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