Day 23: What is a quality about yourself that you like? That you're striving to change?

Just to clear this up... I probably sat here and stared at this computer screen for ten minutes, trying to decide what quality about myself that I like well enough to write about.  It feels like bragging.  But honestly, everybody has good qualities and I should be confident enough in myself to admit one of my own good qualities.  No worries... I have plenty of bad ones to even them out.

I like my loyalty.  I'm a loyal person.  It takes a lot for me to pull away from a friendship.  I think my loyalty stems from my stubbornness.  I'm very, very, very stubborn, which can be a good thing at times and a very bad thing at others.  :)  I feel like Mr. Monk.  "It's a gift... and a curse."  But anyways, I think I'm loyal because of my stubbornness when it comes to giving up on a friendship.  It takes a lot for me to break ties with a good friend. 

I may not be as shy as I was when I was in Jr. High, but I'm still a reserved person.  While I'm casual friends with many people, it takes a lot for someone to become a truly close friend of mine.  When I finally break down my walls and make a close friend, I feel very loyal towards them and it will take a lot to break us apart.  I love my friends to death.  And I like that.  Loyalty is a quality that admire in others as well and one that I like in myself.  My best friend is very loyal, which I love. :)

A quality that I'm striving to change about myself is my tendency to hold grudges.  When someone hurts me or makes me angry, I tend to hold everything inside and feel bitter towards them.  I keep a grudge instead of talking things out.  I don't like that about myself because God commands us to forgive, not to hold angry thoughts inside. 

I still struggle with a couple of grudges in my life right now.  There are a few people who have hurt me, and it's hard for me to forgive and forget, even when I know Jesus wants me to.  But I'm working on those problems.  If Jesus actually forgave every single one of my terrible sins, then the least I can do is forgive the meager sins of others.

What's funny is sometimes I have trouble holding grudges against people who hurt my friends.  I feel so angry when someone hurts a loved one that I almost feel like they've hurt me.  Has anyone else ever felt that way?   

What is a quality about yourself that you like?
What is a quality about yourself that you're striving to change?

Day 22: How are you inspired?

As a writer, I'm constantly looking for sources of inspiration.

Sometimes little things inspire me, like something a friend might say in a passing comment or the expression on the face of someone walking by.  A few months ago, my best friend said out of the blue, "I wish I could speak strawberries until everybody in the world had food."  Her funny comment left me thinking for a long time.

At times, a song or a painting might inspire me.  Movies and books often do.  Sermons at church inspire me at times, as well as poetry and photographs and other blog posts.  Stories inspire me... and I'm talking about personal stories.  If I hear a story of renewal or transformation, I'm often left inspired.  At times, even incredibly sad stories inspire me.

Old photos inspire me.  Childhood photographs.  Seeing myself and my friends as little children with wide, innocent eyes inspires me.  I'll never go back to that time in my life.  It's beautiful to remember those moments.

Seeing hope ignited inspires me too.  True passion inspires me.  Loyalty also inspires me.

How are you inspired?
 

Day 21: What do you miss most about your childhood?

I miss the creativity.  My imagination was HUGE when I was a child. 

If my mom told me to do the dishes, I was suddenly a poor girl trapped into slavery, washing the dishes by hand because it was harder and more "realistic."  If I needed to make some extra money, my friends and I were suddenly clever businessmen, posting signs everywhere and selling homemade bracelets and pink lemonade to neighborhood children.  If I watched "Lion King," I became a lion for the next two weeks, growling at anyone who passed by.

I remember making a calendar one month where each day stood for something different.  On the first day of the month, I would pretend like I was a bug.  I'd crawl around with my pretend antennas and mutter in gibberish all day.  The next day, I was a captured Indian princess, trying to hide from my mom, my evil captor.  The next, I was an evil mystical wolf with giant fangs.    

Once I pretended like I was my little sister's pet horse, Star, for over a month.  I even slept on the floor behind her bed because it was my stall.

When I was about three or four, I pretended I was a "Pound Puppy."  Remember those things?  I was obsessed with those little stuffed dogs.  My pretending game lasted for weeks.  I actually ended up rubbing all the skin off of my nose from sniffing the ground all the time.  I remember inspecting my poor nose in the bathroom at church.  A lady saw me and gasped.  "Who did this to you?" she stammered.  I had no idea.  It didn't connect in my young brain that rubbing my nose all over carpets for a few weeks at a time would remove my skin.   

In the house next to mine, there were a couple of girls around my age.  We had many interesting adventures together.  One of them you may remember: Rebekah from the prank wars.  Those girls and I made up all sorts of crazy games.  I'll list a few.

In "Hypnotized Kitties," we would each be adorable kittens with names like Pom Pom and Crystal who had been kidnapped by an evil scientist.  He strapped battery packs to our backs and put us in a cage (the trampoline).  We wouldn't be able to control our own bodies anymore, so he'd make us "fight."  During our fights, we'd attack each other and bounce all around the trampoline, shoving and throwing punches and apologizing the whole time, since it wasn't actually us fighting.

In "The Pit Bull Game," the oldest of us would be a pit bull and the rest of us were adorable puppies with names like Cupcake and Britney.  Trapped in the trampoline cage, our goal would be to see if we could escape from the evil pit bull pound-keeper.  We rarely could. 

We decided we were real life spies, so we held "Spy Lessons" for the other kids on our block.  We would all meet after dark, because that's when the real spies met.  We would have them run laps and do push ups and sit ups.  Every time a car drove by, we'd all practice throwing ourselves onto the ground in the shadows so no one could see us.  Once I remember getting in trouble because my black pants were dirty and I decided to wear my black velvet skirt instead.  My mother wasn't too thrilled with the idea of me crawling around in the backyard with black stripes on my face while wearing my nicest outfit.

I had a very interesting childhood.  Sometimes I feel bad for my parents.  Rebekah and I once pretended we had been kidnapped after walking to the park one day.  Our moms would always give us a Walkie Talkie to communicate with them.  "Mom, don't worry!  We got a ride!  A nice man in a red truck gave us some candy and then said he would take us home.  He's really nice."  About that time, a red truck sped by our house.  From our spot in the bushes, we could see our two frantic mothers rush out of the house after the truck.

I was a creative child.  What can I say?  I'm still creative in my own way, but my creativity is different now.  I miss the creativity of my childhood sometimes.

What are some of the weird games you would play when you were a little kid?
What do you miss most about your childhood?   
 

Day 20: Are you an optimist, a realist, or a pessimist? Which would you rather be?

I'm a natural pessimist.  There's something in me that naturally responds with negativity unless I consciously decide to do otherwise.  I don't like that and am trying to change that part of me.  I've been a pessimist since I was probably seven or eight years old.  I've dealt with anxiety and depression since I was a very young age.  There's something in me that struggles with seeing the light side of things.

Over the last few years, I think I've managed to mostly change to a realist rather than a pessimist.  Instead of naturally thinking something bad is going to happen -unless I'm going through a particularly rough patch in my life- I try to see things with logic.  "Yes, something bad might happen, but something good might happen too." 

Instead of seeing a glass half empty or half full, I usually see it with 50% water.

Eventually, I'd like to become an optimist.  Not a blind optimist, where I convince my hopes to soar only to have them crushed again and again.  I want to stay logical and realistic.  But I'd rather expect good things to happen than bad things.  I'd rather see the good in people instead of expecting their worst traits to come out. 

Ultimately, I want to see things the way they are, but still keep a glimmer of hope in my heart.

Today's questions are...
1.) Are you an optimist, a realist, or a pessimist?
2.) Which would you rather be?
 

One of my more awkward senior memories would probably be my senior formal photo shoot.  You've probably seen the photos of the guys in fake tuxes and the girls in fancy black dresses, staring dreamily off into the distance.  When I was a little kid, I always looked forward to the day I got my senior formal picture taken.  The beautiful senior girls in those photographs looked so elegant and grown up.  I remember always feeling a twinge of excitement about the moment I would get to wear the dress and look so lovely.

Up until the day before the actual photo shoot, I had no idea that the fancy dress wasn't even a dress.  It was actually a wrap.  Not even a wrap, really.  It was just a piece of black velvet cloth that draped loosely and awkwardly over the shoulders and hooked in the back with a tiny clasp.  The worst part about it was the fact that it came to just above the belly button.  If you weren't wearing an undershirt, then most of your stomach was exposed to everyone.  And if you were very modest, that could be a mortifying experience.  It made things worse that boys and girls waited together in the same room where the photos were taken.

A close friend of mine came over after the first day of the photo shoot, looking shaken.  My friend is very modest when it comes to what she wears- even more so than I am.  "Emily, you've got to bring an undershirt of some sort to the photo shoot," she warned me.  Apparently, my friend had showed up at the shoot on the first day while wearing a t-shirt, thinking that she'd get to change into a full-length dress later on.  She was wrong. 

My poor friend had to shuffle into the room with a group of our classmates, trying to cover her bare stomach with her arms while hoping desperately that the tiny clasps wouldn't unhook and loosen the wrap entirely.  The worst part was having to pose with her shoulders back and her arms at her side so she wouldn't look unnatural and hunched over in the photograph.

Naturally, my friend was a bit embarrassed.

I took my senior formal picture the next day, so I was careful to bring a camisole and wear that underneath.  Even though I had on a layer beneath the ugly velvet wrap, I was embarrassed.  It's just an awkward feeling to walk into a room full of your classmates, their parents, a few teachers, and the photographer while wearing a little cami and an awkwardly-draped wrap. 

The picture was taken, I shuffled back into the restroom and put a real shirt back on, and I vowed to never take another photo like that again.

I have to ask.  Why couldn't they have sacrificed a few more inches of material and made the "dress" come down to the waistband of our jeans instead of mid-stomach?  I would have been willing to pay the extra dollar or two in my fees and I'm sure my poor friend would have too.

Sometimes Christian schools confuse me.  

Day 19: What is your favorite Bible verse and why?

I've shared this on here before, but my favorite verse is Psalm 77:19.


I took the picture to your right a couple of weeks after Gatlin's death.  Around this time, about two weeks after Gatlin committed suicide, I was still feeling angry with God.  Only months before I had rededicated my life to Him after years of abandoning Him.  That summer, I had decided I couldn't handle my own life anymore.  It caused too much pain.  I gave my life to God instead.  At the time, it seemed like God had failed.  I still felt pain.  In fact, I was feeling more pain than I had possibly ever felt in my entire life.

Gatlin was dead.  He wasn't coming back.  I blamed myself.  And it hurt.

"God, how could you let this happen to me?" I would pray bitterly, but God wouldn't give an answer.  I couldn't feel Him at all.  Where was He?

After a couple of weeks, I decided to try reading the Bible.  During the previous summer, my thirst for God's Word had enveloped me.  I read through the entire Bible in a couple of weeks, making notes and highlighting passages and feeling a hunger for truth.  I didn't want to believe just what I'd been taught my entire life anymore.  I wanted to know God for myself. 

I hadn't read the Bible since Gatlin died.

I let the Bible fall open onto my lap, not caring what passage I read.  I couldn't think of anything at the time that could possibly make me feel better.  Not Romans 8, not Psalm 23.  Nothing off the top of my head could possibly soothe my aching heart.  The Bible flipped open to Psalm 77.  Sure, I'd read the passage before, but nothing about it had stuck out in the past.  This time a verse seemed to scream up at me. 

Your path led through the sea, Your way through the mighty waters...

That was me.  My life was an absolute mess.  Gatlin's death had thrown everything to pieces around me.  My life was a raging sea of pain and grief and confusion.  I was drowning.

...though Your footprints were not seen.

Was this a message from God?  I couldn't feel His presence anywhere around me.  He hadn't seemed to be responding to my desperation and my pleading for Gatlin's life.  I hadn't felt God in weeks.  Could this be Him? 

It was like He was holding me that night, rocking me in His arms like a little child.  My footprints are there, Emily, even though you can't see them right now.  I'm still working through this mess.  

At that moment, I felt peace wash over me like a gentle wave.  Yes, the pain was still there, hurting as bad as it ever did.  Yes, I still felt incredible guilt and hurt over Gatlin's suicide.  But I could feel God.  I finally felt God.  His footprints were there in my life, even when I couldn't see them.

There are other passages of the Bible that I absolutely adore, like James 1:27 and Psalm 91 and others, but I'll never forget how the Lord gave me Psalm 77:19 when I needed it so badly.

What is your favorite verse and why?  

Day 18: If you had a friend who talked to you like you talk to yourself, how long would you allow that person to be your friend?

To be honest, I think I would dump that friend within a few days. 

I don't talk to myself very nicely most of the time.  If I trip and stumble, I think to myself, "Come on, Emily.  You're such a klutz.  Can't you even walk right?"  If I miss a problem on an exam: "You're so stupid.  Why can't you remember the answers?"  If I don't succeed at something: "You're absolutely worthless.  Why did God even make you?"

My thoughts can be absolutely cruel at times.  What's sad is that this is me.  I'm insulting not only myself, but a child of God.  I don't deserve these insults.  I am valued.  I am cherished and loved by God.  I'm His treasure.

I don't tolerate meanness from friends.  If I feel like a friend is bringing me down, I'll let her know.  And if she is outright mean to me or will not stop saying hurtful comments, I'll end the friendship because I do know that I'm worth more than being mocked and put down.  I don't take cruelty.  At least not from others.

When I talk to myself like I sometimes do, I'm sinning.  I'm putting down a creation of God.  I'm saying that something He made with love isn't good enough.  I'm calling the apple of God's eye worthless.  That's a mistake.  That's a sin. 

I need to work on treating myself better.  It may be easy to put myself down and use hateful names, but I'm worth more than that.  I know in my heart that I am.  This has all come from the time in my life when I was severely depressed and suicidal, back when I thought my life wasn't worth living.  I hated myself.  I gave my own life no value at all.  While I now know my life holds value, old habits die hard.  I still insult myself when I mess up.

From now on, whenever I put myself down, I'm going to consciously try to correct myself.  "No, you aren't stupid.  No, you aren't ugly.  No, you aren't worthless.  God made you to be glorious.  You're His beloved." 

God made me beautiful.  He has given me value and it's time to treat myself that way.

Here are today's questions:
1.) If you had a friend who talked to you like you talk to yourself, how long would you allow that person to be your friend?
2.) Do you treat yourself with love or with hate?   
 

Day 17: What kind of impact do you want to make on the world?

I want to do something for the world.  I want to leave a mark somehow for the Lord.

So many people die without having done much with their lives.  I don't want to be someone who dies and is forgotten in a few years.  I want to make an impact before I go.  I want to do something worthwhile with the time that I have.

To my loved ones, I want to be remembered as being kind and self-sacrificing.  I don't want to be remembered as selfish or judgmental or bitter.  I want to be remembered as a girl who strove to be like Christ, even if I sometimes fail.  I want to make an impact on my loved ones for Christ in whatever way I can.

I want to make an impact on world hunger and do as much as I can for that cause before I go.  I want to put a dent in poverty.  So many kids are starving each and every day.  There are too many dying children.  This needs to end.  I'll use my life to try to end world hunger.  Too many kids die from starvation and preventable diseases each and every day.

Finally, I want to make an impact with my writing.  In many ways, my writing is my legacy.  I hope that someday, something I write will impact someone for the Lord.

What kind of impact do YOU want to make on the world?

Day 16: How do you spend time alone?

I spend time alone writing, usually.  I don't like to write when other people are around.  Writing in peace and quiet comes much more naturally to me.  I have to have perfect conditions for writing.  It has to be completely silent in my room.  I know a lot of people write with music playing, but I can't.  I listen to music before I write as a source of inspiration, but never during.  I have to be alone, as I said before.  And I have to be comfortable.  I write the best and most at night.

I also play guitar and piano when I'm alone.  I don't consider myself to be a very talented musician, so much to my parents' (and Ali's) dismay, I usually play my music in solitude.

I have to sleep alone.  I can't stand sharing a bed.  I feel so bad for certain people who have to stay with me... *coughAlicough*... because I eventually end up kicking them onto the couch.  But the sad truth is that I can't sleep unless my room is entirely silent, without any breathing or moving around.  I have to be comfortable and relaxed.  I have to be bundled under about ten blankets (while wearing huge sweatshirts, thick pants, and fuzzy socks) because I'm incredibly cold-natured, which is also difficult for most people to endure.  And the room has to be entirely dark.  So it's difficult to sleep in a room with someone.  This is why I'll be having a private room in college.

I like to clean my room alone.  For some reason, it often bothers me when people are watching me put my things away.  I feel like they're expecting me to mess up.  I don't know.  Does anyone else have this problem?

Finally, I like to have my quiet time alone.  I can focus most on God when I'm alone in my room with a Bible and a journal.

Here are your questions:
1.) How do you spend time alone?
2.) Do you prefer sleeping alone or in the same room as someone else?

Today I'm going to share five weird things about being a senior that I've noticed over the last few months.

1. There is no class above you.
My entire high school career, there's always been a class above me.  When I first entered high school, the seniors seemed so big and intimidating.  I would never dare to approach them.  Over time, the seniors became more human and closer to my age.  I began to see them as friends or peers instead of as much older leaders.  But they were always there.  The seniors were always above me, always setting the standard for the year, always looking like they were having a good time. 

Now it's us.  My class.  We're the seniors.  There is no one above us.  Everyone is younger.  It's the weirdest feeling in the world- especially in the first few weeks of the school year- to realize that there is no one in the high school who is a grade older than me.

Another weird thought is the fact that my little sister (who has always seemed "little" in my eyes) is in high school this year too.  So. Weird.

2. The freshmen seem weirdly immature.
Now I don't mean this as a put down for any freshman out there who is reading this blog.  Not all freshmen are immature, but you will mature a whole lot between your freshman and senior years of high school. 

When I watch the ninth-graders giggling and talking in the halls, they seem so young.  That doesn't make any sense.  I was there only a few years ago.  That was me.  Surely I was never that immature.  Surely I was never that absorbed in boys and gossip and silliness.  Surely my insecurities were never plastered so obviously on my face.  ...Okay, yeah, I probably was that immature.  Here, I'll share a picture of myself as a freshman so you can decide for yourself.

I was talking to one of my friends last summer and I said something like, "I feel like I was a freshman just a few months ago, but I feel like I was fourteen years and years ago."  I have changed so much since that time in my life.  I've gained a lot more confidence than I had back then.  I'm starting to finally catch glimpses of who I am and who God has made me to be.  When I was a freshman, I was incredibly insecure.  Freshman year was my favorite year of high school, other than this senior year, and I had a blast through most of that time in my life, but it does seem far away now, like I'm remembering things about somebody else, not me.

I have trouble relating to the vast majority of the freshman girls who attend my high school.  Many of them do seem very immature and insecure.  (It probably doesn't help that my little sister and her friends are all freshmen.)  I think they're very sweet, but we're in different walks of life.  And I'm not used to that feeling.  

3. Adults get incredibly sentimental when they see you.
This doesn't apply to all adults, but it happens quite frequently.  Here's what happens on a weekly basis in my life.

I'm walking through a store with my mom and someone who I don't recognize walks by and sees my mom.  They talk for a few moments... and then the woman's eyes fall on me.  "Who is this?" she asks in an awed voice.  "This can't be Emily.  Wow.  I cannot believe it." 

I smile and nod.  "Yes, it's me.  It's Emily."  Who else would it be?

"My, my, my.  You make me feel so old.  You've changed so much since I saw you last.  The last time I saw you, you were this big."  And the woman holds her palm about a foot over the ground. 

I laugh politely.  Does she not realize that fifteen years have passed since she saw me last?  Did she think I would stay a toddler forever?

"Emily's going to graduate from high school this year," my mom usually interjects proudly and the woman usually gasps.  Her eyes fill up with sentimental tears and she pats my hand.

"My son graduated last year.  You are going to have the time of your life in college.  Now what do you want to do?"

"I want to be a writer." 

Silence.  Then, "Ohhh, how nice" in a forced, excited tone.  And the questions follow for a few more minutes.

I know this was written in a fairly sarcastic tone, but I honestly don't mind.  The adults who get sentimental over my increasing age are very sweet and thoughtful.  These situations are very frequent and a bit embarrassing.  It never happened this often before.  Church, restaurants while I'm eating with my family, and grocery stores are where this happens the most.

4. Parents planning to do things to your bedroom.
On TV sitcoms, you often see parents planning to turn a kid's room into a bowling alley or something crazy after he leaves for college.  I never thought that would actually happen.  I mean, some of my friends have older siblings who have moved out and their parents haven't done anything to their bedrooms.

It's been the weirdest thing this year to hear my family bartering over the use of my bedroom.  Yes, my bedroom is the biggest of all the bedrooms in the house, probably because it was never meant to be a bedroom.  It's actually the upstairs of one section of our house above the garage, so it's pretty big.  It's also separated from most of the house, so it's private and quiet and relaxing. 

My dad wants to move up some workout equipment and a TV and turn my bedroom into a little gym.  My mom wants to move up some card tables and turn my bedroom into a scrapbooking room.  My little sister is dying to move into my bedroom after I leave, but luckily, that won't be happening for a few years at least.  My little brother wouldn't mind turning my bedroom into a game room or an arcade of some sort.

Isn't it wonderful to know that your family is already planning for your absence?  It's the weirdest feeling in the world to me.  Of course, I'll be coming back to stay a lot, especially while I'm in college, but the knowledge that my room won't really be my room anymore is kind of sad... and scary.

5. You're what you considered to be old when you were a little kid.
I used to be an avid fan of Barney.  You know, that purple dinosaur who loved to sing?  I remember watching those old shows where he would dance around with a bunch of kids dressed in gaudy nineties outfits, and I remembered thinking those kids were so old.  In reality, the oldest ones were maybe ten.

When I got a little older, I became a huge fan of Drake and Josh.  You might remember that Nickelodeon show about the two step brothers.  I loved that show.  But Drake and Josh seemed so old to my eyes.  In my wildest dreams, I could never imagine being that age.

Eighteen.  Eighteen.  Hey, even when I was fifteen, I thought eighteen-year-olds were incredibly old.  I never thought I would reach this age.  It seemed unreachable, reserved for big kids only. 

I mentor a second-grader as part of my Bible class.  Once she asked me, "How old are you?" 

"Eighteen," I replied. 

The girl's eyes grew wide with shock.  "Are your mommy and daddy still alive?" she asked in a slightly awed voice. 

What?  Eighteen isn't actually old at all.  I still feel quite young and vulnerable most of the time.  Little kids don't understand that when I try to explain it to them.  I used to think people who were my age were very old.  Now I'm there.  I am what little kids think is incredibly intimidating and old... in an entirely different way than they see forty-year-old parents as old.

Being what I used to think was old is a weird thought.        

Here are your questions:
1. If you're in high school, are you experiencing any of these things yet?  Any others I've forgotten?
2. If you're out of high school, what was the strangest thing to you about being a senior?

Lately, Jack has been spending a lot of his time in my bedroom.  I frequently hear a little scratching at my door and when I turn around to open it, Jack is standing in my doorway, waiting patiently.  He won't give up.  He'll scratch for several minutes at a time and if I still don't answer, he'll go to sleep with his nose pressed against the crack of my door.  Sad, isn't it? 

When I let Jack into my bedroom, he immediately hops onto a big green pillow I got for Christmas.  The pillow is his spot.  Sometimes he'll bring toys into the room and leave them on the pillow, but he often naps there.Sometimes Jack gets lonely or bored, so he's taken the habit of jumping up onto my lap and crawling up to my shoulder, where he'll curl up and actually fall asleep.  I honestly have no idea how he manages to balance on my shoulder while I write, but he does it.  He likes to perch on my shoulder.  It's the weirdest thing, but I can't help but laugh.
And finally, I'd like to share a picture of the face Jack makes when he really, really, really wants me to play with him.  This is an older picture, but I'm pretty sure I haven't shared it with you guys.
Oh, Jack.  There's just something about him that makes you say, "Awwww."

Be sure to check out Jack's YouTube channel at JacktheDorkyYorkie.

Day 15: Have you ever regretted something you DIDN'T do?

Of course I have.  Some people keep a "no regrets" mindset, but I don't.  I think it's okay to have regrets, so long as they don't define your life.  I regret every sin I've ever committed because each one has hurt God.  I've also regretted things I haven't done that I should have.

I think I've written about this instance on my blog before, but I'll go ahead and share it again.

A few years ago, I was hanging out at a basketball game with some old friends of mine.  We merged with another group of teens and the talk soon transformed into swearing and sexual innuendos.  I didn't want to seem rude and holier-than-thou by abruptly leaving the group, so I stayed in the conversation, although I avoided the cussing and inappropriate topics. 

A little while later, one of the guys from the other group of kids pulled me aside.  "There's something about you that's different from all of us.  You stand out.  What is it?" he asked me outright. 

I've always been shy, and I was much more shy back then than I am now.  I was a bit embarrassed by this strange boy's full attention on the way I acted.  I didn't want to sound preachy or too Christian.  I was terrified that I would say the true reason I was different -because of how Jesus had changed me- and then he would laugh and walk away.  I hesitated before saying, "I don't think there's anything different about me."

"No, there is something different.  I can see it.  What is it?" the boy pressed further.

In my heart, I knew this was my chance.  I could share my faith with this kid who had so obviously seen Christ in me.  He wanted to know what made me different.  But I chickened out again and said, "It's nothing.  I'm just a unique person."  The boy finally accepted my words and didn't say anything else about the subject.

I went home that night and cried.  I'd missed my opportunity.  I had acted like I was ashamed of Christ, not like I was a radical follower of Him.  That boy was searching for the truth and he sure didn't find it through me. 

I still think about that moment with regret.  How I wish I could go back sometimes.  My biggest consolation is that I know God still loves that boy.  He'll send another opportunity to find Him that kid's way if He hasn't already.  I just wish I had done my part and fulfilled my purpose in the Lord.

Do you regret anything you didn't do? 

Day 14: When do you feel most alive?

I feel most alive in a few different ways.

When I write.
Sometimes, I get so absorbed in the things I write that I feel like I've been taken to a new place, to a new understanding of myself.  I often feel the most joyful when I'm writing, which helps me feel most alive.  Writing gives me a thrill like nothing else does.

When I serve.
One of the most "alive" moments of my life was when I was surrounded by the children in Kenya, Africa.  That was a beautiful moment in my life.  I'll never forget it.  Interning at an inner city mission was an "alive" summer for me as well.  When I serve others, I feel more selfless than I normally would.  It's so easy to become self-absorbed, but when I can focus on others, I feel like I'm doing what God wants me to do.

When I travel.
I love traveling.  I've been to eleven different countries and each time I step into a new place, on new ground, immersed in a new culture, my heart just soars.  I feel completely alive when I'm exploring a brand new country.

Some moments during worship or when I'm playing music, I also feel alive.  Sometimes when I watch the stars or a sunset, I feel alive.  At times, I'll wake up and my mind will feel crystal clear.  I'll have more understanding than I do on other days.  It's like I can feel the Lord all around me.  I love those times.

When do you feel most alive?  

I'd like to share pictures from the One Day Without Shoes that took place on April 5.  Ali and I couldn't celebrate all day, since we went to a stockyard for a field trip.  I guess we could have gone without shoes during that time... but we weren't that enthusiastic about getting foot diseases.  However, we wore shoes as little as we possibly could and had a great time.

The photograph above was based after a picture that was taken of me and Ali last year on the One Day Without Shoes.  It's become a tradition.  I actually almost wore my Fireflight shirt today, but when I realized that I wore it last year, I was too creeped out.
Ali and I decided to go on a walk, but we soon realized that walking barefoot on gravel roads can be quite painful.  In fact, we could hardly walk at all.  At one point, Ali decided that perhaps running across the gravel street would be easier than walking, but all she managed to do was embed tiny pieces of rock into her feet.  At that moment, we empathized with children who don't have any shoes more than ever!
We managed to take several pictures of each other... some featuring our bare feet and others just featuring us.  I love taking pictures.  Perhaps Ali is right and I am a "Picture Hoarder."  One of these days, you'll see me on that TV show called Hoarders, but all that's hoarded will be on my computer... thousands and thousands of pictures.
There's a tiny park near our house.  It's only about a half mile walk away, although it seems incredibly long when we're traveling barefoot.  At the park, we finally had peace.  When you're swinging, you don't have to worry about your feet touching the ground!

Day 13: Why do you keep a blog? What is your favorite thing about keeping a blog? Least favorite?

I've wanted to keep a blog of sorts since I was probably ten, when I got my first computer.  Of course, at the time, I didn't know what blogs were, but I would use little online diaries to write down my thoughts and opinions.  Over time, I had a few freewebs and mydeardiary and a blogspot and a few others that I can't even remember now.  They never seemed to last.  Now that I look back, I think that those endeavors failed for two reasons.  One, because I didn't have so much to say when I was younger... or at least not anything worthwhile to write about.  Two, I wanted a website, but didn't yet understand the concept of a blog, so I focused more on layouts and designs and "about me" pages when I should have focused on my writing.  

A little over two years ago, I started a blog on Weebly for the first time in a couple of years.  I began to post every day without fail and even though I didn't have very many readers, I discovered how much I enjoyed keeping a blog.  I loved it.  I got to share pictures, opinions, and stories with friends and family.  Most of all, I loved the writing part of keeping a blog.  It didn't matter if anyone read it or not.  I just loved the challenge of writing something new every single day.

The Christmas before last, my cousin gave me a domain name for my blog/website and I moved everything onto www.emilytheperson.com.  This blog was probably the best Christmas gift I got that year.  I have gotten more readers since I first started blogging, when I would get two or three views a day.  I love hearing what all of you have to say.  You're all so encouraging.  But most of all, I love to keep this blog because I love to write.  More than anything, I just love to write.  If writing for my blog ever became something that I didn't like to do, I would stop. 

But at this point, I don't think I'll ever stop.  I love this too much. 

My least favorite part about blogging would be the negative people.  Some people do feel like they need to put me down because of my faith or my writing.  I don't like that part of blogging, but over time, I've learned to shake those comments off.  Anyways, I get many more positive comments than I do negative comments. :)

Another negative thing about blogging... the codes and all of that.  I have no idea how to work with html and whatever these things are.  So if my blog layout seems plain sometimes, it's because I'm not a computer nerd.  Sometimes I wish I was.  It'd make things a lot easier.

This may have been the most long and rambling blog post I've written in a long time.  If you actually read through this entire thing, I congratulate you.  Here is a virtual high five.

Here are your questions:
1.) Do you have a blog? Please share the link. :)
2.) What is your favorite part about blogging?
3.) Least favorite part about blogging?
4.) Why did you start blogging in the first place?

Oh, and I have one last question.  What would you guys think about me possibly having a book giveaway sometime in the near future?  

My little sister turns fifteen today.  She can finally get her learner's permit. :)  I can't believe she's this old already.

Happy birthday, Amy!

Day 12: If you knew you would die in two weeks, would you change anything about your life right now?

I've thought a lot about this.  To an extent, I think I definitely need to make a change in my life.  I have no idea how long I'm going to live.  I could die tomorrow.  I could die today.  I should live like every day is my last and make the most of the time I have.

On the other hand, I still need to plan for a future.  I need to save money for college and work on getting an education.  All of this I would ignore if I knew I was going to die in two weeks.  I'd quit my tutoring job and I'd probably quit high school too.  I'd start spending and giving away my money on worthy causes.  If I probably won't die in two weeks, I'd definitely still want to continue with school and my job and my savings.  I wouldn't be counting down the clock.  I'd be instead optimistically planning for the future. 

Some things I would change about my life in those two weeks would be...
 
- I would say "I love you" to my family and friends more.  My family is actually pretty good about saying that sort of thing, but I'd say it even more.  I'd also start writing letters to each person in my family, telling them how much they mean to me.  I wouldn't want to die with anyone wondering where they stood with me.  I'd want everyone to feel loved by me.

- I'd spend more time around people and less time alone.  While I love my privacy and alone time, I'd be spending time around others as a way to say goodbye.  I would want everyone to have closure, and I'd want to make the most of the time I had... with my family.

- I would write as much as I possibly could.  Right now, I write a lot, but if I knew I was going to die, I'd start cramming the writing in and perfecting what I wanted to be published someday.  In a lot of ways, writing is my legacy, so I'd want it to live on after I died.

- I would give more things away.  I'd give some things to friends and family as tokens and reminders of me.  I'd give other things away to the poor and the needy because I sure wouldn't need those things anymore.  My car, clothing, and guitars, for example.

- I would make sure I was right with God.  Even though I know the Lord is merciful and would still love me unconditionally, I wouldn't want to have a grudge or the burden of a sin on my shoulders while I stood before Him for the first time.  This is something that I should do right now.  Every moment I live, I should try to stay right with God.  I shouldn't ever hold something until I think I may die.

If you knew you would die in two weeks, what would you change about your life? 

Day 11: What is your favorite age?

My favorite age would most definitely have to be seventeen.  There are a gazillion reasons why I think seventeen is the best age. 

When you're seventeen, you're young, but you aren't an adult yet.  You don't quite have the responsibilities of life weighing on your shoulders.  You're old enough for people to take you seriously, but you're young enough to be able to be carefree.  You are still a kid.

When you're seventeen, you're either nearly a senior in high school or already a senior in high school.  You either have the excitement of almost being at the top of your high school or you're already in that moment of your life.  In a lot of cases, it's too early in the game to be freaking out entirely about college yet.  It's the perfect age to be when you're in high school.

You've finally been driving for a year, so if you live in Texas, at least, you can take more than one passenger in your car.

Why are there so many songs about being seventeen?  Because it's the best age ever.

It's the only age in the teens that has three syllables.  Think about it.  Thir-teen, four-teen, fif-teen, six-teen, sev-en-teen, eigh-teen, nine-teen...  That has to mean something.

You don't have any pressure to have a crazy birthday party when you turn seventeen.  No Sweet Sixteen or Eighteen "Adult" party.  You can have a crazy party if you want to, but there's no pressure.  You can focus on having a good time, not blowing everyone away.

You can... still be tried as a child if you break the law.  Heh.

You can see rated R movies.  A lot of my readers probably don't care about that, but at least you get bragging rights.

Most of all, being seventeen is your last year of childhood.  Maybe I'm strange, but when I turned seventeen, I decided to cherish still being a kid.  I wanted to still be able to say I was a little girl and yet do amazing things for God at the same time.

I even wrote a song about being seventeen.

And that's why I think seventeen is my favorite age.

What is your favorite age?
 

Day 10: Who is your "best self"?

I was reading The Diary of Anne Frank recently and came across an entry where she was talking about how she had a different Anne for everyone.  She was a different person depending on who she was around.  At first, I thought to myself, "That's weird. Why would you change around people?  Just be yourself."  But you know, I don't think being a different person around others is necessarily a bad thing.

When I'm around different people, a different self of me does come out.  It's not like I don't act like myself.  I just adjust so they -and I- will be more comfortable together.  For example, with my best friend, I'm more personal.  We talk in depth a lot.  I'm more calm and quiet... not in an awkward-quiet way, but in a natural way.  With another best friend, I'm crazier.  We have crazy moments and are constantly thinking of adventures.  I'm also more complimentary.  With one of my guy friends, I joke around a lot more than I do with other people.  My personality shifts slightly depending on who I am around.  But all of these personalities are still me.  I'm definitely still me. :)

I know that's not entirely what this question means.  I think it's also asking what is the best part of me or what I like most about myself.

I like myself most when I'm serving others or helping someone.  My unselfish or compassionate self is probably my best self.  But of course... I see compassion as the most beautiful thing in life, according to day five of this blogging challenge, so that shouldn't seem like much of a surprise to all of you.

When I serve others, I feel joy and peace.  I feel like I'm fulfilling a piece of God's plan for me.  Serving others also gives me a feel-good feeling that nothing else can really replace.  So that's my best self. 

To be honest, I feel really awkward writing this right now.  Like I can't share my best self without bragging.  I have a lot of bad selves, but that isn't the purpose of this question.  No, Emily.  Bad.  Why can't we share good things about ourselves without feeling guilty?

Here are your questions:
1. What is your best self?
2. Do you change slightly when you're around different people?

Day 9: What song has moved you recently?

Songs constantly move me, but one that has re-captured my attention lately is "Say It" by Britt Nicole.  The lyrics have been tugging at my heart, so I think there is a message God has for me somewhere in this song.


Pretty, isn't it?
What song has got you thinking lately?