Living to the Fullest: Can a Teenager do it?

Note from Adrian: Today's guest post comes from my sister, Tanna Waller. She's an aspiring writer and singer, and has a rockin' awesome YouTube channel that you should subscribe to. Enjoy her post and leave her some love in the comments section!

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I’m seventeen years old.

I’m too young. Too naïve. Too ignorant or innocent.

In many peoples’ minds, I’ve hardly lived life at all.

But in my short seventeen years I’ve learned many things.

I’ve learned that you have to give to get. Not everyone is going to like you, no matter how hard you try. You have to treasure the moments you have with your loved ones because there will never be enough of them. I’ve learned that family, friends, and even your enemies are all important, and all deserve to be loved.

I’ve learned that life is about adapting, about changing, and about making the best out of any situation, no matter how hopeless it may be.

Take my brother, for instance. He has a ferret on his face – you know, that thing he calls a beard. People tell me that it’s weird, or that he needs to shave it. Maybe that it’s not “Christian” or “Godly.” But I say, Power to The Ferret. If that’s what makes my brother happy, then so be it; that’s what should make everyone happy.

Take my sister. She got pregnant when she was seventeen (the same age I am, in case you didn’t catch that). She was too young, naïve, ignorant, innocent. But she got pregnant, and she had that child, and her son is my favorite person in the world. It wasn’t the best situation, but we have always made the best out of it.

Now take my father. He died when I was thirteen. Before he died, he wasn’t always a steady figure in my life. He wasn’t always the best person to be around, and he didn’t always do the best things. But I loved him. I loved him with all of my heart, and I still do. He was taken tragically from my life, and from my family’s lives, but we’ve made the best out of that situation.

My family and I have realized that we need to show each other love, and be kind to each other. For instance, every Friday, my dad’s side of the family and I get together and have dinner. The pizza is terrible, but I treasure those Friday nights because I don’t know how many more of them I’ll have.
I treasure my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my siblings, and my mother, because I have no idea when any of them will be taken from me.

So, I’m seventeen. I don’t know anything, but I do know how to love. I know how to give. I know how important every person in my life is. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because that’s what living life to the fullest is all about.

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Questions: What did living life to the fullest look like for you when you were 17? How different was it from the life that Tanna describes here? 

This guest post was part of a guest post series called "Living to the Fullest." Interested in joining in? I'm still looking for submissions! Just write up a post, or even just an idea, and e-mail it my way.

Seat-Between Syndrome

I'm stoked to start up our Life to the Fullest guest post series this week! If you haven't already, consider submitting a post!

As a Christian, I notice a lot of odd phenomenon among our sub-culture of America.

For instance...

We "like" some pretty terrible music. Those who willingly participate in the  K-LOVE challenge are my primary witnesses to this fact.

We make things more complicated than they have to be. Oh, what's that, you say? Jesus had "disciples?" Why don't we just call them "students," 'cause, ya know, we speak English, not Bible.

We get caught up in the petty and often overlook the egregious errors of our ways. The horror that was/is the overlooked abuse of Jessica Ahlquist is enough to get us all to shake our heads in shame.

Most of these oddities are chronicled in the writings of Jon Acuff (over at Stuff Christians Like), but every once in a while, something slips through the cracks.

That something has been happening to me and many others for as long as I can remember. It's a condition of Christians that I like to call...

Seat-Beside Syndrome.

SBS, if you're lazy and don't want to type all of that (like me).

SBS has plagued churches across the nation for years. For as long as churches have been packed out, this has been a problem. And the only remedy to it is often an awkward announcement by someone up front that we all need to "scoot to the middle" of our seats.

Don't worry, though. You can easily self-diagnose whether you're at risk for having SBS by noting a couple of things next time you go to church (or any other social setting, for that matter).

Here's an example of the climate in which SBS thrives.

First off, do you find yourself looking for an empty row of seats (or even an empty section) to sit in during a church service? This isn't actually SBS, but is a symptom of a much larger problem.

Secondly, when you are relegated to sitting near other actual people, do you find yourself spreading your stuff so no one sits near you? Again, this is another very serious symptom of SBS.

Finally, when you do sit next to someone, do you experience a slowing of time, as if you may be stuck there forever? Do you experience feelings of dread at the thought of such an occurrence? If so, it is very likely that you may have SBS.

If you find that these three symptoms regularly apply to you, please seek immediate professional assistance. It is very likely that you suffer from SBS.

So what exactly is SBS, you ask? Well, it's simple. Here's how you actually diagnose the disease:

When you scout out your seat during a church service, you find the perfect spot. You approach the row of seats, only to find others sitting near there. So, without thinking twice, you allow your SBS to take over, and approach those people. You choose your chair and take a seat, again, without hesitation.

Now, after you've firmly staked out and claimed your seat of choice, diagnosis is easy. Are you ready for it?

If there are people two seats away from you, who aren't reserving any places around them, and you don't choose a seat next to them, but sit a seat down from them, then you have Seat-Beside Syndrome.

I know, I know. You're a little scared. You aren't sure what to do. Is there a cure? Will you ever be rid of this disease? Don't worry; I've got some answers.

Seat-Beside Syndrome is curable. In fact, it is often a signal of a much larger problem. We haven't been able to diagnose it yet, but research is being done at a breakneck speed to pinpoint the root cause. Here's what we do, know, though:

First of all, you might be scared of people. If this is the case, though, you probably already know it and very rarely go to social events (like church) in the first place. If this applies to you, then I have no words for you, since going to church would be enough of a struggle for you in the first place.

If this doesn't apply to you, then I've got some bad news. You, like myself, might just not like other people. Sure, friends and family are okay - they don't count as "others." But we really just don't care much for the person sitting (sort of) next to us.

It's sad, really. A body that doesn't cooperate or enjoy other parts of itself. Like a hand that refuses to grasp something because the thumb has a certain distaste for the middle finger (hence their separation by the pointer finger). Sounds ludicrous, doesn't it?

If you don't have SBS, then you're probably not sure what to make of this. But if you do, then you're probably saying, "Oh, I've heard this sermon before. Get on with it."

This is more than me preaching at us, though. People, we are messed up like no other. Not only do we shield ourselves from people whose beliefs are different from our own, but we put up defenses to avoid those who we claim to call brothers and sisters. It's embarrassing for those without SBS, to be frank.

You don't even have to get a shot to curse SBS!

So do yourself (and the rest of those people without SBS) a favor. Sit next to someone at church this week. Not near them. Not around them. Next to them. And then, maybe try out this thing that the guy you follow (Jesus, in case you forgot) proposed: loving them. And not in a "I don't have to like them - I only have to love them" kind of way. That doesn't even make sense.

For the sake of all of those around you, stop leaving empty seats between you and others. Take a baby step toward building up your community of faith. Next thing you know, you might actually enjoy sitting by other people. And before you know it, you'll be rid completely of SBS and all of its symptoms.

Unless, of course, you enjoy being sick. But take a word of advice from someone who's been there: if you don't treat a sickness, it only spreads and infects the rest of the body. If you don't take steps to remedy SBS, it is contagious and will affect those around you. It may even morph into a stronger disease that has no cure.

So let's vow to nip this in the bud. We know the disease (SBS), and we have a cure (true love), so let's stop it once and for all.

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Questions: Have you ever thought about SBS before? Do you think it's a problem? Is it something you struggle with? What are some other peculiarities of Christians that you've noticed over time?

Did you enjoy this post? If so, I'd appreciate you subscribing to Life Before the Bucket and sharing it with your friends. Thanks a million for reading! 

photo credits: Leonardini and emailrober - sxc.hu

Win of the Week

Did you hear about the epic guest post series we're starting up? The first post will be next week, so get your submissions in ASAP! Here's my e-mail if you're interested: awaller1990@gmail.com. And remember, you don't have to be a writer or a blogger to contribute!

If ever a week was a roller coaster, this one would be it.

Thankfully, the ride is just about over. The bar is about to lift, and that pressure will be gone. We can step off together and breathe a sigh of relief that we survived.

There were highs and there were lows. There were moments that flew, and others that crawled with anticipation.

Here, in our celebration of this wonderful day known as Friday, we spill with our successes, our brightest moments in the past seven days. We share our Win of the Week.

Now, like I said, this week was a roller coaster for me. There were points when I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up in the middle of next week. There were also a couple of points when I wanted to freeze time and take comfort in the joy of a moment lived well.

The moment that I'm proudest of, though? Well... That would have to be yesterday's blog post.

It was the least viewed of the four posts from this week, but it was also one of the most difficult for me to write. First of all, I was feeling like death the night before and the morning of that post. I couldn't shake a nasty headache and an overwhelming tiredness. Secondly, I'm not one to spill my guts often. I'm open if you ask, but I don't usually volunteer personal information like that.

I'm grateful that I did it, though. I got some great responses from you guys, as well as some responses from friends who had read my blog that day. It was a moment of vulnerability for me, but it was worth it.

So that, my friends, is my Win of the Week.

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Questions: What is your win of the week? Was it something small? Something big? A moment of vulnerability like my own?

Did you enjoy this post? If so, I'd appreciate you subscribing to Life Before the Bucket and sharing it with your friends. Thanks a million for reading! 

The Awkward In-Between

Writer by day. Secret agent by night.

I have this really bad habit, guys.

It isn't biting my fingernails, though I definitely do that. Is it really a "bad" thing, anyway?

Nor is it leaving the toilet seat up after I use the restroom. Because I love my wife like that.

And in case the thought crossed your mind, I don't live a double-life as a secret agent. Well, there was that one time...

No, my bad habit is far beyond any of these ridiculous things. It's not something I'm proud of, either, which I suppose is why I haven't shared it yet. It's one of those things that I keep tucked away in my mind, for nobody else to see. It's like a club that only me, myself, and I have a membership to, and we haven't been accepting new members since... forever.

And at this point, you can probably see that I'm stalling.

So, at the risk of losing every friend I've ever had, I'll spill. But you have to pinky-promise not to judge me too much.

Here it is:

A lot of times, I don't believe my friends when they tell me things.

Okay, so that doesn't sound so awful. But let me give you an example.

Let's say a good friend of mine told me that he hasn't been feeling well. Unless he shows me the thermometer that read his fever, as well as a second one verifying the first, I struggle to empathize. Especially if he's good at hiding it, in which case I usually tend to believe he's trying to get "out" of something.

Now it still may not sound that awful, but it gets worse (in my mind, at least).

You see, I suffer from chronic illness. I sleep with oxygen at night and do breathing treatments and chest physiotherapy every day. But frankly, I don't want my disease to define who I am, so I try my best to hide it. Now, mind you, my rolling backpack does make people wonder why I don't carry a bag like everyone else, but I don't typically draw attention to myself when I don't feel well.

Like this past week or two. I've been so tired. All. The. Time. And I want people to believe me so badly. But they don't seem to have any sympathy, because I'm still going to school and I'm still working on this huge paper we have due in two weeks. By all accounts, I'm normal. And hey, who isn't tired in college?

But I want people to know it's different for me. It's the worst kind of double-standard. I expect people to believe me and to sympathize with me, but I have the hardest time giving people I love the benefit of the doubt.

Somewhere alone the line, I fed into the lie that I matter more than they do. 

And maybe that's the real confession here. 

I know it seems like I have it all together when I write, and that may be true. Writing is a place of solace and serenity for me. I can shed my suckiness and dress myself in a facade of words. And that's nice, for a moment or two. Until I realize that my writing can't heal me from who I am.

But when the words are stripped away, and it's me and you, the truth is, I'm not any better than you are. You and I, we both have our struggles. We both have our successes. We both have our ups, downs, and awkward in-betweens.

And right now, I find myself in that awkward in-between. I don't feel well, but I'm still healthy enough to live somewhat normally (besides being a 22 year old on oxygen). So I ask you to accept me where I am, even if you don't totally understand it. And I pinky-promise you that I'll try to understand when you're there too.

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Questions: Do you have any bad habits? How do they affect your daily life? Can you sympathize with my struggle here? Why do you think we often set double-standards for those we love the most?

Did you enjoy this post? If so, I'd appreciate you subscribing to Life Before the Bucket and sharing it with your friends. Thanks a million for reading!

photo credit: mzacha - sxc.hu

Woman Talk

Don't forget about the guest post series we're starting up! I've gotten a few great submissions, but I'm definitely looking for more! Don't be shy! Write 'em up and send 'em my way!

Just out of curiosity... how many languages do you know?

5? 7? 2?

Or do you just know 1? (Hopefully no one knows less than that)

I think a lot of us fall under the same category that I'm in: a language "sampler."We know bits and pieces of about 10 different languages, but if we had to survive in a country that spoke any of them, we'd die.

It's not a bad thing. It's just how things are.

For instance, I know bits and pieces of Spanish, French, Chinese, and Krio. I also doknow how to read Ancient Greek, but that's about as useful when speaking as knowing how to swim while standing on your head.

However, what I didn't realize until just recently is that I'm slowly learning a new language.

What's funny about this new language I'm learning is that it isn't really voluntary. I'm being immersed in it every day, without reprieve. But I need to know it to survive. And many others out there are going through the same thing right now. Some have only been learning for a few days, and others for decades. But none of us will ever truly master the language known as...

Woman talk.

I know what you might be thinking (if you're a woman, anyway). "We don't speak a different language! Guys just don't listen!" And you're probably right. But in our defense, we don't listen because we don't understand! It's like planting us in Japan and expecting us to navigate. It just doesn't work.

You girls speak a different language! 

I have proof, too. Anecdotal proof, but proof nonetheless.

You see, my wife is a beast and loves to run. She's about 37 billion times more in shape than I am. And that's no exaggeration. So she tries to go running everyday.

One day, she went to go running right before we were about to leave to go somewhere. She looks at me as she's leaving, and woman talk starts pouring out of her mouth. It sounded something like, "I’m running 3 miles and then I want to leave." But I'm a woman talk rookie, so I can't be 100% sure. I've consulted experts, and they're still baffled.

Thankfully, though, God blessed me with a wife who knows that I'm as dumb as a rock when it comes to understanding what she's saying. So when that inevitable blank, confused stare passed from my eyes to hers, she nodded in understanding and translated for me.

What she said: "I'm running 3 miles and then I want to leave."

What she meant: "Shower while I'm gone."

Now just look at that. How could any sane human grasp such a ridiculous language? There's no pattern! It makes no sense! What does her running have to do with my personal hygiene?! I haven't a clue!

If you're a guy and you're reading this, you know what I mean. You're nodding your head in understanding as you read, and you're probably trying to figure out a way to crack their code. Don't worry, fellas, it can't be done. I've only been married 2 years and I know that much.

If you're a girl and you're reading this, you're probably shaking your head in disapproval. It seems obvious to you that when my wonderful wife told me she was going running, she meant that she wanted me to shower. It makes total sense to you! However, it does not, and will never, make sense to us guys. So be patient with us.

We're learning. Slowly... Very, very slowly.

(Crud. My wife just left to go run. Better get in the shower!) 

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Questions: Have you ever experienced something like this? Does your spouse sometimes say something that you know means something else? Any funny stories worth sharing about this? 

Did you enjoy this post? If so, I'd appreciate you subscribing to Life Before the Bucket and sharing it with your friends. Thanks a million for reading!

Disclaimer: This was a repost from June of 2011.