Perhaps it's odd, but I'm always surprised when anyone tells me I'm a nice person. I don't think I'm a horrible person, and I know I'm not really a mean person. But I am a fairly antisocial person, and whenever I act friendly and polite just because I should I feel like I've somehow tricked everyone.
Right now, I'm surrounded by nice people. An overwhelming mosh pit of friendly, caring, genuine and loving people. It's almost terrifying. And it's welcome weekend, which means I am constantly doing activities with these terrifyingly fantastic people.
I came to Taylor knowing, at least in my head, that I was going to change and grow. But I kept those thoughts separate from the rest of me that thinks I like being a lonely person who tells no one anything and fixes everything herself. When I think of it like that, I can again tell myself I'm not a horrible person. Disaster averted. But it's one short slip and a fall from there to condescension, then looking down on others, and all sorts of secret sins which are so easy to slip into.
Maybe this was buzzing in the back of my mind as I tried to smile and be nice to everyone yesterday and decided I couldn't. I was tired. I wanted to be alone. I was trying not to cry all through the afternoon, and by the time we had all-campus communion, I could only think Please God, help.
I wanted to not only be nice, but love the people around me as I knew they loved me. I could tell, because all the wonderful girls from my dorm took care of me. One prayed for me to have peace. And I found it.
Today is another stressful day, but it's been tempered with understanding. I have to come to rely on the people around me, and more importantly on God. I should have figured out by now that I can't do this on my own. It's not about being nice. It's not about trying to smile. I just need to love these people for who they are -- which is easy enough.