It's Not an Emotion and It's Not a Victory March; It's a Bond that Holds Come Hell or High Water

Hey guys!

It's been too long. I remember the days when I could write ten of these in a month. Then sophomore year rolled around. This is short but I hope it gets the message across.

Love you all very dearly,

Jen

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I honestly feel like Edmund so much. I constantly wonder how God can love someone as dark, hateful, and horrible as I. Then I remember what love is. Everyone says love is a feeling. I have to disagree. Love is no emotion. It's a bond so strong that you would go to hell and back for the person; they mean the world and you'd die for them. Love looks at you and says "I'll stay at your side come hell or high water". They're may be different kinds of love, but all have to meet those requirements.
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He loved us when we hated Him. This never made any sense to me. It's not human to love those who inflict pain on you. It's not natural to willingly serve your enemy. But that's the point. It isn't a rational love; it's a love that defies the rational mind and makes the common sense do a 180°. God's love is something so radical that He would die for someone who would kill him. That's what love really is. So no matter how Edmund like I feel tonight, or how Edmund like I've been, that radical love lives on in me and through me. Since I've become a Christian, that's become my life's goal, to love so radically that people notice I'm not like them. It's hard, it's not easy, but hey; who ever said love was a victory march?

Made to Bless

Hey all!

Wow it's been way too long. That's what happens when one takes AP and Honors I guess. It's good to be writing again though. I hope you enjoy!

May this make you think,

Jen

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Be conceited. I'm serious. Take pride in yourself. Look at yourself. Pick out three of the most negative things you tell yourself, such as mine: fat, untalented, unloved.

Okay. Acknowledge the lies. Most of these negative things we tell ourselves are lies we feel the need to tell ourselves. Yes I'm fat. I feel unloved at times, wait, let me correct that. I feel unworthy of being loved and I feel untalented.

But I was serious. Be a bit conceited. Tell yourself what is good and true about yourself. I'm strong of body and strong of mind. I'm witty and great when faced with a debate. I'm kind, I don't care who someone is, if they're my teacher, my small group, my friends, or even my enemies, they're all given that baseline respect all humans gets. I'm faithful. If one of you has gained my love and loyalty, they have no reason to fell alone. Even if we're fighting, I'll come stand beside them.

These negative and positive thoughts can shape a person. No, they do shape a person. We are all made up of each and every single one of the experiences we have, negative and positive, to be a blessing to others. He has made us the way we are wether its tall, fat, brunette, short, skinny, or blonde.

So these negative lies that we tell ourselves, destroy them. Seize them by a the neck and smite them. God has made you to be a blessing. Blessings aren't negative. Blessings are beautiful, merciful things for the betterment of others. View yourself as a blessing. Because that's what you are.

I Believe in Swing Sets

Hey!

Wow its been a while. But school has been busy so I haven't had time to post *insert sad emoji here*. But in English, all sophomores are required to write an essay with a statement titled 'this I believe.' I wrote mine over the weekend and I'd like to share it with you. oh and please do tell me what you think; I love feedback!

May this make you think,

Jen

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I believe in never getting rid of old swing sets. I put my trust in the frame to support me.  I also have faith in swinging your hardest, making the whole thing shake, because I know the frame will still stand. I believe in the childhood memories that we share, and that running up and down the ladders is the foundation of your life; it's who you become. Swing sets are the safes that we store our childhood in. They must never, ever be emptied. 

I believe in waiting for your father to come home and being too impatient for him to come, so you push your legs back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until you finally learn how to swing. I believe in the father pushing his child and the mother catching her the first time she tries to jump out. I believe in the memories made on swing sets. 

I have faith in the wood that slowly starts to deteriorate during the tween years as you and your overweight body sit on the swing, pushing yourself, letting all your emotions out and going back to being a child. I believe in swing sets being emotional outlets, in always going back to being a child to find the emotional security we all crave.

I trust in the wood bars that fall out after the long years of rain. For I know that they will still be there even after all those years of the sun beating down on that poor, battered piece of woodwork; that the dark, rain soaked lumber will still stand, even only as infrastructure. Because the last thing to go is always the frame. I believe in watching the dog run around the yard as a high schooler, in laughing as he jumps up on your lap. I believe in giggling as the two of you swing together, because it’s those memories that shape your character.

I believe in being middle aged and going back to your childhood home, to the house your parents used to own, and sitting on the old rickety swing-set that your mother could never sell, and simply crying, feeling the comfort of your childhood all around you. I have trust that the frame will still be standing, still holding its shape. 

I believe in being old and gray and knowing that you're going to die, in looking at that swing set that has been with you for all these years, in looking at that old rotten wood and those rusty nuts and bolts that have broken and fallen out while still keeping a smile on your face. Because when you look at that old frame, you can take comfort in knowing that your childhood is still with you, even at the very end. 

So yes, I believe in never throwing swing sets out, because those swing sets and those childhood memories are the frame of your entire life, of who you are. We can always fall back on that frame; it never goes away, this I believe.  

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Hey!

Well, this was very fun to write. Albeit a bit weird. I really have no clue what was going through my head when I wrote it. But i like it, and I hope it changes you in some way. Writing this changed me a bit anyway.

May this make you think,

Jen


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I stood there, next to my father and brother. The king and prince of our country were a glorious sight to behold. They were exact replicas of each other, save my brother's inexplicable towering figure. We were there to witness another execution. And I hated it. 

 

My father was not king by birth. Instead he was the second son who had to watch as his brother who he loved try to usurp his own father's throne. That day changed him. And my mother's death in Alain's and my child birth sealed the deal. 

His iron rule did not go over well with some of our people and as such there were uprisings and currently we were in a civil war. In what ever honesty I can afford you, I must digress and say that I am one of those people who lead the rebellion. But not because I want the throne. 

All my life I have seen my father rule and make everyday decisions that decided the fate of millions, and when I was younger I thought he was the perfect picture of who I was supposed to be. I thought him a fair and just man. But as I got older, I could tell that something wasn't right with his heart. It had been blackened by his past. 

I had tried to make myself forget. He was my king and it is written that "God establishes kings" so I tried to hard to agree with his way of justice. But I found I couldn't. And one day, he himself turned me into a rebel. 

He had been dining with me and we were talking about politics and justice as we usually did. The only thing was that I didn't agree with him. A woman stole from a noble whom she served to feed her children. He wanted her flogged. I disagreed. I wanted jail time, nothing more. The woman had a family that needed her to be able to work, not an invalid. Oh, how could I have been such a fool as to actually voice my opinion? 

I told him so, and as the naïve girl I was, I asked him to change her punishment which was set for later in the day. I'll never forget the look in his eyes as I questioned his decision. Before I knew it, his hand was at my throat, and he told me in no uncertain terms that I was never to question him about anything again and that I had too much freedom already and that this was a man's world, I needed to learn the art of women's court and how to arrange alliances through a good marriage. 

By the time he let go, I had marks on my throat from his hand. And I hated him. My allegiance hadn't changed. I was loyal to Camelot and its king, but the king I recognized did not have a throne yet. My loyalty was not to my twin brother whom I regarded as my king, but to my Lord Jesus and His laws. 

My father was mad in his grief and suffering, that much was clear and he was willing to harm his daughter. That night I had walked out into the pouring rain, ignoring all notions of health, and simply reflected on who I was. I had changed. One act of violence from a man meant to protect and guide me made me new. 

Soaking wet, I returned to my chambers and planned. Then whole while I was planning I was praying. The Lord had something planned for me and this was the first rung of the ladder. 

I couldn't and wouldn't kill my father nor would I have him killed. He may have harmed me, and I may not have recognized him as my father any more, he was still the current king and my brother wouldn't be a great king if his reign started with his sister murdering his father. 

So I turned to the rebels. They needed a leader and who better than the military genius behind my father's successes. I knew I was taking a huge risk when I became a leader. I would have to pick my battles very carefully as my father would still be using the old plans that "Thomas" had drawn up for him. I couldn't very well have him demanding new ones when I couldn't play "Thomas" and get caught. 

So as I stood behind them, my blood boiled. Unnecessary violence. Years ago, my brother had been named crown prince and as such could take over if the king went mad. My grandfather had put it in the charter that once named, the title crown prince could never be revoked in case of a king's inability to rule as he should. 

Oh, if only my brother wasn't so blind! If he could only see how wrong my father's decisions were. His innate sense of justice and mercy and duty would kick in and we'd have a new king. 

But love and devotion to my father had taken away his perception of reality. My brother had haver truly seen my father's soul. He had never seen all the sides to him I have. He never questioned my story of an attack in the woods that caused me to loose my inability to sing or talk normally, when it had been my father's hands that had done the damage. 

How I hated what cards life had dealt me. And insane father, a blind brother, and a whole army at my bidding that couldn't even win the war without my father's death. And the fact that I am standing here, watching an innocent man accused of treason about to be killed, I wanted to retract my order of not killing my father. 

I had everything in my favor; the rapidly fading autumn that was turning to a cold and wet winter, my army outnumbered my father's by three to one, but even with all the tactical advantages and strategic checking of the king right before a checkmate, it all meant nothing. The army and the battle plans helped me none if my brother and king didn't even know he was the latter to me. 

Suddenly the man cried out from his walk with the shadow of death, "Lord let the true king of our country reign! The Lord is sovereign and shall know the hearts of all men even the king!" And with that, the executioner removed his head from his shoulders. 

My father was livid. "They have a leader." The madness was in his eyes. I looked down, not daring to speak knowing my ruined voice and chances at marriage would set him off again. And while I wanted my brother to see his father in the light I did, I didn't want to make him choose. 

"My lord, we have another prisoner to execute. We should do it before the crowd leaves."

"Yes; yes of course. Continue." The man, the incredibly brave man nodded and called for the next prisoner. When I saw her, I wanted to throw up. A small child, not even ten winters old held her chin up high. I knew her to be the daughter of one of my higher ranking generals of my army. 

The chill, almost wintery gust whipped the rags that she wore as clothing, and I wanted to scream bloody murder. A child, an innocent child; what could she have done?

And then the symbolism hit me smack in the face and made me stumble backwards. He would kill this child to scare the rebellion and punish her father. And I wouldn't stand for it. I broke into a run down the stairs that separated the girl and I, pushing her frail body back to her father, and standing where she stood. 

"No. Not today." 

I only needed to speak those three short words for my family to understand. My brother looked appalled, and my father even more angry than I ever imagined he would be when he found out. "You do realize that you will be killed for committing this treason against your king don't you?" His smile was mocking, as if I was a stupid girl who didn't know a thing about the man's world around me. 

My throat hurt and my voice was scratchy. "I never committed treason against my king, my lord. My God would never condone this; he would never condone nearly strangling your teenage daughter for speaking her mind. You were never my king. My brother and my God are the only kings I will ever recognize. Not you, never you."

The freshly fallen snow told of childhoods lost; of memories never to be remembered and never to be made. The ice sang about what went on in the lives of children, the stories never shared and never written down. After all, this was winter. Autumn had passed the moment I ran down those steps. I was gripped by the hands of winter; the hands of death and life that so loved to wreak havoc on the world for those three months of the year. 

My throat hurt from all the speaking and the thin, cold air. "If you want to kill me then go ahead. I'm already here."

That sent my father over the edge. He gave the order for me to place my chin on the stone. As I stared heavenward, I found it so heavily ironic that I met my death not suddenly on the battlefield with my army fighting for my cause and my people, not calmly, with my army and my cause and my people being the death of me. 

My brother stared at me with wide eyes, suddenly rendered motionless. I called his name and told him one thing, the only thing I could get out with my raspy voice. People had gotten used to my communication using my servant or a quill and parchment, so hearing me speak so much was a shock. 

"My brother, listen. Even the lost get found. Be your country's keeper, so that the whole world will know that you're not alone. Even in the dark you can still see the light. It's gonna be alright. This is the first day of the rest of your life." 

Such ironic last words as the French sword came down on my neck and I knew no more. 

-

The sword came down on the princess's neck and blood spilled everywhere. People began openly crying and mourning. The brother looked at his king and father to see that he was no longer breathing, and that his eyes stared into nothingness. 

The physician later ruled it a heart attack from the shock of ordering and witnessing his own daughter's death. The guilt and shame had been to much for even his blackened heart. 

Sitting down, the prince sobbed openly, crying out to God, asking how he could have been so blind and so deaf. His sister's last words had not been her own at all, but quotations from songs they had learned as children. 

Time went on, spring came, and then summer, and the prince slowly became the king his country needed him to be, one rooted deep in the faith. He may not have been the military genius his sister was, but he was as close as many could get. 

In many ways he was unlike his sister.  Constantly he compared not only his self, but others to her as well. He now saw just how different she was, physically and mentally. Besides having deformed vocal chords and not being the thinnest girl he had ever  met, she was strong and true, as well as faithful and loyal to a fault. And she had loved her God with all she had, even to follow His commands above her ruler's. 

Brave? Undeniably. Foolhardy? You could probably argue that. Loving and true? No doubt. But there has always been something about her, an inner peace that he craved. 

His intentional blindness had crippled his heart in more ways than one. He bore the guilt of not taking the throne sooner, of all those innocent lives lost. And he felt that he would bear it until he left this earth to be with God. 

But every time he felt guilty for her death, there would be a small voice in the wind saying, "I bore that guilt on the cross. I bore that shame when I died for you. All your hurt and sorrow and loss I bore. And it's not your burden to bear any more. It's mine now. You are not your worst day."

This Is Home

Hey!

Okay, this is weird two posts on the same day... and on the day i planned to post no less! I'd say that I finally got rid of my habit of procrastination, but lets face it, that's never gonna happen.
I hope you like this!
May this make you think,

Jen

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Have you ever gone on a long road trip and came home? And by home I mean go on back to church. I know I have. And that feeling of homecoming that you can touch as you walk in and find brothers and sisters there to welcome you back. Its that utter feeling of love and affection that we all constantly crave yet can't find in the world.

Or perhaps your week has, well for lack of a better term, been utter chaos and pure hell, and it is all you can do to drag yourself out of bed to go to the other side of town. And the sense of community that envelopes you just makes you break down in tears in the arms of your friends.

Or maybe you are sitting alone at church, with your friend not being able to make it that day, and you listen to the pastor speak, and it hits home. Your heart has been in the darkness for so long that tears just poor out of you, and you can feel God's presence in the room with you as you cry, letting out all of the pain from your life, and you feel Him hug you, hold you, and tell you that it's okay.

I've been there. Ive been in each of those situations. And when I think of home, I can't think of only my mom, dad, grandma, and brother. I think of those two buildings full of people who I couldn't live without seeing them once or twice a week.

So I thank God for the church. I thank God for those people whom I have grown up with or grown up knowing. I thank God for them because if I did not have them, I don't know who I would be today because they have helped make me who I am. They are a part of my family, and a large part of my life. My biweekly Sunday morning girls Bible study, the small groups on Wednesday nights, the youth group on Saturdays or biweekly on Sunday afternoons, they all have such an impact on my life, they are my lifeline on some weeks, and the best parts of my week on other days.

So when I think of church, the song lyric that comes to mind is "This is home / Now I'm finally where I belong / I've been searching for a place of my own / Now I've found it / Maybe this is home / This is home" (Switchfoot, This Is Home). 

And really, this is home.

Those Days and Those Times

Hey guys!

       Wow...sophomore year already! My the time has flown by! I remember the beginning of freshman year and how in the middle of it I started this blog. The time has really flown by. I'm almost a year older, hopefully wiser and less naïve than I was on the first day. I hope that I have grown closer to the Lord through the struggles of the first season of high school. And I am glad that He has given me this opportunity to share what insight to the world that He gives me with all of you. The other day I took a look at the page views by country and I found it so unbelievable that I had readers from around the globe. So I am very thankful to all who read this meager blog, and how I have been able to see God work through my blog to spread this throughout the world. So if you think that I don't see your reading or that I don't notice my readers, that is so far from the truth. I want to thank you all for making this happen and giving me a reason to continue.
May this make you think,

Jen

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There are days when we can put smiles on our faces, when we can walk with backs straight, shoulders squared, head up and a heart praising God.

And there are days when we walk, our bags weighing us down, eyes looking at the ground, shoulders slumped, and backs crooked. There are days when the pain shows on our faces, when the smile doesn't quite reach our eyes, an our eyes are empty and void of the life that once sparkled there.

There are days and times when our smiles are contagious, and or eyes are windows to the joy in our hearts. Those are the times when we raise our our hands in the air and praise God for today. There are days when we feel we are on top of the mountain, with our hands touching God's. When He feels so close, and our prayers seem heard and answered, when we are so full of joy. 

And then there are the broken days, when we are lost and alone, when we crave love and affection. When the void between our perfect and holy God and sinful, fallen man seems too wide for even our Savior to breach it's chasm.

The more broken we are, and the more broken we feel inside, the more lost, lonely, and desperate, that is what makes us need Hime the most; that utter lack of something, that unconquerable void is what leads us closer and closer to the God who loves.

And it's those broken days, those days that we hurt that make all the good days worthwhile, and that make us stronger, that gives us the will and the strength to conquer the next obstacle in the ever challenging life of a child of God.

This Radical Love

Hey guys!
Wow it's been a long time since I wrote on here...sorry about that. Life and school and vacation got in the way. I'm super happy to be back, to be kicking off sophomore year with this piece I wrote after my youth pastor's sermon on Saturday night and my church pastor's sermon the following morning. I'm excited to get back into the habit of writing here, and allowing God to use me as He will. I'm keeping all my faithful readers (old and new alike) in prayer as this week progresses.
May this make you think,
Jen

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Okay, let's be serious for a second. I want you to think of an enemy of yours. Who has hurt you? Who has broken your trust? Who has betrayed you? Who has made you incredibly angry? Who has made you cry? Who can you not stand to be around? I want you to bring those one or two people to the forefront of your mind for this post. Even if you aren't a Christian, you've probably heard of the phrase "love your enemies" and if you're anything like me you would go "Well, how do we do that?"

So are you still thinking of those one or two people who have the ability to rip your heart out of your chest and tear it to pieces? Are they those ex-boyfriends or girlfriends, those old best friends, maybe your step family, maybe your mom, dad, or sibling?  Sometimes it's those people closest to us, our families, BFFs, significant others, who have the time and ability to hurt us the most. And when we look at them, all that hurt and anger can come flooding back. 

And we want to get even, right? We want to make the hurt go away, and I know that for me, when I think of loving my enemies I think, "Why on earth would God want me to love on this person when they have taken my heart and crushed it under their heel?"

But weren't we once those same people? Weren't we once His enemies? Weren't we once the people who just wrote off God, who cursed Him or denied His existence? And He loved us enough to die for us. When people ask why I love on those others, why I talk to those people who no one else would, the only response I can come up with is "Because God loved me first."

And that truly is the only thing that one can say. If one is asked "Why do you love this one?" and responds "Because I am commanded to.", that love they are showing becomes superficial. "I love you because I have to," is no love; that is reluctant obedience. 

But when one can love their enemy, when one goes out of their way to give generously without asking for a return gift, when we serve those enemies of ours without holding back in our hearts, when we intentionally bless them with our hands, heart, and mouth, and when we pray for those enemies, when we go to God on their behalves, that is truly loving them. Just to think of all that, of what loving your enemies looks like, I can look on the cross with a whole new perspective. The life changing awe from the fact that He could love us so much that He died for us, even when we have done all that we did, just shocks me to the core. 

Guys we are called to love radical lives, to live out this radical faith and love that Jesus gave us in His earthly life and on the cross. Practice what we preach. If we say we have received Jesus's love, His perfect love, and that He resides in our hearts, we need to show that. And part of this love that we have inside our hearts, this irrational love that goes beyond all things known, beyond all the old things under the sun, then loving our enemies is one of those first steps. It is tgee most irrational, inhuman, and unworldly thing to do is to turn the other cheek for them to slap, to love them even though they did what they have done, because God loved us even though we have done what we have. God loved us first. That is the whole reason why we have this love in our hearts, why the blinders are off and why we can see clearly. We may not live these perfect lives where everything we do is full of love and grace, in fact I'll tell you right now you won't, for we are a sinful and fallen man, an idea not too popular in the West, but our sinful and fallen nature has been removed from His sight. He does not see you as this person who has done this wrong against Him, He sees you as His child whom He adores and died for. That is the love we have been given. And so that is the love we must show. 

So are you still thinking of those one or two people who have hurt you? Now just this week, can you do this? Can you serve them, be intentionally generous, not asking anything in return, can you bless them intentionally, can you pray for them not out of duty or obligation, but because of the mercy, love, and grace He has given to us, can you go to God on their behalf, asking for their well being. Just try it for one week and see the difference it will make in your life, in who you are as a Christian and a follower of God. 

What Would the World Look Like if We Weren't Free?

Happy Independence Day to all!!! This is one of my favorite holidays, and I find it very funny that they chose to sign it on King George's birthday, which was intentional. But truly I am thankful to be an American and I am thankful to be able to worship Him as He has commanded without fear of the law.

So happy Fourth of July to all and

May this make you think,

Jen

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As I stared at the flickering tongues of flame that burn at the touch, and the delightful displays that come from a flaming firework, I realized just how blessed I am to live here.

I'm an American and proud. I don't agree with the president (in fact 99% of the time I don't. I'd say I don't 100% of the time, but that could be a lie cuz I might have at one point) or the Supreme Court's rulings all the time, but I am grateful to live where I can speak what I want without going to jail for saying something against the rulers. 

Or for the ability to write about God and His wondrous works and His awesome power. Or simply being able to carry a gun or have one in the house. 

I'm thankful that we live in a country where we are able to live freely, and live lives that reflect Him, even if we don't always do this perfectly, but we are free to be imperfect. We are free to be ourselves. 

We can speak out against issues or vote the way we want, and simply choose what to do that day. We are able to live our lives the way that He would want in the greatest country on earth. So next time you go to say that it is not, think of a world without America. Think of a world where we aren't free. And then tell me that this is the worst country or to bag on America, ask yourself, where would this world be if we weren't free?

Let His freedom ring!

"O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved home and the war's desolation!

Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto: 'In God is our trust.'

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!" -Francis Scott Key, Star Spangled Banner 

It Suits Me Just Right

Hey!

Well I was leafing through my writings and found this. I though that I'd posted this a few weeks ago, but I was wrong. So here this is!

May this make you think,

Jen

-

"Mac," I said, glaring at my little sister. "Would you please turn on something else? Something meaningful?"

She sighed, and turned off the pop music that blared through the truck speakers. "Is Lecrae alright?" 

I didn't really like rap, but Lecrae had good lyrics so I nodded my consent. Hearing the fast paced lyrics fly by helped me to re-focus my attention on the scenery. Utah was beautiful, and at times I could swear I was in Middle Earth. 

On the way to Bryce we had stopped in Virginia City, and toured a bit. The Mark Twain Museum, some shops, a pub, that sort of thing. The ride from Virginia City to Ely to Bryce was gorgeous of course, but rather devoid of life. 

Seriously, there was maybe four or five towns. That's it. Utah was pretty much the same as Nevada, except for the Middle-Earth-like aspect of it. 

Oh, I probably should have mentioned by now that I have never read the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit. Yes, I know, but from all I've heard about it, Utah seems a lot like Middle Earth. 

Anyways, as I left the car, my legs sore and stiff from the hours scrunched up inside the van, I felt this  overwhelming need to hike up Inspiration Point. Bad idea. Very bad idea. 

Why? Because at 8,100 ft in the air, and climbing, my lungs wanted to burst. Mum and Mac were far below, waiting at the second viewpoint. 

"Mel!" I heard Mac's voice, but it sounded faint. "Don't climb to high!"

I shouted consent and kept climbing, my lungs hurting. But the view going up was what actually took my breath away. Glorious iron-oxidized (in case you didn't know, iron oxide is rust) limestone (so a rust-coloured limestone) rose into hoodoos and balancing rocks and caves. Forcing myself up the last fifty feet and across the trail, I almost dropped the camera. 

The dynamic shadows and rock formations shone in the last hours of sunlight. Immediately, I had forgotten about my lungs that were lacking air and my legs that moved like jelly. Just standing at this remarkable place made me feel...well, I don't have the words to describe what I felt. 

The formations were...immaculate, with features indescribable. "Mel!" My phone rang and I checked the text. "Come on down, the sun is setting." So I walked down, but gravity had other plans. 

Unused to hiking at high altitudes, my legs gave out under the pressure of gravity forcing me downhill. Bent at an odd angle, my legs were on fire, while one had bone sticking out and blood coming every where. "Oh Lord, not now, please not now!" 

Another hiker called the ambulance and I don't remember what happened next, all I remember is saying, "Lord, don't let me die."

I woke up in the hospital a day later, dazed and confused. "Mac?" I croaked out. "Mum?"

"I'm here Mel," Mac's voice came to my ears like a blessing in disguise. "Don't try to move, you broke your legs and lost a lot of blood. Doc said that your lucky to be alive, you lost so much blood."

I just wanted to hug God. I wasn't dead! And my family was well, well at least Mac was. "Hey Mac?" I asked after a glass of water slated my thirst. 

"Yeah Mel?"

"Where's Mum?" 

Mac looked down at her hands. "Mum, well, she, oh I can't!" And Mac, disregarding the tough tomboy that she is, broke down in tears. I moved my hand and placed it on hers, the only action of comfort I could force my weakened body to do. 

"Mac, what happened to her?"

Through choked tears, she answered. "Mum, when she saw you, well she had another heart attack. And after the last one being so close, well, Mel, she didn't make it." 

Tears were pouring down our faces. For so long it had been M cubed, Melissa, Mackenna, and Melody. Our dad had never been in the picture. My younger twin and I had never even met him before. Now, it didn't look like we'd have a choice. 

"Mac," I said in the tenderest voice I had. "Mamma's gone to be with Jesus. Why do you weep? Your not alone M, you still got me, and we can be M squared, just as we always have been. There is absolutely no reason to cry for her. She is in heaven."

Mac nodded and got ushered out by the doc who wanted to check me out after coming out of an apparently indefinite coma. I was fine, minus the two broken legs and oxygen that I needed to have for the next two months. 

Three months later, after rehab and oxygen, we were finally allowed to go back to Great Britan. And we were taken to meet dad.

Well, that's all I have to write now. Maybe I'll tell you about Dad when I can, but I'm still a bit weak. Mac has been brilliant about all of this, and I can't believe that God brought me through. I guess that near death experience made Him and I a lot closer, and my faith somehow stronger. 

And I thank God for every day in my life, because it suits me just right. 

Love you Gram,

Mel

Who are you rolling with?

 Hey!
So this was written by Abby (by now, you should be familiar with this awesome young woman) and I for one, quite enjoyed this one. 
May this make you think,
Jen

-

 “OMG, look, he’s looking at me!” “Ahhhhh he texted me!” “He smiling at me! How can this be happening?!?” You know that feeling, when your crush or just a really cute guy smiles at you from across the room or texts you or, *squeels*, actually talks to you. All of the sudden your world turns upside down and your heart’s beating so fast you feel like your chest is going to explode and you can’t breathe and you just want to faint from happiness. And then things start progressing, and he asks you out, and you’re ready to die from happiness. Then you guys start dating and you feel like you’re floating. You’re on a cloud nine and you never want to come down. And that’s great. That’s human to want to be loved and have those relationships and all that stuff. But before you enter into a relationship, think about the person you’re getting into a relationship with. Are they sweet, loyal, dependable, honest, trustworthy, and all those other traits you need in the person you’re dating? Do they really care about you? And of course, the most important, are they a Christian? I think the Lecrae quote I put at the beginning sums it up perfectly. If they aren’t “rolling with Christ,” or walking with God, then don’t get involved with them. You may think, “Oh I can change them. I can convert them.” Um, no you can’t. It’s more likely that they’ll change you and lead you away from the Lord, not the other way around. Second Corinthians 6:14 says, “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers; for what partnership have righteous and lawlessness, or what fellowship has light with darkness?” The Bible clearly tells us not to be close friends with, or date, unbelievers. God doesn’t want our minds to be poisoned by the evil of the world, and unbelievers are clearly of the world. God wants us to be set apart, His precious children. This doesn’t mean we should hate or shun unbelievers. We should still accept them and love them and try to lead them to God. But we should not be in a close relationship with them. So before you start dating someone or becoming close friends with them, take a step back first and think about it.

May this make you think,
Abby

The Somber Serenity of the Aftermath

Hey!
So over the last few days I have been in Gettysburg and Antitem and this came to mind as I was walking through the Gettysburg National Cemetery (I know, weird place for a blog idea) and I found myself staring at the Soldier's memorial. There were statues representing four things that I found fascinating. The words were War, Plenty, History, and Peace. And then in the last leg of the journey I found a quote, only seven words, that capture the whole meaning of the Civil War. "Not for themselves, but for their country."
May this make you think,
Jen

-

Everyone talks about the calm before the storm, and the devastation that occurs whilst the storm rages. But there is never any discussion of the odd, somber serenity that is the aftermath of a battle. 

No one ever speaks about the drizzle that follows the flood waters; the calming tears of a sun-streaked cloud barrier. There are never words penned about the whispers that follow an emotionally scarring shouting match; never a literary picture painted about the droplets falling down from a storm-soaked tree. 

The same can be said about the Battle at Gettysburg. A thousand Homeric epics can be spun about that trio of blood-bathed days, and yet not capture it all. But there are no epics to describe the aftermath of those three days; the weeks to come where none could open a window, and each person became a doctor, nurse, or assistant. 

Even now, a hundred and fifty two years have gone by. Several wars have been won, and even more have been fought, but saying "I survived the battle" is not the same as saying "I lived through the aftermath."

The end of a battle, be it literal, metaphorical, mental, or spiritual, is never the end. The end is the eye; the second, "false calm". Anyone can fight a battle; anyone can win or lose; anyone can sit in the doctor's office and receive the diagnosis; anyone can stand up; but who is able to deal with what comes next?

~

"There are no words in the English language to express the sufferings I have witnessed today."-Cornelia Hancock, July the Seventh 

"I saw long rows of bodies of men lying under the eaves of the buildings,  the water pouring upon their bodies in the stream."-Maj. Gen. Carl Shurz, July the Fourth 

"The houses were marked with shot and shell on both sides of the street. Some with ugly gaps in the wall and others with a well-defined hole where the cannonball entered."-Leonard Gardener, on Baltimore Street, July the Fifth

"Ye advocates of war, come here and look, and answer what compensation is there for this carnival of death."-The Philadelphia Public Ledger, July the Fifteenth, 1863

~

To answer the Ledger's command, I ask you in turn a question: What would you give, to preserve the greatest nation on earth, where freedom rings as God reigns, for a hundred and fifty more years to come?

I Cried Too

Hey!
So here is the other one. I hope it is as fun and fulfilling for you to read as it was for me to write. Enjoy!
May this make you think,
Jen

-

Jen turned to me. Her eyes showed the sadness that I felt. "I look at you, and I see me, your majesty. I look at you and I see the darkness that once gripped my heart. I understand, my lord. I get it. I walked down that same path that you did."

I shook my head. "No, not you. You are the purest form of love that I have ever come across-"

"I wasn't always like this. I was angry, I was bitter. I was jealous and crude and all the things that God is not. I still struggle against my weak flesh. I struggle with the anger, the sadness, and the hatred that threaten to consume me. But that's the beauty of Jesus. He made it okay to struggle. He made it okay to stumble. He made it okay. But He never let us fall.

"That day, in the ocean, when I was drowning, I should have been dead in a mere minute, but the raging oceans kept me afloat, instead of causing my death. That was the day I found God. I had fallen off the ship, cast off by the waves, but I wasn't harmed. That was no mere slip up of nature. That was God's divine hand. His love for me gave me another chance; a chance to turn.

"But God has had His hand on me from before the foundation of the world. I look back on my life and see His handiwork through it all. He made me who I am today. And I can't praise Him enough for sacrificing His Son for for the world, for me, and for you."

"How do I know that this "god" of yours won't just dump me after I screw up enough?"

"Because Romans 8:38-39 says 'For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.'

"If He loves us this much, how can you think that He would give up His chosen?"

I wanted to cry, truly I wanted to cry. We were alone in the council chamber, not even a guard, and my best friend knew me well enough to say, "Go ahead. It's okay. I cried too. Sometimes I still do. You can cry James."

No one had called me by my name since I was a prince, and then it was only Jen, who at that time was only my maidservant. The pure and utter love with which she called me by name, that was what pushed me over the edge and made me break down in tears. 

Jen came up and hugged me. "It's okay. Your eyes have been opened. Praise God."

"Indeed; praise God." 

Jen smiled wiping the tears from my face. "So, do you say yes? Do you accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?"

I looked up at her, and suddenly found my voice. "Yes. I accept Him."

"Hallelujah!" 

After some teaching from the Word, a few weeks later I was baptized. And after the ceremony, I walked up to Jen, dripping wet in white, and took her face in my hands. 

"Six years ago, right here, I asked you a question and you refused your consent on the grounds of my unbelief in the Lord on high. But now we are both equally yoked and pulling in the same direction, is your love for me the same?"

She smiled a watery smile, as happy tears fell. "It never lessened. If anything, it only deepened. The Lord cultivated it."

My smile grew hopeful. "Then will you consent to give me your hand?" 

"My lord," 

Oh no, I thought, she's going to reject me again. 

"My lord," she began again. "I wholeheartedly give my consent."

And with those few joyous words, I captured her lips with mine. I pulled away to mutter one of the verses I had memorized. " 'You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.' "

-

You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you. (‭Song of Solomon‬ ‭4‬:‭7‬ ESV)

"You will never win."

Hello!
I'm sorry for the delay; my family and I have been on a road trip across the U.S. for the past few weeks and Internet has either been sparse or slow. So here is the first of two! I hope you all enjoy!
May this make you think,
Jen

-

"You will never win." That taunt on the school ground between elementary school kids, the words spoken by the opposing team, and the most irresistible lie from the devil.

It's what hurts the hardworking the most. It's what gets you down when your at the top. That whisper of doubt  that becomes a crater upon your heart where you do not allow God. 

It's what we say when we just want to give up, when the world is just to much. And the world just encourages us to go with the flow, to sit back, because, no matter how hard we try, we aren't going to make it. 

And then, there is that tiny voice that says, "I know. They're right. You aren't always gonna make it. But that is okay. I don't care if you make it, I love you anyway. And nothing you do is gonna change that."

And then you can smile again, because He knows and He cares, and your mistakes are no longer known. 

Quietly Profound

Hey!
So today I was at a pool party, and accidentally swam into the wall. Let's just say my face hurts. But after I stopped swimming, I started writing. And this was the result. I hope you like it!!
May this masks you think,
Jen

-

"What if it all stopped? What if all the hurt that we experience suddenly never existed? All the challenges, hardships, and heartache vanished into thin air?"

That was the topic of our debate. Some argued for that being taken away, and some were arguing for it staying. I had been chosen to argue for the latter. 

For the first hour and a half, I had stayed silent, grasping my opponent's case and looking for weaknesses. 

They had been slowly picking apart  our case, and I had decided to turn the tables. 

"No one would be forced to feel anything that they didn't want to," the current speaker was saying. "And why should they?"

"Because it forces them to grow up." The murmuring crowd hushed when I finally spoke. 

"Excuse me?" The look at his face gave me the courage to speak the words given to me by the Lord. 

"If one faces no negative emotions, then they have the maturity level of a young child. Challenges help you find your way in the world, and force you to figure out who you are."

"But what if you do not wish to do any of that?"

"Then one had just proven whom they truly are on the inside."

I didn't say any more. I didn't need to. I could see the crowd whispering and the judges deliberating. Suddenly,a bout of nervousness swelled in my heart. 

Had I said too much? Did I say enough? Was it thought provoking or irritating? Was it Christ-like or was it from the flesh? Was it fact or emotion or the perfect blend of both? 

All these doubts swirled around in my head. This was the last debate of the night. Deciding the fate of the match were three judges, each with their own very different personalities. One was kind and loving, another strict and fair, and the third honest and blunt. 

I could tell that my partner wasn't happy with me. He had wanted to use the facts and evidence to prove it, but the simple truths in my minute of speaking outshone his hour and a half to prove our case. 

He had never really liked me. I mean, we got along fine, but he never really liked my 'quiet but powerfully spoken" personality. He was more of an orator than Cicero. 

"We have agreed."

The judges captured all of my attention. "And our agreement is this: due to the nature of this debate, in order to stir up thoughts and feelings for those watching, we have decided to award the win to the-"

I held my breath, and the rest of the crowd's was bated, as we waited for the judges' decision. "The win goes to, Team Central Valley!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and cat calls and excited murmurs. My partner collapsed back into his seat with relief, while I just stood. We had won! 

They quieted when the third judge stood up. "And we have decided who the most profound orator of this contest is."

All of the contestants held their breath. This was a high honor, not normally given unless one performed outstandingly. "Despite being rather quiet, this orator said little, but was profound. Please applaud for-"

I couldn't hear the name because of the drowning applause, but my partner did. "Stand up!" He hissed. 

"What?"

"You got the award! Stand!"

Shakily, I stood and started to speak. "Please, I don't think I got this award purely because I performed well, but that the Lord gave me the truths to say, and I chose to lean on Him and say it. So in truth, this award comes from the Lord, and let the honor and glory go to Him. Thanks be to God."

I sat down, content. And the whole room went silent.