The tradition of weekly Wednesday night dinners in Athens evolved from my family. It all started in Calvary, Georgia. For as long as I can remember,  Family Night has been a weekly tradition of putting all work aside, relaxing, cooking amazing food, and gathering family together around the table.

My older cousins Bradley Jones, Chaz, and Emily Oliver originally got Family Night started in Athens when they first came to the University of Georgia. They began hosting weekly dinners and inviting their closest friends.

Eventually, the group grew to include boyfriends, girlfriends, roommates, neighbors, and friends of friends. It was also a great way of meeting new people because everyone was so welcoming. When I came up to Athens to attend UGA, I also joined and gained a whole new group of lifelong friends.

Although most of us weren’t related, we still considered ourselves a family. Food can do that to people.

Eventually, it became a much larger group of friends that came from the University of Georgia, North Georgia College, Athens Technical College, and even graduates that were still living around the Athens area.

Most of us have known each other for years, but meeting new people wasn’t uncommon and they usually returned and were welcomed back with open arms. On average, we had about 15-20 members attending Family Night every week.

We would take turns hosting and cooking dinners. It wasn’t a pizza take out kind of thing. We’re talking about home-cooked meals y’all. It was definitely a challenge cooking for such a large group of people, but time spent with “family” was well worth it and so was the food!

When these sorts of events happened, we went all out. All the family members prepared and brought their best home cooked meal for the feast. We even got really competitive on who could cook the best meals and celebrated special occasions such as Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Around Christmas, we would dress up in our tackiest attire and take a picture to send to our own families to put on the refrigerator.

Family night was a great way to drop everything and come together to keep in touch with friends and family when times got busy. It was the one-day of the week where we could just relax and catch up. If we didn’t have this once a week, I probably wouldn’t have even seen my family or closest friends as much as I did and that’s something I truly treasure.

If someone couldn’t attend, we made sure they were sent a take-home plate. Because let’s face it, everyone has to eat during a stressful test or project and there’s no better meal than a home-cooked one prepared with love from their “family.”

“Is it okay if I bring my dog?” The answer was always yes! After all, dogs are family too. They were brought over to enjoy company from the humans as well as other furry friends. Our pets weren’t left out of the scrumptious meals either. They were also served part of our feast or as my granddad, Big Daddy, used to say, “the crumbs under the table.”

Because most of us were college kids, we typically didn’t eat the best food. Eating out was our go-to because it was a quick and easy fix.

Family night was a way to have a good home-cooked meal at least once a week and reunite with our friends. It is one of my best college memories.

Now that I’ve graduated, I plan to continue to carry on this tradition in Atlanta and wherever life takes me. Cooking is more than just about eating: it is something that ties people together.

It doesn’t get much better than gathering with friends and family, meeting new people, cooking great meals, making new memories, and passing on our beloved family tradition! Cheers!

I was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, during the turbulent Civil Rights Movement in 1968, the year which epitomized the era with the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy. The Red Stick has always been a catalyst for change, even if she was often times an unintentional participate.

Peaceful protesters overshadowed by armed militants.

The Baton Rouge I grew up in is not the same that I see today. My childhood in Baton Rouge was idyllic in that it was filled with all the treasures that children hold dear.

We existed in a microcosm that afforded exposure to the arts, sports, culture, and a rich heritage because we grew up in the shadows of a historic black college.

So, when I think of Baton Rouge, I think of Southern University, Dixie cups, Tabby’s Blues Box, the Ann Theater, Tony’s Seafood, debutante balls, Mardi Gras, Park Vista, the Scotlandville Branch of the East Baton Rouge Public Library, Ethel’s Snack Shack, teacakes, football, Ryan Elementary, family, and home.

To others it conjures up visions of Mike the Tiger, Highland Road, the LSU lakes, and all things south Baton Rouge.

Yet, I have always known that Baton Rouge, despite her greatness and location at the mouth of the mighty Mississippi, has been a mistress of sorts because of NOLA.

My Baton Rouge has always been in the thick of things, even if unwittingly.

On June 19, 1953, the African-American residents of Baton Rouge launched a historic bus boycott because black people were forced to sit in the back of the bus, even when the front of the bus was empty. It became known as the 1953 Baton Rouge Bus Boycott.

The demands for black riders to ride in the front of the bus, but still refrain from sitting next to whites, was supported by the City Council initially and it led to the passing of Ordinance 222.

However, the all-white fleet of bus drivers refused to enforce the ordinance and it was later overturned after the drivers went on strike. The bus drivers’ strike lasted four days. The drivers returned to work after the ordinance was overturned and declared victory.

1953 Baton Rouge Bus Boycott

However, a local minister, Rev. T. J. Jemison, had a call to conscious and he helped organize the United Defense League and a boycott in a response to the decision to overturn the ordinance by the Louisiana Attorney General.

Residents met in four mass meetings and raised $6,000 in just two days. About 14,000 of residents refused to board the city’s buses and instead received rides in free taxis and in private cars. About 125 private cars were used in the boycott.

The boycott ended six days after it began with Ordinance 251.

Black riders filled the bus from the rear forward and whites filled the bus from the front to the back. Blacks and whites were still prohibited from sitting next to each other.

Two front seats were off-limits to black riders and only black riders could occupy the wide rear seat in the back of the bus. Blacks made up about 80 percent of the ridership, so the boycott had an economic impact on the city’s transportation system and on the broader Civil Rights Movement.

The fight for social justice in sleepy Baton Rouge in 1953, including the free car ride system that was implemented during bus boycott, served as a model for the internationally known 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott.

This resulted in Browder v. Gayle, the U.S. District Court case on Montgomery and Alabama state bus segregation laws, which ultimately resulted in a U.S. Supreme Court decision declaring Alabama and Montgomery laws require segregated buses be unconstitutional.

The 1953 Baton Rouge Bus boycott also inspired residents to mobilize around other issues, such as securing the right to vote.

So, Baton Rouge is no novice to civil rights movements or protests. She has long shined the light on disturbing inequities by forcing others to explore racial disparities.

Victims, Leonard Brown and Denver Smith

As a college student at Southern University, Baton Rouge, in the ’80s, I was all too familiar with protesting and its often heartbreaking cost.

I still remember when – nearly 46 years ago – Denver Smith and Leonard Brown, two African-American students from my alma mater, were killed on campus by white sheriff deputies during a peaceful protest on November 16, 1972.

The two victims were taking part in a peaceful, unarmed protest by African-American students who gathered at the university’s administration building to protest against the administration officials and their policies. Protests were ongoing as students fought for a greater voice in school affairs and the resignation of certain administrators.

Several student protesters had been arrested the previous night, and the students who entered the administration building on November 16 sought their release.

State police and sheriff’s deputies entered the administration building with firearms and tear gas. When they left, two students, Denver Smith and Leonard Brown, lay dead.

Louisiana’s governor, Edwin Edwards, ordered the campus closed and declared a state of emergency for Baton Rouge, claiming that these “militant” students posed a threat.

National Guard troops and police wearing riot gear patrolled Southern University. The deputies denied shooting the young men.

Governor Edwards said the fatal shots might have accidentally come from the deputies’ guns, or might have come from any of several other sources: “It is obvious there are discrepancies and questions…In the heat of that kind of situation, even if someone accidentally took a buckshot shell out of his pocket, loaded it, and shot it, he would not be able to tell himself afterwards whether he had done it.”

Edwards ordered an investigation, but the shooter or shooters were never identified. The official report by State Attorney General William Guste determined that the shots came from a sheriff’s deputy but it could not prove which deputy fired the shot. Guste recommended that the District Attorney consider criminal prosecution after the investigating committee concluded no students had firearms, tear gas, grenades, or other weapons.

After over four decades, no one has been tried or convicted for the murder. The victims’ families tried to file several lawsuits, but they were unsuccessful. Lawyers in town would not talk to the families and those that did were run out of town.

Nevertheless, over 40 years later, the legacy of Smith and Brown continues to live on.

When the old Administration Building was destroyed in a fire in 1991, a memorial stone was placed on campus near the spot where the students were shot.

I can remember being terribly disappointed as a third grader to learn that former Governor Edwards had not done more for these victims.

It was especially troubling because as a St. Anthony Elementary School first grader, Edwards had selected me to read a book with him in the rotunda of the state capital and so I always had deep admiration and respect for him.

There was no justice for these students, but the Smith-Brown Memorial Union honors them. During my matriculation at the university, it’s now the gathering place for many students to challenge the administration and to speak out against injustice on campus and in our community.

So, civil unrest and protest is nothing new in Baton Rouge. Nor is she new to being a catalyst for change.

Baton Rouge offers a considerable number of economic strengths and assets. Baton Rouge is a major center for higher education. Southern University, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge Community College, and multiple trade schools are all located in the City-Parish, graduating 5,000 to 7,000 students every year and providing a wider platform for research, innovation, and workforce development.

However, there is great socioeconomic disparity in Baton Rouge despite there not being much divide on the educational level.

These socioeconomic challenges include broader quality-of-life factors, such as concerns about public safety; the quality of the public K-12 school system; low air and water quality; a continuing population shift to the outlying parts of the Parish and other parishes; and acute economic and racial disparity within the City-Parish.

These factors have broader effects, both direct and indirect, on the economy of the City-Parish. For instance, local university graduates continue to seek employment opportunities and a better quality of life in other southern cities, such as Houston, Charlotte, and Atlanta.

Employers report difficulty in recruiting and retaining a qualified workforce, which affects the city’s ability to keep existing businesses and recruit new employers. In recent years, traffic congestion has moved toward the top of the list of challenges facing businesses and employees in Baton Rouge.

There is great economic disparity between the haves and have-nots in Baton Rouge that is not distinguished by color. There is poverty and affluence, educated and uneducated, and none of it has anything to do with color.

Poverty is real for many in Baton Rouge. Teachers, firefighters, and law enforcement are tremendously underpaid.

However, the problem in Baton Rouge is that the socioeconomically challenged have the same hard luck stories, whether white or black, and they cannot appreciate that their lives mirror each other.

Since I know the true story of Baton Rouge’s underbelly I cannot help but cringe and weep when I see recent images from my hometown. They are cringe-worthy images because what is at the root of Baton Rouge’s ailments is economics, not what is being told.

Even after discovering through life experiences that we are all more alike than not, some are reared to believe they are very different. That harsh reality for some is too raw, too real.

All of Baton Rouge, all of Louisiana, was hoodwinked by former Governor Bobby Jindal, but where was her protest then? Her shock, her anger, her commentary? It is also particularly frustrating that Mayor Holden has remained silent and opted to lobby in Washington for a project that offers little, if no, benefit to the community at large. Where is the leadership? How are they all absent in the wake of this?

I hope my final thoughts and prayers bring encouragement to Baton Rouge.

Early in my legal career, when I was General Counsel of the East Baton Rouge Parish Housing Authority, I worked closely with the Baton Rouge Police Department (BRPD) and my community-policing program was a success in controlling criminal activity, building trust, and rapport with tenants.

Properly training law enforcement officers to build ties with and work closely with members of their communities is critical if we want officers and citizens have a greater respect for each other.

July 9, 2016, a protester is grabbed by police officers after she refused to leave the motorway in front of the the Baton Rouge Police Department Headquarters.

I love Baton Rouge – she is home – so I am always hopeful. I know that it has always been a catalyst of change. Baton Rouge has encouraged change all around her.

However, just because some things are different does not mean anything has changed. Baton Rouge has largely remained the city of her troubled past and that saddens me.

Yet I know positive change is always possible where truth exists. Change is a necessary element of growth. If we change, we grow. If we do not change, we begin to stagnate and decay. That is the simple truth about change.

And we should all be reminded of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1963 “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” where he said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

Therefore, my prayer for my hometown and communities everywhere is that they are bold, brave, courageous, and humble. I pray that they always remember to have empathy in your hearts. 

Social media has been a great way to shine a light on the best Nashville, Tennessee has to offer…but it’s only #halfthestory.

Our Instagram account might make it seem like we are living the dream of eating, drinking, and exploring our way through Nashville everyday. And we certainly do plenty of that.

Yes, we do get invited to some pretty fabulous events and get hooked up with some great local products that we are so incredibly grateful for.

But what our account doesn’t show is us running around town getting pictures before work and during our lunch breaks, planning out posts at night, and answering daily emails everyday after work.

Our account does not show the countless hours of hard work (and tears) we’ve put into working on a very special project (announcement coming soon!) that will benefit local businesses and local non-profits.

Our future goals and dreams for @thenashvilleguide are so much more than the Instagram account we have today.

We dream big, so we get big results. And while we’ve come a long way, there’s always more room for improvement.

We hope our hard work will benefit the Nashville community in ways we never imagined.

All the work maintaining the account is so worth it. We are so grateful for you. Our account wouldn’t be what it is today and where it’s going in the future without each and every one of you. Thank you so much for being part of the community.

And we would like to give a big thank you to @halfthestory for letting us be a part of your campaign. We don’t often get to share the behind-the-scenes story people don’t see on social media. We support everything you are doing and the push for people to be more raw and authentic through social media. Please give @halfthestory (founded in Nashville!) a follow and be part of the journey.

In the midst of breakups, non-stop drama from everyday life, the dreaded sophomore slump, and the quickly approaching future, it can be super hard to be optimistic. It’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you feel like the walls are closing in – it seems like there’s no way to control and silence negative thoughts coming from almost every single outlet. It may seem like you’re alone and nobody cares, but believe me, someone does.

I never believed in the concept of sophomore slump until I experienced it.

I used to believe that I was the creator of my destiny, and the way that I handled obstacles defined who I was. After recovering from the stress of finals, I came to the realization that I didn’t know who I was or who I wanted to be. I had hit the sophomore slump.

GRE books, online tests, and study tips suddenly filled my desk. Conversations about graduate school and the future only perpetuated the overwhelming feelings of anxiety and fear. After coming to the realization that change is inevitable, and that you can’t control everything, I decided to find myself again.

Finding yourself can’t be defined – it’s different for everyone. There’s a few steps that I took and have been taking to become happy again. Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been easy – and sometimes the bad days win, but, in the end, it is all about discovering who I was meant to be.

Step 1: Self-Destruction

R.M. Drake once said, “Sometimes to self-discover, you must self-destruct.” I believe that getting out of a slump requires starting with a blank slate – getting down to the basics.

This step is mostly characterized by crying, angry rants, and lots and lots of ice cream. There is no way I would be able to get to where I am today without all of the support I received from my loving friends.

Step 2: Beginning Recovery

After you’ve given yourself the time to wallow in sorrow, it’s time to get up and start being a functioning human again. Time to go about your routine and interact with people, although you may still be feeling pain. This is probably the hardest step, but it gets the ball rolling.

The key here is distraction, but also understanding that it’s okay not to be okay. Rather than repressing emotions that didn’t seem desirable, I chose to embrace them, understand that they were present, and eventually I learned to cope with the feelings that came along with them.

Step 3: Embrace Your Flaws

Clearly nobody is perfect, but something that a lot of people (myself included) struggle with is owning up to imperfections. This does not imply that every little idiosyncrasy needs to be fixed immediately, but that those that can be controlled should be worked on.

Something that I’ve learned, especially in the past year, is that certain people may bring out sides of you that you weren’t even aware of. If someone brings out qualities that aren’t desirable and don’t show your true colors – cut them out of your life. Nobody needs toxic people that encourage the worst version of yourself.

Step 4: Find What Makes You Happy

This step seems pretty simple – do the things you love. But the beauty of attempting to start from a blank slate is that you might find a few new passions. In the midst of confusion and anger that fraction life crises bring, I decided to travel and visit friends. Driving and escaping every day routines gave me a much needed break from reality, but also people that could listen to me without bias.

Step 5: Cut out Toxins

While finding newfound beauty and reminiscing in old treasures, it’s also important to avoid toxic people, situations, or places. The most prevalent challenge in this step is realizing that not everything is black or white – not everything or everyone is absolutely good or bad. The key to finding yourself and ending the crisis is reevaluating relationships and seeing how the person, place, or situation helps you grow. There are a few reasons to cut people off: (1) people who do not benefit you in any way, (2) people who don’t give you what you need and deserve, and (3) people who don’t want you anymore.

Step 6: Learning to Love Yourself Again

This goes hand in hand with the first step. In order to become a better person and move forward in a life crisis, you have to love yourself and be confident. Learning to be independent is the first step of many to achieving confidence. This also takes a lot of time – for me, this has been a life-long struggle for me personally. Find what makes you get up in the morning and start appreciating the little things.

While I’m still on the journey to truly being happy and getting out of my sophomore slump, I’ve made huge progress. Nobody is saying that this happens instantly, or that you’re supposed to have everything figured out. I’m on the road to happiness, and I couldn’t be more excited for my beautiful future.

I was a boxer in the United States Army who fought welterweight. I’ve never been a quitter, but one fight made me prove myself more than any other. I had won my first three fights in the sub-novice division. I graduated to the open class. That’s when my troubles began. No one told me I was going to fight the man who had just been named all army champ.

We fought three, three minutes rounds. The gloves and the trunks sported the company logo, Everlast. We fought with 8 oz. gloves with no tape on our knuckles, only over our wrists – a far cry from today’s fighters. They wear headgear that looks like space helmets and they fight with bigger gloves.

From round one his ruby-red gloves pounded out a merciless beat against my head. I wasn’t marching to a different drummer – I was the drum. A cut opened over my left eye.

A Rorschach test pattern of rich, red blood splattered on my silver and black trunks. The bell rang. End of round one.

I went back to my corner. My trainer poured water over my head and put a Q-Tip with some coagulant on it and held it against my cut. I still wear the scar to this very day. Then he smeared Vaseline over my cut and face. I was told to stay away and jab.

The bell rang for round two. It was more of the same. I guess the ref could have stopped the fight, but it was only round two. He asked me if I had had enough. I shook my head no. I had some will left. The bell rang to end round two. I slowly walked back to my corner bleeding from the nose. My eye cut was reopened.

“Son, you gotta throw more punches,” my trainer said. “I think I want this fight more than you do. Want me to throw in the towel?”
“No way,” I said. The ref came to the corner.
“Want to continue?”
“Yes,” I said. “I got to last out the three rounds. It’s a matter of pride.”

The bell rings for round three, the final round. We walk to the center of the ring and touch gloves.

He continues his assault on my face and body. It would be so easy to quit, to take a knee, and make this nightmare end.

But then I think to myself, this isn’t just a fight between two men. This is a fight for who I am and what I stand for. To quit, I’d be quitting on myself. This was my self-esteem on the line. I had to last for three more minutes.

I duck my head and charge into my tormentor like a raging bull. He throws an uppercut that hits my chest so hard it makes it feel like my heart stopped. Head still down, trying to salvage some desperate glory, I see an elastic band on his pristine trucks.

In a small rectangle I read the black logo letters of the company name, Everlast. I will last. The bell mercifully rings. Of course he wins by a decision. But he couldn’t get me off of my feet – a moral victory and a win for me.

I faced a superior force and remained standing. Ironically, it was my opponent that showed me the sign, a shibboleth that gave me the courage to never quit.

Perhaps knowledge can sometimes be born from pain. Today that all seems like a lifetime ago, but even now when things are looking rough and the world’s beating up on me I ask myself: “How can I ever last?” I think, for only a split second, how easy it would be to take a knee, lie down, and quit.

Then I recall another dark and testing moment from my past. And I thank my adversary for the valuable lesson losing taught me – how to win. Slowly I say the word to myself, Everlast. Now aloud I sing out my battle cry, EVERLAST.

Suddenly, anything and everything standing in front of me, while yet formidable, somehow seems a little more manageable. And I charge once again, like a raging bull, straight ahead into my tormentor, knowing I’ll never quit.

What’s your vision for next week? The next semester? The next year? For your life? All of these questions were posed to me while in attendance at the LeaderShape Institute retreat in the 2013 summer with 64 other Auburn University students. These were difficult questions for me to answer at the time, but now I have a vision for my life. 

Originally from Roswell, Georgia, I attended a small Catholic high school called Blessed Trinity. Being a private school kid almost my whole life, I had the wonderful blessing of going from 1st grade to high school knowing about 80% of the same people.

Naturally a tight knit community, you know everyone’s story, what their weekend plans are, and all too much about their entire family. In hindsight, I think it is what made my childhood and teenager years unique in a good way. Despite knowing too much sometimes, we all had each other’s backs.

We were a geographic community, a religious community, and one big family. I still think to this day it is part of the reason why I fell in love with my soon-to-be alma mater – Auburn University.

I bought into the concept of “The Auburn Family” and what it means to look at your classmate on your left and on your right and give a simple look, smile, or nod that meant you had their back because we all believe in this university and what it stands for. Many argue it’s a marketing ploy, and I will argue against that until the day I die. It’s real and it’s so difficult to explain without experiencing it for yourself.

Moving onward, freshman year was overwhelming. New place, new people, and new culture. Being on campus and finding my niche within my new home was exhausting. Perseverance is what kept me in the game.

Perseverance to work hard at everything I do and push myself to be a better man in Christ and a better man in society. My practice of this “attitude” has helped me be who I am today. I had the vision to work hard and be a better man. However, that vision I had for myself at Auburn took a bit of a turn at the conclusion of my freshman year.

Eluding to my earlier reference of a tight community at home, it was always (and still is) very common practice for me to get together with my high school friends every time I went back home. Whether it be a long break or just a weekend, we became our little family all over again.

However, our “family” took a big blow at the end of freshman year. One of our close friends, Keller, took his own life his first year at LSU.

Questions swirled in the air and the solutions weren’t obvious. It was an unexpected blow after a difficult freshman year. Our little family back home moved on after awhile, but I was still confused and lost for answers. Towards the end of sophomore year I begin to do some research on student-led mental health organizations at college campuses.

Me advertising for Active Minds

An organization catches my eye: Active Minds Inc. For those who do not know, Active Minds Inc. is an international non-profit organization that works to “utilize the student voice to change the conversation about mental health on college campuses.”

A light bulb went off in my head, Auburn needed this…heck, every campus needed something like this! How difficult would this be to get set up? *cue LeaderShape Institute logo*

LeaderShape is a one-week leadership development retreat that gives young leaders the opportunity to learn more about themselves and other leaders at their respective universities. LeaderShape changed my perspective leadership and the students that make up Auburn.

After attending the retreat and personally reflecting I knew what I had to focus on.

I was going to start an Active Minds chapter at Auburn to raise mental health awareness.

So right there the work and the vision began. The chapter officially launched in September 2013. The vision had finally become a reality. The sense of confidence and pride I had knowing my hard work and determination had turned into something tangible was incredible.

I am proud to say that our Active Minds chapter is now two years strong. We’ve made name for ourselves on campus through fundraisers, walks, outreach events, information meetings, and working with university officials to help others and even save lives by providing hope to those who may not know where to find it.

Starting an organization was not something my freshman-self thought I could do, but it gave me an insight into what I could do in the future. As Mark Twain once said, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”

I love this quote because I think it says a lot to the importance of establishing goals, dreams, and your vision for your life. Yes, your vision may take a few modifications, or it might even change completely by tomorrow. If you set up a vision for success no one can hold you back.

Make that reality one of hope, happiness, and kindness. I’ve been more conscious of trying to do this every day and I believe the quality of my life has improved because of it. Wake up and set your vision for the day and ask how can I make this vision a reality.

I’ve been blessed with many opportunities in my life and I’ve had my fair share of failures too. Active Minds was an opportunity and a vision for me and I am forever grateful to have been able to serve the university through it.

Now it’s about time for me to start focusing on my vision for post-grad life. I’m not sure what it may hold just yet, but I’m ready to take on life’s challenges to the best of my ability and I hope you do the same. So ask yourself, what is your vision for tomorrow?

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” – Aristotle. This quote was painted on the wall in the cafeteria of my high school growing up. At the time, I couldn’t appreciate how it truly describes all facets of life. Only after years of learning to be independent in college did the truth become apparent to me. Our everyday habits define us and our search for excellence and happiness.

We’re taught many things from the time we become teenagers to the time we reach our mid-twenties – everything from how to write eloquently, to how the economy functions, to how to program and build computers.

There aren’t any classes offered in college that teach you how to live your life. Presumably, we’ve been taught everything we need to know by the time we’ve ascended to higher education. As a result, most of us have to figure it out for ourselves when we finally leave the nest.

We have an endless amount of temptations in college. Alcohol, various drugs, sex, porn – it’s all easily accessible and we’re entirely responsible for ourselves.

All of us slip up at some point; we give into one or more of these temptations that give us a momentary feeling of happiness and they become deadly everyday habits. That’s the edge of the cliff.

It’s easy to latch on to what gives us what we perceive to be happiness. We’ve never had to figure out on our own how to manage all of our free time, so we spend it doing what feels right.

At some point reality comes back to all of us. These vices, though they seem to promise lasting happiness, never retain their value over time.

This is when the quote from Aristotle hits home.

Real happiness is the net sum of the values we live out rather than those we expect of ourselves. Therein lies the true wisdom of Aristotle’s words. Our actions define us; the habits we build are the secret to our own happiness.

Too often in life we focus on performance and assessment. We are expected to hinge our success on how well we have performed. How am I doing in my job? Am I performing well enough to get that raise? Am I out performing my coworkers? All these things continually keep us preoccupied and focused on this earthly life.

My bible study was over performance and how our performance as Christians and performance in life doesn’t help us have a seat on the throne of God. How well I do in school and how well I do at work have nothing to do with how God sees me and it doesn’t determine whether or not I’ll spend eternity in Heaven.

So why is it we are so consumed by our daily performance? As long as we are saved and we walk with God we are guaranteed a seat at the table with God. With God leading you through life, you will always perform at a high level. He will lead you to the promotion or the raise or maybe even a new job in His timing.

“Let them praise the Lord for His great love and for the wonderful things He has done for them. For He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.” Psalm 107:8-9

Let us remember that God will always provide in any situation. We may not always understand His plan, but we should always have peace knowing that He will provide for His people.

“I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God! For He has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness. I am like a bridegroom in His wedding suit or a bride with her jewels.” Isaiah 61:10

God doesn’t have performance standards. He created me in His image.

I’m not perfect and will sin along the way, but He has saved me a seat at His throne. I will always give Him praise for all He’s done for me. And I will not forget that He have a plan for me and for you. With His help, I will continue to grow in my walk with God.

I can wish for something different forever, but at the end of the day I am simply all that I am. I can strive to change different aspects of myself, but I’m still me. The hardest thing for people to accept is themselves. I still struggle daily to fight against comparison and loving myself, but it’s something I’m constantly striving for. It’s something I got much better at when God helped me.

Throughout high school I struggled with being okay with myself. It was always a constant battle of questioning why I did or didn’t have certain things, but always wishing to be comfortable in my own skin. That uphill battle is exhausting. Thankfully, I have the greatest praying parents in the world, and they constantly encouraged me.

More importantly, they taught me to find my encouragement from somewhere bigger than myself – from God. He has helped me fight against comparison.

Soon after getting out of high school and beginning college was when the transformation began. I started filling my days and thoughts with encouragement from the Bible and favorite speakers like Andy Stanley, Louie Giglio, and Christine Caine.

It’s amazing what can happen when you fill your mind with the right things! A peace came into my heart. A peace that helped me be okay with just being me.

This is still something I fight with. I constantly fall into holes of comparison, and sometimes it seems there is no way out. But I still stand strong in my faith, and I know that being made in the image of God means “all that I am” is exactly the way I’m supposed to be.

“Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him” Psalm 62:5.

Today I just want to encourage anyone who has similar feelings of self-doubt, inadequacy, or are just having a bad day. Don’t let all that God has for you be hidden by these grips of fear and doubt. Wash off the bad feelings, and choose to be joyful!

Christine Caine once said, “The biggest prison people live in is the fear of what other people think.” Today, let’s decide to get out of prison, run in the sunshine, and embrace all that you are.

“Let all that I am praise the Lord;
May I never forget the good things he does for me.” Psalm 103:2

Every day is beautiful if you choose to see it. Continue in fighting against comparison!

I’ve gotten myself into a lot of trouble with two unassuming words I use all the time: I’ll never. I never intended to do a lot of things. I never intended to go to UGA. I never intended to fall in love with Jesus. I never intended to even major in what I studied in school. In fact, I said no to all of these things that have ultimately shaped me into the person I am right now. But I’ve since learned to never say never.

I had a tendency to not only shut the door, but also to lock it and then attempt to lose the key.I grew up with a very set, rigid idea of what my life would look like. To stray from the course would risk disaster, and I decided at a very young age that I could not afford any upset. I would have bought insurance for my future if I could have.

My old plan actually makes me laugh out loud now because I have no idea where I conjured it up actually, probably from a “best college rankings” list and whatever was cool in the New York Times in 2006.

My parents gave me a lot of freedom growing up to explore who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do, so I threw myself into studying and saying “no” to all of the things that would lead me astray from a path of academia and sweater vest wearing.

I was stubborn and, although I wanted to be “open” to new ideas and culture, I was afraid of the filth in the world because I could see it.

I could see it in the way that poverty littered the outskirts of my county and I could see it even in the way my parents would fight, so I burrowed into a little hole of Tolstoy and Austen afraid of the grime all around me.

In that little den of literature and math homework, I gritted my teeth and hoped and wished for security. I strained and I strained, and although my GPA throughout high school was pretty stellar, I felt alone and isolated and as if the weight of the world sat on my shoulders.

I made plans to attend Emory University in the fall of 2011. My parents even bought “Emory Mom and Dad” bumper stickers for their cars. I had always said, “I’ll never go to UGA.”

Me on the far right after me high school graduation

But May of my senior year rolled around and I had a very weird change of heart that led me to consider a visit to UGA that then led me to sending in that college deposit to Athens rather than to Atlanta.

That same summer, I told my cousin I would go to the beach with her on a mission trip, an act that prompted my friend to ask me, “Lauren, don’t only religious people go on mission trips?”

People were very shaken up about my change in plans. I, of course, was oblivious to all of these openings of opportunities and closing of my “no’s.” I quickly learned to never say never.

I went on that mission trip during the week of the 4th of July. I helped paint a brick house and patched a roof. I ate too many Swedish Fish candies on the floor with my cousin and her friends and sang Katy Perry in the bunk rooms before we went to bed.

At night, we worshiped on the beach, and I became fearful of looking like I didn’t know the songs (because truthfully I didn’t). I committed to learning the melodies because I was shocked that a group of kids my age could really care for Jesus in the way that they did.

I don’t know what my moral code really was. I did know that I had done some terrible things in life, and so the concept of grace that this “guy Jesus” offered (I was still a little skeptical) was attractive to me. So, when I got home from the trip in July, I started reading the new study bible my cousin had given me before the trip.

I would go into my room and lock the door, afraid that someone would find me googling King David or something. I started journaling which was mainly a bunch of “I love you, Jesus. I love you, Jesus. I love you, Jesus.” and “How Lord? How Lord? How Father, could you love someone like me?”

It was what the other kids were doing, and I didn’t know why really, but I needed desperately to know what they knew. I wanted what they had, that peace and light that I hadn’t known existed before.

I accepted Jesus into my heart and became a new creation. I was full of gratitude and a peace that I knew were not my own doing.

I showed up to UGA in August with big plans. I thought I’d meet 30,000 new friends. I thought I’d end up as the president of the sorority. I thought I’d study abroad for a semester in Australia. If all of my plans would have been fulfilled, I probably would be planning my wedding right now.

What actually happened that August day I arrived with my twin, extra-large sheet set was the opposite: my roommate did not like me at all. Rush was long and hot and I lost my voice by the third day. I was a smiling mime. My hair got stuck in my best friend’s portable fan, which left me with fresh, new “side bangs.” I would get on the bus and cry to my mom because I thought I would never make it around campus in 15 minutes.

I hated it. I had never felt more alone or broken in my entire life. My life up until last August had been shaped by my own control. Here, I felt like I had that control snatched right from my hand.

Me, in the middle

What did I do when my roommate put a curtain up under her bed and refused to talk to me? I turned to Jesus and, though my roommate still didn’t want to talk to me, I discovered a still, small voice that encouraged me, stayed with me, and offered me peace and a new perspective.

I learned to pray, and so I prayed hard, desperate prayers. “God, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I need you. I need something. I need something to change and I want you. I’d give it all for you.”

He gave me a little peace and a heaping portion of faith that felt something like, “you don’t know what I’m doing, but I love you and I am here for you. I have a plan.”

I believed Him and, sure enough, my cards seemed to get shuffled and I got dealt a much more pleasant hand.

I started going to Freshley, the freshman student ministry of the UGA Wesley Foundation, and started walking with the Lord. Seriously. I would walk to class and talk to Him, and in a small group we would talk and pray together. Standing there, crammed into Wesley’s main chapel like a little sardine, I listened to the same songs I had learned on the beach the summer before,

I felt a new beginning and the “I’ll never” that I used to cling to was exchanged for a big “yes” to the unknown, knowing full well that I was following a plan much larger than my own.

I found life at UGA. I found family. I found hope and I found deep, satisfying love that makes the unknown and the filth all beautiful and exciting. Instead of saying “I’ll never,” I’m now saying a big “yes” to whatever door Jesus wants to walk me through. From what I’ve found over the last four years, they are doors that lead to the best, most exciting and fulfilling places.