Remembering the Game

Growing up, most people knew me as the show choir/theatre kid. That was my role in high school. That is how I’m featured in my senior high school yearbook.

Then as I pursued college, I embraced theatre more boldly by changing my major from Professional Writing to Theatre. I flourished in this environment. After graduating, I was given multiple opportunities to showcase my talent for all things theatre. I’m beyond grateful for those opportunities and feel some grief that my current situation makes it difficult to participate in theatrical endeavors.

Nevertheless, my current situation has given me the chance to return to one of my first loves—basketball. Not only do I have access to a nice court with my YMCA; I have the same drive and competitive nature that hasn’t lessened with age. I don’t know what comes over me when I get on the court. I don’t know why I get emotionally charged when I watch a Fever game. I suppose my love for the game never died.

I’m not delusional. I know my limitations. I know I’m in my forties. I know I’ll never be a part of a competitive team. These limitations aren’t stopping me from trying my best to land that shot or improve my dribble. I know I’m out of practice and sloppy at times. It doesn’t phase me. I’ve always loved the game since I first picked up a ball. I remember my middle school coach investing in me. I remember getting cut from the freshman team because according to the coaches, “I just wasn’t tall enough”. I have vivid memories of working hard to prove to others that I had a unique edge simply because I was obsessed with the game. My life could have gone completely differently, if I had just chosen to work harder and tried out as a sophomore. I decided differently and found a loving, welcoming community in music and theatre.

I suppose now that God has once again pulled me back to my hometown (despite my protest), I can heal this longstanding brokenness. I can come back to the court and prove to myself that, despite my old age and short stature, I can still work to improve my game and remember how powerful and heavenly it feels to play.

I'm Back

It's been almost two year since my last post. I haven't abandoned my blog. Most of my reflections have just felt too personal to post on a public landscape. I also recognize that blogging is losing its platform popularity. Most people are posting and engaging with reels to communicate online. I still have a writer's soul, so I will inevitably return to this long-standing blog to occasionally update whoever choices to read it.

My mother passed away on July 14, 2024. It was a beautiful event for me. I knew she wasn't doing well, and I asked God that she could at least make it to her birthday. She passed on her birthday, which gave me peace about it. She had a tumultuous life due to her illness, and I always wished her peace. I was able to speak at her funeral, which had a large attendance for someone who had trouble socializing with people. The warmest part of the whole experience happened the day after her funeral.

I started my job at a nursing home. When my mom could no longer live at home, she was transferred to a nursing home. Seeing her in such a facility made me long to work in such an environment. Working at my job serves as a constant reminder of the love I have for my mother. I want to be a person who cares for people in their most vulnerable and dark days. Mom, thank you for the inspiration.

Working in a nursing home didn’t come without sacrifice. Nursing homes are miraculous places, but it is hard to see residents in their last years with failing bodies and minds. Beyond facing these hardships, I'm currently unable to participate in theatre. This reality feels both confusing and disruptive. Theatre felt like something that would always be there. God sent me to Taylor University, giving me an ideal campus and community to nurture my love for this art. It is a real sacrifice.

I share all this, not to bemoan my current circumstance. I love my job. I love everything about it. I am living my best life. Sometimes to experience something heavenly, you must sacrifice something that is very dear to you. It hurts. There's no sugar coating it. I am still writing plays. I’m still watching any play I can. I suppose it is unfair to accuse God of robbing me of my love for theatre. He still acknowledges my desire and will satisfy it when required.

I suppose the only other thing to share has been a reality for a few years now. I haven’t been attending church. This reality might shock many of my friends who know me as the girl who is obsessed with everything spiritual. I was known for obsessively attending church, prayer meetings, Bible studies, and anything Jesus related. I was radical in many of my thoughts. In fact, I don’t doubt some of my friends thought I was too radical—maybe even weird. What changed? I don’t really know. I had some betrayal in my life that derailed me. My mental illness made me susceptible to false thinking so it’s hard to attend church, which can be an emotional tornado at times. I don’t trust religious leaders. I wouldn't recognize red flags if the community was a cult. I suppose I’m facing a deluge of reasons, so I simply avoid visiting a church to protect myself. I’m thankful my relationship with Jesus is more solid than ever. My nursing home is my current church for now, teaching me about the character of God.

That’s all for now. Thanks for reading.

Basketball

When I started playing basketball in middle school, I became suddenly obsessed and competitive. I really don’t know where the desire and determination originated. It became  a life long companion when I felt lost.

Unfortunately, I cared more about my performance than I did about my teammates. My developing brain didn’t comprehend that I was hurting the team dynamics because I was stuck in my own head. I don’t remember having coaches who encouraged team work. Instead they focused on drills and exercises, which granted skills and improved athleticism with little comradery. 

Additionally, I had an awkward stage in middle school. My elementary friends simply abandon me as I crossed into my early teen years. As a lost child, I could have used coaches who recognized my insecurities masked behind my athletic showmanship.

Basketball has continued to be my therapy. I can be on a court, away from it all, and feel like my true self. Even if I stepped away from the court and lost my aim, I loved returning to find it again.

I am overjoyed that female basketball is gaining more notoriety due to Caitlin Clark’s discipline and character. I never really liked watching men’s basketball on TV. The game is different depending on what gender takes the court. I find myself entranced in woman’s basketball. I actually want to watch the games leading to the playoffs, know the stats of the players, and watch how the game changes over the next few years.

The Chosen

It took me a few episodes, but once I committed to watching the first season, I found myself hooked on The Chosen. I love how the writers bring the scriptures to life, giving historical context and creating flawed but redeemable characters.

Lately, I find myself fighting against the sin of covetousness. I too want to be an actress in shows that share the Gospel. Additionally, the main actors and actresses in the series are what I would describe as “Hollywood” attractive. The men are rugged and strong. The women are tall and skinny. I’ve been struggling with weight gain and have always felt that my height is far shorter than I would prefer. (I acknowledge that following Christ would cause your body to be both skinny or muscular.)

The remedy to my insecurities might be to meditate on the truth, which teaches us that Christ was attracted to the lowly. Those who felt humbled, weak, and meek.

Despite my spiritual battle with covetousness, I am still a loyal fan of The Chosen series. I loved how Season 4 ended. No spoilers! Ahhhh, I want to shout it from the rooftops, but I’ll let the audience experience it first hand for themselves.

Jordan Peterson

I had the honor and privilege of seeing Jordan Peterson for his We Who Wrestle With God Tour. I had heard him speak online about finding an adventure, so that your life will have meaning. I bravely drove to Indy by myself for the event, which required a certain level of bravery. (Not a fan of unfamiliar surroundings.)

Expecting to hear about his upcoming book, I was slightly disappointed. He spoke about things that I had heard in previous lectures online. Despite my disappointment, I wasn’t dissatisfied. I wanted to see him in person. To occupy the same space. Not through a screen.

When I consider his worldview, I fantasize about him being my therapist. I just trust him more than the clinicians I have met in my life. I feel like I could ask him hard questions and he would be able and cautious to give the right answer.

I’m looking forward to his upcoming book. In the waiting, I’m leaning on Christ. Like Solomon, I’m asking for wisdom. Like many in the scripture, I’m asking for healing. I know I must not idolize Jordan. He is one man with a vast influence who probably doesn’t even know I exist. I must trust myself to a higher good. A Good who protects me and sees me as a beloved daughter.