The Rest of the Story

History books are full of footnotes and marginal “by-the-ways” in eight point font, relegating to a mere sentence events and people who changed the course of the world. There are many events of 1704 that do indeed merit twelve point font: the formation of Delaware, the contemporary work of Isaac Newton, and Louis XIV’s declaration, “I, the Monarch, am the State.” And it is here that our world-changing annotation goes.

Louis XIV set about proving that his were no empty words as he intrigued and warred and battled and indulged in debauchery, with every effort a calculated endeavor on his part to become the dictator of Europe.

And but for one man, he would have succeeded. The Duke of Marlborough was England’s one hope. Formerly imprisoned, with the king unsure of his trustworthiness, now the Duke was Queen Anne’s sole hope to stop Louis the Sun King from taking over Europe. And the Duke knew that this was his chance at redemption, to prove his fidelity to the Queen. It was a battle against dictatorship, but it was a personal battle, too.

So all hope rested squarely on the Duke of Marlborough’s uniformed shoulders as in August, 1704 his army came face to face with the French troops near the town of Blenheim. But the armies facing off were less than equal.

The French and Bavarians were an imposing line-up, with more men and more guns than the British and Austrians. Not only that, but the French had not suffered a major defeat in fifty years, and a superstitious aura of invincibility seemed to surround them. Their military force was in its prime, and hungry for a conquest.

The British army, on the other hand, was made up of leaders without any formal military education. Furthermore, many of the officers were wealthy men who had simply purchased their undeserved promotions. The Duke of Marlborough didn’t have much to work with, and that night before the clash of the two world forces he must have felt the solemn weight of the dire consequences should he fail.

The sun rose the morning of the planned battle, but that was the only predictable part of the whole day.

Marlborough sent a troop of soldiers to attack the village of Blenheim at 1:00 pm, August 13th, 1704. And that was when Louis XIV’s general, Duc de Tallard, made his fatal error: he panicked. He sent his reserves into the village to help, and Marlborough’s heart must have raced with a tinge of hope. Marlborough immediately ordered the troop to contain the French in the village while he charged the rest of the French and Bavarian armies.

The English and Austrians fought stoutly, their hearts in every sword stroke, until they broke the French lines, and the enemy turned tail and began fleeing like madmen. In the chaos, the Allies succeeded in capturing Marshall Tallard himself, who would spend the next seven years in captivity in England. The French and Bavarian armies suffered devastating losses, with over 14,000 men surrendering in defeat to the victorious Duke of Marlborough.

The Duke’s victory was decisive, and it was the turning point in the War of Spanish Succession. Through the victory at Blenheim, the Duke of Marlborough saved Vienna from the greedy French armies, and he would go on to lead England and her allies to complete victory against the French. Bavaria ended its alliance with the French, and for the first time the Sun King’s brilliance began to smother. The victory was so great that it is said that when Queen Anne heard the news of the great and glorious victory, the regal monarch began to weep.

Out of context, this tale is nothing more than a footnote. But not when you consider that over two centuries later another dictator would threaten to sweep Europe, another equally egotistical and greedy leader. Once again, England would be compelled to come to the aid of her allies, and once again they would need a genius to lead them. Once again, one man would be called upon to helm England’s part in a great war. In 1704, that man was John Churchill, the man whom you know as the Duke of Marlborough. And in 1940, John Churchill’s direct descendant, Winston Churchill, led England through her darkest hour. And thus reads our footnote: “John Churchill, the man who brilliantly saved Europe from the French in 1704.” John only gets a sentence compared to the chapters spent on Winston, but without John Churchill’s leadership that day at Blenheim, there may not have been an England for Winston Churchill to guide to victory in 1940.

So now you know it—the rest of the story.

Photo Credit: Matt Schwartz

Resurrection Sunday in Color

This picture of our family on Resurrection Sunday at church actually began much earlier. However, it seems that all the rest of my pictures were dyed spring colors along with our eggs!

 The preparation started in the month leading up to the celebration, as we camped out in the family room and created a hurricane of pins, threads, fabric scraps, pattern pieces, and sewing tables.

 With the dresses finished, there were preparations for two of Mama's brothers and their families. We were all so excited to be together after several years without face-to-face contact!

 Picnic outside, egg dying, and lots of conversation took up the beautiful Saturday.

 Romeo dozed next to Coconut, both happy to be enjoying the sunshine and attention!

 Sunday morning dawned rainy and overcast, in traditional Washington fashion. We had a fabulous morning, however, with an early church breakfast, lots of fellowship, special music from our family and the children of two other families, and a sermon from Papa!

 The afternoon was again a lovely time of catching up with uncles, aunts, and our cousin as we enjoyed a sit-down scrumptious feast. Worldview, Scripture, politics, memories, and the future--we covered it all!

All too soon, the weekend came to an end. Thank goodness we have all these pictures to look back upon and cherish! I hope your weekend remembering and celebrating the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ was as blessed as ours.

A Good Day

How Satan rejoiced. As Jesus took his last breath and the earth was plunged into darkness, the Devil must have been laughing an uproarious laugh. It seemed he had finally won.

And on that hill, despair like no other shrouded the people like a fog. For these were the men and women who had believed in Him, the ones who had thrown away their livelihood and businesses like worthless accessories when they had heard Him call. The ones who had broadened their shoulders and heightened their love when their families and friends called them all but deranged. These were the ones who were penniless, friendless, homeless; but somehow, none of these things had mattered until they were Masterless.

Do you think that Judas planned on Jesus dying? Do you think that he sold Jesus out without lying to himself, saying that the Roman officials would never stand for an execution, or that Jesus could slip right through their fingers, as He had done before. And now, Jesus hung dead on the cross and Judas swung dead from a rope, believing that his sin above all others was unforgiveable even as Jesus whispered, “Father, forgive them.”

And Peter was not at the foot of the cross either. As Jesus hung on the cross, Peter was in a dark room somewhere, weeping bitterly, sobbing violently, tearing at his beard. His heart was still breaking from that moment when the Lord had turned and looked at him. With that look, a cold shiver of realization had swathed Peter. But there was something else in that look, something he could not quite grasp yet—forgiveness. But for now, he wept, hunched in a corner, grief-stricken and despairing.

Pilate was left staring out a window, wondering if he had done the right thing. A bowl of water mocked his vain efforts to wash his hands. His wife’s reproachful eyes brought unrest to his soul, but it was Jesus’ eyes that haunted him. Even as that crowd had screamed for this Nazarene’s crucifixion, his eyes had been overflowing with…love.

Blackness.

Loud weeping.

The very bowels of the earth seemed to rebel, trembling furiously. And a veil—a veil was torn in two.

It was the greatest moment in the history of the world, the hub around which all other events revolve, the climax of everything for which God created the world. And if ever there was a day when forgiveness was needed, it was Good Friday. Not only for all of those scattered disciples with regret twisting their hearts, but for all of us, for you, and for me whose sin put Christ on the cross just as surely as Judas’s did.

Yes, that first Good Friday was good, but nobody knew it. Nobody guessed its goodness, nobody thought to mark it as a day to remember, because nobody wanted to remember it. They wanted to wake the next morning and find that that good day had never happened.

To those followers of Jesus it was Terrible Friday. Friday marked the pinnacle of his despicable treachery to Judas. Friday marked the height of his betrayal to Peter. Friday marked the moment of his greatest weakness to Pilate. Friday marks the ultimate reach of all of our treacheries, betrayals, and weaknesses. Friday should not be a day of depression, but we cannot afford to skip the soberness that these men had to feel on this day, the grim realization that my sin caused this day.

Judas knew it.

Peter knew it.

Did Pilate know it?

Do we know it?

We are not standing on a scraggly green hill, surrounded by coarse soldiers, staring at the dead body of our Messiah, overwhelmed with our own neediness and regret, overhwelmed with the realization that Jesus is dead. And while it is to our advantage that we have the Resurrection news of Matthew 28 and Mark 16 and Luke 24 and John 20, I want to set aside the wondrous truth that Christ is risen from the dead for this moment and stare at the battered body of Christ and feel the horror of my own sin.

The earth was dark, because dark is my sin.

The earth shook as my own heart needs to be shaken this day.

The unbelievable truth is that Friday of all days is the day when mankind was the least deserving of a Redeemer, yet the Sunday news is that Jesus died on Friday anyways. Judas, Peter, and Pilate remind us that Jesus did not die for the righteous, but for the men and women whose sin breaks them in two and plunges them into despair, so unbelievable is its burden.

Friday is the day when the serpent was crushed. There is no other way to say it—it is a good day.

Photo Credit: * Abhi *

Just a Child

My childhood was idyllic, with loving parents, the best books, a new sibling every couple of years, and God, whom I dedicated my life to with an untarnished utter faith at the age of three. I remember the weeks leading up to our Great Move--from three bedroom townhouse with a slough in our backyard to two-story farmhouse with ten acres in our backyard. Lauren and I stayed up late every night--probably about 8:30--making great plans for improvement of the property. We would dig an intricate web of tunnels interconnecting over a vast amount of space, and we would dig rooms and perhaps build a few above-ground forts as well. There was the digging method, the hatch doors, the wall supports, the floor, the decorations, the names, and a host of other pressing details to discuss. There were maps to draw and materials to gather.

And somewhere along the way, we intuitively grasped how impractical this whole plan was, and so we opted for all above-ground forts, and we trotted through the woods every day, finding new animal trails to follow through the brambles. We found, named, developed, and visited beautiful oases. "Camp" was one of the more distant forts, but by far the most developed and one of our favorites. And then there was "Plum Creek," and "Lilac," and "Court," and more I've surely forgotten.

Krystn Palmer Photography

When we tired of hiking through the woods like Lewis and Clark, we would play at our quixotic world--the nation of Aetabigillions, whose universe we entered when once we biked in a figure eight on our driveway (the only slab of cement large enough to allow such a daring feat of bicycle prowess). Riding our brave steeds (aka bikes), we would rid Aetabigillia of her enemies and save the day until dinner was called and we had to ride in a backwards figure eight to get out of the land and satisfy the appetite we had worked up.

I read voraciously, devouring every single Little House book by the time I was eight or so. Biographies, historical fiction, and the Bible were my favorite reading, and I was always immersed in at least one book at all times. To correspond with our reading, Lauren and I would often spend our allotted lunch break typing out the next great novel, first a mystery in the great style of the Bobbsey Twins with us as the main characters, and then a historical fiction with Anna traveling back in time to the age of the Babylonians to meet Daniel.

Through all this, somehow I longed to be an adult. I looked forward to the day when a baby shower invitation specified women only, and I wasn't excluded. I blushed when I had to order off the kids menu (as if everyone didn't already know I was a child), and I beamed when people inevitably guessed my age higher than it really was. Adults had all the fun, I would conclude as I hiked down our ravine (not nearly as deadly as it sounds) to the creek, pulled off my boots, and waded in the achingly cold water.

Those memories seem so far away now. Here I am, balancing my checkbook, scrawling things on every single day of my calendar in a desperate attempt to do and remember it all, voting on school levies and the exciting like, and having just paid taxes for the first time (oh, the exhilarating experience). I'm no longer excluded from social functions, but I am now excluded from little girl tea parties with fluffy pink dresses and crooked pinkies and American Girl dolls patiently watching.

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

I Corinthians 13:11

My brother comes to me, "When will you play with me?" He asks, drawing out every vowel to the fullest extent of his lungs. As I type out my college assignment like a woman possessed, I have to put him off until the weekend, sadly and longingly.

My books lie in a stack. I keep buying them. I keep checking them out. And I move forward at the rate of one page per week. I'm sure the Great Mud Hill is not very muddy anymore, since its treacherous path is no longer traversed daily by scrambling feet, but I wouldn't know. I haven't taken that path or any other up to "Camp" or "Lilac" in ages.

To be perfectly honest, though, if this is "adulthood," I love it because it is not all taxes and deadlines. For it is because of the sheer joy of teaching young Mozarts that I endure the taxes. It is because of the awe I still have for learning that I subject myself to deadlines. The ability to meet my dear friend who lives an hour away for coffee, to drive to concerts and the library, to run errands for Mama, and to take my siblings out on dates. Ultimately, it is the wonder of waking up each morning and serving an Awesome God.

It is just when I think back fifteen years, and I wonder--can't I have them both? Can adulthood with the responsibility and maturity that God desires in my life and childhood with the purity and simplicity and trust that God desires in my life coexist? God condemns laziness and foolishness, both hallmarks of children. However, He also promotes the fear of God, the fidelity, and the unconditional love that children tend to possess. Neither adulthood nor childhood is a perfected state, but as one who loves the Lord with all her heart, I hope to lasso both into one cohesive whole.

“...Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.”

Mark 10:14-15

These days, people ask if I'm still in high school. Is it the acne breakout on my chin that makes me look three years younger, or the lack of a bra-baring power suit, or the fact that I'm still living in a town with only a dead-end community college to its name? Nah, I'm sure not. I like to think it's the naïveté in my face and the twinkle in my eye, my inability to resist a good chocolate chip cookie, and my complete faith in my God and Creator.

"Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved."

Soar

In the whisper of the silence,

I can hear my Jesus say,

“If I lead you from all the rest,

Yet can you walk in my way?”

 

“Not looking at what others do,

But focus on my Promise?

Can you trudge when they soar skyward,

And fix your eyes on My face?

 

“T’will be safer with me at night

Than it is for them at day.

Follow me, with no backward look,

And I’ll be there all the way.”

 

I look on His face; the world fades,

And, through fear, I know my choice.

I will stride the deserts with Him;

My heart will follow His voice.

I go; I live simply with Christ.

Each day, scores fly over me,

But I grip His promise closer,

And press on through the valley.

And then one quiet night, I pause

And my heart is stillest still.

I hear again His whispered voice,

With love speaking His kind will.

 

He asks, “Was it worth the aching?

Was the ground better than sky?”

Without wavering I say yes

And He smiles. “Then now, you fly.”

Picture Credit: AlicePopkorn

Boys on the Down-Low

Krystn Palmer Photography

Ah, boys. Those creatures who, at the beginning of my life, I loved to run with and make believe with and beat at table games. The ones who taught me how to correctly shoot hoops, challenged my pride when I was ready to give up in a game of tag, and got away with a whole lot in front of gullible me. Then, naturally, as I entered my teen years, things began to change. There just wasn’t that same chummy friendship anymore. We had different interests and different lives.

I remember the year I suddenly discovered that I had a power common to every woman in the world. Not to beat a boy at Uno or make him laugh at my knock-knock joke. No, I had the power to make a boy look at me, talk earnestly with me, and even pick me out of a crowd. It has taken many years for me to come to terms with that power, for it is really something I’d rather not have to worry about. And yet, the fact of the matter remains: God created man and woman to choose a partner and covenant together for life, based on not only His will and the guidance of authorities, but also on attraction and love. Brandy, one of our readers and followers had this question over our blog anniversary week:

How do you keep your attraction to boys on the "downlow"? What steps do you take to make sure you are not wrapped up in every boy that may be interested in you...keeping your mind on what God has in store for you now and waiting patiently for what He may have in store for you in the future? I guess I am assuming this is easier for you than other girls your age because your blog is rarely about boys or love, which is something on a lot of girls' minds at your time in life. I think your answers could be useful/helpful in training up my daughter.

After I discovered my new power, I tried it out, like a tadpole who has just sprouted legs and is wondering what in the world they are used for. It only took a few tries, however, to realize that my power was not worth wielding—it could not only hurt someone else, but also me as well. I came to recognize flirting and close relationships with men as selfish. So as I’ve struggled to keep my emotions in check, I’ve found a few helpful practices along the way.

Talking with My Parents

Phew! I know, I know—it’s harder than it sounds. But as I’ve opened up with both Mama and Papa about attractions, I’ve actually become less embarassed about the whole thing. It is not wrong for me to be attracted to someone, but how I handle that attraction brings the opportunity to err or succeed. My parents keep me accountable in my interactions with young men, and that is a powerful incentive as well.

Scripture instead of Fantasy

Perhaps I’m the only one, but the writer in me loves to compose the perfect romance story with me as the perfected heroine. My mind is always busy on something, whether my taxes due in one week, my latest teaching conundrum, my college assignment, or my very own fairy-tale. If I train my mind onto the things of God instead of the things of the world, however, God has a powerful way of honoring that choice by reducing my temptations and revealing Himself to me. What can be a stumbling block becomes a magnificent opportunity for fellowship with my Creator.

Avoiding Close Relationships with Men

I’ve written at length about this before, so I hope you read "An Honest Heart" if you haven’t already. It’s also worth mentioning that I do not subscribe to “dating” as the world defines it, and you can read the series Lauren and I wrote last year about this starting here. To summarize, however, I don’t believe that men and women should be close friends. We should treat members of the opposite sex as if they were taken, because they most likely will be married someday.

I do think about boys and love, and I certainly hope to get married. However, I always have to come back to Philippians 4:8:

“Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.”

It is not virtuous for me to flirt with men. Gossiping with girlfriends about crushes or handsome celebrities is not of good report. It is neither lovely nor pure for me to dwell on guys in my thoughts. Because of this, there is a regular, purposeful choice in my heart to keep my attraction to boys on the “down-low.”

Brandy, you asked a tough, but wonderful question. I am by no means qualified to give you advice on mothering your daughter, but I hope that by answering this question from a daughter’s perspective, I have helped you and the rest of the daughters and mothers who read!

 

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Self Control: The Big Misnomer

Sometime when I was under four feet tall, I learned a song about the endearing Benny Bear who couldn’t restrain himself from eating just one little berry out of the basket he was bringing to a party. Of course, before he knew it the basket was empty, and he was left bemoaning his total lack of self control. Then there was Mrs. Blab who just couldn't stop blabbing gossip until her tongue was sore, and Suzy Q who snoozed constantly.  My sisters and I loved singing this song, partly because the words were so much fun to troll, and partly because the adults always laughed hysterically when we sang it for them. (You can listen to this song here, starting at about 2:35.)

So here I am now, just a touch over five feet tall, and I’m still thinking about self control. In fact, I have been dwelling on the word a lot lately, and I've had a revelation.  Am I the only one who has ever thought that, for a Christian, the word “self control” seems like a misnomer? After all, Romans 7:18 says,

“For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) nothing good dwells; for to will is present with me, but how to perform what is good I do not find.”

Does not Scripture emphasize that we are to be “Spirit controlled” not “self controlled”? When you sniff it out, does not self control reek just a bit of self help, innate goodness, and self sufficiency?  My revelation may seem to be a restatement of the obvious to you--perhaps you have always taken for granted that when a believer talks about "self control" he is actually talking about "Spirit control."  I know I am being technical, but I want to get the term right because it affects how we respond to temptation and how we aim for righteousness! 

As I said, I have been mulling this thought over for some time now, for I know that it will be no easy task to get Webster’s to change their dictionary.  Thus I have also considered that, even if I could convince the Webster dictionary man to replace “self control” with “Spirit control,” that would not mean that Christians abdicate their responsibility for living righteously.  At some level, we do still have a responsibility.

Rejecting control of yourself by your flesh and accepting control of yourself by the Holy Spirit still requires a decision and daily obedience. That’s why I love the definition the Institute in Basic Life Principles gives for self control (that misnomer aside!):

“Instant obedience to the initial promptings of God’s Spirit.”

That is also why I love how the King James version of the Bible translates self-control: temperance. Strong’s says that temperance is the virtue of one who has mastered his desires and passions, especially sensual appetites. The Greek word for temperance comes from two root words, literally meaning “fixed position of great vigor” or “strong in a thing, masterful.”  And Scripture tells us to find our strength in the Lord! 

II Timothy 3:1-4 describes today’s society perfectly:

“This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, ...blasphemers, disobedient to parents, ...incontinent [i.e. intemperate],...lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God.”

Yes, we are very good at being self controlled. We are very good at doing what we think is right, and at avoiding things that will bring us pain. But how are we at being Spirit controlled? We need to hand the steering wheel over to God.  God fills us with fuel, the Spirit steers, but there is no cruise control--we still have to press the gas in order to go anywhere. Matthew 26:41 says,

“Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

So if self control has never been your strong suit; if you, like me, find it difficult to stop the vicious cycle of distraction via Google searches and website browsing; or if you love your sleep or your chocolate a bit too much or find yourself losing your temper only to cry, "I wish I had some self control!"--consider changing your mindset by deeming self control a misnomer and Spirit control the real virtue.  Webster's might need some convincing, but I've never been more excited to redefine a word. 

Scripture taken from the King James and New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Photo Credit

The key to Spirit control is Philippians 4:13:

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Family Tree Grows Upward

Lorenzo Cuppini

I can trace my family lineage a few centuries at best. Six of my great-grandparents died before I was even born—they are just pictures and stories now. And me…in this moment. Such a short inhale, exhale. In the time it takes the sun to set, I will be the picture, story, and memento. Will I even exist in the features and the dreams and the convictions of my great-great-great grandchildren?

David. The shepherd boy. The anointed king. I envy him. He had a solid wall to lean on of three thousand years of family lineage through the honorable tribe of Judah and ancestors such as Caleb and Boaz. He was appointed by God to purposefully lead his nation into prosperity and peace. And he had a magnificent prospect to look forward to in perpetuating his lineage and his principles:

“When your days are fulfilled and you rest with your fathers, I will set up your seed after you....I will be his Father, and he shall be My son….And your house and your kingdom shall be established forever before you. Your throne shall be established forever (II Samuel 7:12a, 14a, and 16).”

In fact, David’s great-great-great-great-great (et cetera) grandson who would be born approximately 1085 years later would be the Messiah of Israel and the Savior of the world. David was indeed a man to be envied. He knew where he was from, what he was doing (and why he was doing it), and where he was going.

Living in the moment is a tremendous exercise, but living in the centuries is even better. I never learned world history by opening up the book at random and reading a few pages at a time. I only walk up to a conversation and interject my thoughts without listening to the topic if I feel like making a fool of myself. So I shouldn’t live my life with blinders and ignore the pages before and after me.

I may not be able to trace my ancestors back to Noah. I haven’t the faintest idea where God will have me in fifty years, and I sure don’t know what my descendants will be doing in a century. I may not have a knowing, but I can have a consciousness. I can complete each day in the context of yesterday and tomorrow and last millenium and next century. God has given me here and now to fulfill the plans of yesteryear and to begin the purposes of the future.

Just like David, I come from a long line of fallen men and women, some of whom served God with all their hearts, and some of whom fell and never got back up. Just like David, I have an incredible responsibility to the future of my family, my nation, and the world. Just like David, I have sinned and will continue to transgress God’s standards. I may not be compiling the resources to build an august temple, or raising future kings, or looking forward to the birth of the Savior of the world as my descendant. But the way I live my life today will change the way the world lives their lives tomorrow.

I want my posterity to have my Father’s eyes, and my Father’s smile—my Father’s passions, and my Father’s love. Pray God that it be so. That every single one of my thousands of descendants will look like me, only better—will look like my Father. That would be a pretty awesome family tree if I do say so myself.

“This will be written for the generation to come, That a people yet to be created may praise the LORD. ….But You are the same, And Your years will have no end. The children of Your servants will continue, And their descendants will be established before You (Psalm 102:18, and 27-28).”

Guess What?

Lilla sweetly tagged us with this "Stylish Blogger Award."  Behold this gleaming model of style:

Along with this award, I am charged with sharing seven utterly random and little known facts about myself.  Here are my self-absorbed nuggets:

1. On past April Fool’s days, I have frosted a foam cake and hidden little frogs around the house, but I have yet to pull a truly epic prank. Those sorts of things are years in the making, so let's just say that someday…In the meantime I find delight in Google's yearly pranks.

2. When I was younger, for some reason I thought that one typically graduated at age 16. I still remember the devastating day that I found out the typical age of graduation from high school was actually 18. My first words upon learning this sad truth? “What a waste!” I graduated at age 17.

3. I am going to be the shortest person in my family. It’s my destiny, and there is no escaping it. I’m a nice 5 foot 2 ½, but Mikaela has me beat, and my little sisters are my height if not a bit taller right now.

4. I am an incorrigible girly girl in my tastes. Pink lipstick, cute earrings, fluffy skirts, flower in my hair…  What can I say?  I love my femininity! 

5. Right now I am taking “Financial Freedom” in school. With Scripture memory work, lectures to watch, interviews with other people, and essays to write, I am keeping busy and learning a lot. Anyone else out there Dave Ramsey nerds?

6. My favorite passage of Scripture has, for the past several years, been Isaiah 43. In my Bible next to that passage I wrote, “I am in love with God, and He with me.” The end of verse one on to verse two just overwhelms my heart:

“‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, Nor shall the flame scorch you.’”

7. I finished my 123 page novel when I was twelve about a family of nine children during the Great Depression. At that ripe young age I had nearly completed several other books with Mikaela. One was a mystery having something to do with logging and twins, and the other was a time travel story back to the era of Daniel in the Bible. Both of these stories we decided one random day to delete in order to save space on the computer. This seemed to make so much sense at the time, but now it would head my “Biggest Regrets” list.

I hereby tag these ladies:
Sarah of Lord's Lass
Samantha of Tea and Ink
Ruthie of Journey of Faith

And I hereby tag all of you who read One Bright Corner--I would love to read your zaniest facts and anecdotes about yourself! 


Picture Credit: daniel_pfund

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.