keep us alive and happy. (Because God wants you to smile and live your life silly.)

            And the beauty of it is this: while sometimes it’s hard to acquire all these obsolete things, it’s not hard to embrace God at all. He’s been there since day one, right by your side, waiting for you to take up your own cross, leave behind all the things that don’t matter, and follow him. In the words of the Rolling Stones, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.” God’s all you’ll ever need, from right now until the end of time. The rest is just a bonus. Divine blessings. Call it grace.

            Besides, breathing’s so overrated compared to Jesus anyways. ;)

-Shelby

Update: I never seem to remember to address this before I've already posted the rest, but there's a pretty picture for you, courtesy of me, barreling down the highway in Houston at 70 miles per hour. It doesn't have much to do with the post, but I feel the need to have a picture in my post because when I post the link on facebook it probably makes it look more interesting. Who knows? Maybe you're one of the few Texas history buffs on my friend's list and the sight of Sam Houston gave you the butterflies so you came to read my blog, all the while thinking you're going to read about the big fella' there but instead got to share in my epiphany instead. It's possible. Anyways, you're welcome.

Update: I feel the need to put a disclaimer since I decided to do a Christianly post. If I've gone completely blasphemous with this post and you've noticed and I'm too dim to notice, let me know please.

Just Set Me Free- Dreams Are Like Balloons

Dreams are like balloons. I swear.

So I looked at my previous posts tonight and I almost shut down the computer and went to bed. One post that really got me was where I wrote how I was going to finish my book by Spring Break and if that didn't work out, I'd at least have it done by summer. That's funny because I gave up on that story months ago. Saturday, I gave up on the story that followed the first (and by first, I actually mean thirteenth in a long line of stories that I've started over the past two years.) And after typing that out, I just want to cry. I know I'm sixteen, but I feel like I'm constantly failing at the one thing I'm actually good at. Now we're on lucky story number fifteen.

So the past couple of days haven't been fun. Like I said, I gave up on another manuscript, feeling I'd overcomplicated my whole project. I'm all too afraid that I'm going to be the girl that talks about writing a book all the time but never has anything to show for it. I know I'm just a kid, and I know this crazy, obsessive, I'm-going-to-take-over-the-world-by-eighteen-just-to-prove-teens-can-change-the-world-too mentallity of mine can induce some eye-rolling. But it's nights like tonight that I know I can do this, just to prove to others that I can. And not only will I prove it to the naysayers; I'll prove it to myself before the show's over.

It's nights like tonight that I realize what's important. It's nights like these that consist of runny eyeliner and playing songs like "Home Sweet Home" on repeat. It's nights like these that, through this mess that's become a tragedy in my teenage mind, I can see the things that truly matter so very clearly.

After I wrote the other post where I plastered my raw dreams all over the wall of my blog for all of the three people who actually read this, I got a text. It was midnight and my Dad told me to go listen to "Home Sweet Home." I did. It hit home. Last night, I bought Carrie Underwood's version on iTunes. I've been listening to it ever since.

I've also talked about home in my blog before. I'm revisiting that theme tonight, seeing as the word "home" is repeated about thirty times in this song. Thinking about it now, home for me is less of a place than it is a time. To me, home feels like a time in the near future when I've actually written something worthwhile. When I've actually made it to where I want to be. See, to me, home is the epitome of happiness, as I bet it is for a lot of people. Home is that day when you smile, look back, and say, "Hey. I did it. This is what I've wanted. This is what I've worked for. I did it. And I'm proud because I am who I always wanted to be. And nobody stopped me."

So here I go, ranting about my writing again: I'm starting a new manuscript Wednesday. I'm giving myself a month to finish it. Make it or break it. I won't second guess myself. I won't  over-complicate things because I don't think my writing's good enough. And I won't worry about the people who don't have the time for me. I won't let them pull me down. I won't.

"I'm on my way. Just set me free. Home sweet home."

So I'm encouraging you, whoever you are, to believe in these, your dreams. They are the greatest things you have. A dream is like a balloon. Instead of helium, it's filled with potential, your potential, so much in fact that it's going to float right out of your hands if you don't hold onto the end of the string tight enough. And that string? That's a chance. Everyone's got one, and even when it slips out of your hands, if you swipe at it again, you might just find yourself a second chance. You hold onto that string and believe that your gonna' be just fine and pretty soon everyone who didn't believe in you will look like ants. You'll reach the stars before the night is over.

I'm going to hold onto my balloon until I find the utter happiness and satisfaction of making my dream come true. Then it's home sweet home.

-Shelby

P.S. Big thanks to the one friend that was there for me tonight. You showed me the truth. And God is good.

P.P.S. Disregard the part where balloons pop when they get too high up in the atmosphere. That kind of kills my whole metaphor.

P.P.P.S. That's my picture, I took it at the drive-in a couple weeks back. That night was nice. It was before a lot of things went crazy. Still, I look at that picture and feel better. I'm proud. hahaha.