Resting Doesn't Work for Me

For the last thirteen weeks, life made sense. My time had structure and there was a purpose for everything I did. I was surrounded by an incredible community of believers who constantly built me up and encouraged me in my walk. I woke up knowing exactly (almost) what to expect from my day.

Now, I know nothing.

I am home, which is great. Don't misunderstand me. I love spending time with my family (which I'm not really doing at the moment, because the Lazyboneses are still sleeping). But I don't know what to DO. I'm restless. I feel anxious, like I'm supposed to be doing something important but I'm not doing it.

I think I've forgotten how to rest. My mind and body have grown accustomed to just going for the majority of the day, and now that I'm sitting, typing words onto a computer screen, they are freaking out.

Right now, I would be sorting mail. The Baby Ruths would help me distribute all of it and then lunch would start. Tuesday--so that means Chicken/Bacon Sandwiches and potato soup. Water--and lots of it--to drink. Then the cheers would start: "Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiit and paaalace--pit pit and palace--wha!" We'd gaze in awe at the golden sweeper. Then the screen would drop down and everyone would scream like they were surprised to see it. Sir Phaseya the Tan and Sir Snap the G would discover Crazy Old Maurice and his "cottage." They wouldn't be able to answer his riddle, but they'd take the Sword of Majesticity anyway. We'd all chant, "Slay. That. Dragon," and then head off to F.O.B.

My whole day today has been a giant F.O.B. Flat on back. Full of bull. Really, though. My day feels wasted, and only because I'm resting.

This summer was incredible. Incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding. I was able to experience God changing my heart from cold to warm. I felt love, and gave love. I poured my life and my heart out and carried others' burdens and grief with them. God's grace and love was shown to me daily, never because I deserved it, but because that's who God is. And I was constantly reminded of his character in that way.

It's only been two days. But the past two days have felt so...slow. I don't feel like I have a purpose. I feel lazy and now I'm concentrating on the future, when I would much rather keep my mind in the moment.

I pray that I might be reminded of the way camp felt. God is the same God here that he was at Pine Cove. So why should anything be different?

If I've learned anything from being home, it's that I'm not meant for easy work. I don't like it. I need to be doing something for the Kingdom--not because I want to appear like a better person, but because that's where my heart is. I didn't know that until now.

I wanted this blog to be focused on what I learned at camp this year...but my fingers took me in a different direction. That happens a lot when I write. I can't really plan it, you know? It's--well...what comes out, comes out. It's almost as if my brain has no say in it.

My heart. My heart on a page.

That Woman.

I'm That Girl.
-The one who sees, but is never seen.
-The one who hears, but is never heard.
-The one who wants, but never gets.

I wish I wasn't That Girl.
In fact, I choose, right this second, to no longer be
That Girl.

I am going to be That Woman.
-The one who sees, and is seen.
-The one who hears, and is heard.
-The one who wants, gets, and gives back.


...The one who loves, and is loved in return.

Is it possible to change yourself? I've always thought so.
"You can be anything you want to be."--That's what I've been told all my life. So I want to be That Woman.

That Woman is someone who:
-Isn't afraid to be herself.
-Loves unconditionally.
-Shares Christ with the world.
-Brings beauty to people's lives.



I want to dance like no one's watching, even when people are.


I want to sing like all there is, is music.


I want to be brave enough to tell someone how I feel...
Even if I don't know if they feel the same way.


I must have these qualities somewhere within me, otherwise I wouldn't think about them all the time. 


I said before that I'm ready to change...well...that's only partly true.


I'm ready to change outwardly. 


Inside, I've always really been


That Woman.

I Sing Because I'm Free

Do you remember when you were little? I do. I remember knowing everything I needed to know about life: My family loved me, dogs were the best thing ever, and I could sing. There was no indecision, no uncertainty about the future...I lived every moment knowing what and who I was.

I remember the first time I realized I was supposed to be a singer. I was watching Sister Act II (I know, right?), and in the movie Sister Mary Clarence tells Rita, "If you wake up in the morning and all you can think about is singing, you were meant to be a singer, girl." My little four-year-old brain had a lightbulb! moment and and I thought, "Yep. I'm a singer." 

And it was true. I have been singing for literally longer than I can remember. Not only would I wake up in the morning singing the song in my head, but I would also sing myself to sleep. It wasn't because I thought I was any good (I didn't discover I actually could sing until a few years later)...it was simply because somewhere in my soul it felt right.

And that was it. Simple as that. I was meant to be a singer. 

When you're that young, you don't think about how hard it is to make it. You don't think about how illogical it is to be a singer--how you should focus on something more lucrative, such as engineering or law. You just know what you love, and it makes sense. What I wouldn't give to feel that now.

Now, I have to think about how I don't want to live off of my parents for the rest of my life. How I'm going to have to pay rent. Eat. Keep warm. I have to think about my future family, and supporting them. And all of a sudden something that felt so incredibly right in my soul at age four doesn't make much sense now--at twenty-one. 

The other day I realized how wrong that is.

I sing. I'm consumed with music every second of every day and I don't care if it might not work out. Why would I have this passion if it was meant to go nowhere?

I don't care about being famous. I don't even really care about making tons of money (although I wouldn't say no to it). I just want to do what God created me to do, and there is no way that my voice isn't a part of His purpose for me.

So today, I choose to be four years old again. I am certain of who and what I am--Erin Whitmire, the singer.

Nouns.

I wanted to create a "bucket list" of sorts, because my good friend Ruth made one...and I'm a copycat. But I'm going to do mine a little differently. It's split up into two parts: Places I Want to Go, and Things I Want to Do.

So here goes!


Places I Want to Go:


Ireland (which hopefully will happen in 2012!)

Scotland (ancestry and everything...)


Italy 

Greece


Japan

Africa


ALL 50 States

Spain

New Zealand



Outer Space (scary. but I figure it'd be worth it.)

Things I Want to Do:

Write a song.


Record a Christmas album.

Sing with Brandon Heath.


Sing with Martina McBride (she'll totally blow me away, but that's okay!).

Finish/Publish my book (and write more!).


Eat breakfast in every single state (Hawaii and Alaska included).

Go skydiving.


Go bungee jumping.

Go parasailing.

Fall in love/Get married.


Be a Mom.

Be in a movie--even if I'm just an extra.

Rescue an abused animal.


Learn to play guitar.


Learn to play piano...better.


Watch a meteor shower.

See the aurora borealis.

Share Christ with the world.


Have a cup of coffee in every country I visit.

This list is not in any way comprehensive...but it's a start. The truth is, there are so many things that I want to do in my lifetime that it would be difficult to write them all down. I'm sure I'll discover more things that seem intriguing, or think some up. For now, this is what I've got. 

Let's do this.