Wear Sunscreen.

Someone asked me the other day what to expect during their years at UA. So, here's my list. Here's what I've learned.

Expect to learn things..the hard way.
Expect to make mistakes.
Expect to learn more about football than anyone outside of the SEC.
Expect to fall in love.
Expect to have a broken heart.
Expect to break a few hearts, too.
Expect to look back and praise Him for the "dodged bullets."
Expect to grow up, then grow down, then grow back up again.
Expect to look back at the end of four years and still not feel really grown up.
Expect to conquer your biggest fear. Whether it's public speaking, trains or failure, you'll look it in the eyes here.
Expect to meet G-d on the quad on a spring day when you realize just how little you are.
Expect to scream louder, cry harder, and cheer longer at football than you will at your own child's birth.
Expect to watch your friends make mistakes.
Expect to keep your mouth shut during these mistakes for your first two years, then you start telling them.
Expect to send a text message you'll regret at least once. OK, twice.
Expect to find a cause you love.
Expect to wake up one day and realize you've been living off Starbucks for the past week.
Expect to realize that your "dedication" isn't on your own volition, it's just the hand of G-d calling you into your place in His work.
Expect to study too hard, and sometimes to little.
Expect to love your family more.
Around your senior year, expect to realize you're turning into your mother.
Be happy about that, she's pretty amazing.

So, here's my advice:
Learn from your teachers. Not just the facts, but about life. Sit down in their office. I don't know how many times I've sat with Don Brown and just listened to his stories about the glory days of journalism.
Take a trip you'll never have the chance to do again. I went to Panama twice. I'll never hold a dying baby again (I pray). I'll never have the chance to stand at the edge of a river in Central America and watch 11 people be baptized. It's ok, though, because I'll never, NEVER, forget the way their faces looked when the came out of the water.
Be nice to the weird kid, but be nice to the kid that's cooler than you too. You're here as one of the ones called by Jesus Christ himself. He didn't say to only minister to the outcasts, because the popular kids need Him just as much.
Be the light of the world. Be the light of the campus. Practice reflecting His glory in all that you do.
Somedays, you'll lose. You won't win. Pray harder. Call your best friend, and praise Him that you have the freedom to fall apart and be put back together.
When you find that one person that doesn't like you, smile at them. Proverbs 25:22
Don't think you have to drink to have "the college experience." Adopt a down syndrome puppy, make your own way, do something, but don't blame bad behavior on college.
Keep it classy. Really. Have good manners. Send thank you's to your bosses and I love you's to your grandmothers.

I feel like I should end this with a "wear sunscreen" or something. It's not eloquent, it's not even wise. This is just what I've learned. Be tough. You're tougher than you think. Don't run away from problems, but run as fast as you can from bad situations.

You'll come out better. You'll come out stronger. Don't lose faith, you'll be ok.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Rammer Jammer, Yellow Hammer

My last football game is coming up this Saturday. I'm so sad.

These past 4 years have turned me into a die hard Bama fan, and I'll take that to my deathbed. I won't ever miss another game. I'll still sing Rammer Jammer at the end of every victory. I'll know our players, our coaches and our plays. No matter where I end up, I'll always talk about "the bear," wear houndstooth and yell "roll tide." Alabama football is part of who I am now.

But as I was sitting here, getting sad, I started to think...the best has yet to come.

Right now Alabama Football is all that matters. I love it. But in a few years I'll have a family. How much greater than football will that be? I can't wait. I can't wait.

I've been promised so much, and G-d has been faithful. Just looking at everything in the next few months takes my breath away. Finishing this semester strong, working at the Huntsville Times over the break, trip to DC to intern, research project, journal article, conference paper when I come home, working as a TA in the spring, taking Rick Bragg's class.

My G-d is faithful. His promises can be seen each and every day in my life.

So, the best has yet to come. Praise Him.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Jesse B and the woman who tamed him.

I've been wanting to write this story for a long time now. My dream is to one day turn it into a book, but there's no need to hesitate on the basics. I'm afraid most of the details are long lost behind the disease that now plagues my grandmother, but I'll recount the story I've been hearing all my life.

This all started Saturday when I met a woman in Tuscaloosa who had worked with my grandmother on the Arsenal. She said, "Oh yes, she was a little woman but she could command a room full of men like no other." It's true. She was all fire. She always had been. So now, here's the way I heard it all...

It was one of those Alabama summers in Oxford. You know, the ones where you're miserable from June to September. Doris was set to be married to a man, a Roman Catholic man. This was back in the late 1940s when good little Church of Christ girls didn't marry the Catholics. Actually, good little Church of Christ girls still don't marry the Catholics, but that's another story for another day. She was set to be a young bride, but as she told me when I was about 17 and nursing my first broken heart, "He had lost interest and I wasn't about to live with that forever." So, she left him. She left him at the alter from what I understand. She left him and moved to Huntsville with one of her friends.

In Huntsville, she started the life of a single woman. Again, this rarely happens in the Church now, much less back then. One day, while walking down the street, she ran into a sailor. Literally, she bumped into him. To this day all the women in my family have a weakness for sailors. Especially in those nice white uniforms. They dated for two weeks then eloped. Now, if you knew my great grandmother, this is where the story gets funny. She's an "anti." That's what the Church calls those old school people who damn everyone to hell and tell people the only ones who go to heaven are the Church of Christ members. That's not true. I think hearing this was the first time I ever thought of my grandmother as a rebel. She never even had the pretty white wedding dress, just a suit and a courthouse.

The day after the elopement, Jesse B, my grandfather, was shipped off to Korea for 6 months. They had no contact. She didn't know if he was alive. She barely even knew what he looked like, as she later told me, "I flew out to meet him in California. I was so scared that I wouldn't know what he looked like. I never really remembered, I think I just went home with the first sailor who grabbed me off that airplane."

They were married until he died sometimes in the 80s. I don't know what year, all I know is that it was before '88. I never met Jesse B. I never got to see the man I'm named after, even though I've heard he would have loved to have a little granddaughter.

I love this story. Every single detail. I love hearing and telling it. It never gets old. My grandmother wasn't meek. She wasn't the weak little woman that was the norm back then. My grandmother has guts. She was on fire. She worked at the Arsenal for years, no college education, but from what I've heard, she could handle any soldier of any rank without batting an eye. Her life wasn't perfect; but through those bumps and turns, she used it to glorify God.

I come from some good, God-fearing, Southern women. I think they're made of stone. I hope I don't let them down.

Joy for the morning.

I'm so happy. It's going to be a good day.

Two things worth mentioning:
1. Last night at our Girls' Bible study, some of the little 10th grade girls talked about how they were only buying second hand clothes for an entire year. Amazing. How are they so young and so wise at the same time? One of the girls had gone to Baja, Mexico and decided that if they weren't getting new clothes, she shouldn't be either. I've been to Mexico, but I've never thought of doing that. They were so cute. Man, they have quite a few years worth of wisdom on me. They spoke about how we are called to help the poor--not just the poor in spirit, but the actual, physical poor.

Those little ones are going to change the world.

2. This morning in my Latin American Politics class, the professor showed a slide of an awfully old rope bridge suspended across the Amazon river (which is full of all God's scary creatures). He asked, "who would walk across that?" and without a second of hesitation two soldiers in the back raised their hands. I love soldiers. I love knowing that there are still men willing to die for our country. How blessed are we?

It's going to be a good day.

Grace and Peace,
-jg

Where the Wild Things Are.

I know where the wild things are. They find me. They follow me. They flood my Facebook, Twitter, text message inbox, email, and comment box with messages. I know where the wild things are, they're at UA.

I attract creepy people. I attract the wild things. I get overwhelmed when I hear a "you're supposed to be a Christian" when I turn someone down for a date. I stress when I know the right thing, the honest thing, is going to hurt a wild thing. I hurt for and with the wild things as I see their hopelessness. I cringe as wild things try to make sense of the word of G-d without accepting Him into their hearts. Wild things think it's all about forgiveness.

I'm heart broken when a wild thing curses me. My heart aches for them. Secretly I long to show my heart to the wild things, but I know the wild things aren't ready to see and understand that. If you're going to talk to a wild thing, you've got to modify your grammar a little. Wild things don't understand King James.

The wild things want me to fail. They want to see a Christian dead to joy. They want to see the world's problems affect me. I pass the wild things every day. I see their atheist sidewalk chalk, and I pray for the wild things.

I grow weary talking to the wild things. I grow impatient trying to be Christ-like in a world of wild things. Some days, the wild things get the best of me.

Then I remember that the wild things can't hurt me. My joy isn't contingent on the wild things.
Jesus lived among the wild things, and the wild things rejected Him. And if Jesus was rejected by the wild things, I want to be rejected by them, too.

G-d bless the wild things.

-jg

1 Thessalonian 5:16 Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

Attractive.

I'm sitting here in jeans, Chacos, a Hanes white tee and my new Patagonia pull over. It's probably the most comfortable I've been in ages. I'm dressed up 90% of the time: heels, tights, skirt, shirt tucked in, pearls, hair curled, makeup on, matching purse, accessories, nails perfectly manicured. I was dressed like that all day. But now, now I'm comfortable.

All of this makes me think: what really makes someone attractive? Now, my poor mother is probably getting nervous while reading this because of the little freak out I had on her earlier today. Don't worry, Momma, this is not about how I attract creepy guys.

Really, what makes someone attractive? What makes you drawn to some people? More so, are like people attracted to each other? Wait, no, opposites attract, right? I don't know.

I don't believe in that "opposites attract" nonsense. I've never been attracted to anyone that wasn't like me in most ways. I like the preppy boys. Clean cut, well dressed, straight laced...just like me.

Here's my other question: if I only attract J.Crew model wannabes, how am I supposed to be His hands and feet?

"It is not those who are well that need a physician, but those who are sick." Luke 5:31

If I'm well, and people like me are well, then why are we just being doctors to each other? If people like me have the Joy and Strength of G-d, then we've got it made. Our problems are small because we know they'll end in just a few short years and we'll spend eternity in heaven. But those other people, their problems are huge and they're hopeless. Maybe we should stop worrying so much about putting Band-aids on our little cuts and start worrying more about performing some open heart surgeries.

I'm attractive to people just like me. You'll recognize my shoes as BCBG, my Coach bag, and you'll even notice when I don't swear. People like me will recognize when I stop myself from gossiping, too. But what about the sick? What about the homeless? What about the lost?

I'm probably far from attractive to them. I probably look stuck up. I've been blessed so much more than I'll ever deserve. I probably look like I'm trying to be "holier than thou." That's not the case. I'm just trying to be holier than I was the day before.

Humility. Is that what's attractive? There's fine line to walk between false humility and knowing that you were created only for glory of G-d. I blur these occasionally. That's usually when I fall. Hard.
Integrity? Important, yes. Attractive? Eh. Not so much.
Cleanliness? Now we're probably more on track.
Happiness? yes.
Joyfulness? yes.
Strength? yes.

I wish I had all the answers. I wish the Bible were longer. I wish it covered every topic, every situation and told me what to do at every minute. I don't like free will. Sometimes, I pray it would go away. I wish He had told us exactly how to act to attract everyone all the time.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Makes me happy.

1. A few weeks ago, the Alabama Atheists tried to chalk on the sidewalk. It got washed off for being in the wrong place. Funny, because the Christian clubs mark on the same place and never get washed off.
2. I loved watching people get the little Gideon's Bibles last week. I love getting those.
3. Tom Tom.
4. Freezing to death last night with 20 of the most amazing people on earth. RTR.
5. Peacoat weather. Scarves, gloves, mittens, looking perfectly pulled together in jeans, heels, a good coat, a brooch, scarf and curled hair. I love that look.
6. My preacher quoted A.W. Tozer this morning!!!!
7. Ok, this could go on forever.

I'm so happy these days. Actually, happy fails as a word. I'm joyful. It's comforting to think of the power of G-d when things are going bad. It's nice to remember that he's in control when you obviously aren't. But, I hardly ever think about Him being in control with things are going well. You know what I mean? My accomplishments aren't my own. I am nothing. How great is it to think that the Lord who takes away our pain is also the one who gives us joy and peace? His power has been displayed so much in my life recently. I only want to reflect it.

In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis writes, "God will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or a goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly…His own boundless power and delight and goodness"

Perfect. The perfect quotation for how I feel right now. Only, the thing is, I want to be a mirror right now.

I think my ban on negative Web sites and ungraceful words has helped me a lot. No saying these words: crap, screwed, sucks, pissed ect. I've stopped with the words that could be bad such as "put him through Hell" or "she was bitching" No textsfromlastnight, no fmylife, no Sex and the City. Not even a "we just beat the ... out of you." Even as I write them, I'm becoming ashamed that I ever let those words come out of my mouth.

So what has this changed? My thoughts are purer. I'm beginning to see people how Christ sees them. I'm beginning to despise some characteristics both in myself and in others. Dishonesty is a big one. I've stopped all exaggerations, that's just lying. I've become more separated from the world I'm involved with, but more in touch with the Church and my church family. My sense of discernment has grown tremendously. I'm drawn so much to some people, and pulled away from others. At some points, there have even been people that I run from. It's not a fear thing, though. I can just hear Him telling me to run from evil. I'm surrounded by enough unholy things in my career. I think these little disciplines are going to be imperative in my self preservation. Like Billie Holliday said, "I ain't misbehavin, savin all my love for you."

On another note, one of the characteristics I've grown to hate in myself is that I focus too much on myself. Ironic sentence. Me me me me me me. Gross. I don't talk about other people, so I fall into the habit of only talking about me. Make sense? When I was in high school, I started telling embarrassing stories about myself whenever I wanted to gossip. There must be more graceful, joyful things to discuss. I have to find those.

It's going to be a wonderful week.
G-d Bless all who read this.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Hallelujah.

I've been thinking a lot about that word Hallelujah since my last post. First, let me say that my week has been so filled with blessings that I can not even begin to make a list. I can't begin that list tonight because I know I will never finish it. That's how much the Lord has revealed His power to me this past week.

Tonight, after another God-filled day, I found the only thing I could tell God was "hallelujah." I drove home saying this praise word. It resonated in my head as I walked through Target.

Hallelujah Lord, you are so great.

I saw an old friend post something on Facebook about God the other day. Get this, he wrote G-d. I love it. I'm stealing it. From now on, I will reserve the Holy of Holies just as they did in the days of covenants and the old law.

I've been questioning my career choice lately. Not really MY career choice, but rather the one He chose for me. Then I remembered how it all started...

I used to sit at this Starbucks every day when I went to UAH. I sat there and I read my Bible every single day. I covered the entire New Testament and most of the old that year. And before I came to UA, I gave my life to Him once again.

The first time was when I was 12. Daddy took me to the church and baptized me. This time I gave my professional life over to Him. The deal was this- I would go and work as hard as I could, do as much as I could, keep the faith, and study hard, and God would put me where he needed me in four years. Now that I'm starting to gain momentum on all of this, I'm just figuring out that this is just His plan playing out. I'm just here to be used by Him. I'm out of control. Amen.

I'm going to DC in January. I'm coming home to work on a bunch of research that most undergrads don't get the chance to. I'll have the byline (with my professor) on a conference paper and a journal article. Resume boost? yes.

I'll be spending the night in His word.

Glory, glory, Hallelujah, G-d.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Baffled King composing Hallelujah.

I'm completely in love with the song "Hallelujah" right now by Leonard Cohen.

Well I heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do ya?
Well it goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
she tied you to her kitchen chair
And she broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew ya
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you?
And remember when I moved in you?
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who'd OUT DREW YA
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen in the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Sound familiar? It's the story of King David. Also, it's probably one of the most beautiful songs ever written. I was writing a bio for myself for a magazine I'm writing for last night, and one of the questions was "who is your favorite Bible character?" I love David. The story is amazing. No author can come up with this. Everything from his start conquering Goliath to the Psalms...I love it. I relate to him as he writes what we all really think in Psalms. On the days I feel like a walking, talking disaster, I feel like David. As a writer, I envy his talent with words. That's a God-given talent. When you read them, you know He's here. You just know.

My favorite verse in this song is "the baffled king composing hallelujah" because that's how I feel on any given day. I'm confused. I don't know why I've been called to journalism when other little CoC girls are called to nursing, education and things like that. But, whatever I write, whatever words I pull together...I want them to be hallelujah. I want the final product to scream of His glory. I want those 750 words to be God-filled, God-inspired and God-glorifying. I want my final composition to be a shout of praise, thanksgiving or even a cry out to Him. I want Him to use my brokenness, awkwardness and clumsiness to work for Him.

Hallelujah.

Splendid.

Today has been splendid. This semester has been splendid.

Today, I made a list of people that bless my life on a daily basis:
My momma
My grandmomma, especially days when she sends me letters. THOSE ARE THE BEST.
The ladies I work with
Doris Flora- the sweetest adjunct God ever created. She always likes my shoes. I bet she was a looker back in the day
Kat, the janitor at Reese Phifer who helps me open the door every morning. Why can't I get that door open? I have keys to most of that building, but I still have to get her to help me. She makes me happy.
Achielles' daddy. I don't know his name, Aaron maybe? He's just so cute. Little boy cute. I'm sure he'd appreciate me saying that.
The guy who rides his bike to work at University Village. He used to scare me, but now he's harmless. He likes Daisy. Once, he told me he had a cat named Daisy.
Anyone/everyone who works at Chik-fil-a. They're just so nice!
My church family

I'm too blessed to be stressed out.

-jg

You betta shape up.

Remember that line from Grease? You betta shape up, cause I need a hand.

Again, I've been trying to get rid of somethings in my life. Today is the first day that I can actually say I've done a good job. My list even grew this morning as I was reading my Bible.

So, we've got:
textsfromlastnight.com
fmylife.com
Crap, Suck
any other questionable word like "bitching" because that one is on the borderline of being a bad word in some instances. You know, like "he was bitching at me" isn't really bad. Anyways, I'm doing away with that.
Dane Cook-I deleted all of him off my iPod today
Typing "wtf" which I don't really do anymore, but I used to. Only typing, though. I never said it.
Saying things like "that's retarded" or "that's gay"

It feels good! I think that abandoning these things is really going to be good for me.

Grace and Peace,
jg

I should so be studying.

I don't think I've mentioned this before, but I've been trying desperately hard lately to stop looking at textsfromlastnight.com, fmylife.com and saying the words "suck" and "crap."

I'm failing miserably.

Usually, I'll slip up and say something "sucks" then catch myself and say "crap" out of aggravation. Sad cycle, don't you think?

I have two massive Spanish tests Tuesday. Then, I get to go home and get back to my roots for a little while. I'm so tired of studying Spanish. I'm not interested in it. I don't like the language. I don't like anything about it- but the babies. I love hispanic babies. I keep looking at my pictures from Panama, Mexico, Houston and my baby I sponsor and I'm trying to stay motivated.

One day, I want to adopt a hispanic little girl. It's always been on my list. I may not even have a baby, just adopt one. Then I'll use my Spanish.

There's so much to be happy about these days. I'm surrounded by amazing people that are sincerely focused on glorifying the Lord as much as I am. I have the sweetest dog that ever lived. I feel more liberated than I ever have before. In 8 months, I'll have the option to do whatever I want, wherever I want and make this world whatever I want it to be. My apartment is immaculate. I love being a perfectionist. I'm finally learning to be quiet and hear God speak. I have the coolest internship, and I'm slowly learning that hearing my editors tell me that something football-related that I did was good is possibly the best feeling.

There's no deep meaning to this post. I'm just happy. I'm at peace with everything He has given me. I'm excited for my future.

I need to study.

Grace and Peace,
jg

On the Old South and being spoiled.

I had lunch with an old friend today. You know, one of those people who knows your roots and reminds you when you forget. We used words like "Old Money" and "cotillion" and I figured out why Tuscaloosa boys have been such a disappointment. 

Our Mayfair boys spoiled us. 

I blame them for all of it. Keep in mind that I was 20 before I dated a boy who cursed in my presence. I blame the Mayfair boys. I blame them for seeing us as sisters in Christ first. I blame them for luring us into believing that every boy would see us with the same respect that they did. I blame them for not preparing us to have a boy swear in our presence. I blame them for being some of the most beautiful people, for being the toughest boys I've ever known, and for making me think every man would cry when he had to leave a little baby in Mexico. I blame them for looking so adorable playing football on mission trips, for being able to make a baby stop crying, and for having perfect manners. I blame them for letting me think that every man would be able to pray on the drop of a hat, would stand up for his country, and knew to stand up when a lady came into the room. 

Remember, we're from the Old South. 

And as we added up traits and characteristics of the boys we grew up with, I realized something: just because the boys at the University of Alabama look and talk like they walked straight out of a Faulkner novel, they are not gentlemen. 

They are not gentlemen. 

They will never have the self control to not swear. They don't respect girls enough. Ladies, we don't demand that enough anymore. They will never have the strength to let a girl cry into their shoulder on a mission trip or after the good Lord has called them to repent. That strength doesn't exist in these boys. 

I have to extend this, though, to all the boys of the Churches of Christ. Those Vaughn Park, College Hills, Landmark, University and Brentwood Hills boys are just the same. They have the same battle scars from jumping off something, and the same big muscles from picking up little kids to play airplane in the inner cities. They have those same eyes that remind you that they've seen the world the way you see it, too. 

Now girls, if you're reading this and you think you have found a boy that fits this- you don't. Because until you have cried on one of their shoulders or been scared to death with on a mission trip with a true man after God's own heart, you will never know what this is. 

I praise Him so much for spoiling me with these boys. The idea that they exist reminds me to be a lady. It reminds me that my only test to see if a boy is worthy should be that he finds my heart while trying to find God. Maya Angelou said, "A woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her.' How true that is. 

Grace, Hope and Peace.

-jg

Face to face when all is done.

I remember the first time I heard the song "There's a stirring." It was in Atlanta, at Burnt Hickory Church of Christ for my uncle's funeral. There must have been two hundred people in that room, because I remember it being so incredibly hot. At one point, one of his friends quoted him in saying the apostles were "pretty cool dudes." Ha, I come from good people. That's not the point. The point is that since then I've always loved that song. We started singing it some at my home church after that, but I still think of that funeral every time I hear it.

There's a stirring deep within me,
Could it be my time has come?
When I see my gracious Savior,
face to face when all is done.

Is that His voice I am hearing,
Come away my precious one.
Is he calling me?
Is he calling me?

I will rise up, rise up
and bow down
and lay my crown
at his wounded feet.

I've always thought that the stirring was at the end of your life. I always thought it was talking about death, right? That's why we sang it at a funeral, right? Now, I'm just not so sure.

I've been thinking a lot about what I'm going to do after graduation, and the one thing that keeps nagging at me is that I have to find something to blend the talent of writing with mission work. Also, I know this isn't in Alabama. My question is this: Am I just wanting an adventure, or is this a stirring?

I've only been called a few times in my life. I was called to Houston, Texas, to fall in love with the hispanic babies. I was called into the Darien rainforest. I was called into journalism. Now I just wonder, am I being called to serve far away? I always promised God that I would go if he sent me a husband that wanted to go; but after this year, I've learned that I don't need a husband in order to answer His call. If this is truly my calling, I'm going to have to at least start it alone. Am I being called to another country? Or is this just my post-grad adventure speaking? I wouldn't be the first one to backpack through Europe after graduation, but maybe I could be one of the ones who settle in a small town and work for His glory? I suppose only time will tell.

Grace and Peace,
-jg

Old Habits.

I caught myself in a familiar situation this morning. I don't know how many times I've done it, but almost every Sunday for the past 21 years I have stood on my toes and leaned over the pew to watch people come down during the song of invitation in a Church of Christ. I love that perfect moment, that one instant when they start walking faster. It happens when they're about halfway down the aisle and they almost start running.

I think life's like that, sort of.

I think you sit still for so long and you hear so many sermons then you start to walk. Then, I think Jesus meets you halfway and you have to start running to Him. I've started running now. The most important part of the Christian life isn't grace and forgiveness anymore. The most important part of the Christian life is glorifying Him in all that I do. Yep, I've started to run.

I've been so blessed this semester. I have a church family that I'm not sure how I lived without for 3 years. I've been reunited with so many of the GHS/Mayfair people who have reminded me where my roots are. It's so hard to remember that being different isn't always good. I often forget that the new trend, style, theology isn't always the best. I've been so blessed by those who reminded me that I was raised to be classic. We were the girls who wore pearls to Grissom, made straight As, didn't dance bad at Prom, and then knew how to shoot a gun and hold our own in Mexico. We were taught to act properly in public, but then get dirty and sweaty with the little hispanic babies on mission trips. We've seen heartache. We were blessed, but until you've had to leave a baby in the arms of a drug addict on the streets of Houston, Texas, you will never know the heartache we've felt. We were the students that teachers loved, even though we had a little tendency to be mischievous. We're the girls who still hold on to that old mantra that "we're the girls they'll want to marry, not date" with the hope that the good Lord has our Prince Charming picked out for us when we are ready to receive him. I'm so thankful for this reminder.

God is faithful.
Grace and Peace,
-jg

Old School.

Last night, I sat in my journalism ethics class and listened to this conversation.
Girl one: "Are there any hookah bars in Tuscaloosa?"
Guy: "yea blah blah blah it's here here here."
Girl: "But is it a good hookah? Do you get one free if you buy a meal?"
Guy: blah blah blah no.
Girl: "but HOOKAH HOOKAH HOOKAH"

So, I'm exaggerating. The bottom line is that there are somethings ladies should not do or discuss. The inexplicable infatuation with a "hookah" is numero uno. The fact that I hate that word puts it above some other more-descriptive things.

Here's my list.
TEN THINGS THAT GIRLS SHOULD NEVER DO:

1. Don't talk about smoking. Or smoke. No "Hookahs" no cigarettes, no pot. Don't do it. You lose your femininity, and it's gross. Stop it. Be a lady.
2. Don't talk about sex. There is one friend who I do this with, because she's a medical professional and it's always from a scientific point of view. Save that for your husband. Under no circumstances should you ever talk about this in mixed company.
3. Don't swear. Don't, don't don't don't don't.
4. Don't talk about alcohol. It's not lady like to discuss what beer you drank with who and how many times you fell down the stairs. I wish you could see how trashy you look.
5. NO TATTOOS.
6. Sit with your legs crossed. Remember your mother saying that? She was right. Crossed at the knee for casual conversation, crossed at the ankles for things that are more formal (ie interviews, funerals, weddings, ect.)
7. Watch those facebook photos. You will look trashy. Just untag yourself.
8. Keep your manicure good. And pedicure. Actually, just be feminine. Nails short, clean, not some crazy color. Red for winter/Christmas. Pink/nude for everyday.
9. Stand up straight. I walk around campus and see so many girls slouching. Stand up.
10. Keep some mystery. Keep it classy, ladies.

OK, so this has been a rant. The bottom line is that we're called to be different- set apart. Equality does not mean having to be one of the boys. Don't expect to be treated like them, and don't accept it. Guys, don't swear in front of girls. Just don't.

Grace and Peace,
jg

You give me fever...

I've had a fever for the past 3 days. I've always liked having them, kinda. They make you go a little loopy, just enough so that it's fun to be inside your head. Right now, I just want to break out some Ella Fitzgerald...you give me fever, when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight. I'd give anything to be with LeftSide these days. I miss those girls.

I've been reading Tozer lately. Man, I wish I could write like him.

Last night in my Bible Study, we talked about Catherine of Siena. Her story is incredible, but one of the main things that struck me was in her letters which I'm sorting through as I write this. I love letter writing. It's a lost art. The following quotation is my favorite so far. So just read it, enjoy it, and be jealous because a woman that didn't even know how to write dictated these words to the Pope.

"So come, come! Delay no longer, so you may soon set up camp against the unbelievers, and so you will not be frustrated in the endeavor by these rotten members who are rebelling against you![10] I am asking you, and I want you to play a holy trick on them—I mean the kindness I've been telling about.[11] This will be for them a fire of love, burning coals that you will heap on their heads.[12] In this way you will have gained both them and their material means to help you wage a real war against the unbelievers. This is what our gentle Savior did. By heaping such burning hot love on those who were rebelling against him, he succeeded little by little in making them his helpers, bearers of God's name. Take, for example, that dear preacher Paul.[13] He was a wolf, but he became a lamb, a gracious vessel of love[14]—and the fire with which Christ filled his vessel he carried through the whole world. He uprooted vice from Christians and planted virtue in them; unbelievers he drew away from error and unbelief, and offered them the light of faith. Now this is what gentle First Truth is telling you and wants you to do. What you have received, give.[15]

Unbelievable.

Grace and Peace,
-jg

Perfection vs. Swine Flu

I woke up at 5 a.m. this morning convinced I had Swine Flu. I had a terrible headache, my body hurt, and I had a fever. So, I emailed my bosses and missed my first class and woke up around 9:30.

It's been a few months since I really wanted to read His word. I love LOVE how Jim Elliot once put it that if he could get anymore out of it by eating it, he would just eat the pages. The weird thing is that in my letter to God last night, I only asked him to talk back. I pray all the time, but I hardly ever Him talk back. I had a dream last night, though, where I was in all these awkward situations with people I didn't want to see and God said STOP. Just stop. I woke up from it confused, as usual, but now I think I get it. It took a Swine flu scare, but I stopped long enough to read His word today. I study so hard to be a good writer, because I've always planned on being a Christian in the media and use this career as a mission opportunity. I study hard. I study hard to learn Spanish, to learn the ins and outs of journalism, but somewhere along the way I neglected to study what's going to make me a good Christian in this world. It's like when you go into a test and realize you forgot to study the back page of the study guide. No, Mid terms are going to have to take a backseat for a few days. I need to go find me some Elliot, Tozer, Nee or Jeremiah.

In other news, I was so happy to find out that the reading today for my discipleship group was Psalm 95 because it's hands-down one of my favorite songs.

Come let us sing for Joy to the Lord, let us shout aloud (clap, clap, clap) to the rock of our salvation. Let us come before Him with thanksgiving, and extol him in music and song.

I used to love it because we got to clap and that's such contraband in the Church, but now I just love that Psalm.

I looked for a youtube video of the fast, acapella version, but I couldn't find it. You'll just have to imagine.

It took a Swine Flu scare, but I had the perfect morning.

Grace and Peace,
-jg

Take and seal it.

I wish God would seal my heart a little better. Like a wax dot on an envelope when the king used to put his ring in it. It's been a long day. I'm broken today. I went into journalism wanting to be a light, but somedays I'm just a little girl. Days like today I'm just a little girl lost in a newsroom. The people are lost. It scares me to death that these are the people who are controlling our world.

It's funny how the devil gets you. I've been so thankful lately, then out of the blue an old acquaintance contacted me. This was one of the most ungodly relationships I had ever been in. I'm ashamed to say it, but for just once I wanted to try it like the rest of the world. It has haunted me ever since then. There's a long story, but the bottom line is that we were called for so much more. Our argument quickly turned to this:

Is it possible to be in love with Jesus Christ and still talk badly to your brother? Can you be in love with the Lord in all of his perfectness, and still curse?

I don't think you can. I tried to hate him, I did. I tried to hate so many people, but I can't. I can't wish anything bad on them. I can't wish that they don't come to heaven. I can't do it.

My other question:
Can you be in love with Him and not proclaim His glory?

Again, I just don't think it's possible. I don't think you can do it. I know that grace comes into play, but when you're in love, you don't want to talk bad. The temptation is gone.

We talked about the clean life, too. Can we live for Christ and still get drunk? Can we still have sex? Can we sin knowing that we can just ask for forgiveness later? I don't think it works that way.

It's crazy. I don't think this post makes much sense. I'm still a little girl in so many ways. I try to be a good example, but usually fail. All I know is that I'm not ok with the Christianity that has been accepted by so many of my peers. Knowing John 3:16 and the ten commandments isn't enough. I want the Holy Spirit. I want the pure life. The life without alcohol, without drugs, without ungodly relationships. It's radical, but I want to stop looking at texts from last night and fmylife.com. That's not good to be putting in my head. I. Want. More.

I've broken out my old Bible tonight. Not the Spanish one I usually use. This is the Bible that I used to sit outside for hours reading. This is the one I took to Houston on my first mission. This is the one that I've cried into, written all over and have been changed by.

It has post its all over the back of my favorite quotes:

"This is what I believe in: Jesus Christ, clean living, joyful, radiant, happy worship; good, sweet fellowship and kindliness; and patience and endurance and honesty; the missionary outlook and good decency and separation from all things that are wrong. Above all things, worship the Lord in the beauty of His holiness and learn to know the wondrous sound of the shepard's voice." A.W. Tozer.

Yolanda

I've been looking at this picture all afternoon. Her name is Yolanda. She's 5. I'm now sponsoring her through World Vision, a Christian organization that helps children in poverty. I can't wait to start writing letters and sending toys. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, right? I like to think she's rowdy. She looks how I feel most days. Hair messed up, a little dirty, tired. She doesn't trust whomever is taking that picture.

I think this kid can hold her own. She has two brothers, and I bet she just finished beating them in soccer (futbol) when she stopped to take this picture.

I write all the time about how blessed I've been. But, what makes me so blessed and her so poor? I'll never understand. Never. I've written that same questions in prayer journals, letters, mission journals, I've asked God, I've asked missionaries. There's never an answer.

I miss Panama. I miss Mexico. I miss spending the nights outside just talking to my mission team and the people we're working with. We (I) get so wrapped up in the world. I know I want to be successful. It's always been my plan to be a successful writer so I could either A. be a Christian journalist or B. Be a good example in a newsroom because newsrooms are possibly the vilest workplaces. It's all about how to look good, how to act right, how to be the best. And, I think my intentions are pretty good. I mean, I do want to achieve those things so I can glorify Him. I still believe that the Lord helps those who help themselves. I believe that so much. But maybe I've forgotten to bring the lessons I learned in Panama, Mexico and Houston back into the workplace. I mean, in just 7 hours I've fallen head-over-heels in love with this picture of this little girl. Why can't I do that with the people I'm around all the time?

Anyways, my favorite show is on TV, the sweetest puppy is asleep at my feet, some brand new pajamas are waiting for me and tomorrow is just another chance to get it all right. I'm so thankful for my little reminder of what it's all about.

I think it's funny to say somethings "keep us grounded" when really they keep our minds to the heavens, not to the ground.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Good day!

Daddy had tests done today and is perfectly fine. Praise the Lord.

I got to talk to him a little hopped up on anesthesia and he kept saying "I'm ten feet tall and bulllleeetttpppprrrrooooffffffff."

If you know Daddy, you realize just how funny that is.

Naps with Daisy. Good afternoon shopping. Football tonight, a chance to learn more. Football tomorrow with one of my favorite people.

Yep, I can't complain these days.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Just the faith of an empty hand.

I love Jars of Clay. Right now, I love their version of "Amazing Grace."

These are the lyrics:
I grew this heart into a drifter
I never felt the roots I bare
I sold my sight, oh brother, sister
For a mountain of fool's gold, it's gone
Only God knows, God knows where

My soul was restless for redemption
My feet were lookin' for a place to stand
Well I ain't got no life
And you know I ain't got no money
Just the faith of an empty hand

Amazing Grace I feel you coming up slowly now
Like the sun is risin', heat on my face
Oh love that keeps on shinin', don't let the shadow come
Ya know I gotta feel your healin' rays

I hitched a ride, I was a beggar
I had murder on my hands
I needed water to rinse these stains
But only blood could remove what's spillin'
And pardon me the blame

Amazing Grace I feel you coming up slowly now
Like the sun is risin', heat on my face
Oh love that keeps on shinin', don't let the shadow come
Ya know I gotta feel your healin' rays

My favorite part is the "My soul was restless for redemption/ My feet were looking for a place to stand/ Well I aint got no life/ And you know I aint got no money/Just the faith of an empty hand."

I think that's how I've felt these past few weeks. I'm still in that intermediate period between adult and college. My heart says grow up. My heart says it's time to become a woman of God, it's time to take responsibility, and it's time to refocus. My surroundings, however, only say to think about today and tonight. I'm ready to graduate. I'm not wishing away my senior year, but I'm ready to stand on my own. I don't have solid ground right now.

I think sometimes God shows you the good so you can see what the bad is. I've been blessed lately. Every day something new and wonderful (be it weather, a new friend, a new opportunity) comes along. Then some days are like today. Alabama won (ROLL TIDE) but I'm specifically talking about the pre-game part of the day. I'm tired of being the only sober one. I'm tired of being the only girl that expects to be treated like a lady. I'm tired of being the only one that doesn't swear. I'm tired of being the good example.

The thing is, giving in isn't an option. I am tired of all those things, but I'm not about to conform to them. We get desensitized. You see the real bad and forget that the medium bad isn't good. Make sense? Drunkenness, compared to murder is a little thing, right? But drunkenness, compared to living fully for Him, is a big thing. I think sometimes God shows us His life so that we can remember that just because the world accepts something, we don't have think it's ok.

I miss Panama. I miss the simple life there. Still, God is good and the world He's showing me these days is unbelievable.

Amazing grace I feel you coming up slowly now...

Don't forget, you're a magnolia tree.

Today was the big interview. It went well and I'm so ready to be working from them. The cool thing today was that I saw first hand how blessed I am. I've always known, but there's some times where you're just overwhelmed in seeing how He's blessed you.

As I was sitting outside the office waiting for the interview, all of this hit me. I got a Facebook message earlier from my cousin saying, among other things, "You're a lion. Go take what is yours." Then a string of text messages and phone calls wishing me good luck. Then on my way out, my cousin/roommate told me this, "Good luck. And, don't forget- You're a magnolia tree."

I have some amazing friends and family.

But it doesn't end there. How blessed are we to live in a country that can hold our own when something like 9/11 happens? We may have a lot wrong with us, but we've never been cowards. Land of the free, home of the brave.

Also, I started thinking how much of a blessing my education is. Internship aside, I had a great opportunity to meet with someone who made it in the industry today. I got to see what she's looking for, what I need to improve, and what's going to make me a better writer.

I have the opportunity to work with some of the best tonight. I get to go on a football field and have a blast. Thank God for opportunities.

This is so much more that I could ever deserve.

God Bless America.

-jg

Per Chance to dream.

I'm to that point of sleep deprivation where you're not tired anymore, you're just silly. You know that point? It's right before you decide to make John Mayer lyrics your facebook status.

Wouldn't fall weather be good right about now? Something with pretty leaves and good fall clothes and cowboy boots?!

My interview for Southern Progress is tomorrow. I haven't been this nervous since the Dance Masters of America interviews when I was 14. Hopefully I won't tell these people that "I want to end up somewhere between Carie Bradshaw and C.S. Lewis" like I did that time.

I've got to proofread my resume and hopefully get some sleep. I'm going on >4 hours each night for the past 3 weeks. Of those 4 hours, I spend about 30 minutes waking up because I keep dreaming my alarm is going off.

I need a nap. I have a Spanish presentation in a few minutes. Disaster waiting to happen? definitely. There's a boy in that class that speaks 7 languages. Goodness.

To sleep perchance (per chance?) to dream. Mr. Shakespeare, you can take your dreams. I'll settle for some good ol' REM sleep right now.

-jg

Theme?

So, I started blog-stalking some people today. Here's what I found: They all have a theme! Great TV shows, football, healthy eating, kids. Mine doesn't have a theme. OH NO. I have another blog that I've just started that includes all the crazy stuff that happens to me on my road to becoming a good journalist, but this one? This one doesn't have a theme. I came up with some ideas.

1. Experiments in fast food. Think along the lines of "Supersize Me." I eat out for 3 meals a day and I'm pretty small, so maybe there is a way to eat fast food and still be healthy.
2. Football from a girly girl's point of view.
3. Best of youtube.com. Check this one out: The reason some girls stay single. It's hilarious.
4. Cleanliness. Something like Real Simple maybe?
5. Running?

Then I realized that this blog might actually already have a purpose. It's purpose is to encourage, inspire and entertain the girls like me. We're the simple ones, the driven to succeed, the ones who won't settle for average, the ones who want all this world can give us and then some. We're the ones that live the pure life, and that's probably never going to be easy again. If I tell my stories of the simple life, I want you to read them and know you're not alone.

There are going to be bad days. I hardly ever like Tuesdays. I mean, God why do you have Tuesdays? I can't remember ever having a wonderful Tuesday. But, when you have bad days and read about my bad days, I hope you realize you're not alone. You're not the only one who still believes in good manners and Southern gentility. You're not the only one who won't settle for a boy that won't open the door. You're not the only one who goes a little crazy sometimes. I do it too. Oh well. It's our craziness that keeps us all from going insane.

I think this blog is also about blessings. Sometimes you need to remember how blessed you are, and I hope that something I write will jog your memory of something you're thankful for. Maybe I can remind you about your family or friends? I hope so.

And now, at this very moment, I'm thankful for Hanes men's tshirts, cotton pajama shorts, clean sheets and a puppy to curl up at the end of my bed.

So, there's your theme. Life is good. We've been blessed.

Grace and Peace,
-jg

Oh we've hopelessly lost our way.

It's been one of those days.

One of those days where you run the marathon, fight the good fight and still lose.

And then I got home. Then I saw my front door, my puppy and my little house. I love it.

On our walk I realized something- I'm too blessed for this. I'm too blessed to stay stressed out. We walked outside and felt the sun. Deep breath. We're not in control.

Earlier today, my Momma emailed me this:

You know freaking out before you need to. And if you don't get it, that just means that God has a different plan. And he is much better at figuring out what we need then we are. Thank goodness for that. You need to settle down, and "get your head right".

I've been stressed out about an interview I have Friday. When I was a sophomore, a girl told me that I would never get this internship and that I should "aim lower." So, the application, the interview, the whole thing has been hanging over my head for more than two years now. Can I do it? Am I talented enough? Maybe. But momma reminded me today that I'm really not in control. If I get it, I'll be thrilled. I'm a hard worker, I'm qualified, and I'd be a good intern. If I don't get it, then God has other plans and His plans will always be greater than mine. How nice.

I live the clean life, and from here on out, it's going to be cleaner. I don't swear. I'm a good girl. I watch the way I act around guys. Right now the only thing on my mind is being a good, ethical journalist. In all that you do, do it for the glory of God. Right?

The interview will come and go this Friday. I may get the internship- I hope so much that I do. But, if I don't, I'll keep working. I'll keep giving everything my all.

It's comforting, don't you think? To know that working hard and living simply won't go to waste.

I'm loving the song "Wonderful, Merciful Savior" right now.

-jg

If I just breathe, every little thing you'll see, everything is all right.

I wonder how long this will last. These insane panic attacks that are brought on by the mix of excitement for the future and fear that I haven't prepared enough. I'm ready to graduate. I'm ready to move to another city and start over. I'm ready emotionally, but in the back of my mind I can't help but to wonder if I shouldn't have gotten one more internship or studied a little bit harder. I compulsively edit my resume. Every time I learn a new skill, I update it immediately. I'm addicted to job search web sites. I have a secret fund reserved just for a new house. I have a list of cities I want to move to:

1. Nashville
2. Birmingham
3. Atlanta
4. Dallas
5. Charleston
6. Richmond

It reminds me of waiting to see what college I would get into. I had the grades, but there was still that anticipation in not knowing. I don't know if I'll get a job. Three years of preparation might have not been enough. After all, isn't that what we're all afraid of-not being good enough?

My mission trips are listed at the bottom of my resume with my community service and languages spoken. I hope people look at those.

So, in this unbelievably confusing and exciting time, I'm running on pure adrenaline. I've forgotten what it's like to sleep without worrying. I've forgotten what it's like to stop. To just stop and be still and know that He's here. I promised that I wouldn't stop while I was in college. The Lord helps those who help themselves. Right? The more I think about it though, the more I realize that that's not true. The Lord helps those who love Him. I wonder if everyone is going through this. Are they all panicked? Probably.

I told someone tonight that I was going to do something stupid soon. It's true. I'm going to hit the wall and lock myself out of my apartment or lock my keys in my car or crash or something. It's unavoidable.


God is good.
-jg

People are crazy.

It's just me and Daisy tonight.

I had to choose to go drinking or to go home. I picked home. I'm 21 and I don't think that drinking in moderation is bad, but drunkenness is a sin. No question about it. As I was leaving, I just kept telling myself, "That's not where a Christian writer needs to be." And as I walked to my car, I got more and more mad that I had chosen a profession that didn't allow me to be in situations like that. I can't be. I'll lose credibility as a writer. I'll have unending doubt as I tell young girls to not date disrespectful boys when I'll tolerate it all the time on the basis that, "it's not really them because they're drunk."

Tonight it's just me and Daisy. I'm going to read a book about football to get ready for my new internship and get scared by Criminal Minds. It'll be worth it one day...you just wait and see.

-jg

Lily among thorns.

It’s rare that I find a book I agree with. To date, I’ve never found a book about Christian women that I agree with…until now. I just finished Set-Apart Femininity by Leslie Ludy and while I don’t agree with everything, I do love some parts of this book.

Here are some of my favorite quotations from the book:

“Set-Apart femininity blends the classic womanly grace and dignity of Audrey Hepburn with the sacrificial, poured-out-for-Christ lifestyle of Amy Carmichael.”

“The preoccupations of young women don’t seem to change much from generation to generation. But in every generation, there seem to be a few who make other choices.” –Elisabeth Elliot. (If you know me well at all, you know I absolutely love Elisabeth Elliot).

“But we must ask ourselves this question-what kind of guys are we seeking to attract? Do we really want to win the heart of a self-focused man who is only interested in our worldly allure and sex appeal? Or do we want to win the heart of a man who has been captured by Jesus Christ, a guy who sees the priceless value of a woman who shines with His spectacular radiant loveliness?”

“If you desire a beautiful, lasting, God-written love story, hold out for a guy who values the things that your heavenly Prince values.”

On college campuses across this country, it is regarded as ‘healthy’ for a young woman to be able to completely shut off her emotions and have mindless sex with any random guy she meets, not caring at all if he ever calls her again. But once upon a time, feminine dignity was carefully protected. Womanly mystery was held in high esteem. And gallant men counted it a privilege to tenderly win and woo their lady-love’s heart.”

“Too many young women are afraid to rise up with confidence and walk firmly in their commitments. The nurturing, caring side of them doesn’t like hurting people’s feelings, so they end up leaving a door open for a guy when it should be nicely but firmly shut in his face.”

“As a single woman, rather than putting life on hold until you get married, orient your life around joyfully serving others. As you practice becoming the servant of all, serving your husband will come naturally in marriage, and you will gain greater blessings than you could ever imagine.”

“If you pour out yourself for the hungry and satisfy the desires of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom shall be as the noonday. Here, I think, lies the answer to the barrenness of a single life, or of a life that might otherwise be selfish or lonely. It is the answer, I have found, to depression as well. You yourself will be given light in exchange for pouring yourself out, you yourself will get guidance, the satisfaction of your longings, and strength when you pour yourself out when you make the satisfaction of somebody else’s desire your own concern.” –Elisabeth Elliot.

“The world is absolutely flooded with those who are destitute of daily food and clothes. About 25,000 people die every day of hunger or hunger-related causes, according to the United Nations. That’s one person every three and a half seconds. In Latin America and Africa, countless children are addicted to inhalants as a means of deadening their senses to their bodies’ desperate cries for food. In Liberia thousands of pregnant women and young children pound rocks all day long on the side of a mountain and in the hot sun just to get one bowl of watery rise. These people have a claim on your life. They have a claim on my life. They are a priority to Christ and therefore must become a priority to us. If we are so preoccupied with self that we will not show the practical, life-changing, hope-giving love of Christ to them, our faith is dead.”

Other parts of this book dealt with matters such as “being a lily among thorns,” waiting for the boy to initiate a relationship and maintaining your feminine mystique.

Given, it didn’t really teach me anything new, but I loved so much to hear someone else say what I’ve been thinking for so long now. It was like calling an old friend to hear her say, “You’re right.” But, you know, in the end, I guess that’s all I want. I want to get to heaven and have Jesus say, “you were right.”

Wholesome

Sometimes I get obsessed with an idea. Not like girls are "obsessed" with the Jonas Brothers, but like really obsessed. I think about it all the time. I want to know everything about this idea. My previous obsession was the phrase "no turning back, no turning back" from the song "I have decided to follow Jesus." These days the obsession is just one word, one single concept that I have decided is something I want to have: wholesomeness.

I had to figure out what it meant to be wholesome before I could be a girl that was known for wholesomeness.

Webster's said:
Wholesome–adjective

1.	conducive to moral or general well-being; salutary; beneficial: wholesome recreation; wholesome environment.

OK, I can work with that. I think Webster leaves out that to be wholesome, you have to be God-fearing. I think that it extends beyond well-being and into the ability to empathize and sympathize with all kinds of different people.

My grandmother is one of the most wholesome people I know and where I began to think that wholesomeness meant being able to put yourself in others' positions. When I talk to her, it's like she's a really wise college student. When my mom talks to her, it's like she's a mother of a 21 year old in 2009. It's amazing. Wholesome.

Another thing I think wholesomeness includes is strength. How can you be beneficial if you're falling apart? D.H. Lawrence once wrote, "We've go to live no matter how many skies have fallen."

In Panama, or actually any Hispanic country, there are these women. They're older, grandmothers probably, but they cook for you. When you go to them, they feed you. They feed you so much food that you're probably dying by the end of dinner. They cook over an open flame and get so hot that you have to feel bad. You didn't ask for dinner- they insisted that you sit and stay and eat. Then you look in their eyes and see pure joy. It's crazy to think that feeding strangers can give people joy, but these women are so happy to serve you. Wholesome.

I liked that the definition said "wholesome environment." It's easy in college to start stuff. Call an ex boyfriend, start drama. It's fun when you're bored. I think part of being wholesome (and mature for that matter) is being a peacemaker.

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God." Matthew 5:9

My daddy is a peacemaker. No matter who I have a problem with and who I have shot my mouth off to, Daddy can always fix it. Sometimes I let my 21 year old redheaded temper get in the way. Then, I need Daddy. Wholesome.

This doesn't solve my problem. Having a definition does not mean I will automatically inherit all these traits tonight. It does, however, give me something to work for. After all, I have decided to follow Jesus, no turning back...no turning back.

Bad news.

I was going to write a post about bad news. It's been a particularly horrible week in the news. The headlines are grim. Our President isn't doing our country justice. Babies are dying of rat bites and 14 year olds are getting accused with rape.

Then I saw this.

It's Lilly. She has 5 legs. Her 5th leg has 6 toes. Until now, she hasn't been able to lay down, walk or sit comfortably. She was owned by a freak-show.

Someone paid $4,000 for Lilly and another $2,000 for her surgery. Lilly is expected to live a long, healthy life.

Are you heart-warmed yet? Because you should be.

If Lilly can make it, then so can we.

Speak the truth but ride a fast horse.

I just finished reading What I Know Now, a compilation of letters written by famous women to their younger self. One of them said "Speak the truth but ride a fast horse," and I just loved that.

So it makes me wonder- what would I tell myself? I'm only 21, so I'm far from being wise.

Here goes:

I'd tell my 4 year old self not to call the call the "Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again" woman "That d*** lady" to my mom. That spanking hurt. You'll remember it 17 years from now.

When you're 5 and Daddy has to take you out of church for talking, don't come back in and tell mom "Daddy told me to tell you he spanked me" when he really took you across the street and bought you candy.

Learn math in first grade. You'll be behind until high school if you don't.

In 2nd grade, keep being nice to that mentally handicapped kid. This will be the first of many, many times you pull for the underdog. Just don't get too attached. You're going to be heartbroken for the rest of your life because you can't save people.

Oh, and also about 2nd grade-throw those dresses away. The red, yellow and blue ones? Yea. Those. Throw them away. You'll end up wearing them in every single picture for almost a year.

Amber Tucker doesn't beat you up at Space Camp, so stop worrying.

Be more outgoing in middle school. Be nice to the nerdy kids. Be nice to the freaks. You're not mean, but your not nice to them either. Keeya will make more money than you ever dreamed of. Be nice to the kid with one hand that likes you.

In 8th grade you'll have a teacher that threatens to fail you because you won't argue pro-choice in a classroom debate. You don't argue it and you make your first B ever. Good call. She wasn't very nice.

On those 3 mission trips to Houston- love every minute. This is the beginning of a lifetime of mission trips. Take a second when you're holding Mireya, the 3 year old little Mexican girl, to memorize the way it feels. It's about 110 degrees and you're on a bus without air conditioning. She has fallen asleep in your lap. It's the exact moment that you fall in love with little Hispanic babies. That mission trip high never leaves you.

Listen to Kari more. She's right about people. You're too infatuated to see it, so just listen to her.

Be a good role model for the girls at dance. You looked up to them, so make sure you're someone they can look up to.

The years you danced with LS will be the best ones of your life. Work harder and appreciate your teachers more. They'll teach you some of the best lessons that you'll take with you the rest of your life. They'll give you your work ethic and good posture.

Listen to the kid that sits in front of you in homeroom more. He turns out to be a really neat person. To date he's still the only person who can recite almost any Edgar Allen Poe poem.

When that guy dumps you for being a good girl and immediately goes out with another not-so-good girl DO NOT tell the whole school that was the reason. Yes, it's true. That is why he picked her over you. He told you that, but it's going to be classier if you just keep that to yourself.

Pay more attention in AP Econ. And bring a jacket, dummy, that classroom was freezing!

Remember that time you and Kari got stuck in a tornado and decided to drive through the storm to get to a show you had to do that night? Yea. Don't do that. It was dangerous!

Enjoy ever minute you're on stage. Even after you think you're too mature to dance around in sparkles, you'll miss the days of entertaining everyone.

Get to know the Mayfair girls better.

Enjoy the City of Children more. You end up frustrated because you can't understand the orphans because they speak Spanish, but don't give up. Hug them and love them like that's all that matters. You're there as a missionary, so stop acting like a child. You don't think they need you--and they kinda don't. So, take it in. Use this time to realize that these kids aren't wanted by anyone and realize how blessed you are to have 2 loving parents that are still married. Besides, this is when you decide to learn Spanish. That will help you a little later in Panama.

Don't regret going to UAH. You learned you didn't want to be a nurse there. You also learned you didn't want to get married in college there. Don't regret hanging out with those guys, either. They kept you entertained and made you think a lot. Also, this is when you first discover A.W. Tozer, David Jeremiah, Max Lucado, Elisabeth and Jim Elliot, and Watchman Nee. Each one of these writers will change the way you look at things and bring you a little closer to the Father. Remember that time you decided to go to the projects and give out money to the homeless by yourself? Yea. Don't do that. It was dangerous..and stupid.

Be careful during your first semester at UA. You're too skinny. Everyone keeps saying it's because your homesick, but don't listen to them. They'll find the fibromyaligia later and know that homesickness had nothing to do with it.

Use the Pensacola mission trip to get to know your brothers and sisters in Christ. It's a good opportunity, so don't miss out.

Your snap decision to go to the Darien Rainforest will be the best you've made so far. This trip will change your life. You'll see Indians that have never seen white people. You'll hold babies that won't make it through the night. One day while you're down there, you hold a little baby for 11 hours. You wash her face off because she produces too much glucose and the bees are attracted to the sweet smell of her skin. You'll never see her again because she dies that night. But, even while you're holding her, you know that was going to happen. This is what God looks like. Don't forget it.


Have more guts during your time at the Crimson White. You have ethical questions about some of the things they do. Stand up for it. You almost quit when they print g-d in the newspaper. I still can't make a judgment call about that one. You'll learn so much there, but you should have said something about that.

Still, be nice to the weird kids in college. Especially that girl in your JN 100, 311 and 415 classes. She doesn't live to see graduation.

Have more patience with the second Panama team. They mean well. This is the first time you'll ever get to really use your Spanish, so don't be so scared. The calling was to serve, not to have perfect Spanish grammar.

So, you make it to 21 and 4 months at least. Don't lose sight of what's important. When you first got to college, you made 2 Timothy 4:7 your mantra- I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

I hope I'm wiser at 42.

These boots were made for walking.

I've been packing up the apartment all day.

I have 5 pairs of unworn cowboy boots.

Actually, the breakdown of apartment contents is like so:
59 sundresses. Not winter dresses, sundresses.
76 pairs of shoes (only 3 of which were flip flops)
5 pairs of cowboy boots
6 denim skirts
12 pairs of jeans
45 post it notes
3 tennis rackets (I don't play tennis)
3 full books of stamps (apparently I don't mail either)
17 belts
11 pea coats
27 solid white t shirts, oh they really like me.
41 camisoles

That equals 13 of the large moving boxes, 12 under the bed boxes, one packed-full garment bag, 3 mesh laundry bags, and 3 laundry baskets full. PLUS whatever is still in my chest of drawers and all my hanging clothes (a double door closet with a double bar full)

Goodness.

But as I pack all of this up, I can't help but look back on how much I've done in college. I mean, this apartment is the only place I've ever lived outside of my house.

There's the Express skirt and heels I wore on my first day of my Tuscaloosa News internship where I had to run so far in the rain for my first story on the one millionth CrimsonRide rider.

An assortment of cocktail dresses I've worn to banquets during my "I'm only going to date soon-to-be-rich buisnessmen" phase. The parties were fun, but the conversation was terribly boring.

The completely safe blue polo dress that everyone has.

My fail-proof outfit of black top, jeans, black stilettos (those BCBG ones that everyone got in 2005. I've had them resoled twice, but they were completely worth it) and pearls. This outfit hangs together all the time in case I need it in a hurry.

A mola that was handmade for me in the middle of the Darien Rainforest by a Kuna indian woman. Reminder from the best trip of my life. It still smells like Panama. I love to see it every morning hanging in my closet.

A black strapless dress that Reba would say "was known for teaching lessons."

The J. Crew skirt I wore to my Crimson White interview. You never go wrong with J.Crew. Mark my words. Never.

A pair of brown hotpants and a brown/pink sports bra that I used to wear to competition classes.

The Coach wallet and bag that sweet Ms. Parsons brought be back from the China Olympics after I helped her for a semester with ASPA.

A child's yellow Dickies button-down that I got from Johnny in Playona. He ran a little store where he sold clothes that US Missionaries had brought down. It was his only source of income, but he gave us these so we wouldn't get bitten by redbugs in the jungle. Precious.

The free people stuff from when I went through my "I want to be the lead singer of A Fine Frenzy" phase. You know, the pretty red headed Swedish girl that sings "Goodbye my almost lover.."

I wonder what I'll be packing up in 3 more years? And who will be helping me? And where will I be moving? Will my dreams work out? Will I move to Nashville and marry a cowboy? (I already have the outfit).

It's today for which we're responsible. God still owns tomorrow.- Elisabeth Elliot

-jg

Dump trucks.

Today, I was walking Daisy up the back stairs of my apartment. If you know Daisy, you know she's a little "special." Honestly, I think she's mentally handicapped. It's a lot like living with a handicapped child, but I just love her so much.

Well, today Daisy wanted to watch the dump trucks drive from our apartment complex to the road. I fought her and fought her yelling "I don't have time for this." I was mad and she was stubborn. The sad thing is that I wasn't really that busy. It was a perfect day and I had ample time before I had to be at work.

So, I gave in. For about 15 minutes, we sat on the back stairs and watched the dump trucks drive into and out of University Village.

I'm not usually a "stop and smell the roses" person, but I think I'll try to take a little more time to pause from now on. Like C.S. Lewis said in Surprised by Joy, "It is not settled happiness that glorifies the past, but momentary joy."

Today, Daisy and I had a little momentary joy.

God is good and the blessings outweigh the problems these days.
Who could ask for more?
Grace and Peace,
jg

The Third Paragraph boys.

I often write about boys, but the thing is, every other aspect of my life has been so richly blessed. You have to understand- I have been given more things than any one person should ever have. Family, friends, a good upbringing, unshakable faith, the opportunity to go into the world and see His creation, opportunities to study and work and do something I love every single day, His forgiveness daily, hope of glory, ect. I think complaining at all would be a sin for me, but my craziness in dating at least gives me a conversation topic. I'm positive this is how God continually reminds me of my full dependence on Him. So, amid my gratefulness, I am reminded to come daily to Him with any and all of my concerns.

So every night, I write a letter to God. I mean a real letter. In a moleskin notebook (someone wise once told me those were the best and it's true). Each letter is signed and dated with appropriate greetings and closings. Very proper. Sometimes I think that if Hemmingway or Faulkner were going to write letters to God, they would do them this way. I like to think that at least. Each one has a specific layout, too. If you're going to write the keeper of your soul, you should probably have good penmenship, too. We don't want any typos.

Paragraph 1: Thanksgiving. A reminder that the problems in the rest of the letter will always always always come after my gratitude for salvation and the daily blessing of enjoying His creation. This paragraph also includes a little bit about my day..incase He missed something. Or sometimes the things I'm most excited about that day. Like Paul used to open up his letters, first there was the little greeting to those in Corinth, ect., then there was the meat and bones of the matter. The good stuff.

Paragraph 2: Personal stuff. Things I'd like to change about myself. Things I've done wrong in the past 24 hours. (You'd be amazed how much this is!) Usually includes patience, gracefulness and a prayer for Jesus Christ himself to come put his hand over my mouth when I should stop talking. Wouldn't that be nice? Or a little reminder when my redheaded temper flares up again. That in itsself keeps me in all kinds of trouble.

Paragraph 3:Friends. Here's where my third paragraph boys come in. As I was writing yesterday, I realized that every third paragraph looks the same.

"Father, please be with (boy I'm currently dating at the time's name) and let him come to know you. Help him to be the man you want him to be.I know he can be better, Lord, if he just calls to you."

Every single time.
Of course these third paragraph boys never work out. I know going into it that they won't. If hanging around a Sunday-morning Christian is the best I can do, well, I'd rather be in the mission field alone. After all, mission dating NEVER works.
It makes me wonder, if I can look back on all my old entries and be so happy that whatever I was praying for didn't come true (think that old country song "Unanswered Prayers" type stuff) will I look back on this and be happy? Will I one day meet someone that doesn't fall into the third paragraph? That maybe even makes it to the first paragraph because of his undying faith? Or that is so driven to serve the Lord that I have to follow? I think so. Or at least I'm not giving up yet.

So, until the day that a find myself writing to God about someone in the first paragraph, it's just random happenings. It'll be worth it, though. I'm a die-hard realist, but I'm not giving up hope here.

Right now, it's just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away. I still love that song.

No more cold iron shackles on my feet...

Grace and Peace,
jg

In queso emergency...

Every editor keeps telling me I need to blog more. So, here goes.

When I was about 15, I made this promise to break the stereotype of the "good girl." I mean, I loved dancing on stage in next-to-nothing. I loved the rhinestones, the wild songs, the dark tans, tons of makeup, and that just doesn't fit into what a good little Church of Christ girl looked like. (Are we even allowed to dance?) So, I decided to break that. Now, some girls do the same thing but they try all that black makeup "I dont' care what anyone else thinks" look. No, no. That wasn't me either.

I have a few things I will fight for.
1. I'm going to be a virgin when I get married. This has lead to heartache after heartache. I knew that. I know it more, now. I expect to hear "Really? You don't look like a virgin" on every third date. It doesn't make dating easier, but it's simply not up for debate. Consequently, I'm incredibly comfortable talking about it.
2. I didn't drink until I was 21. I will not be getting drunk (on purpose) with anyone anytime soon. I'm just not. Don't ask. It's not ladylike.
3. I'm a die-hard conservative. I'm pro-life, probably more than anyone else you know. I don't believe in gay marriage. I support our troops and whatever they have to do to save our country. America first. If you mess with the land our grandfathers made, I want to shoot you. If you don't like that, I don't care. Church, too. I do think women should keep silent. I think they should be submissive. I want to be independent, self-sufficient, and driven, but when I get married...my husband will have the final say. (If you read that passage, you know that good men love their wives enough to make them happy no matter what). I don't think it's best to argue with the keeper of our souls.
4. If I swear, you better know I'm mad.
5. I'm not afraid of global warming. God told us he wouldn't destroy the world with water again, so why are all these Christians afraid of flooding? I generally don't like environmentalists. I think it's silly.
6. Jesus Christ saved my soul. I might not look like the typical knee-length-skirt wearing good girl, but I've seen Him face-to-face and there is no turning back now. I've held dying babies in Panama. I've held a little girl during her last day on earth. I've talked to 12 year olds that have been raped by their uncles. I've held hands with the homeless.

So, that brings me back to my goal: to break the stereotype of the good girl. Of all my many blessings- they outnumber what any human should ever have- I thank God for my friends. A set of girls that are so beautiful and passionate in everything they do, that it reminds me daily that being a good girl doesn't have to be confined to tankinis, fake kindness, and all-girl movie nights. We go back, all the way back to the SVS days when our dance teachers taught us to "walk into everything like we know what we're doing," and made us walk endlessly up and down the halls in 4 inch heels until we could walk without falling. (This was in middleschool, too!)

THese girls remind me that:
1. Being a girl is a lost art. Sitting with your ankles crossed, hands folded in your lap, and making eye-contact is powerful. Pearls are perfect in all situations. A southern accent will get you out of so so so many troubles.
2. BCBG Stilettos are what I'm most comfortable in. People always say "wear what makes you comfortable," and they're usually talking about an excuse to wear something weird. But maybe I'm more comfortable in a floral dress and heels? Or a good pair of Levis and a lacy top and pearls. Heels make your butt look better, they just do. And I'm talking no less than 4 inches or why bother? Looks do matter. It's how the world sees you. So make that work in your advantage.
3. They don't agree with me on everything. Especially the political stuff, but they remind me daily to fight for whatever it is that I do believe. I encourage them to do the same. This world wasn't cut out for the wishy-washy. Mark my words, if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything.
4. They're the leaders of tough-love. They're the ones that will hit me or send me a text message saying "run" if I'm on a weird date. They're always right, too. Always. One day, I'll meet a boy that Kari likes and I'll probably do anything to keep him. She'll know, I bet. To date: she hasn't liked one yet.
5 They remind me that different isn't really good. That fake-nice isn't what being a good girl is really about. Loyalty is. Trustworthiness is. Wholesomeness is. When I become obsessed with an idea: wholesomeness, for example, they're the ones that go with it whole-heartedly.
6. They're the ones that remind me to have standards. Our mothers raised us to be well-rounded, driven, independent women and lowering my standards is like a slap in the face. They remind me to not accept text messages over phone calls, to not forgive drunken conversations, and to be picky. They remind me not to fall in love, because they know I'll let that get in my way. They know my past and remind me of all my many many mistakes that happened when I settled for less than what I deserved. THey remind me that I'm not going to change anyone. That "mission dating" isn't worth it, and that someone's place in heaven isn't dependent on me. If it's not good, if you're not happy, you will never be happy. It will not work. Cry for one night, then move on.

As I keep on my mission, I'll undoubtedly learn more. Maybe I'll finally learn to stop competing with people for no reason other than just to win. Maybe I'll learn to keep my mouth shut. Maybe not. Either way, I know those girls will be the ones to remind me that I'm tougher than I thought. They're prettier than your friends, I guarantee. They can walk better in heels, and have probably flirted with your boyfriend. In one year, I'll be chasing down some crazy dream. I'll be moving, and those girls, the closest things I've ever had to sisters, will be the only ones following. I'll forget about the college friends; I won't remember the bad dates.

Left Side will stay. Just watch.
I've been blessed with family, and I hope I remind them to "walk the walk" too.
Grace and Peace,
jg

Community Service.

This past weekend, I had the joy of going to Miracle Baseball league in Moody, Ala., to actually participate in one of the service projects that I mentioned in my story. It was amazing. There was a little girl who's leg was basically put on backwards by God. Another boy had the worst case of autism I've ever seen. He continued to beat himself on the head as hard as he could over and over again. I found one little boy who was precious then found out he had tried to throw a knife at his sister earlier that morning. One little girl was handicapped only because her father had beaten her so badly as a baby. Another boy was born into his mothers blue jeans because she was so maxed out on crack she didn't even know she was pregnant.

The stories will go on and on. These are the places you see the world, the out of Tuscaloosa world. This is where you meet God face-to-face and he tells you how it is.

I've fallen in love with the underdog, so to speak. I want to write for the voiceless. I've been blessed so much in being able to do mission work in Mexico, Houston, Huntsville and Panama. I've held dying babies. I've talked to 12 year old little girls about how their uncles rape them. I've held hands with the homeless, and I've prayed with drug addicts. I want to show the world these people, and more, I want those of us who have been blessed to go out and help these people. My experiences have made me who I am today. Every tear cried in Panama has just made me stronger. I've seen it, now it's your turn.

The other day, someone told me I wasn't in touch with reality. Here's the thing: I'm more in touch with reality than most people. You want to know what the secret to life is? That none of this matters. Blogs, websites, newspapers, none of it. That's why I chose these stories. I want you to go to sleep at night and feel good. I want you to work hard at a homeless shelter, and go to bed knowing you've fallen in love with them. I want the people of the world to mess with you, turn your way of thinking upside down, then let God himself put you together in something that resembles Him more.

All my stories tie into this. I want to comfort you. I want to write words like my grandmother's house. I want you to feel so comfortable with who you are and the world around you that you go to sleep knowing that good is all around you. I want it to be like homecooked food or long talks with friends. I want to write so that you feel God around you. I want to be His voice telling you, "Hush, child, it's going to be ok. I'm here." I want to bring the angels on earth to you. If that means writing stories about community service opportunites, then I'll do that all day every day. Maybe you're inspired to help them, maybe you're touched by one of my sources. Either way, if you read my story, you saw a little bit of Heaven in the people that are helping.

Dogs

I wrote the story on homeless animals with my own little ragamuffin, Daisy, sitting in my lap. I love that dog. She's my buddy and has nursed me through more heartaches in the past year than I ever thought I would encounter.

I couldn't really say that, you know, that I think everyone needs a pet. But, I do. The world is too hard to go at it alone. Your friends will ultimately turn on you at some point and you will be lonely. Those are the days you need a Daisy.

She's a mess. She's scared of her own shadow but watches Law and Order:SVU every night. When I need to clear my head, she's always ready to go on a walk. So, I walk and walk and pray and pray at night and I talk to her and I talk to God. You know, everything is better after that.

This year, I had awful Tuesdays. Work 8-9, Spanish Civ class 9-11, Geology 11-12:30, Geology Lab 1-3, TCF 112 6-9. Every Tuesday when I got home Daisy was there to run and sit in my lap. That's true love.

I wanted to write a story about these puppies because they've been abused and neglected. Daisy was and I saw how much it affected her. She hates to make me unhappy. So, I wrote for the underdog. I wrote for those puppies on the really sad ASPCA commercial.

This is what I love doing, and this is what I'll continue to do. Writing for the underdog, the people (or animals) that can't speak for themselves.

God is good.

Cleanliness is next to godliness.

I love this picture. It's the view of a baby in Panama taking a bath outside of the church building in Las Garzas. She had a bucket of water and a bar of soap and stood outside washing off for at least 30 minutes. Precious.

I miss this more and more each day.

Updated list of boycotts:

Twitter
Twilight
naming a facebook album after a country song about summer
boys without manners
making stupid hand gestures in EVERY single picture.
Running in heels, because they're idiots.
Grey's Anatomy
Gangsta rap-because I'm white
health food

that's all. for now.
jg

One fine day...

One day, I want to write about Jesus. I want to leave all that theology-talk behind and write about the Jesus that walked this earth. The one that, were He living here today, would stop and talk and drink sweet tea with people sitting on their front porches and probably stop to play ultimate frisbee with college students. I want to use God-inspired words to paint a picture of a Jesus that comforts the hurting and calms, calms, calms, the stressed out. I want to write about a Jesus that understands every human emotion. If people read it in the morning, I want to write about a Jesus that they invite to come and walk with them for the day. If they read it at night, I want to write about a Jesus that makes them sleep a little better because they know they're loved and saved.

Oh, there's no turning back now.

Absolutely nots.

I'm boycotting the following:
Twitter
Twilight
Non-presidential elections
Discussing anyone getting any particular job position, because that's just not nice.
naming a facebook album after a country song or out of context quote
Grey's anatomy

That is all. Thank you,
jg

For I have seen, the Grace of God...

The second day we spent in Alto Playon, Panama, was the best one of my short little life so far. We canoed down the river in a hollowed out tree canoe. We reached the shore and saw some of the natives bathing in the river. There was this one little girl with a cooking pot on her head. Precious. We went to the Embera village the day before and we were back now, just to visit. They had never seen running water, electricity, nothing. Most of them were Columbian refugees that had been driven out when the drug lords came in and raped the women and killed the men. So they came to Panama without visas, birth certificates, passports, no proof that they ever walked this earth. They still live in huts with banana leaf roofs that if you ask really nice, they'll teach you how to hold on to one roof and swing to the other "Como uno mono" or "Like a monkey." Then they'll laugh as the crazy white people (they had never seen white people) scream and hang 10 feet above the ground with one arm on each hut. When we reached the shore, a little girl was waiting for us. Her name was Sylviana and she took my hand and stayed beside me all day. At one point she went and got her baby sister for me to see. When she put the 4 year old in my arms, I knew something was wrong. The little girl had bees all over her and she wasn't strong enough to swat them away. You could tell she was sick. I stood there looking at her for so long, she never spoke, she never moved. She just looked at me with this look that I can still see so perfectly in my head. She knew she was dying. I knew she was dying. Even more, I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I sat her down and she never moved on her own. She just looked at me, dead in the eyes, without hope. Without any chance of surviving. We couldn't get her to a hospital because the indians barely understood us. We were supposed to be on a mission to break the ice to these people and convince them that white people can help them--we couldn't start leaving with babies right away. So, for the next 5 hours, I sat there looking at her. I would put one little hand on my knee and she would leave it there until I moved it again. I washed her off and combed her hair. We forced her to drink gatorade and eat peanut butter crackers. I remember Ashley and Aundreya and me talking about helping her and making her better, all the time knowing that she was going to die. We didn't talk about it for weeks. I don't remember who said it or what they said but it was something along the lines of "that baby isn't alive is she?" We already knew the answer. We knew the answer to that when we were looking at her. Even as I'm sitting here writing this, I can remember exactly how she felt when I took her to her mother that last time.

I hope I never forget the way that baby looked. It brought everything in my entire life into perspective in that one instance. I'll never forget trying to "fix her" trying to make her bettter when the inevitable was just around the corner. I don't know if she lived through the night. I honestly doubt she did.

I can't believe I'll be back in 4 days.

God is good.

jg