Day 26: If you could write a letter to your 13-year-old self, what would it be?

Dear thirteen-year-old me,

That's right.  This is me writing to you.  Yourself... from the future.  Cool, right?

First of all, I want to tell you that you are worth something.  God has made you with a purpose.  You have value.  You are loved, even if you don't feel like it right now.  Your struggles are being noticed right now by your family and your friends.  They want to talk to you and love on you and help you, but you're pushing them away.  If you can only break open your walls and let them in, you'll be opening yourself to so much love and care.

You're beautiful.  Even if you don't feel like it, you are.  You're worth so much more than how you treat yourself.  When you hurt yourself, you're hurting everyone who loves you, including God.  I know you don't believe in Him right now, but He does exist.  He's there.  He's holding your hand, just like you always used to imagine when you were little.  Jesus adores you.  It makes Him so, so sad when you hurt the body He's made just for you.

Don't be afraid to fit in a little bit. I know you call yourself an "anti-conformist" but you can be unique without pushing yourself away from everyone.  Talk to people.  Smile at people.  Dress cute, even if someone else has a somewhat similar style.  Be yourself, Emily, but don't try to be so unique that you become someone other than who God made you to be.  Your shyness has overtaken you.  If you allowed yourself to open up just a little bit, you'd make so many more friends.  You wouldn't feel nearly as alone as you do now.

I wish I could take you aside and give you a huge hug and talk to you in person.  I know that's weird because you're me, but I remember myself from age thirteen and I was so broken.  You're so broken.  That emptiness you feel inside is the place where God needs to be.  Let Him in.  Follow His plan for you.  He wants you to serve the needy and the lost.  You have that passion... you just haven't found it yet.  Serving the hungry will give you so much joy, Emily.  The Lord wants you to love.  He wants you to feel joy and peace, not pain and fear.

He made you special, Emily.  I wish you could see that much earlier than you do.  God has made you for a purpose, and it's a big one.

Love,
Me

P.S. Please grow out your hair, bangs, and get contacts.  Thanks. :)
 

Day 25: How is God working in your life right now?

Right now, God is working in my life in a lot of different ways.  I've been having a lot of struggles about which school I'm going to attend and what God wants for my future.  In my enrollments, mistakes have been made and minds have been changed.  I've been forced to wait, be disappointed, and then sit down and wait again as my hopes rise to the ceiling.  I think God's been teaching me patience a lot lately.

I'm a generally impatient person.   I hate it when I plan to meet a friend and she's more than a few minutes late.  When I have to wait, I start to feel fidgety and restless.  I become extremely annoyed if I have to wait longer than six or seven minutes.  Once I made Ali buy me something as penalty for making me wait thirty minutes. ;)

I can get impatient with God at times too.  If I've been praying for something big in my life and He isn't seeming to answer, I start to feel angry and offended.  But honestly, who am I to ask anything of God?  I'm nothing compared to Him.  I'm so blessed that He's given me worth at all.  

Patience is something I need to learn and I think it's also something that God is slowly teaching me this year. 

He's also teaching me selflessness.  It's very easy to become self-absorbed during such a crazy time as this.  Whether it's through the stories of those in third world countries who are dying each day from preventable issues like malaria and hunger or whether it's through small areas of my life like sharing my room with my best friend or learning what it's like to give up a piece of my schedule for someone else... God is slowly working in my life and teaching me how to be more self-sacrificing.

And of course, God is working in my life by showing me that He's there.  I mean, this is my senior year.  I have only a month left of school.  Life is pretty crazy right now.  Yet God is here.  He's taking care of me.  He loves me and He reminds me of that each and every day.

Here are today's questions.
1.) How is God working in your life right now?
2.) Are there any struggles that you're going through? Any prayer requests?

The other day, Rebekah and I were eating lunch at her house like we often do, discussing all of the ways we could destroy Caleb with our pranks and mischief.  I showed Rebekah the posts I've written on this blog about our prank wars.  We were laughing and reminiscing until we came across the first post I wrote, here, where I asked you guys for prank ideas. 

"These are great," Rebekah exclaimed, reading through YOUR comments. 

I shook my head.  "I know, right?  We have to use some of these."

We didn't have a whole lot of time, so we decided to use the first prank on the list, by a reader named Jessi.  Here is Jessi's comment:

Day 24: Who is someone who changed your life for the better?

My best friend Ali has changed my life for the better.

We became friends in the fifth grade, when we were both eleven.  I had just moved to this new school after having previously been home schooled.  I was terribly shy, self conscious, and a little weird.  Ali was the first friend I made at my new school.  Despite how shy I was, Ali stepped forward and befriended me with open arms and a sweet smile.

We've been friends ever since.

Ali has changed my life by encouraging and uplifting me throughout difficult times I've gone through.  I've tried to do the same for her.  Ali is stubborn and loyal, and she always manages to keep a smile, despite some tough situations.

We have a lot of... interesting memories together.  Silly moments, like when we were driving home and thought we saw a dead body in the middle of the road.  Or when we'd sneak to Braum's together without anyone knowing.  Or when we stayed up all night discussing how to end world hunger.  With those kinds of memories, we've become best friends.

I could never ask for a better friend than that I have in Ali.

I'll share a few pictures of our high school years to take your mind off of the awkward fifth grade picture I can't believe I showed you above.  Don't tell Ali. :)

Here we are on the last day of school, Sophomore year.  I don't know why I love this picture so much, but I do.  It's framed right above my computer screen.

This picture is of Ali and I dancing at last year's prom.  During that particular dance, neither of us had a partner, so we decided to dance together.  We were holding each others' arms because we always argue about who is the "guy" in our best friend relationship. 
This is us on last year's TOMS Day Without Shoes.

I know it's been a while since I've updated you guys on our ongoing prank war.  The thing is... Rebekah and I were waiting for Caleb to attempt to strike back.  We didn't want to prank him over and over and over again if he wasn't going to retaliate.  That wouldn't be very nice.  So we waited.  And waited.  And finally he struck. :)

Unfortunately, Caleb had a victory.  He attacked Rebekah's house, writing "Susan Boyle!" (his nickname for Rebekah) on her front sidewalk with whipped cream and sticking cheese squares on her windows.  He also sprayed her yard and sidewalk with spray cheese and yarned and toilet papered her trees.  Caleb's prank wasn't amazing, but he was never caught, so he succeeded.

Thankfully, Caleb didn't know how to get to my house, so he couldn't prank me.  Hooray!

I wish I had some pictures to share with you guys, but Rebekah forgot to take any, so I don't.

Before I share the next part to this story, let me tell you about something that happened a month or two ago.  Caleb and I are lab partners in our environmental science class at school.  Of all things, we were cutting foam poster boards with a scalpel because my teacher doesn't allow us to have scissors.  Scissors are too dangerous.  Strange, isn't it?  I had the scalpel and was drawing it across the board when Caleb said, "Here, let me show you..." and grabbed it out of my hand.

I felt a sharp pain slice through my hand and glanced down with shock to see a red line appearing across my finger.  "Caleb, you cut me!" I gasped, but he laughed it off.

"Yeah, right.  You're such a bad liar, Emily!"

Haha... ha... no.

Luckily, the cut didn't need stitches after all and while I had to wear a bandage for about a week, it was all good.  However, I had something to hang over Caleb's head for a very, very long time. 

For example:

Caleb walks by, knocking my books off my desk.

"Pick them up," I command.

He scoffs.  "Emily, you can't make me do anything of the sort."

"You cut my poor finger."

"Okay, fine."  And he picks up the books.

Brilliant, isn't it?  Very much worth the minor pain the cut from the scalpel possibly caused.

Back to the story of Caleb's last prank towards Rebekah.  That following Monday, Caleb came to school gloating about his victory and Rebekah was understandably steamed.  They bantered back and forth all throughout our first few classes, exchanging threats and mocking comments (all in good fun, of course).

At the end of English class, Caleb said something to taunt Rebekah and she threw her pen at him.  He ducked dramatically and ended up smacking his face against the corner of a desk.  Of course, we blame a lot of this on Caleb... because he was the one who tried to throw himself on the ground to hide from a pen in the first place.

When Caleb sat up, the area of skin above his upper lip and beneath his nose was spurting blood.  We all laughed for a few minutes, but then we realized how deep the cut was.  And then Caleb had to leave school... and go to the emergency room.

He texted me later that night, saying he'd gotten three stitches.

Oops.

Now, this wasn't part of the prank war and the war is still continuing.  This was a fluke accident that we never meant to happen.  However, it's now nice to tell Caleb, "Do you want Rebekah to make you get more stitches?"

Unfortunately, Caleb has something to hold over Rebekah, just like I used to hang that scalpel incident over his head.

I'll share a small prank that Rebekah and I played on Caleb on the 27th, so stay tuned.  The best part is... the prank came from one of YOUR ideas!

Hunting Easter eggs at seven...

Hunting Easter eggs... at eighteen.

Yes, I still hunt Easter eggs when I'm a senior in high school.  I've hunted Easter eggs every year for as long as I can remember.  Sure, some of hte eggs are still filled with candies and goodies like that, but the older we get, the bigger the prizes become.  When I was a toddler, I got gum and tootsie rolls.  Now the big prizes are gift cards, cash, and little prizes.

We always have a separate section of the yard for the young kids.  They have eggs filled with little toys and candies and the eggs are much more openly hidden than ours are.

Our hunting grounds are much, much bigger.  In fact, we have about nine acres of mesquite and yucca bushes, tall grass, and shrubbery to search through if we want our prizes.  Under the beating glare of a hot sun, we searched for the 350 eggs hidden throughout our property for almost an hour.  Do you see us tiny specks in the distance, searching desperately for eggs?

Ultimately, we all go away satisfied with at least a few dollars and a gift card or two.  I lucked out this year.  Twenty bucks cash, a bag of candy, and four giftcards to Starbucks, Chili's, the movies, and iTunes.  What makes everything even more fun is that it isn't just my family who participates.  We celebrate this holiday with another family, so the morning is filled with laughter and fun.  We all enjoy eating brunch together and going to church and then we come home, the parents hide eggs, and then the kids rush to find them.  We can make great memories together.  Ali also got to hunt with us this year, which was fun.

Overall, today was a fun day.  After everything was over, more family came to visit and we all ate a big lunch and then everyone curled up on the couches and watched "The Passion of the Christ."  It's been a wonderful day.  I hope you had a wonderful Easter as well. :)

He is risen!

On a dark and eerily silent night, Ali and I were driving home in my car.  I'm not sure where we had gone, but it was already dark outside.  I live out in the country, so we have to take many long, shadowed, and winding roads to get home.  On that particular day, Ali and I were lost in conversation, casually watching the road while we shared stories and jokes.

And then we saw something.

There was a dark object in the road.  The object was fairly large and sprawled out.  I had to swerve a little to avoid hitting whatever it was.  Ali and I both shrieked, turning behind us to see whatever had been in the road, but it was too late.  The object had vanished into the inky darkness behind us.  "What was that?" I asked in a hushed voice.

Ali was still peering into the night while I focused on the road.  "I couldn't tell.  It looked big.  What do you think it was?"

"It looked like... a body."  I was half joking and half unsure.  What I saw had thrown me off guard.  I wasn't sure what the thing could have been.  "Maybe it was a dead cow."

"I think I saw an arm."  Ali turned back towards the road.  Her face betrayed her concern.  "Maybe you should turn around."

But what if the killer is still out there?  The unspoken question lingered in the air, something we both were wondering but were too afraid to say aloud.  I swallowed hard.  "Do you think it really was a man?"

"I don't know.  It was sure something," Ali whispered.

I hesitated.  "I probably should.  If I was injured and left on the side of the road, I'd want someone to stop for me."  The road was one way, so we took a quick right utrn and looped around, turning onto the same dark road as before.  This time, the car was silent.  We'd turned off the radio and didn't dare speak, searching desperately for the large form we had seen before.

We passed the object again, this time screeching to a halt a few yards away.  It nearly blended into the darkness and we squinted through the windows of my car to try to make out what the bundle possibly could be.  "I can't see," Ali said in a low voice.

I pulled my car into park in the middle of the road and we looked at our hands for a moment, quiet.  We both knew what had to be done.  We needed to make sure the bundle wasn't a dead or injured person.  If we couldn't see what it was from the safety of my vehicle, then we knew we had to get out of the car and approach the object... in person.

"Okay, let's get out and go look," I finally said, grasping my cellphone in my palm.  Somehow, carrying my phone always makes me feel safer.  If someone tried to kill or kidnap us, I could call for help.  Possibly.

A look of terror crossed over Ali's face.  "You go look," she gasped.

"I'm the driver.  If someone came after me, you'd be stuck in the passenger seat anyways.  Logically, you're the one who should go look so I could be ready to take off when you jump in."

After a few moments of debate, we decided to go together.  Side by side, our arms brushing each other for comfort, Ali and I left the security of my car and stepped into the cool night air.  We could hardly make out the silhouette of the object in the darkness.  Trembling, we crept closer until we could clearly see the shape of the arm, limp and grotesque under the light of the moon.

"Can you tell what it is?" Ali whispered.

I took another step closer and then burst into laughter.  I could hear the sound of my voice- nervous, relieved, embarrassed.  Ali began to laugh as well.  The body wasn't a body at all.  It wasn't a dead man or even a dead cow.  It was only a large black trash bag full of clothes.  The bag must have been run over at some point, flattening it slightly and cuasing a few of the items of clothing to spill out.  This would explain the limp "arm."

Despite the fact that there was no dead body after all, Ali and I hurried to scramble back into my warm, safe car.  After all, the night was still pitch black and eerily silent.  Monsters and spooks of all kinds seemed to be lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack.  Ali and I chattered nervously the rest of the way home, both feeling a little sheepish.  Something as silly as a trash bag had frightened the living daylights out of us.

But hey... it could have been an actual body.  It's possible.  Improbable, but possible. :)

This story was a dramatic telling of a true story. :)

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?