Three strikes?

I will never understand protests. Never.

In the history of anything, has any policy ever changed because of a protest? Did any congressman change his mind because of people standing on the courthouse steps? no. It's a good thought, I suppose. Everyone ganging together to stand in the road.

This isn't long. I hope someone will read it and explain to me why people like to protest stuff.

jg

Oh, I've got to get one of these.

I'm working on a story about a Down Syndrome orphan that was adopted out of Ukraine. After hours and hours of research (procrastination) on reecesrainbow.com, I've decided I'm going to get me one of those babies one day. I have to. I highly recommend you go to that web site. There are 12 families in Tuscaloosa adopting internationally right now. Their blogs put mine to shame. I suppose Momma's just have the best words for describing their children.

Also, it's stories like these that remind me how much we take for granted in the U.S. The kid, Xander, was 16 pounds on his fourth birthday. He lived in a closet with five other children. I'll spare you the tears, and there will be tears when you hear the whole story, but we forget that babies live through that.

I have to get me one of those babies one day. One day after I've worked hard, of course.

I'll post the story on here later. It's going to be a profile on this child's life almost told through his eyes. He's had Down syndrome and autism, but I'm going to try my best to put things in his terms.

Suggestions welcomed.

Your poker face.

I'm so tired of hearing about gambling in Alabama.

There are some stories I can hear for days and never get tired, but I never want to hear about electronic bingo again. So, I'm weighing in.

One hand: It's in our constitution that it's illegal. End. Shut them down, put them in jail, capital punishment, whatever you want to do. Just do something.

Other hand: It could help our economy. Let's vote on it. What could that hurt?

DO SOMETHING.

I'm on a few hyper-conservative email lists and I keep getting email that say "Sister Grace met ill fated words at the steps of the courthouse."

Maybe Sister Grace shouldn't have been damning people on the steps of the courthouse. Let's get to the bottom of this. I'm sure Sister Grace is a lovely woman, but nobody is just going to randomly spit on a good Christian woman.

Just, do something Alabama.

Awe-struck.

I'm stressed. Real stressed. But the thing is, I could not ask for more right now. I'm stressed about these amazing opportunities I've been giving. No more complaining. The stories will get done on time, the research will be done, I have a post-grad job in case nothing else opens up. I have family and friends who will drop anything when I need them.

I've been blessed.

We're supposed to keep a blog about newsworthy things, I suppose. I try, but I'm not good at that. I don't want to judge people. I want to write about them, but I always feel like I'm shooting my opinion in when I write blogs. Hm.

I was writing a story the other day and asked God this, 'How do you see these people?' That's what I want to capture. I want to describe how the creator sees them. He knows we aren't perfect. But what characteristics does he see when he looks at us?

Something I read in The Shack was God saying that nothing bad ever comes from Him. We think he 'let us go through it to teach us a lesson,' but I don't think it's like that. We screw up. Other people screw up. We do go through it by His grace, but he didn't cause it.

I've been blessed. I just needed to take a minute to realize that today.

Sometimes, it just can't get any better.

jg

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.