Nationals

So, as some of you may know, I sort of went to Nationals in speech this year. It certainly wasn't the dream I had originally planned on. In fact (as my last post mentions), debate was my big thing. But if you don't believe that God is surprising or that God has a fantastic ability to work beyond your wildest imagination, you're in for a unique journey.

It took a long time, but when I got to Nationals, God granted me a good attitude. Instead of caring about impressing judges and other competitors or having "We are the Champions" playing in the back of my mind, I just wanted to deliver a message. I didn't even know what kind of message I wanted to deliver--I just wanted to speak to people's hearts. Well, I got that chance.

From Day One, God gave me the best impromptu speeches I've ever delivered. They weren't eloquent--but they were passionate. They were honest. And you'd better believe that they scared me to death. You see, I was using impromptu to tell people about the lessons I've learned. Its really hard to admit your mistakes, especially when you're being judged on your delivery. But that's what God wanted--so I did it.

There's so much to say about my journey. There are so many blessings that I learned in those moments. God showed me so much grace throughout the journey. But I want to skip past the breaks (Suffice it to say I went further than I ever imagined or deserved) and focus on my last round. In finals, I've come to realize that I delivered the best speech of my life. It wasn't the most intellectual speech (ask the judges for confirmation--its true), but it was the most important because I was given a chance to apologize for my terrible attitude to some of the competitors I hurt the most. Have you ever had a chance to say you're sorry to people you don't know how to reach out to? Its an incredible feeling.

I was shaking throughout the speech, but there was beauty there. Even as the words left my mouth, I could feel that my message was sinking in somewhere. At first, I thought it was for the judges. It wasn't. That speech was for my friends who sat in that room, their ears straining to hear each broken word. Through that speech, I said I'm sorry and I said goodbye. I talked about what you want written on your epitaph in that speech. But what I was really thinking about was what sort of legacy I would leave on NCFCA. I know now that my legacy is that I did my best to touch the lives of those around me. It might not be a long lasting legacy. But its the best legacy I could ever imagine.

So, goodbye NCFCA! I'll miss you--but its time to go. God's got a big plan for me, and its only just unfolding.

Success

So, this was on facebook. But I figured since it was the reason that my friends told me to get a blog, I would put it on said blog. 

Have you ever wanted something so much you pray for it every night? Faithfully, fervently, and consistently prayed about it? Even inserted the magic words "If it is your will" to ensure you get what you want? Well, even if you haven't, that's what I did for four years. Four of them. And always for the same thing: to make it to Nationals in debate. 

                For four whole years, that was my single-minded obsession. I thought about it every day. I'd research for hours, strategize in every spare moment. And any time I had space for thought, I would imagine myself winning Nationals. My commitment to debate was no secret, but my obsession with it was insane. I still believe that I wanted to succeed more than any other debater I've met. And it was crazy. Don't get me wrong-- commitment is a good thing. But there's a line--and I've crossed it. 

                And now the road is over. I made it to Nationals once, but never again.  This year, at my Senior Regionals, I had one of the worst records of my life. The prayer I fervently prayed wasn’t answered.

                Or was it?

                Debate was my world. I wanted to succeed. But I failed.

                Or did I?

                My plan sounded pretty great. I was going to be top speaker at every tournament. I was going to win every round. And at Nationals? I was going to shock everyone by winning it all.

                But God’s plan was better. Do you know what he gave me? He gave me the best partner in the world, Heidi Kratzer. I’ve never met a more gracious girl. Heidi stood by me even when I terrified her with my obsession with winning. Never once did she complain about my extreme cases of nerves or fits of tears. Instead, she would stay up until two talking to me. She would drop everything to have five hour debate meetings with me. And I know that I can call her anytime and she’ll listen to me.

                God also gave me a crazy supportive family. My parents spent thousands of dollars furnishing my dreams—from tournament fees to my high heels collection. They took me where I wanted to go, supported me every step of the way, tolerated my crazy mood swings, and made sure I had more than enough Reeses Pieces. They’ve never complained. They’ve never pointed out that NCFCA doesn’t count for much in the real world. But they’ve held me when I’ve cried. They’ve talked me out of believing myself a hopeless failure. I am totally indebted to them.

                And God’s brought countless people into my life. Before debate, I didn’t have very many friends at all. Now, I’ve been blessed to meet many astonishingly wonderful people. I’ve never been so touched than this year at Regionals when I saw at least four people in tears for Heidi and me and heard many more praying for us. Before that, I never realized I could mean that much to anyone.

                It’s been a long road. It was a tremendous challenge. But through debate, God has been revealing his huge, magnificent plan for me. It’s been really rocky learning to trust him. I am still struggling so hard to believe there’s something better in store for me. But I know God has used these experiences to change me for the better. He loves me. He loves me so much that he wants to teach me vitally important things. Like how to let go, what to hold on to, and what’s really important. And he’s taught me what success is.

                Success isn’t winning a tournament. Success isn’t getting the biggest, shiniest medal. Success is living for something outside of you. I’m not successful yet. I’m still really far away. But I know that’s where God’s taking me.

                So what does all this mean? I didn’t write this to justify my obsession or to air my feelings. I’m not even a big fan of soul-baring notes. I’m not putting this down to tell you I’ve overcome my mistakes.

                I’m writing this because I don’t want anyone else to make the same mistake. I’ve been there. I know that it’s a hard, horrible road. And I don’t want anyone else to feel that. Maybe telling this story, as hard as it is for me, could help steer you away. Or maybe it’s just the beginning. IN any case, I hope I can help. Your obsession may not be debate, but I’d love to talk to you about it. Or just listen. I’m not the best listener, I warn you. And I still have a hard time not talking about debate. But I think—I hope—God can use even imperfect me.