Jack and Jill

We've all heard the story of Jack and Jill,
and how they went up a hill to fetch a pail of water.
When Jack falls down, breaks his crown, and Jill comes tumbling after.
But this rhyme leaves the reader unfullfilled, for such crucial details it leaves out.
For we don't even know how the journey began, or even how Jack's stumble came about.
It all began on a bright summer's day when Jack was summoned by his father.
He felt slightly afraid and his hands trembled, for his dad was a man in which one shouldnt bother.
Now don't get me wrong, he was a wonderful man filled with love and compassion.
But he was the sort of father, who if you failed to obey, you knew you were in for a lashing. When he timidly approached he found his father waiting with a bucket in hand.
He pointed to the East and said firmly yet softly, "Son, this is my command."
He continued by saying "Take this bucket, and together with your sister, climb the hill in the East."
Once you have passed all obstacles and reached the top, you will find the River of Peace.
I want you to fill this bucket to the rim and bring it back here to me.
If you do what I ask and you do it correctly, then your reward you may see.

Now Jack was a smart boy and knew not to question his duty and further. So with the bucket in hand and Jill by his side, he ascended the hill never dreaming it may lead to murder
At first the task seemed so simple, they felt wild and free
Until suddenly it was as if they could barely breathe.
The came upon their entrance of the Forest of Desparity.
At once, every happy feeling or emotion had vanished.
As if they would never smile again, they were terrifyed. Even too afraid to panick.
They were surrounded by cold, foggy mist whishpering torments in their ears.
"You are failures. You will never survive. Your feet will never reach the top!"
Then Jack looked down to find Jill's eyes filled with tears.
But he suddenly remembered the task that lie before him. He musn't give up. They must proceed!
He then took a deep breath and said to himself, "I will not have my father ashamed of me"
The continued for what seemed like hours, in what felt like quicksand beneath their feet.
All their failures and shortcomings rest upon their shoulders, and they felt bruised and ever so beat.

But soon they learned that perseverance pays off, when a ray of sunlight shone through ahead. They proceeded even faster until they landed in a feathers, as soft as a bed.
When Jill opened her eyes, she couldn't help but laugh and stare.
For Jack did look rather funny with feathers in his hair.
Jack then looked at her with a grin But it was mostly because he was able to smile again.
They layed there for a while enjoying the scene that surrounded them, But they both stood up knowing there was work to be done.
So they began with a slow walk, then dashed into a run.
Jill was cooled by the wind in her hair, and Jack by the glistening sweat rolling down his temple. Once again everything seemed to them so beautifully simple.
The suddenly halted when out of the corner of her eye, Jill spotted an innocently majestic lamb lying by her side.
She cautiously approached, but the lamb seemed welcome by any visitor nearby.
She petted it softly, and Jack joined in. The animal did not seem at all shy.
After a few moments had passed, Jack came to the realization that sheep do not travel alone.
The poor thing must be lost or abandoned, or somehow found its way from home.
Enthralled by its beauty and peaceful nature, they decided to carry it along.
Maybe they would find its flock, at least they certainly werent doing anything wrong.
So Jack picked up the lamb, and they proceeded until nightfall forced them to make camp.
They slept on the ground which was warm only hours before, but now was cold and damp.
They fell into slumber until Jack was awoken by hot air blowing on his neck.
Where the lamb had once laid was now an ugly wolf-as if it had been in a fight or a reck.
It stared at him menacingly then charged toward his face.
When the claw hit his skin, Jack knew it would leave a scar that would never erase.
But, surprisingly, the wolf did not again strike.
Yet Jack somehow knew this was not the end of the fight.
It took the bucket for the water, and clenched it between its jaw.
Jack sprinted after him and began to follow.

Jill wept as she slowly followed behind, not knowing which direction they went.
She felt useless, questioning her own existance or why she was even sent.
She had been alone before, but had certainly never felt as alone as this.
She continued to cry when she met someone who made everything make sense.
"Why are you crying, dear one?", a voice came from behind.
She turned around swiftly, and what a surprise she did find.
It was a well-dressed lad, and ever so handsome!
Paralyzed by shock, she just stared at him while blinking.
She didn't know what to say, or even what she was thinking.
He went on to tell her how beautiful girls such as herself shouldnt spend so much time in misery He boosted her self-esteem and did simply anything he could to make her feel less weary.
Jill was not entirely sure what love was, or how it felt; but she guessed it was something like this. They gazed at each other and leaned in to kiss,
but after the release- She was horrifyed to find him running into the forest, never again to be seen.
She felt heartbroken but knew this had been a distraction.
Now she was reminded the nobody cares of her turmoil, and it was time to take action.

Meanwhile, Jack continued until eventually he found himself alone and lost.
He felt a terrible brother for he abandoned his sister, and the price to pay would be of high cost. He placed himself down upon a moss-covered rock, and reviewed the adventure over the last day.
He attempted to postulate a plan in his mind, but couldn't see past his own dismay.
As he sat, he began hearing a quiet thumping noise coming from behind.
It gradually grew louder and he saw people running-people unlike his kind.
They appeared savage and with a murderous look in their eyes.
But he did not stay to examine, for these people were much larger than his size.
He ran until his feet could carry him no more.
Even still he continued until suddenly through the air he soared.
He had tripped over something, but what could it be?
He tried to move forward but did not get very far, for little did he see-
his foot was stuck in the pail his father had given him just one day previously.
The pail did not look the same, for now it was dented and beat.
There was now one thing he knew, and that was that he must reach the River of Peace.

He was unsure which direction he was heading, so he let his feet carry him instead.
The vicious army behind him still followed, appearing as if they had not been fed.
Jack had never experienced an adrenaline rush like this before.
He WOULD make it to the top, by this he swore!
Then at last he saw only a few yard straight ahead-
A river, streaming so peacefully. He had made it just like he said.
Along the river bank, he spotted a young girl.
He rushed by her side, picked her up, and gave her a whirl.
Im sorry for leaving you, he began to cry.
"No time for apologizing now", she replied. "We must hurry or we will surely die!"
Jack took the beaten bucket, and filled it high.
And with Jill's hand in his other, they charged into the night.
It was now a downhill run, they were sure they could make it.
But the savages still followed, and their lives were forsaken.
"Not much further", he yelled. "I see our cottage in the distance"
What he didn't know is that the savages were given assistance.

In midair as he lept, an arrow pierced through his back.
He fell to the ground, and Jill followed behind as the bucket of water splashed.
It was a double-ended arrow, and the other end went through Jill too.
Their journey was now over. They were finished. They were through.
Their bodies were now connected by the arrows in between,
But the cuts went deep, and they went through clean.
The catastrophe happened not far from home, so their father rushed to the scene.
He began weeping mournfully, and fell down to his knees.
He saw the bucket beside them, it was empty indeed.
But instead the children were dripping with water from the River of Peace.
And it was true that they had never looked so peaceful as now that their lives had ceased.
As the grown man cried he said, "My son, my daughter, in you I am well pleased."
From his eye, a single tear dripped upon Jacks lips.
After of moment of time, he felt his son's grip.
Their father knew now this fight was not over, so he cried even harder.
Soon his tears streamed all over his son and his daughter.
At last they were awoken by their father's loving compassion.
All their fears and strife were now in passing.
The arrow wounds on their bodies healed in a moments time,
But the scar from the wolf would be something to always remind.
They hugged and they kissed, and they wept a little more
Until finally they made it back to the cottage door.
I tell you, this sotry was written so that one may never give up,
and will always remember that there is nothing so pure as a Father's love.

~*Elizabeth

1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.
3 Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then will I be confident.
4 One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.
5 For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.
6 Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the LORD.
7 Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.
8 My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"
Your face, LORD, I will seek.
9 Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior.
10 Though my father and mother forsake me,
the LORD will receive me.
11 Teach me your way, O LORD;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.
12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
breathing out violence.
13 I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

Psalm 27

From Casey's Point of View

So I started writing this story. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it. I started it a certain way, and now it's heading in a different direction. But anyway, this is the beginning of it.

Casey Cronan seemed like the average 8 year old girl. She wore her long golden hair in braided pigtails to school everyday. She played hopscotch and jumped rope with her friends at recess, and ate her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crust cut off. Every night when she laid her head down and closed her dreary eyes, she dreamed of being a princess dressed in an elegant pink gown. However, Casey was far from ordinary. Casey noticed more than most kids her age, and she understood the realities of this cruel world we live in better than most adults.

Casey waved goodbye to her neighbor Mr. Foreman as her dad pulled out of the driveway to take her to school. Mr. Foreman was an elderly man with little hair on the top of his head, who was always ready to share a cup of hot chocolate over a warm conversation. He was the only one who really understood Casey for who she was, and was the only person who Casey truly trusted. On most days after school Casey would run to Mr. Foreman's door and wait impatiently for him to come out and sit in the chairs on the front porch and tell her stories from his past. Sometimes Casey would share stories too. Each evening when dusk came and darkness began to swallow what was left of the sunlight, Casey knew it was time for her to walk across the yard back to her own home. Whenever Casey would stand up to leave, he would look into her sparkling blue eyes and whisper ever so softly, "Remember who you are, and don't ever let anyone try to change that." Casey heard this nearly everyday for the last two years, but was still not entirely sure what it meant. All she knew at this point in her brief life was that she was different than most kids, and that Mr. Foreman was the only person including herself who knew why.

Like most evenings when Casey shed her coat by the front door, she entered her house to find her dad in the office on his phone. She sat quietly by the door and waited for him to end his conversation. However, Casey's dad worked for the government ans was a very busy man. At the age of six, Casey already knew all about taxes and I.R.S. agents because that was all her dad knew how to talk about. It wasn't that he wasn't a good father. He tried his very best to provide for her every need, but sometimes it was the things she needed the most that he neglected. It was times like these that Casey wished even more that her mother was still around, because the truth was George Cronan didn't know how to be both a dad and a mom. Casey's mom was murdered in her own home about five years earlier. Although Casey was only two years old at the time, she knows more about the catastrophe than anyone would ever give her credit. Casey was the only witness of the murder, and the images of her mother's brutal death are some that will remain with her for the rest of her life. Besides her own majestic blue eyes, these visions are really the only thing Casey's mother left behind for her. Sometimes in the dead silence, she can still her the shriek that was her mother's last cry. A plea for help. And because Casey was merely an infant, there was nothing she could do to save her mom. She thinks about these things daily, but rarely does she ever speak of them. Casey was strong, and although she lived nearly every second of her life in fear, she never let her fears consume her. Mr. Foreman was the only one she really ever talked about these things to, and he always seemed very intrigued. She thought his may have something to do with why he always told her to remember who she is. She wasn't sure. But if there is one thing she knew, that she learned from her own mother's death is this: You can't trust anyone.

Sometimes I feel like I'm completely lost. Sometimes I feel like everything I've spent my life living for is completely and utterly useless. I spend all this time searching myself to figure out who exactly I am, what I stand for, and what I believe in; then I sit here and question myself. I ask myself if it's really all worth it. Is it worth my own thought to try to decide what I believe, when nobody really knows the right answer to anything anyway? Is it worth swallowing my pride to reach out to others when I only get a slap in the face in return? Is it worth staying up all night to study for a test that I end up failing anyway? It's like I'm at that point where I'm so close to the end, yet everything is pressing down on me to the point that I just want to drop it all and give up. Like a runner in a marathon who has been jogging a steady pace for miles, and just when the finish line is in sight he thinks he can't make it any farther. Or maybe he just doesn't want to finish because, after all, running is what he does and after the race is over he just won't know what to do next. I read a John Steinbeck book a while back Cannery Row. At one point there was a guy in the story who they said had spent a major part of his life building a boat. Somebody asked why it was taking so long for him to build the boat, because it really wasn't that big or extravagant and didn't seem like it would have taken that long to build. The guy talking about it replied that he really finished the boat a long time ago. The truth was he really didn't like the water, he was afraid of it, but his enjoyment lied in the building of the boat so that's what he spend his time doing. He never considered the job finished.


I guess that's kinda how I am. I spend all this time anticipating life after high school. I wanted to grow up so fast and just get out of here. I wanted to leave this all behind and start a new life. And although part of me still does, now that the time is so quickly approaching I don't even know what to do with myself. I've spent all these years "building my boat", but now I don't even know if it will be able to withstand the rough waters. Like the character in Cannery Row, I'm scared of what's out there because so far, the comfort of my own home is all I know. But I guess it's up to me now to take a deep breath, face reality, and realize that although I may not have much of a past, I do have a future. Because the truth is, all I have to do is look around me and remember all the incredible memories to remind myself that it really is all worth it. Even the pain of leaving everything behind becomes bearable knowing that memories are something that take a long time to fade. I've seen through myself that life comes in Seasons. Even though today is cold and dreary, tomorrow I may wake up to sunshine. It's up to me to seize the day and make the best of what it is instead of soaking in self misery.

~*Elizabeth

I really don't like AP World History. Its bores me and stresses me out. However, while skimming through the pages of my history text trying to find reasons why the Roman Empire fell so I can write this essay that I should have written yesterday instead of 10:00 tonight, I read something that caught my interest.
I think it's good to look at Christianity through they eyes of an unbeliever. Sometimes that means looking at it through someone who hates Christians in general. Other times it means just looking at it as someone who is apathetic towards the matter. My history book is written from a non-Christian (supposedly) unbiased perspective. I started reading about early Christianity in Rome and for some reason I found the description of Jesus and his followers to be stunningly beautiful. Here are some snippets from the text:

"The Christians formed their community around Jesus of Nazareth, a charismatic Jewish teacher whom they recognized as their savior. He was a peaceful man who taught devotion to God and love for fellow human beings. He attracted large crowds because of a reputation for wisdom and miraculous powers, especially the ability to heal the sick... Jesus' crucifixion did not put an end to his movement. Even after his execution Jesus' close followers strongly felt his presence and proclaimed that he had triumphed death by rising from the grave. They called him 'Christ,' meaning 'the anointed one,' the savior who would bring individuals into the kingdom of God. They taught that he was the son of God and that his sacrifice served to offset the sins of those who had faith in him. They taught further that, like Jesus, the faithful would survive death and would experience eternal life in the spiritual kingdom of God. Following Jesus' teachings, the early Christians observed a demanding moral code and devoted themselves uncompromisingly to God...Christians refused to honor the Roman state cults or revere the emperor as a god. As a result, Roman imperial authorities launched sporadic campaigns of persecution designed to eliminate Christianity as a threat to the empire. In spite of the repression, Christian numbers grew rapidly...The remarkable growth of Christianity reflected the new faith's appeal particularly to the lower classes, urban populations, and women. Christianity accorded honor and dignity to individuals who did not enjoy high standing in Roman society, and it endowed them with a sense of spiritual freedom more meaningful than wealth, power, or social prominence. It taught the spiritual equality of the sexes and welcomed the contributions of both men and women. And it provided a promise of future glory for those who placed their faith in Jesus."

Maybe its because I'm a dork, but this just really got me thinking. In the midst of persecution and martyrdom Christians stood strong the most. Christians were respected as people who did not compromise their beliefs, and now many Christians are looked at as nothing more than a bunch of hypocrits. Today, we don't have to worry about being fed to lions or burned to death for what we believe, yet we do not stand out like the early Christians did. I think a big problem is the fact that the term "christian" has become watered down. Its cliche' and too many people claim it. The early Christians were not merely Christians, they were followers of Christ. It makes me want to examine myself and see if I really am as devoted as I should be.

~*Elizabeth

Got a Plan?

John Locke is a man of faith. He believes that everything happens for a reason, and though he has his times of disbelief, he knows that fate and destiny will pull him through in the end. He believes in a greater purpose for himself and does quite a bit of soul searching in order to find that purpose. If you don't watch the tv series Lost then you probably either have no idea what I'm talking about or are wondering how in the world I know all of this about that old philosopher guy, or why I would even want to know. Locke is one of the characters who is sometimes almost annoyingly faithful. He's an out-of-the-box kind of guy, but he's always the one to say things that leave you thinking or wondering. In the first season, not too long after the plane initially crashed on the island, the survivors begin to realize that they are not the only ones on the island. And the people they find are not very welcoming. In fact, they kinda seem like they are out to get them. Of course when you have about 40 people coming from all different directions, thrown together on an island in the middle of nowhere, there are bound to be some feuds or disagreements. In the midst of one of these disputes, John Locke steps in and says that they will get nowhere while fighting like this. He says that there is an enemy out there and the more dispersed they become over these arguments, the easier it will be for the enemy to take over and the more difficult it will become for survival.

I believe that the same theory applies to our lives. Obviously we're not stranded on an island with unknown savages out to kill us, but similarly we are on earth away from Savior and there is an enemy out there waiting for our moments of weakness. Just how Locke was talking about, being dispersed is our greatest weakness and I believe it will be the one to fail us in the end. Sadly, I feel that religion is the one thing that pulls us apart the most. It should be the thing that brings us together, but instead it draws lines and builds up walls between us. From what I can tell, religion has been a topic of argument for pretty much all of mankind's existence. When Jesus was around roaming the earth, the Pharisees were the religious freaks of the time. While many of their beliefs may have been closely in line with what God wanted, they focused so greatly on the rules and forget where love comes into play. Instead of helping the helpless, they would turn away because they religious believes told them that would make them unclean. They condemned Jesus for associating with those who were considered of greater sin, but it was being with them that led more people to Christ in the end.

Knowing all the rules, and studying deeply into what the Bible tells us is a great thing. In fact, I think everyone should know what they believe, and stand by it firmly. But I have found that religion is the thing that pushes people away from Christianity the most. This is because it separates us from one another when we should be united. We claim to have this perfect life with Christ going for us, but we are only being hypocritical. We focus so much on following all the rules that we forget about love and helping those in need. We are not welcoming to those who are not like us, and we put off the impression that we think our lives are so much better than everyone Else's. Are religious believes are getting in the way of what's really at stake.

Earlier this year I read the book Blue Like Jazz. I really enjoyed this book because it made me think about my religion with being religious. In fact, the tag line for the book was "Non-religious thoughts on Christian Spirituality". At the beginning of the book Donald Miller says, "I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather to have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man's heart into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God." And I think that's just it. Our religion drags us into habits that end up being a waste of our time. We have to pray before we go to bed, but if that prayer is forced does it really mean anything? We read the Bible regularly because well, that's what the Bible tells us to do. We stay away from people who we think are more sinful than us because we don't want to become corrupted. But if we're doing this all out of habit does it really mean anything? We need to pray and read our Bible out of desire. We need to do it because we can't make it through the day without it, not because it says to in the rule book.

Hebrews 10: 11 says, "Day after day every priest stands and performs his religious duties; again and again he offers the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins." The problem here was habit, the priest did these things because he had to, not because he wanted to. Not because he had this overwhelming desire to worship God. And it says that this got him nowhere, it did not even grant him the remission of sins. His religious duties were eating away at his heart until there was no desire left in him.

I believe that Satan has a battle plan, and I think a major part of that plan is Divide and Conquer. If he can get us broken up into little segments, he can take over each one. If he can get us arguing we will forget that we are arguing because of a God thing and it will turn into a Satan thing. He wants us to reject people. He wants us to tell people that they are not welcome in our church because they are homosexual or because they became pregnant outside of marriage or maybe just because they dress differently than us, listen to different music, or have a different background. He wants us to stay within our small little circle of Christian friends and not let the "others" in. He wants us to become so focused on religion that we forget about loving our neighbor, we forget about helping those in need, and we forget about our true Christian purpose. Why are giving our enemy what he wants so easily? Why are we supplying him with ammunition?

He doesn't want us to be a servant to those in need, so I've been thinking that maybe that's what I will do. I believe that if some people spent half the effort they do studying scripture details or trying to prove why their denomination is right, there would be a lot less people who die of hunger, or are left to sleep alone on the cold streets. I believe that if people like myself wouldn't waste so much time thinking about doing good things and actually do them, then there wouldn't be so many hurting people in this world. I think that God has blessed us with enough resources in this world to save every person who dies of hunger or hunger related illnesses. Unfortunately, the problem lies in the people and their unwillingness to get off their high horse and help the lowly.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world
-James 1:27

So just as Satan has a battle plan, so do I. Just as the character of John Locke has a purpose, so do I. My plan and purpose is love. And in this case love being a verb, an action word. I want to serve those in need rather than looking at it as a hopeless case. In my life, I'm in the process of decided what I want the rest of my life to be like, what I want to do with my time. I still don't know what my major in college will be or what job I want to have after college, but I do hope it will involve outreach and service. I want it to be love in action. Because that, I believe, is my purpose in live, it's my battle plan.

But if we are the body why aren't His arms reaching? Why aren't His hands healing? Why aren't His words teaching? And if we are the body why aren't His feet going? Why is His love not showing them there is a way?

~*Elizabeth

The Sweet Release

A long time ago in Southeast Asia hunters invented a simple yet effective way of capturing monkeys. All they had to do was get a pot with a narrow opening, put fruit into the bottom, bury it, and then wait for a monkey to come. The monkey would be attached to the scent of the fruit and fit its hand into the hole to grasp a fistful. This was a trap because there is no way for the monkey to get his hand out without first releasing the fruit. So the monkey fights and struggles but it is a hopeless case because he is too enthralled to just let go. All he needs to do in order to save himself is just simply let go, yet he is too stubborn so now all the hunter has to do is throw a net over him and the monkey will most likely never be free again.


Letting go is sometimes the hardest thing to do. It shouldn't be because it seems so simple, yet it is. I love to reminisce and recall the memories, but I've realized that all I'm doing is clinging to the past which is completely and utterly meaningless. Some people have a hard time letting go of pain. If you have been hurt by someone its hard to just leave that in the past and move on without any hard feelings. For me, I have an even harder time letting go of the good things. I honestly have a hard time dealing with the fact that all good things will eventually come to an end. But time and time again I feel like a thousand rocks are being thrown at my head when I realize that what once was, no longer is. But that is just a fact of life and all that's left to do is accept it and move on.

I think I'm starting to live with the mentality that when things are good disaster should be expected, but when things are bad relief is on it's way. I try not to let myself get attached to people or things especially when I think its something I care about so greatly. I feel like the more emotionally involved I get, the harder it will be to move past it once its over. But the truth is, I can't stop myself from enjoying what I find to be a good thing. I can tell others that I don't care, but all I'm doing is lying to them and to myself. In the end though, it hits pretty hard and I'm left wondering where in the world that bullet came from. So just like I try to prolong the enjoyment, I also try to prolong the pain. This, too, catches back up with you.

I've realized that most of the time the people or things you think you need the most are really the things that don't have a place in your life at all. Almost everything is ok in moderation, but if you feel that strongly about something then there is no moderation. It will consume you. And being consumed by just about anything will always have disastrous effects.

I have some things in my past that I have recently decided I'm ready to let go of. I'm a pretty decent kid and I've never really done anything that bad, but the things I'm ready to rid myself of are the memories I've held on to but clearly can not relive. But now I realize that it's not worth even talking about because good things come and go and all I have to do is accept that as part of life. Sounds easy enough, right?

Chances are you have no clue what I'm talking about, and that is ok. But for the few of you who do, just know that I've decided to be honest and have now officially buried the hatchet. And I'm sorry for not being honest before. To everyone else and myself. But like the monkey sometimes we humans fight for so long because we are too stubborn to just let go. The difference between us and the monkey is that we know it's best to let go, yet we don't. We keep struggling against it until it gets to the point that our hand is all cut up and swollen. When you hold on for that long, even if you do decide to let go of the fruit, your hand is too swollen and bruised to even slide back through the hole. So I want out now, before it's too late. Because I really do believe there is a hunter out there, and the chances of me being caught in his net grow stronger and stronger every minute that I hold on to these meaningless things. Right now I'm thirsting for the sweet release, and I won't let myself give up until I experience it.

Letting go doesn’t mean giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be.

~*Elizabeth

You See Strange Things When You Are Downtown

So we are driving downtown to go serve food to people at Jesse's Place when I glance over at the car to the right of me. I have to do a double take because in my head I was thinking "woah, does that person really have a lizard on their shoulder?" Yes, indeed. There was a woman driving down the road with an IGUANIA ON HER SHOULDER!
Probably one of the most random things I have seen in like...ever? maybe. haha

~*Elizabeth

The Long Awaited Summer

The grass is green once again, and it's covered in those weeds I always used to pick for my mom because I thought they were pretty flowers. The weather is finally warm and since I live in Alabama, the air getting pretty wet and sticky. You can only stand outide in the same place for about three seconds before there is at least one gnat up your nose or down in the corner of your eye. James Spann probably has only gotten a couple of hours of sleep in the last week because everybody is worried about the tornadoes that come through this time of year. Students are feeling those extra pounds upon their shoulders because exam week is quickly approaching. We all long to be able to breathe evenly once again, without the stress of school. We will be able to sleep until noon and eat two bowls of cocoa puffs before enjoying a long day of relaxation. Yes, summer is almost here.

Summer has always been pretty much what I live for. I love absolutely everything about it. No school. Hot Southern weather that everybody else complains is miserable. My birthday. Sleep. Laziness. Of course, summer isn't quite as carefree as it used to be. I have a job now, and I am in desperate need of getting more work hours once I can. I'm approaching my senior year which means I need to start focusing on applying for colleges, doing community service work, and earning as much money as I can. But even with all that to think about, I am looking foward to this summer more than I have most summers in my past.

I feel like this is going to be a summer that really counts, and I want to make it great. I want to waste a day reading a good book out by the pool. I want to fry my skin in attempts of getting a decent tan. I want to wear tank tops and shorts while running around in those afternoon thunderstorms that come about every day in the summer. Hopefully I'm getting a car soon and so for the first time in my life, if I want to hop in the car and go to Smoothie Joes I can do it. And that thought makes me happy.

I also want to help others this summer. I really need to be more involved in my community, and hopefully doors will be opened to do that in these next few months.

I want to rebuild broken relationships. There have been numerous people who have come and gone in my life, and there is absolutely no good reason they shouldn't still be here. I want to go back to the good ole days and relive some old memories even if it means me swallowing my pride or stepping out of my comfort zone.

Everybody says they want to "find themself". Not me. I'm ready to begin creating myself. I've wasted so incredibly much time in my life so far, and I regret so much of that. I want to start living for the moment. Enjoying every single second of life. Stepping up doing what I want to do, despite the fears or hesitations that may be involved. When people ask me who I am and what I want to do, I want to be able to give them a good answer.

This summer I want to write more. I want to write things that to other people are completely meaningless, but to me are a form of expression. I want my blog page to be full of several posts a week even if that means just talking about what happened in my day.

All in all, I want this summer to be a perfect array of both productiveness and laziness. And I want to find out things I never knew about both other and myself. But I want it to be one that is going to stand out to me in my future. One that I remember for particular reasons. It's going to be the summer right before the bridge that crosses over into adulthood. So I am going to enjoy my youth while it lasts instead of rushing through it like I once did.

~*Elizabeth

Come Break Me Down

Is anger a bad thing? Is it wrong to be mad at someone and be straight-forward about it even if it may hurt them to hear it? Even if our emotions are wrong or illegitimate, should we be up front about it or suppress it so that nobody knows what we are really feeling?

Not knowing how to express my emotions would definitely be one of my character flaws. Usually if I'm mad or upset about something I don't really like to talk about it. The truth is, I have a hard time trusting people. I don't really know why because there are some truly amazing people in my life, I just don't trust society as a whole to know what I'm feeling. Also, I don't cry. Ever. This too is a terrible way to be, and I do not encourage it at all. I think its good to cry every now and then, especially for girls. It's like casting away your burdens, and the feeling of relief is amazing. I'm not entirely sure why I don't cry. I suppose its almost like a sign of weakness, and I strive to be an emotionally strong person. These are problems I'm working on, and maybe one day I will get better at this whole "expressing yourself" thing.

Actually, I think we should be completely straight up about our feelings with people. Not to the point that we critique everything people do and lower the self esteem of others, but I don't think we should be fake about what we think of them. Its almost like the whole world is wearing this mask, and we are too afraid what people will think if we take it off. So instead, we never say the things we feel and continue to say the things we don't just to feel acceptance.

Everyday we lie with a smile. Women lie when they make their voice really high pitched saying "hey, girl" and wave at that person who you really wish didn't just walk in the room. Men lie by saying "hey man, whats happening?" and shake hands with the guy you didn't feel like seeing today. In fact, I would go as far as saying that we lie to God on a daily basis. At least, I know I do. I say that I want to abide by his plan for me and I try to wait patiently for the answers I seek, but inside I'm screaming. Is it wrong to be angry with God? You know, the big guy who created the world. The one who put me here, and does have a plan for me even if I don't see or understand it. As strange as it may sound, I don't think there is anything wrong with being a little angry at God sometimes. That is, if we are upfront about it. I think that the thing God really wants is for us to let him know what we are thinking even if that does mean unjustified anger.

If you think about it, Jesus wasn't always exactly happy with his Father. Actually, I think he was pretty angry and distraught that night in the Garden of Gethsemane. But the difference is, he went forward with his feelings and spent a great deal of time in prayer and supplication. Most of time, I swallow the lump my throat and tell myself that what I'm feeling isn't important. In other words, I run away from my problems. When reading the passage in the garden, I don't get the impression that God cursed him for being worried or upset. In fact, I think he blessed him by giving him the strength to get off his feet and do what he was born to do. I believe that if I was more honest and telling about my feelings, then I would experience these same effects.

I read the book The Shack a few months ago. If you haven't read this book then I'm sure you've at least heard of it considering that it's one of those cliche' "everychristianhastoreadit" books. Personally, I thought it was kinda strange and highly overrated. The basic story line is about this guy, Mack, whose daughter was abducted by a mass kidnapper and later found to have been murdered in a shack in the middle of the forest. One day Mack gets a letter from this guy named Papa, who turned out to be God, telling him to meet him at The Shack. The main thing I got out of this book was not exactly what I think the intended message of the story was. When Mack goes to The Shack he finally relieves himself of all the fury and emotion he had been suppressing for so long. He basically lashes out against God in anger, and tells him that he doesn't see how someone who supposedly cares so much about him could allow something as tragic as this to happen. For Mack, letting go of all of this was the first step to recovery. Once he was honest with himself, God, and later the rest of the world, he was able to deal with his emotions more rationally.

Of course, I'm not suggesting that anyone should hate God or anything like that. However, I believe that God desires to be on a personal level with us and in order for that to happen we must be honest with Him. It's not as if he doesn't know how we feel already, but for us to come forward ourselves is a giant leap toward this desired relationship.

When I was reading the Harry Potter series, one of my favorite parts was at the end of each book when Harry and Professor Dumbledore would have their one-on-one conversations. This is when everything that happened in the book finally made sense because Dumbledore explained it all to Harry. To me, the Dumbledore/Harry relationship was a symbolic God the Father/God the Son relationship, with Dumbledore as the father. Harry always held great respect for Dumbledore, but at the end of the 5th book he was very angry at him. Harry released his fury by yelling at Dumbledore and destroying his office. Strangely, all Dumbledore did was sit there and tell Harry to continue expressing his anger even if it was towards him. He didn't try to defend himself or bash Harry, he just sat there and took it all in.

Sometimes I have a hard time accepting the beautiful truth that there are actually people who care. There are people who care about my ridiculous problems that are really meaningless in the grand scheme of things. And more importantly, my God cares. He cares enough to listen to me express my anger towards him even when he has done absolutely nothing to deserve it. He cares enough to want to know me on a personal level, yet I'm too concerned about my reputation to let that happen. He cares enough to put other people out here that care, even though I'm not trusting enough to let them.

I'm ready to be broken down. I'm ready to be that overly-emotional teenage girl that I'm supposed to be. I'm ready because I'm tired of being emotionally barren and semi-cynical. Its not that I don't love humanity, because I truly do. I just don't trust other people to know what I'm feeling. Maybe one day there will be someone who figures out how to break through my stubborn defense barrier that I have built up. And when they do I hope they tear it to pieces so that it can never be built up again. So go ahead, come break me down because I am finished with this.

~*Elizabeth

You Are Who You Are But Is That All You Can Be?

It seems to me that in today's society we try to justify things to easily. Things that people could have been hanged for a couple of centuries ago, we now pass off as insignificant. Today everyone always has an excuse for what they did, and often that excuse releases them from deserved punishment. Although I do feel the punishments of several hundred years ago were a little extreme, I also think that society now lets us get away with too much. For instance, I think it's completely out of line for a child to be stoned to death for talking back to their parents; but I also feel that some kids today need to be slapped around a few times for the things they say. But the truth is, we are all prone to sin and can fail at any given moment.

I finished reading the book Frankenstein a couple of weeks ago, and although the story was somewhat boring and highly depressing at times, I found that the book had a lot of depth to it. The monster that doctor Frankenstein creates turns malicious and violent, which can be traced back to his biological source and lack of human nourishment. The Creature blames his behavior on this and uses it as an excuse to make the lives of others as miserable as his own. At certain points in the story you grow compassionate towards the Creature because of his loneliness, while at the same time you condemn him for the havoc he has wreaked. I think we often see this in our world today. A person may have done something terrible that truly can be traced back to their nature, but does that make it justifiable?

A common debate similar to this that we hear about today is the issue of sexual orientation. Homosexuals often use the excuse that they were "born this way" and can't really help it. As a Christian I disagree with that because I do not believe God would create one to live every day of their life in that manor. Although we should still be loving and accepting of them, I do not think we should accept it as fact that that is who they are and it cannot be changed. It is simply an excuse. It is our nature to sin, but do we just accept that and decide it to be a hopeless case? No, we push past that and realize there is something we can do about it instead of making excuses for ourselves.

Scientific research has found that many of our most violent male criminals have an extra y chromosome in their genes which gives them more "manliness" and causes them to be more aggressive. Scientists wonder if many criminal cases could have been avoided if it wasn't for this. So it becomes a major controversy: Are the people really guilty if it is simply in their nature to be this way? This is a very complex issue and I'm not going to side either way, but I do think it is important to remember that we all have to work with what we are given and control whatever emotions or desires we may have. And even if this does become excusable, what happens to the criminals then? Are they released into the world to cause more trouble and ruin more people's lives? Like I said, it is a very complicated issue but I am just using it as an example.

It just seems to me like we are all constantly making excuses. When is the last time you have admitted that you have done something wrong just because you messed up? There is nothing wrong with failure as long as we overcome. Yet we continue to make excuses to justify our own mistakes. It seems like over half the kids in America are "diagnosed" with ADD. While there are some kids who truly do have these sort of problems they must deal with, it has now become an easy excuse for disruptive behavior. When will will attempt for more than just the status quo? We must endeavor beyond what is thought of as acceptable by society. Because, honestly, society will accept almost anything today.

~*Elizabeth

Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa is the Latin phrase meaning "blank slate". It comes from the theory that humans are born as basically nothing and, as we develope, we learn from experiences and basically create ourselves.

I think that life is like a never-ending math problem that I've been working on my slate. I've been working on this same equasion for 16 and a half years only to get to the point that I realize I'm using the wrong formula. As frustrating as it may be, the only thing I can do is wipe my slate clean, and start over again.

I didn't realize it, but I've been away for a while. I've been lacking inspiration, and searching for it in all the wrong places. Hopefully, I'm back here to stay for a while. Although, I'm not entirely sure where "here" is. But now that I look back on my little escapade, the one thing I have realized is that what you want isn't always what you need and what you need isn't always what you want. So with that in mind, I'm starting fresh with a blank slate. Tabula Rasa.

~*Elizabeth