When She Cries - The Story of my 16th Bday

I can hear fireworks going off right now, and apparently I'm not watching them... I'm just really feeling like blogging right now. I don't even have anything to write about. So I'm going to tell you a little story from my life that I gave you a heads up for a while back. I'm gonna tell you about the song When She Cries by Britt Nicole and how it could almost be written about me.



It's kind of a sad story, I mean how much can you expect from a song titled When She Cries. Either way, it doesn't matter because I'm in a good mood. I'm only making mention of that because ostensibly my moods come off quite easily. (I used a big word).

When I first heard this song the first thing that caught my attention was the sixteenth birthday part because my sweet sixteen wasn't all that I had expected it to be. When she sings about bruises and bleeding they would be more like emotional scars for me. Around that time I was still trying to figure out who I was and asking things about my what my purpose was.

I'm going to type the journal of my birthday because I just read it over and it's very honest to what happened that day. Journaling was I how made myself stop crying because it made think about it all. That night was probably the most and hardest I've ever cried. Background info before you read it, it was three days before my trip to Malawi. I make reference once in my journal to Morgan but I didn't really know her at the time. My birthday was the commissioning Sunday and it was a pretty big deal for the trip and everything. Sometimes when people have their birthdays on Sundays people take them out for lunch, that didn't happen for me. I did have extra family though and also I took a Malaria pill that day, so it may have caused additional mood swing.

Here it is (June 24, 2007):

I don't know how to start this off any other way but to say that I'm writing this to Jesus. This might be a few pages long, but I need to get everything I'm feeling out.

So today's my 16th birthday, right? Big party, this is supposed to be a really special birthday. And today's the Sunday before the Malawi team and I leave to go to Malawi. We leave in three days and this Sunday is the commissioning Sunday (today).

I must be depressed or something. I try to be such a good friend to everybody I know and I try to put time and effort into the things I do, make, give, you name it, whatever for my friends. I get a good feeling when I do nice things for other people and I enjoy doing nice things for other people.

My hope, however, is that people will give me some kind of attention in return, sooner or later. It's really hard for me to write this because I want to write exactly what I'm feeling but I don't want to make what I'm writing seem bigger or smaller, more or less, important than what I'm going through.

I crave attention. I love attention but I don't pursue it and I don't know how to react to it when I get it.

I'm confused about what I really want to write. I want to write about how I felt today and everything I was crying about earlier. I guess I'll do both.

Basically, today wasn't everything I hoped it would be, and I'm kind of disappointed right now. I wanted attention that I didn't get, more people remembering my birthday, maybe even a couple people making me something.

Jesus, I want to thank you for Christine, who I know loves me, who I honestly don't show my appreciation for enough, and who at least put an effort into remembering my birthday. I do love her.

I think that the biggest, or at least one of the biggest downers was that, after a long day of everything, when I finally got to open my long-awaited gifts what I got, not that I have any right to be complaining, was a nalgene bottle and batteries. Doesn't that say "Sweet Sixteen"?

Okay, so I won't be all negative about today, I mean it's only one day, and it wasn't completely rotten. I think that when you cry all your problems get blown out of proportion. But it leaves me wondering, because I really don't know, just how big my problems are when they're seen in proper perspective... my tears must seem so huge to my Heavenly Father, (well I guess I should say "You" because I'm writing this to You, Jesus, but I don't think all the "You"'s would make sense if I did), who loves me so much He gave His Son to die for me, which is crazy.

I want to write about my favourite part of my day but I've got another thought on this page that I need to write. Here it is, I'll leave this thought on the page to let simmer and I hope I get the answer someday: If JESUS thought I was worth enough to die for, how come so few people, including myself, find it hard to see my worth? I want to know my worth and God's perfect will for my life specifically. I would love to have that question answered.

My favourite part of my day was going on a bike ride with my brother and my dad. We ate freezies together that we bought on our way. We just sat and ate the freezies and they were good. Thanks for my dad Jesus. I love him. So many people don't have their dads and I just thank You that I have my dad.

And what possibly made my day is that Morgan happened to ride by on her bike just as we were eating our freezies.

Morgan's such a unique kid Jesus, and I want to thank you that I'm going to Africa with her. I don't think she lives with her dad but I want to thank You that her and I, we both know that You're big enough to provide and be everything we need.

What a great sentence that last one was to lead in to the last thing I want to write! Please teach everyone on our team both Rural & Urban, but specifically Urban, because that means me (and Morgan too), YOUR BIGNESS.

Mr. Milne says You're gonna blow my mind and I know he's telling me the truth. And I'm excited for it. Honestly, I'm a bit nervous for everything, but way more excited!

Help me to rely on You primarily while I'm there (and for the rest of my life) and also my brothers and sisters in You.

Thanks for Your love in my life Jesus, goodnight [heart drawn on page]

Steph
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If something's not clear or I missed something feel free to ask. If I were to think about that night for too long I might cry again even.