I love to write. It’s something that makes sense to me…organizing your thoughts in whatever way you feel like. When you are the writer, you make the rules. I like this, because you’re making records of how you feel, but you can be as cryptic or as public as you wish. This past summer was a really hard time for me. I met someone who changed me. If I’ve ever been in love with anyone, it was him. However, “him,” was everything I didn’t need and everything I did all in one person. A lot about him helped me discover that I wasn’t really being myself, I still cared way too much about pleasing people. Way, WAY too much. He helped me become a true artist. He became my best friend, when I was in the absence of one. But there was a huge void in this relationship: Jesus. I thought I could change or force him into a relationship with God, but in reality, that just isn’t true. I am not God. I can not force salvation on anyone. In this time, I chose to be with someone who was helping me “find myself.” What does that even mean? I have my whole identity in Christ. That, right there, is where I went wrong. I had my identity…I just needed a more laid back personality. In this time, when I was choosing what God didn’t have for me, His voice was
very extremely difficult to hear. I distanced myself from him and wouldn’t give up the thing that was keeping me from Him. I KNEW what I had to do, I just wouldn’t. But, I did keep active journals and writings everyday through this time, dictating my heart.
I hesitate to release this. Not because I’m still where I was when I wrote this, not because I haven’t fully healed of this relationship, but because I don’t want you to question like I did. Jesus is GOOD. He’s more than ENOUGH. He is PRESENT. He is always AVAILABLE to you. Don’t let this writing confuse you. Rather, let it spur you on towards a relationship with your savior that isn’t so shallow as to be swayed by such little things as earthly, temporal love. Let this encourage you to the arms of your Savior, His written word and helping those who are feeling as far from God as I did this summer, even though I was most assuredly saved. Be the ears to listen, be the person to ask “how are you doing” and actually care.
With that said, I am no longer at this state. This time grew me in ways that I can’t even begin to describe. I know this post is not theologically or even Biblically correct, but it is REAL. This is REALLY what I was feeling. This is me being honest. This is me saying things that people are afraid to. I was in a rebellious phase when this was written, I am so thankful for my picturesque childhood, but it was fitting to include it as part of this free-writing. So, basically take this with a grain of salt.
Then go and pray for God to show you people around you that you can help see Jesus more fully.
So, with no further adieu, this is a writing from this summer entitled, “Finding Yourself:”
“A raindrop falls from the sky. You see it land on the window you blankly stare out of, on the way to nowhere.
But, where will it go?
It may meld with another drop and travel a while. It may find its own path and slither through, not really knowing the others.
It may gather with many making a vein of life running gently in front of your eyes, strong and proud.
But does that gentle little drop ever have a choice? Does its parent cloud determine its final destination or just its origin? Are the cloud and the rain always connected? Are they really dependent on one another?
You are the rain drop.
You must fall.
Simply because of your identity. But where will you go? And how will you get there?
We really are all just subjects of gravity. But what or who is that gravitational force? And where does that gravity pull us? Are we falling towards eternity or oblivion? Should we have hope or just write it all off?
However you define this, we are all falling collectively. We can choose to help each other along, making that vein of life running through galaxies, not trapped by time.
We can be a detriment to everything and everyone around us, stealing the water of life from those who can’t make it on their own.
What will you choose? And how will you get there? Is it even your choice?
I’m Elizabeth Ross Wall.
Born to two conservative Christian parents, smack-dab in the middle of the Bible belt, in Greenville, SC on August 2, 1991.
An epicenter for engineering, my dad one of them. My mother, a “stay-at-home mom.”
And, of course, I am the middle child. One of three. I have an older brother, by two and a half years, and a younger sister, by three and a half. (I think the halves are considered important.)
We all have family names, and classic ones at that.
I come from a world where there were no questions- everything was absolute. Everything was concrete. Everything could be held in your hands. I never questioned that. I never questioned anything.
I don’t know where this is going. And I don’t know if I like it. But I know I have to find myself. And I know that I have to find a way to do it.
I begin this journey not knowing where it will end. I am still on this generic path to generic-ville. And I want badly to get off of it.
Lets take a jog together in a different direction.
I’m scared to stop.
This is uncomfortable. I don’t get to speak next, I’m subject to the words and discipline of someone else.
Letters, numbers, words, sounds, facial expressions, tune-out, goodbye.
I am me. I am three. In a world with no bounds, no limits, no spells, no rules, my OWN world.
Why do you label everything? Why must everything have a label, why can’t it just be what it is?
Like the “Bumble-ball” that I hold to the top of my head, letting it fill my body with the oscillations of its insides. How does it work? I don’t know and I don’t care. It is not a “Bumble-ball” at all. It is magic. It is joy. It is escape.
Escape is a feeling, not a thing. Why give a name to escape? But we must learn, conventionally. We must learn the way in which everyone else learns. Because that is the only way, right?
Convention: A generally excepted standard for all of society.
Why be all of society? Why not be three?
That began it all. That moment began my life of convention, of wealth, of concrete, of a solid rock, of answers, never questions.
I am writing this at the angriest and most confused point of my life.
I’ve never known any kind of anger other than the temporal kind. I feel strangely alive for the very first time. I’m throwing EVERYTHING out of the window. My five year plan: gone. My attachments to everything: gone. My concrete: gone.
My whole life, from the very beginning, I’ve been called an extrovert, but I’m not. I’m a closet introvert, really. I enjoy being alone, I enjoy silence. But I’ve always been taught that neither is okay, that something is wrong with you if you are okay with that way of life.
What’s my name again?
I feel absolutely ridden with amnesia.
Did this happen
Is this happening
What happens when you allow someone to change you?
Do you fight it
Do you stop it
Do you allow it?
I no longer know my identity, which means someone has to define it.
So, this is how this feels.
Who where what how why where wh what wh wha, huh?
White, all white
No one I know decorates in all white
Who do I know?
How do I know them?
I don’t know anything.
What’s my name again?
I don’t know you.
But you can tell me who I am?
Do I trust you, Do I scream, Do I run, Do I listen with closed heart and mind?
Who is the truth, What is the truth, Where is the truth?
Are you the only one willing to show me this relativity?
I think of him everytime I hear the word “because” said with a a certain length of the “au” syllable being spoken more like an long “o” sound.
I’m scared I don’t know who I am without you.
Jesus has always been my everything, but somehow I don’t hear His voice, rather yours echoing in my head all day and night.
Why is that?