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

Ha decidido seguir a Cristo. No vuelta atras.

I haven't made a list.

I haven't made a list yet.

Not a packing list. Not a to-do list. Nothing. I could be doing that now, but no. I leave in 8 days. Since I have taken up procrastination, I have started journaling, taking Daisy on some long walks, read 2 books, done this, ect. ect. ect.

My luggage is just sitting there in the middle of my floor. Lonely.

My 40 days of stresslessness is surprisingly easy. I've been blessed a lot these past few weeks. Without worrying or blowing things out of porportion, I have so much more time to just sit and enjoy little things.

Examples:
Bessie, the stray puppy we found and kept for a weekend
Family dinners, birthday parties,
Birthday cards, especially those that are really really appropriate
Writing letters to God-admitted, this has become kind of an obsession. I have my journal and everytime I feel myself getting stressed, I write him a note asking Him to take my burdens.
Tanning beds on dreary days, for the vitamin D of course
Afternoon naps
snow! then sunshine.
Good books: Currently reading "Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World"


The more I get ready for the trip, the more I get homesick for Alto Playon. I remember holding this little girl for 7 hours. She was so so so sick. I don't think she's still alive. She sat there while I took hand sanitzier and baby wipes and cleaned her off so the bugs wouldn't be on her face. This is probably the best memory I have. I think it was burned in my brain. I can still see her and feel how heavy she was when I picked her up. But, it was like a different weight. She shouldn't have been that heavy.

I'm ready to go. 8 days.

Grace and Peace,
jg

Sweet dreams are made of these.

I should be getting ready for church. Sitting on my heating pad writing this is keeping me from it though. Being stressless is surprisingly easy.

I wrote this for our church group the other day:

I’ve always wanted God to come to me in a dream. When I was little, I remember reading my King James Bible (you know, the blue one with the picture of Jesus reading to the kids on the front) praying for an angel of the Lord to “cometh” to me in a dream and “sayeth” something important. I always run to my Bible after I have a weird dream, hoping that I missed a passage about Him coming to plain people. The other night, I dreamed I was a particular young blond country singer with a talent for relating to every teenage girl. I was signing autographs when I saw the most beautiful person in the back. I lost him in the crowd of heart-broken girls who only wished to be fearlessly dragged head-first somewhere. The rest of my dream was spent desperately trying to find this person. (It was one of those journey dreams with all the crazy twists and turns) When I did, he turned out to be a servant for a rich man. The last thing I remember was the look on the rich man’s face as I fell at the feet of his servant boy.

Now, I don’t really think this was God coming to me, however, I do believe there’s a lesson. The servant I was seeking has to be Jesus. It just has to be. Nobody else could ever be that beautiful. I constantly think of him as a savior, friend, or prince, but forget that he knelt down and washed the disciples’ feet. My dream was a reminder that we are called to be imitators of Christ and that’s going to include getting down, getting dirty and washing some feet. He never promised us a fairy tale on earth. We weren’t promised riches and Prince Charmings. We are, however, promised an eternity with him and that’s going to be better than any of my dreams.

Grace and Peace,

jg

Birthday.

So, I'm 21 today. I have four classes and a test. I'm not gonna lie, there's a very small part of me that feels like I'm not celebrating because I won't be drinking. It's like Senior Prom where its so hyped up that you forget what it's all about.

I'd rather be in Panama. Hands down. Long days out in the sun, long nights sitting on front porches talking for hours. I leave in 11 days.

In 21 years I have:
-Been to the 5th Ward of Houston 3 times on mission trips
-Been to Mexico once, City of Children!
-Pensacola mission trip
-Spent a month last summer traveling in the Darien rainforest working with Embera indians.
-Danced at Disney World three times.
-kept a 4.0 in college
-blah blah blah.

I think it's a little boring. I've been happy. I've been blessed far more than I will ever deserve. I'm just ready for a change. I'm ready to put away the idea of "doing what I think I'm supposed to do" and move on to doing what I'm called to do. Take risks for Christ. Have a gentle spirit, boldness, stop doing all the kiddie things...the list goes on. Yea, yea, I think it's time for a change.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
1 Corinthians 13:11

I think it's time to put away those childish things.

Things to look forward to:
-Panama in 11 days.
-Hopefully interning this summer at the Women's Missionary Union
-Finally FINALLY getting to write stuff that I want.
-No more drama, no no no more drama drama. I think that goes with the turf of getting rid of childish things.

Maybe this will be the year I figure it all out...maybe. Then again, I'm learning (slowly) that part of the beauty of God's plan is enjoying every minute worshiping Him and not knowing what tomorrow holds.

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

Either way, I think it'll be a very good year.

Grace and Peace,
jg