short and sweet, with illustration.

A whole weekend gone by, and I haven’t blogged yet.  What did I do, you may ask, instead of my favorite pastime?

I won’t even mention homework, because that’s like the raincloud that always hangs overhead without ever relieving its burden of raindrops.  You know I had homework.  You know that I didn’t particularly want to do it, but I did anyways.

Friday night was victory night in volleyball, meaning that we live to play another day.  Saturday’s 2 hours committed to calculus did absolutely nothing for me, which means that I’m in for an early morning tomorrow to get assistance.  So, I dressed up with Adam and went to a costume party where we drank green punch (not pond scum like I thought, but ginger ale, orange juice, and food coloring) and ate pretzel sticks masquerading as broomsticks.


Cheap, simple costumes are the best.

As I do have an early morning tomorrow, I’m going to have to keep this brief, but I did find a verse to add to my list of favorites this morning.  I had some extra time after I got ready for church (sometimes it’s better to not wash your hair.  No one will know, no one will care.) so I read Daniel’s prayer in Daniel chapter 9, and this part stuck out to me.

We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.

As if God needed to be reminded that I am not righteous.

As if I needed to be reminded of God’s great mercy – oh, yes that was the application I was going for here!  And this is what I will be remembering as I make my requests tonight.

doses of grace and pizza

I proved my humanity today.  It wasn’t ever in question, but I definitely proved it today when I sauntered into my calculus class, sat down, then watched in horror as everyone else pulled out their completed homework.

Horror, you see, because I didn’t finish mine.  I worked up until problem #58 in class the day before and completely forgot to do the remaining 15 or so problems.  I did my other homework after volleyball and picking out my senior picture prints, then, thinking wow, look at that, I’m done with my homework by 10:00,  I went to bed.

Without doing my homework.

I don’t usually do that.  But I’ve done it twice this week, unintentionally.

I am most definitely human.  Something my sister emailed me yesterday is particularly applicable to me right now.  She sent me a link to an article from RZIM, one that explored the story of Elijah after God showed up all the prophets of Baal at Mount Carmel.  I can’t imagine seeing what Elijah saw there, and I, along with the lady who wrote the article, wondered how Elijah could – after God’s huge display of power and glory, showing whose side He is on – run away in fear when Jezebel threatened his life.  He ran into the wilderness and begged God twice to take his life.  (okay, I’m not quite at that point.  No where near actually, but follow me here.)

If I was God, I would have slapped Elijah upside the head, said  what more proof do you need that I am on your side?  Why do you run when mere mortals threaten to harm you when you know that I, the Lord who burns up water, am on your side?  Then I would have told him to buck up and go face Jezebel.

But that’s not what God did.  First, he sent food to Elijah, telling him that he was too weak for the journey ahead.  Then He appeared to them in a still, small voice.

If there was anyone who didn’t deserve that, it was Elijah.

Okay, so that’s my jealousy speaking, since I would love to see the prophets of Baal defeated when my God burns up rocks and pools of water, but really, Elijah had just said with his actions that He didn’t really trust God, even after ALL that he had seen!  But God responded by refueling Elijah and gently pushing Him on his way.

It was a reminder to me that God doesn’t condemn us for having a bad day.  He isn’t just here along beside me, waiting for it to get better so He can teach me something about it.  He’s the one pushing little blessings my way, cushioning the blows that often come from my own stupidity and showing me the way to get back on my feet.  I think I forget sometimes that God is “gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matt. 11:29)

On another note, I have realized that I eat pizza about 5 times a week on average.  I ate it last Thursday for both lunch and dinner, then I ate it again on Sunday night.  Monday’s lunch was… pizza, and I just ate it again right after school.

And I enjoyed it every time.  Maybe I’m strange, but I just don’t get sick of pizza.

My Hiding Place




Everybody needs a hiding place.  A place to go to be away from the world.  

I have this sort of strange love of hide-and-seek.  I’ve always loved the thrill of the hunt for a hiding place – somewhere like the top of our linen closet with a quilt in front of me so that no one will ever find me or inside of a cabinet.  I’m not the type to hide behind doors – it’s one area where I’m pretty competitive.  Where can I hide that no one will find me?  One time while playing hide-and-seek I hid in my closet inside the skirt of one of my dresses.  I won that round.

Something about being completely cramped into a small space in the dark, all alone is enticing to me.  I used to fantasize about having a false well in the back of my closet, behind which there was a long slide leading to a decked out panic room – just in case someone should intrude in the night.

I have a captain’s bed,which means that I have no under-the-bed but rather drawers on one side and a hollow tunnel on the other.  (Maybe you can’t picture it from my description, but that’s okay.  You’ll still get my point.) I remember pulling the head of my bed out from the wall when I was 12 and finally getting to re-paint my room – instead of having a birthday party… a small sacrifice to get to scrape the stuffed animal tea party wallpaper (which was very cute, and very 4 years old) off of my walls.  That was when I discovered the tunnel-like cavern under my bed.  I remember telling my mom that it would have been a great place to hide Jews during WWII.

I think that was fairly soon after I read The Diary of Anne Frank.

Before that, when I was about 9 and Brooke was 12, we made a club.  It was called the Secret Sisters Club.  We had membership cards.  (Why it had to be a secret, I’m not sure.  The fact that we’re sisters has never been a secret… and I’m pretty sure our parents would have been fine with us making a club.) We had codes.

“Brooke, GPDH?”

Brooke nods, and we meet in 30 minutes to play with my Fisher Price Grand Prize Doll House.

Again, I don’t know why we had to use a code.

Did I mention we had a secret meeting spot?

It’s in the same place as the above picture.

Yes, Brooke and I had a meeting place in my closet.  We pushed all my clothes over to the middle of my closet and cleared a space on the floor.  Then we hung up a Princess Diaries poster and some little club memorabilia.  Then we hung a flashlight from a hanger overhead using some rubber bands and called it our hideout.

Yep, it’s still there, Brooke.  I was wondering about that today, so I crawled in the little space, over my sleeping bag and various notebooks and old Halloween costumes. It’s maybe a 2-foot square.  And the two of us would hang out in there.

I don’t know if you can read that list or the dates we went in there and what we did on those dates, but one of them says “cut out paper dolls,” and I’m not entirely sure how we did that.  Sometimes I wonder if other kids were as strange as we were.  And if they had as much fun.  Weird and unusual we may have been, but we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly – until I would rearrange the furniture in the GPDH (I’m sorry if you’re not completely up on our cool lingo, that means “doll house” :P) and Brooke would get mad and leave.

My heart has a special place for all those fond memories.  I firmly believe that those special bonding moments helped to make our relationship the way it is today.  Brooke is my hiding place, my safe refuge.  Though in other places I may be insecure or uncomfortable, in her I have a sanctuary.

We are the runaway ballerinas, the mermaids of the community center pool, the hosts of a cooking show where the blender was named Barbara, the writers of stories with beanie babies as the protagonists, the sharers of secrets of the heart, and the ones who laugh for hours about incredibly stupid things.

“In thee, my soul shall own combined the sister and the friend.” and the hiding place.




morning reading, nineteen-eighty-farm, and freedom

This morning I pulled on the ribbon bookmark in my Bible to get to my spot in 2 Kings.  Sometimes I think that reading my Bible first thing in the morning isn’t a good idea, and those thoughts come on days like today, when the heading over the section I have prescribed for myself to read (for my edification and learning and spiritual growth) is “Ahab’s Family Killed” and the following heading is “Servants of Baal Killed.”

Granted, Ahab and Baal aren’t my favorite people.  I’m not sad that the deaths happened since Baal and those who worshipped him had some pretty abhorrent practices.

But, then again, I wasn’t thrilled to read the gory details as I munched on my raspberry and chocolate chip muffin this morning.  I’m thinking that I need to adapt my morning plan to start with something a little lighter – then make my way to the killing of the prophets of Baal.  I’m not opposed to reading about difficult things because I know they’re a part of the story, but I think that easing into that might be a good idea.

Now that you’re all updated on my Bible reading plan…

I think I’m stuck in paper-writing mode – my sentence structure, the words I’m using, they all scream “FORMAL LITERATURE ANALYSIS PAPER!”

I need to just get some slang out.  shake paper mode:

yo, wazzup, homey.

See, even there I’m using punctuation?

I think grammar and comma usage and proper use of the semicolon is just so engrained into my character (yes, my character, the very depths of who I am) that I can’t shake some of that.  I have a grammar handbook where other people have street smarts.  Not that paper-writing doesn’t take a natural toll on me – it does.  I just asked my dad to read my “Nineteen-Eighty-Farm” paper.

Yeah, it’s actually on 1984 and Animal Farm, but the distinction got lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth.  Wouldn’t that be a handy way to combine the two?  I mean, they’re so similarly themed – in three specific ways that I clearly stated in my thesis…. but I’ll spare you.

Anyhow, now that the paper is completed, I have a free night.

Let me repeat myself:  I have a free night.


F-R-E-E: without obligations, tasks, appointments, engagements, or anything of the sort.  I can sit and watch TV if I want to.  Now, here’s my struggle.  How do I best use this free night?  My other constant mode (in addition to grammar mode) is productivity mode.  It’s hard to put aside my to-do list completely, since there’s probably something I could be doing that would prepare me for life better or fulfill a task that I have to complete…  I’m thinking of a couple things right now.

Maybe this night isn’t as free as I thought.

Also, this song makes me tear up: “Forever and Always” by Parachute (not to be mistaken with a certain curly-haired, country songstress)

A happy story with numbers and pictures to accompany it.

8 months ago, I visited different schools in Chicago, which is a 7 hour drive from my house.

I liked of them, a lot.

So I decided to apply to that school, and I sent in my application 1 week ago.

(I also have 1 transcript to send in still…)

Anyhow, I took a 3 day trip down there – getting back to my house about an hour ago – to get a better idea of what this place is all about.  There were 0 students on campus when I went there 8 months ago, so the environment wasn’t accurate to what it usually is.

This visit, I got to spend a night in the dorms with 2 incredible freshmen: Miram and Kate.  On my way into this visit, my level of certainty that North Park is the place for me was pretty high.  Still, there was a part of me that needed confirmation that everything about it fit who I am, who I want to me, and where God wants me.

I’d never met an NPU student, just heard that people love it and make lifelong friends there.  I wanted to know how they spend their free time, if they like their roommates, if they love Jesus, if they like their teachers, if they’ve ever gotten lost on campus, etc….

And, my goodness, did God provide the perfect hosts for me?  yes, He did.

Not only are Miriam and Kate from Minnesota, but they are Christians.  They’re not just Christians – they’re ACTIVE ones.  Believe it or not, even though they’ve only been at NPU for 2 months, they’ve already started a ministry through their dorm room.

I should mention that I don’t even think their dorm was 10 feet wide.  It’s in a building that is round, so each room is shaped like a piece of pie.  Not a very big piece of pie either.  And despite that, every Tuesday night, they cram 20-30 people in their dorm for a worship service called 5:08, based on two things: their room number (yep, you guessed it, it’s 508!) and Ephesians 5:8 which says, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light.”

They also have coffee mugs hanging all over the wall of their dorm.

Sound random?  (I mean, I think it’d be a cool decoration, even if that was it’s only purpose.) It’s not.

Every one who comes to hang out in their room, whether for 5:08 or just during 1 of the many hours that their door is wide open to welcome people it, gets to decorate a mug (bought at the thrift store down the block) that they can use whenever they come into 508.

that was the first thing that made me want to be a part of the NPU community.  If there are more of those type people here, SIGN ME UP!

Then there was the fact that we had a fire drill at 8:40 in the morning.

(oh, wait, that wasn’t what I meant to say… even though it was quite the valuable experience that I hold on to in my heart.)

Then there were the 5+ times that I thought to myself I really, really, really love it here and meant it so much that I almost cried for joy.

I’ve found my fit.  Or, rather, God put me into the NPU mix, where I belong.  I fit in the urban atmosphere, just minutes from downtown.  I fit in the Jesus-culture.  I fit in the liberal arts aspect.  I fit in the beautiful, peaceful library.  I fit with people who love to learn.  I fit with people who come from diverse backgrounds and don’t follow patterns of life – people who realize that God works outside of the boxes we make for Him.

I didn’t want to leave, but I could, knowing that I would come back soon.  


another beautiful experience: on my tour, they took us to a local chocolate shop where they gave us free chocolate.  It’s called Beijo de Choclat which means “kiss of chocolate.”

future internship here??? maybe???

then I got home and had 11 piece of college mail from schools I don't want to go to waiting for me.

then at the bottom of that stack of mail I found the American Girl catalog!

my mom got her iPod screen cover, and the directions give away the fact that these people must be from China.

hearty, full, and sunny

It’s cloudy outside today.  It’s one of those sleepy days where, try as you might, naps claim you if you close your eyes for more than a blink of your eyes.

Snow is also threatened today.  Just flurries, but it’s the first snow of the season, which means that many more are to come.  I would rant about how it’s not even Halloween and snow belongs at Christmas, not the middle of autumn, but will that really do any good?  I feel like that will only make my attitude worse about the impending snow.

So I’ll just deal.  Hey, I live in Minnesota – and love it here – so I’ll take the weather in stride.

Remind me that I said that when it’s -30 degrees outside, and I have to scrape ice off of my car every morning.  I’ll make this my goal for this winter: to complain about the weather less and instead be glad that I live in a state where we have four seasons.

I might need reminding of that.

Speaking of staying positive, you know those people whose presence you can’t be in without leaving rejuvenated?  I don’t think it’s a coincidence that those people (at least in my life) are some of the most Jesus-filled people I know.  It’s a contagious overflowing of the peace that comes with knowing God – and the joy that results from that.

I’ve called those people “salty salt” before..  (if you’d like to know where the term was coined: ) they’re the kind of people that add flavor to my life.  simply being in their presence encourages me to see God’s goodness more in the small things in my life.

I was just talking to a salty woman a few minutes ago, and she is the epitome of the “joyful Christian”.  you know what I mean: the type where people actually think what’s different about her? when they see her vibrancy.

I think it’s easy to assume that when people say that Christians should be different it means that we should smile more, be encouraging to people, and give pats on the back when needed.  all on our own power, because we think it’s what makes a difference in others’ lives.

If I live like that, I will be empty pretty quickly.  Running on my own steam gets me to the shallow end of the pool, the end where words mean nothing and smiles have no real joy to back them up.

“But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on that law he meditates day and night.”

Psalm 1:2

delight: the look in a child’s eyes when he sees the dinosaur-shaped cake at his birthday party.  delight: Great pleasure.

I think that in order for me to be salty and contagiously joyful, I must delight in my God.  Take great pleasure in the God of my salvation.

I delight in you, Jesus.

An adventure with trying Indian food.





I’ll preface this by saying that I don’t like trying new things very much unless there is an absolute, 100% money-back guarantee that I’ll LOVE it, that it will make my life better, and I won’t regret it.

This especially applies when it comes to food.  I have an uneasiness in trying new foods – that is unless it’s a new fruit or different kind of cookie or something safe like that.  I’m not sure how to explain it other than by saying that I can’t handle spicy food – so that’s one scary type of food – or really strong flavors in general and I’m always afraid that it’ll just be gross and I won’t be able to spit it out in a polite manner.

It’s a dilemma.

Because of my tendencies to dislike strange foods or not try them altogether – which leads to weight loss in foreign countries – my parents (in their wisdom) decided that I needed to get a head start on Indian food (since Curry is a pretty darn strong flavor) before I spend two weeks there in January.  Smart, huh?  I mean, in Panama I ate basically Cliff bars and peanut butter and jelly and rice occasionally – just barely making it food wise – so now they’re proactive about making sure I’ll be eating.

They must love me a lot.  :)

After church today, we headed over to a local Indian restaurant which will soon be named Bollywood Bistro – under new management!  (In case you didn’t know, Bollywood is India’s version of America’s film industry… notice how it sounds kind of like Hollywood?  good observation, right?)  We were one of two occupied tables in there, and almost immediately the owner (who also cooks all the food and waits on the tables) came over.  After ordering her Coke, my mom explained our situation and asked him to guide me through the buffet line.

Usually, I guide myself through buffet lines.  I look for vegetables without too much seasoning, pasta that looks familiar, occasionally some variety of potato, fruit salad, and – inevitably – three different kinds of chocolate-laden dessert.

Well, in this buffet line, everything was loaded with CURRY.  You may not be familiar with curry, so let me introduce you.  Curry is a spice.  A spicy spice.  and Indians love it.  In fact, they put it in nearly everything.  And once you eat the dish that contained curry, there’s usually a fluorescent yellow spot on your plate where the food had been.


After telling me exactly what every dish was (“and this is a curry cauliflower dish… fired vegetables with curry… fried rice with curry… Indo-Chinese dish with curry…..” you get the picture.), the inevitable question that I sort of feared came.  Why are you going to India?

Well, I’m going to West Bengal, Calcutta area.

That’s where I’m from!

…to work with anti-human trafficking ministries.

At the mention of people who want to end human trafficking, his friendly smiled slackened just a bit.  He gave me kind of a blank nod and, after a moment, asked where else I’d be going.

It made me sad to see that face go blank, without understanding.  This puts him in one of two camps: either he doesn’t know about the trafficking (which I would find very unlikely considering he comes from an area where there are “source villages” – the places where girls are trafficked from), or he is just like most of the men in that area who think that a woman’s only purpose is to be exploited and raped.  I hope with all my heart that it’s the first.

everyone loves to have their picture taken while they eat, right?

I’ll say that I wasn’t sure how to begin eating this plate full of unfamiliar food.  Nothing looked safe.  In fact, it looked like all the strange things I avoid at normal buffets.  Things where there are lots of strange ingredients mixed together.  SPICY things.

Plates number 1 and 3.  Notice that there are lots of things on the first plate – and mostly just rice and naan (basically fried bread) on the second plate along with a spinach dip things (flavored with lots of curry) that I didn’t care for.

It left a very curryful taste in my mouth.  And lots of strange curry noises coming from my stomach.

In the car on the way home I told my mom that I was craving peanut butter… which is probably going to be the first thing on my packing list.

Dad was the one who ate with the most gusto.... My mom and I ate a little more tentatively. Small bites.

I wouldn’t do this for just any cause.  I know that God has called me to go to India, and that makes me all the more motivated to like the food.  I know I won’t be very effective for Him there if I die of malnutrition.  So, I will learn to like curry so that I can live for something greater than myself, greater than my picky eating habits.

Conclusion?  I’ll survive when I go to India.

and I’ll bring peanut butter.

More. More. More.

I don’t really believe in coincidences, so when I heard the same song three times on different radio stations as I was flipping around, I took it as a sign.

You can say I’m reading in to something that was probably just another one of those overplayed songs – but this one isn’t really overplayed these days.  I think it was a message to my stressed-out, anxiety-ridden, exhausted-to-the-max self from my sweet savior.

“More” by Matthew West – it’s a song I’ve heard countless times before, but the reminders it’s providing today are enduring.

And I want you to know that I’m not letting go even if you come undone.

I very nearly came undone a few times this week.  Late nights, early mornings, feeling stressed that I might not wake up to my alarm clock – so my body woke me up at 4:30 just to make sure -, lots of responsibilities, tons of homework, overcrowded brain.  At times I feel like that old scarf that’s has loose threads.  The threads get snagged on hooks and caught in car doors and pulled on my little children until the scarf starts to unravel.  Pretty soon, what was once beautiful and fulfilled its purpose of keeping its wearer warm is a mess of tangled threads.

I’ve had loose threads this week, times when I wondered if I still possessed a brain.  Having the picture in my head of Jesus tying the loose threads, hanging on to me even though I’m too distracted to hold on to Him makes me look back on my week in a different way.  Where was God putting little blessings in my path that I completely missed?

This post is of a completely selfish nature, as I need to look back on my week with new eyes.  Here’s the challenge, remember 10 specific instances where God held me together or put an encourager in my way.

1. During one of my volleyball games today, as I was standing at the net, yelling about where the other team’s setter was and how many hitters were in the front row, Number 3 looked me in the eye and asked, ” Is your hair naturally that way?” It’s not at all normal for people to speak across the net, unless you know the people on the other team or something aberrational happens, so I was taken aback.  I’m sure my “yes” sounded strange.  Then she smiled and said, “It’s really pretty” shyly.  How random is that?

2. Yesterday, a woman to whom I had been referred as a babysitter called and said she feels really good about having me watch her kids.  She’s been praying about it.  She pays $10 an hour.  I’m pretty much broke.  It’s a good partnership!

3. By a miracle, when I threw recommendation forms at two of my teachers yesterday and pleaded with them to finish them by today, they both said they would be able to.  And they wrote very nice things about me on the sheets to add to it!

4. This morning, I had forgotten to set my alarm, but – by a complete miracle – my friend texted me back at 6:32, and the buzzing woke me up.

5. The post office stays open til 4.  That is a blessing in itself, since I had to have something postmarked by today.

6. My North Park University application is complete – minus transcripts – so that’s one less stressor.

7. I have time to blog right now.

8. I got to go to my Bible study this week.

9. I understand Calculus – for the most part – right now!  (This is one of the biggest miracles of all.)

10. I get to go to bed now.  :)

Praise God for His faithfulness to me, even when I’m not even looking for Him to bless me, not even really allowing Him in my day – but hanging on to my stressors instead .




That’s today’s number.  228.  It’s the countdown to graduation.  (I accidentally lied to my class today, telling them it was 220. whoops.)

Today it’s a big number, but tomorrow it’ll be one less day that I have left to make my mark.  One less day to smile at people in the hallways and meet with my mentee at lunch.  One less day to soak in the safe atmosphere of my second home.  One less day to drink in the wisdom from teachers-turned mentors- turned friends.

The finality began to settle in when I clicked the “submit” button on my first (and most anticipated) college application on Sunday.  I am setting up for the next stage of my life, leaving behind the safety and comfort of high school that I have known.

I’m sure those aren’t common words that people use to describe high school: “safe” and “comforting”.  I hear people say all the time that they couldn’t be paid enough to go back to high school, and in some ways I understand that.  The search for identity and acceptance is one that most wouldn’t want to relive.  The experiences in high school shape and mold us into the people that we will be for the rest of our lives – and who ever said that shaping and molding would feel good?  I think of metamorphic rocks as my example.

The brilliance and beauty and flawlessness of this diamond didn’t just happen.  Heat and pressure over many years created the beauty that is a girl’s best friend.  (when they’re fair trade, that is!)

To become what we are made to be, what we aspire to be, what is beautiful, we have to withstand heat and pressure, something I’ve been able to do accompanied by some of the greatest people, people who are going through the same thing I am – withstanding loads heavier than mine, holding up under pressure greater than my PSI.

And after withstanding the pressure and becoming one of the strongest substances in the world, diamonds don’t usually stay hidden under a rock.  They sparkle and shine and make newly engaged people happy.  They’re a topic of conversation, something that catches the eye.  Diamonds rarely go unnoticed, especially the most brilliant and reflective ones.

Are you seeing my parallels here?  I hope my experiences have pushed and heated me into a person who stands out as one who has withstood the pressure by leaning on God and come out with character to reflect His brilliance and beauty.  Without the many facets and cuts to make them sparkle, diamonds wouldn’t be much more than a really strong rock, but with the extra cuts, they are fashioned into something to reflect light.

I want to reflect light.

And I have 228 more days to figure out how I’m going to do that.





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Astonishment and wonder

I’m having one of those moments where I don’t believe my eyes. My site stats for my blog say that it has had 212 hits today.
No way.
I don’t even think I have enough Facebook friends to make up that many views.
I’m slightly astonished, which makes my logical brain go into “explanatory mode.”
Someone set it as their home page on Internet explorer. Someone refreshed the page 200 times.
Someone accidentally sent out a link to my blog to their entire address book on their email.
For a second I thought – just for a fleeting, hopeful moment- that I might have gotten featured on Freshly Pressed…
Dream on, Ashley. okay, I will!
You want to know something else that amazes me? do tell, Ashley! It’s how many times I hear about God in any given week. I hear about Him at church on Sunday and Wednesday. In Bible class and in my other classes everyday. At my Bible study. At home. On facebook. In the music I listen to. On the radio. In my head. In my quiet time.
He’s everywhere in my life, so you’d think that I’d know absolutely every facet of His character, every detail of His composition. Yet, there are still times when I’m stuck by a glimpse of glory that I have never seen before.
This is why they call Him the alpha and the omega. The everlasting God. Because He never can be understood completely; there is always something new to behold. Not that He changes, but that He turns so we can see another one of His sides – all equally good.
Always something new to discover – a very good thing for humans who go through phases. I’ve gone through tons of phases in my life. Puffy hair phase. Baggy pants phase. Barbies and American Girl Dolls phase. Awkwardly taller than everyone else phase (it’s okay, I came out with confidence!). Braces phase. Phase where I thought I liked rap. Phase where sleeping in til 11:00 in the summer was the greatest thing ever. Phase where I didn’t want to sleep past 8:30. Phase where I wanted to be a forensic scientist. Phase where I wanted to be an engineer or an English teacher.
But never a God phase. Partly because I can never get bored of Him, and partly because He grows on me- with me. Also, because I’m completely dependent on Him for everything. Growing out of a “God phase” would be like dying.
I would like to live. And live for my God at that.