Goodbye// summary of my life

If I had to pick the one thing that has defined my life so far, it is all of the goodbyes that have come along with it. In the first grade, I moved away from Austin, Texas to St. Louis, Missouri. That goodbye was probably the one that didn't hurt quite as bad. I was still young, so our friendships were built on dress up, making pancakes, and going swimming.

The second goodbye was when I moved from St. Louis to Cisco, Texas. Now, that's a switch. However, while in St. Louis, I knew that I would have to move away eventually, so it was one of those things that was normal around the Seminary Campus. People came and people left, and my 4th grade self knew that. I left behind the days of walking to school in the snow, playing outside in a fort, throwing old fruits and vegetables across apartment buildings, going to the re-sell-it shop, eating day-old bread from the food bank, and playing with my friends (whom I still keep in contact with to this day). I left these memories behind, and the goodbye was slightly harder than the first. My friends became my family during this stage in my life, and we all had something in common. Other than being poor, all of our families had someone who was going into the ministry and we all had lived through a move or two.

In Cisco Texas, I missed my old friends, but all of our moms were on Facebook at the time so we could still catch up through them. Cisco brought on new adventures and new relationships with people. I technically could say I “grew up” in Cisco. I went through puberty so I think it qualifies. I stayed there for 5 whole years. Cisco marks the longest place I have ever stayed put. I'm not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. During those 5 years, my self confidence plummeted. I was taught that if I wasn't a star athlete, I wasn't important. It turns out I'm not a star athlete, but now I know that was all bogus. However, I made some amazing friends in Cisco and I still talk to them frequently. Because of the lack of people in the town, our relationships were much deeper. However, everyone knew everything about everybody. Also, the dating pool was slim. I never learned how to really figure out stuff with guys because there weren't many that I could see myself with at all. During my freshman year, I learned that I would have to say goodbye to that town. Out of all the goodbyes, this one was indeed the hardest. Even though the town wasn't good for me, the people had become part of my family.

When I got out of Cisco and into Mabank, I was a hot mess. Im thankful for the use of technology because I was able to still communicate with the people that I loved. I knew I was leaving behind a number of good things in Cisco, such as drumline, Waverlys (the best coffee shop ever), a loving church, and some great people.

In Mabank, I got off to a rough start and had to reinvent myself. In all honesty, I had to find the version of myself that I loved the most. There was the “fake athlete” Emma, the “drumline” Emma, the “Pastor’s Kid” Emma, and the “Lonely” Emma. At first, I chose the last option. When summer band started, I got involved with some friends, but found myself becoming more bitter and I didn't like it. “bitter” Emma is not a good title. I then met a different group of friends, and I've never felt like I belonged somewhere more. They were my home and still are. In Mabank, things were different. Such as, the band program is not the same as the one in Cisco, but that's alright. I love being in the front ensemble. I became the “happy” Emma who was known for her baking and her smiles. And I love that version of myself. I love the person who worships Jesus and loves relentlessly.

Now, I'm about to say one more inevitable goodbye to my high school career and everything that comes along with it. I am saying goodbye to my friends, the band program, steel drums, froyo runs, soccer games, crew parties, and many more things. However, I've been doing this goodbye thing for a significant amount of time so I'm used to it. I'm happy to leave behind all of the toxic relationships that have formed in this town, but I'm sad to leave the relationships that are still in blossom. This is one more goodbye to add to my list, and I'm glad it's Mabank. You've been good to me these last three years Mabank, thank you for that.

Love,

Emma Jane

P.S yesterday marks 3 whole years I have been blogging!!! Thank you for the support throughout all of them :)

In Response

Whether it was sitting under the stars, singing songs to Jesus or out in the hot sun, doing work projects, something this summer was engraved into my brain. It was that we so often place our self-worth and our identity in earthly things such as grades, family, friends, band, cheer, sports, hobbies and who we have been loved or hurt by... we take these earthly things and let them consume us, making them who we are. When asked "Who are you?" we respond "Well I'm in band, I'm number __ in my class, and I am in a relationship with whoever..." and these things are apparently who we ARE. As humans, we place our identity within these things, and it's very sad to see. 

Within my senior class, it's especially real right now. I see so much "What's your class rank?" and the either pleasure or disappointment when you tell the other person the number. I am number 11, but I don't care. It sounds harsh, but hear me out. Lately I've observed peers who consider their class rank the same thing as their persona. "I am a NUMBER BLANK" is what it comes across as. It's pretty 2D, don't you think? There's so much more to a person than whatever rank in the class they are, and they're capable of anything regardless of what that is. Number 100 in the class is able to be a doctor, just as much as number 1. And no, class rank does not determine the work ethic of others.

Growing up, there was never a heavy emphasis on my grades. Until last year, I considered myself pretty intelligent. My parents instilled the value that I was to try my best, and if my best was a C on a test that I had been studying for all week, then so be it. I remember one instance in the 8th grade where a vocab test asked me to pick all of the opposite answers, and I picked all of the right ones instead- earning me a 50. I brought it home to my dad, upset with myself, and he simply picked up the paper and laughed at it. He let me know that it was okay to make that mistake, and he wasn't upset. It has always been like this in my family, and I cannot imagine it being any different. I am looked upon by my efforts from my family, and not the results. 

However, lately, I have felt very unintelligent because of my class rank. I am not in the "top 10" in my class, but I am merely one off. I am 11. And that has been perceived as not good enough. People do not question the fact that I wish to pursue a degree in education and be a teacher, because I am number 11.  If I was number 3, I would be asked why I have not chosen to be a lawyer or a doctor, or something that is worth my obvious educational standards. 

This breaks my heart. It breaks my spirit knowing that my identity to others is found in my educational success or failure, and that I am slowly starting to believe the lies that have been drilled into my head by my peers and by my education system. 

At camp, under the stars and sweat, I learned something extremely important. I am a child of God. My identity, in the world of things that actually matter, is in the fact that my Savior DIED for me on a cross and that he is coming again one day. I am a CHILD OF GOD. And that is it. I am a CHILD OF GOD who plays in the band. I am a CHILD OF GOD who happens to be number 11 in the class. I am a CHILD OF GOD who has been hurt many times. And I am a CHILD OF GOD who will not put her identity in the pure number given to me by a piece of paper and by those who worship that piece of paper. 

For those who do find themselves consumed with their earthly possessions/ accomplishments and making them a part of who you are, I will keep praying that you find the love of Christ Jesus within your soul. He is greater than these earthly things and earthly numbers that we so often dwell on. 

Much love, 

Emma Jane