Hooray for rejection!

Since I was quite young, I have wanted to work at the White House. I kind of have wanted to be the president at some points too. Then I decided it would be ideal to be the First Lady because then I could be as involved or not in political stuff as I wanted, but I could still help plan and attend all the parties! I say this to emphasis my desire and efforts, consequently, to intern at the White House. (Logical step: intern < president. Obvi.)

I first applied during my junior year in college: didn't get it. I then applied last year for this summer (or winter, for you southern hemisphere-ans): again, didn't get it. The first time I was rejected, I was devastated. I could not understand how God could not see that as the best situation for me - I certainly could. I eventually pulled myself together and got on board with God's plans.

This second time, I honestly wasn't sure what I wanted. Since moving to South Africa, I have fallen in love with the most wonderful man; but visiting the States in December put me in utter turmoil about whether I really wanted to stay here or not. I prayed that God would move my heart completely in one direction - whether that was to stay here in SA or to move back; I didn't want to be unsure about either decision. So, I got an email in February saying that I did not get a place in the summer internship, but please apply to the fall internship. What was this? God telling me to try again or just a standard email that some people sitting in the White House send to everyone who applies? Who knows, but I applied again.

During the time between when I applied for this fall (or, spring) and waited for a reply, God certainly changed my heart. I just fell more and more in love with Gordon and found myself not even wanting to get the internship! What was going on?! I just didn't want to have to say no to an opportunity like that if it was offered to me, because I had decided I didn't want it anymore.

And just yesterday, I found out, for a third time, that I did not get accepted into the White House internship program.

Hooray! I laugh at myself even as I write that, because I cannot believe all that God has done in my life to bring me to the point where, I am so excited that I am not going to be interning in the White House. If I have the opportunity one day to work in the White House, I would still love to (at least I say that now). But now, I am overjoyed that I get to stay here in South Africa with the best boyfriend in the whole world and that I have a God who knows what I want even more than I do!

When life gives you lemons, you've got lemons.

I have contemplated starting a blog for a while now, especially as I read the weekly, monthly, yearly (whatever they may be) entries of some of my rhetorically talented friends. And I have always told myself I would keep one when I finally travel and live abroad long term. Now, as that time seems that it might be approaching, and I was recently told I should write a book on…well, I’ll explain shortly…I think this could be just the right time to exercise my love of the written word and hobby, or obsession, with life.
So, my book. I’ll start by saying that the only title I’ve jokingly contemplated is, “When life gives you lemons, you’ve got lemons.” I recently applied to the White House internship program, and as you can probably guess from my lack of gusto, I did not get it. Disappointing, yes. Humorous? It’s headed that way. I received that unfortunate email this past Friday afternoon. That evening, at a lecture event held by my campus ministry, the guest speaker opened with following antidote (paraphrased):
College campuses are just exciting, and crazy. I spent the afternoon helping my daughter, Kelsey, move out of her dorm over at Northeastern. We were walking down the sidewalk pushing the blue cart with all her things pilled in, when a guy came running out of his apartment building screaming, “Guess who’s interning at the White House?!”
The rest of the story is insignificant here. And needleless to say, I just gawked. The irony that of the probably 40ish interns the White House accepts, one of them happened to live in the same city as me AND run out of his apartment screaming at the exact moment that this guest speaker walked by! I get God’s sense of humor, sometimes. I’m still learning to appreciate it though.
I say all this to provide the final position in the lineup that led to the suggestion that I write a book, which has led me to at least start writing publicly, consistently.
“What would I write a book on?” I asked my friend.
“Well…rejection,” she said.
“Thanks.” (I hope you can hear the sarcasm.)
It is true. I could write a book on a rejection. I’m actually pretty familiar with it. In my mind, my first real introduction to it began in my college search. My dear and ever so caring friend who suggest I write about my relationship with rejection says that I can start with the time I tried out for the badminton team my sophomore year in high school. It’s ok, you can go ahead and laugh. I am completely secure about my love of badminton and in saying that I am actually pretty good. Nonetheless, I did not make the team. (Why else would I be writing about it here?) I am convinced however that I did not make it because I am not Asian, and to my recollection, almost every player on that team was Asian. This is not a racial statement and I make that assertion with no spite or malice; it’s just an unfortunate happenstance that I was not born Asian. Regardless, this was relatively my introduction to rejection.
It’s been a pretty drama filled relationship, but I’m finally starting to get the hang of it. And perhaps writing about it will not only help me to laugh at it all a little more, but will soften the blow for others who find themselves a similar position.
I am not keeping this blog to write my sob stories on all the school, internships, jobs, etc . that I’ve applied to and haven’t gotten, or on the times I’ve put my heart out there and had it handed back to me, they’re just universal and convenient openers.
Of course, I decided to start this in the last week of the semester, right before finals. I will write what I can, but most likely I will say auf wiedersehen until after May 13th.
Auf wiedersehen.