Seth's Journey: Part One

Seth licked his lips, tasting the dirt and grit covering his whole body in a film. The evening sun relentlessly bore down on him and he felt a drop of sweat run down his back. Why did it have to be so hot?

The position of the sun, though, reminded him that he was supposed to be home. He quickened his pace, pushing through all the Jews in the marketplace. There sure were a lot of them. Seth looked around, irritated by the crowds. None of them were moving. They weren't going around buying things like you were supposed to in a market. Instead, they stood still.

As he kept shoving through, a voice grew clearer and clearer above the rustling and whispering of the unmoving Jews. Seth caught a glimpse of a man in the middle of them all, talking. He was surrounded by people on all sides.

Seth stopped working his way toward home. What could be so interesting that all the people had stopped their work to just listen?

Apparently not much. The man told a story about some ungrateful servant who demanded payment after his own debt had been canceled. Seth shook his head and kept going toward home.

He took a deep breath before going inside. By now, it was almost dark and he knew his father would be angry with him for staying out so late. He was a Roman citizen and as such, he didn't need to mix with Jews. According to his father, anyway.

Seth tried to sneak in quietly, without being noticed, but it didn't matter. His father paced in front of the door. Seth's entrance made him look up.

"Seth!"

"Good evening, father." Seth didn't look him in the eye, knowing the irritation and impatience he would see.

"Where have you been? It's dark out and you should have been home hours ago!"

"I just went for a walk."

"A walk? Among the Jews? I told you to keep your distance! There are plenty of Roman citizens nearby. Play with one of them!" His voice was still relatively quiet. Seth wasn't sure whether that was a good sign. Usually, by now, his father would be yelling and Seth would wear the obligatory look of remorse while feeling no such thing. But he wasn't yelling.

"I'm twelve. I think I can take care of myself!" This change in the pattern gave Seth the courage to test limits.

"No!" His father put a hand to his head and rubbed his brow. He sighed. "I've told you not to go walking in the market place before and I won't tell you again. Those Jews aren't happy that we're here and I don't want anything to happen to you. Go to bed." He walked away, leaving Seth to marvel at the ease with which he escaped the encounter.



The next morning, Seth ate breakfast with his sister. 

"You could slow down a bit," Juliet scoffed.

"I went to the market yesterday."

"Oh." She knew that would mean no dinner and her growing brother was probably starving. "See anything interesting?"

Seth shook his head. He paused in his eating. "Oh, wait. There was one thing. A man was speaking - telling a story - and all the Jews had stopped to listen. It was strange." He shrugged and went back to eating before remembering something else. "Who was that coughing all night?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Juliet lowered her voice. "It was mother. She got sick yesterday. Father's very worried. The physician doesn't know what's wrong."

Seth looked at his sister. "Is she going to be okay?"

"We don't know." She lowered her eyes. "Finish your breakfast."

To be continued...



Let me know what you think!

-Kira

Write.

The perusal of the teen sections of our local libraries and bookstores has become increasingly depressing. Every third book is a convoluted romance and the ones in between contain vampires, violence, and poor writing.

What happened to all the good books?

I’ve always been an avid reader and realizing the depravity of the books offered to people my age was quite a shock. How am I supposed to find something good, clean, and wholesome to read in the midst of all of this - for lack of a better word - garbage?

Walking through the teen section of my library only renews my longing for something more. Why can’t anyone write something good for teenagers?

Wait a minute.

Why can’t I write something good for teenagers?

Writing is also a passion of mine and recently, I figured out why. I want to provide excellent things for people to read. I want not only excellent stories, but excellent characters, excellent words, and excellent morals.

I know the kind of book I want, so why don’t I write it? There are others like me out there - sick of the sin dripping through all the dust jackets encasing the stories aimed at people our age. I’m not the only one feeling the evil thrown at me all the time.

“Be the change you want to see in the world.” Kind of a cheesy quote, once you’ve heard it enough times. But it’s also a convicting one. If we want something different, let’s make it.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:8

What we read shapes what we think and God tells us exactly what kind of thing we’re supposed to be thinking. It’s not the kind of thing given to us from media (including books) on a regular basis.

So why don’t we start creating our own books to read? Clean books. True books. God-honoring books.

Don’t get me wrong - it’s going to be a long process. I hear it’s a lot of work to get a book published and it won’t happen overnight.

But will you work with me? All of you who desperately want to see their name on the spine of a story, will you join me in changing what’s given to young readers everywhere?

The only way to do that is to write. Pick up your pen, open your laptop, put ink in your quill. Work on your craft. Work bit by bit. Day by day. And maybe, someday, we’ll see our names there, in little letters, below a title we worked so hard to create. And when our brothers and sisters in Christ open the story we brought into the world, they’ll read new things. Encouraging things. Hard things. But good things.

It’s not going to be easy. But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? We want good things to read. Let’s go make them.

-Kira

Take Care of Yourself

Everyone has a lot going on in their lives. Teenagers, adults, parents, everyone. Often, busyness means sacrificing something in order to make it all fit. It's only natural: there's too much to fit into a day, so you pick something to forgo. I am all for taking out the unnecessary things - it's something I need to work on and grow in myself. But today, I want to ask you to not get rid of taking care of yourself.

In the middle of all the things we have going on, there are a lot of obligations: to school, jobs, friends, sports, family, etc. So, when making room for all these things, it's easy to choose (whether on purpose or not) to stop caring for yourself properly.

A lot of times, this sounds selfish to me. I'm not supposed to be focused on taking care of me, myself, and I, right? There are other people around me and they're supposed to receive my love and attention.

And yes, that's true. Jesus tells us to love one another - it's how the world will know who we are. But now I want to ask you, can you really love your friends, family, coworkers, and that random person in Kroger to the best of your ability when you're tired and burned out?

The answer is no.

Taking good care of yourself isn't just something that's responsible and will make your mom happy when you go to college. It helps you to show God's unconditional love to the people around you. Plus, the people closest to you can usually tell when you're not doing a very good job of it.

There are a few major areas that each of us needs to focus on in ourselves before we can properly pour into other people:

Spiritual

Please please please do your devotions! As a sinner with ideas of my own, I skip mine way too much. But when I spend time with God in the morning, that's a peaceful time that starts my day off right. And not everyone's devotion time has to look the same. You don't have to spend exactly thirty minutes reading, twenty two praying, and ten and a half singing worship songs. I usually read a chapter or a section in the book I'm going through (Psalms right now) and then write a prayer in a journal a lovely friend gave me. It doesn't take very long, so please spend time with God. He cares about you and wants you to love others in a strong way that can only be done by His love flowing through you.

Physical

Everyone knows that if you eat the right things and get some good exercise, you'll feel better. So just do it. I'll admit, discipline is hard for me in this area. I like stay up late reading or watching a movie and then get up early to get started on things. So, yeah, add good sleep to the list of things to make sure you get. We all know that we feel a lot better and can focus on other people more when we're not tired, eating right, and getting a little bit of exercise. I know it might be hard to do all these things, but it's worth it.

Mentally/Emotionally

This one's pretty simple. Stay home and read a book. Take a nap. Watch a movie. Go for a walk. Make cookies. Do something you really like to do. But do it by yourself. Let yourself not be at all concerned with what anyone's going to think. Maybe even skip a party or social event if you don't have time for this one. I'm not telling you to have no social life - that's important too. But make sure you get some alone time every once in a while.

I am not saying these things in order to be presumptuous or look like I've got it all together myself. I'm doing it because I know what it's like to not take care of myself in these ways and I've seen my friends struggle with the same things. It's not good and won't get you anywhere you want to go. So today, I ask you again to please take the time to take care of yourself. It's not selfish and it's definitely worth the effort.

-Kira

"What Does Practice Make?"

"What does practice make?"

"Perfect!"

"No. What does practice make?"

Every season of coaching our middle school soccer teams, Daddy would ask the same question in the middle of warmup touches. Confused silence always followed after the initial answer was rejected. Every single one of us girls had been told our whole lives that "practice makes perfect." So what was Coach/Daddy talking about?

After a minute, if no one offered any new answers, he provided the correct one for us.

"Permanent. Practice makes permanent."

And then he proceeded to explain.

"It doesn't matter how much you practice something if you're practicing it wrong. Whatever you do during practice is what's going to become permanent in your head. And then that's what you'll do during the game."

After the first couple times, my sister and I would exchange knowing smiles as the chorus of wrong answers were breathlessly given between touches, followed by the same explanation.

After a while, I realized that this sentiment doesn't just apply to soccer. Rarely anything does unless it's "shoot for the posts" or "keep the offender outside."

Everyone who makes a practice of sinning also practices lawlessness; sin is lawlessness. (1 John 3:4)

The practice of these people is certainly not leading to perfection! A few verses later, John practically tells us right out not to believe the old adage about practice making perfect.

Little children, let no one deceive you. Whoever practices righteousness is righteous, as he is righteous. Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. (1 John 3:7-8a)

There's another old saying that almost everyone knows: you are what you eat. I'd like to think this is similar. You are what you do.

What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? . . . So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. But someone will say, "You have faith and I have works." Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works. (James 2:14,17-18)

Our works are what show our faith and the works we do regularly (habits) are made by practice. I can't help but think of the line Daddy always used to end his mini lecture.

"Practice doesn't make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect."

-Kira

Smoky Mountains

I am, by no stretch of the imagination, a photographer. But I still like to take pictures because when you're deliberately taking pictures (especially for something like a blog post), you have to stop and look for the beauty. You're basically forced to enjoy God's Creation and I think that's pretty cool. So here are the pics from our trip to the Smoky Mountains a couple weeks ago.

Sunrise over the mountains

Pancakes for breakfast :)

This was outside the cabin in the picture above -
I thought it was a creative way to warn people :)

A mile is much too far for a four year old's legs.

She posed for me :D

So much snow we got an extra day of snowed in vacation!

An overlook near the cabin

What better way to get down the mountain than sliding on ice?

The pictures really don't do it justice and I'd love to go back. But for now, I can remember. :)

-Kira

When Snow Touched the Earth

I recently pulled out an old school project because my sister's doing the same one right now. It was one of my favorites at the time and I think it still is. For the class, we were in the middle of reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. The idea behind the project was to take two sentences that you were given and expand them into a whole story or lecture or whatever you pleased.

Dickens was payed by the word and so he used a lot of them. This "maximalist" approach is what I used in my project, which I decided to post.

As you read this, you should know a couple points of background that I had in my head as I wrote. First, these are hobbit-like creatures. They're not hobbits, but they're quite similar. Second, they live in a future dystopian America, which happens to be part of the reason they're not actually hobbits.

Enjoy!

* * *

When Snow Touched the Earth

Beebo Appleby carefully yet firmly set his boot on the tile floor of his mother’s kitchen. He sighed. Twenty seven years old and still living with his mother, searching her kitchen for bites to eat. The room was small in a cute way. Not small in a cramped way as many houses were in those days. It was unusual to invite guests over in the winter for there was no space in which even to greet them. It was this new “regulated housing” that the fascist government had so raved about. They had insisted that it would be better for all the people, eliminating jealousy and thus also thievery, murder, and other crimes of the horrific type.

Some were happy with this new housing and others (like Mr. Appleby) were quite irritated by it. Not that being unhappy did any good. The government didn’t particularly care about what the people thought. Their iron grip was strong enough to allow them to do as they pleased.

The worn work boots padded their equally worn way across the black and white tiles to the small window on the opposite wall. They were lucky to have glass. Most of their neighbors had only sealed plastic wrap over the few openings in their walls. Beebo shivered in sympathy. Working for the government sure had its perks. Like central heating. The mayor insisted that there were simply not enough resources to heat every house in the city and the suffering of the few led to the benefit of the whole society.

Beebo rolled his deep brown eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. A shiver went down his spine as the temperature outside battled with that of his body. Snowflakes swirled in a graceful dance across the meadow, leaving behind a shimmery white blanket to cool the earth.

The snow reminded him of Joanna. Just yesterday they had been catching snowflakes on their tongues down by the ancient frozen river a mile yonder. Joanna had brushed a few crystals off of her nose and giggled. A rosy hue had risen to her freckled cheeks in response to the cold. She twirled in a circle, dress spinning and smiled at Beebo. “I love the snow! There’s something about it that makes it seem like all of the troubles in the whole world will go away forever under the quilt stitched every winter. Something almost magical.” Then she giggled again and collapsed into a snowbank.

The happiness and joy that had filled him at that frozen river now left him empty and depressed. He patted his jacket pocket. It was still there. The letter had been delivered just that morning. Drops of water stained the page and the tilted handwriting was a little messier than usual.

Joanna had written to tell him that they had been relocated to Arizona. She had found out as soon as she arrived at the large family’s miniscule house the previous day. They could never see each other again. The swirling snow no longer seemed to be filled with light magic but that of a darker force. Beebo tried to be happy for her. Now the whole Smugu family would be warm through the winter and her father could have a better job. Everyone knew the economy was better in Arizona than Maine.

The soft clicks of high heels sounded down the hallway, recalling Beebo to reality. His mother and Mrs. Smugu had been very good friends and now he would have to give her the upsetting news. He turned to the doorway, resolve written across his stout features.

* * *

By the way, you should defintiely go read A Tale of Two Cities! It's kind of long, but one of my absolute favorite books that I've ever been assigned for school - I would have read it without the assignment. :)

-Kira

Studying

After deciding to lock myself in my room for the next hour and a half to get some midterm studying done, I opened the curtains. That was a huge mistake since I already knew it was snowing. And peaceful snow drifting down in a soft blanket can be quite distracting when you're looking at ancient Greek plays. Sooo I took some pictures. (By the way, the falling snow is kind of hard to see because I took most of them through my bedroom window.)

I just had to add this one because it's making
my whole room smell like gingerbread. :)

All right, break over. Back to those plays ;)

-Kira

"Even the sparrow..."

There are a lot of things in this life that make me anxious or nervous. Like going to math class the first time. Or performing or speaking in front of people. Or, most recently, going to a job interview. I am a generally anxious person. I'm always thinking about what could go wrong and what will happen if said thing goes wrong and can it ever be fixed or will my life be ruined forever.

A couple years ago I found a verse that has since been my favorite.

The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. -Philippians 4:5b-7

I'm not supposed to be anxious about anything. Anything at all. That covers everything from going to the dentist to my little sister going to live with someone else. Anything.

Since I found that verse, I'm still anxious a lot. But I repeat it over and over in my head. I thought it would take away all worry if I said it enough times. That I would eventually just never be anxious about anything at all. That's not quite how it's worked so far.

Recently, I had my first ever job interview. As you can probably guess, I was nervous - which also means talking a lot. I said this verse to myself and it certainly didn't take away the nervousness. But it did do something else. I realized that even though I was still anxious about this interview, I wasn't anxious deep down. That probably doesn't make much sense, so let me explain.

It used to be that I was nervous and scared all the way to my core when something new was coming up. But now, when I remember that God has control, I'm only nervous on the surface. Because it is scary to do something new and unknown. It's uncomfortable to step outside your comfort zone. But I'm not nervous on a deeper level. Now, I don't have to dwell on that worry for the weeks leading up to the big day. I can think about other things because I know that whatever happens, God's still going to be sovereign and the world's still going to be spinning at the end of the day. And if it's not, I know where I'll be. :)

Be still and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress.

-Psalm 46:10-11

I can be still because God will be exalted no matter what.

In Matthew 10, Jesus talks about how we compare to sparrows in the sight of God. If He keeps track of and takes care of them, how much more will He take care of us? Some of us on the mime team (for an explanation, see the "About Me" page) have been given the assignment of creating a mime for part of our testimony. The song I chose is, coincidentally, Sparrows by Jason Gray. You should definitely listen to it, but it starts with the words:

You can't add a single day,

by worrying.

You'll worry your life away.

And the chorus adds:

Oh, even the sparrow

knows He holds tomorrow.

If even a tiny little bird can trust God to take care of him, then I have no reason to doubt that He can take care of me.

-Kira

"Then I will go to the altar of God..."

Have you ever stopped to think about how awesome (as in, awe-inspiring) prayer is? It is the way that we, as simple, ant-like human beings can speak directly to the Creator of the universe and Sustainer of all life. Any time we want.

I've been reading Psalm 43 lately in my devotions. I can't quite get past it. The verses that make me just stop and stare at my Bible over and over again are verses 3-4.

Send out your light and truth;

let them lead me;

let them bring me to your holy hill

and to your dwelling!

Then I will go to the altar of God,

to God my exceeding joy,

and I will praise you with the lyre,

O God, my God.

"Send out your light and truth." That reminds me of another verse. "Jesus said to him, 'I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'" (John 14:6) I read an essay for school that pointed out that there's no specific group of Pslams that are the "Messianic Psalms." All of the Psalms are Messianic. God sent out His light and truth in Jesus.

"Let them lead me." I love this part of the verse. Jesus will lead me. I can make my life His and He will take the lead.

But my favorite bit is in verse 4. "Then I will go to the altar of God." Because Jesus came and He leads me, I can pray freely to God. In the Old Testament, that wasn't okay. No regular old person could just go around talking to God all the time. But now, in the New Covenant, we're not only allowed to approach our Father, but encouraged and commanded to.

The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. (Philippians 4:5b-6)

That's what I've been thinking about lately. I just can't get over how blessed I am to be allowed to speak to God. Any time I want for whatever reason I want.

As I'm sure you know, the subject of prayer is a vast one that can be explored from many different angles, but I don't want to do that today. I just wanted to express and share my appreciation of the blessing we've been given in being allowed communication with our Maker.

-Kira

Why You Should Drop What You're Doing And Go For A Run Right This Second

My old running shoes - apparently you're not supposed to wait
until they are ripped and the tread's coming off for new ones. :D

One of the best feelings ever is taking the last step of an extremely intense run and collapsing into a stumbling walk with a grin stretched across your panting face. At least in my opinion. ;)

And I want to share that feeling, so today I thought I'd compile a list of perfectly solid reasons why everyone should start running right now. (You could also call it a list of why I love running so much.)

1. It's good for you. This one's a no brainer.
2. The end of a run always leaves you with a sense of accomplishment, if you let it. This morning, I really struggled to get up out of bed. I knew it was snowing. I knew it was cold. I knew it was dark. And I did not. Want. To. Run. But I made myself get up anyway and at the end, I couldn't stop smiling because I made myself do it.
3. You get to have all those cool running things. Shoes, shorts, socks, apps, you name it! Plus, they make great rewards for meeting goals...
4. You can slow down and take things in. Before anyone else gets up in the morning, the world is quiet and beautiful. Last Saturday, I got to see hot pink clouds dye the world a lighter pink as the sun rose. And the snowflakes dancing down in the dark this morning. It's a great time to pray and clear your head.
5. Quality time with your dog - or brother. Our dog is old and fat now so...
6. Your head is clear for the rest of the day. This one is not a complete guarantee but I have noticed that when I run, the rest of my day goes so much better. It's now one of the things I say to myself when my bed is warm and the alarm's going off: "You know your whole day is better when you run. So get up!"
7. Instant hobby. Really, this one's pretty self explainatory too. It's something to do that's good for you.
8. Time alone. I know this contradicts number 5, but every run's different. Sometimes, I go for an extra if something's driving me crazy. When you come back tired, it tends to be a lot harder to be upset.
9. Great ideas magically appear. I get all sorts of new ideas for writing, cooking, school, anything, when I run. And it's totally random most of the time. I'll be thinking about how I wish more people left their Christmas lights on early in the morning, and then I have a new way to do something.
10. Time for podcasts! I have a few podcasts I love to listen to and I don't really have a lot of time to do that at home. But I can download them and listen to them while I run. Entertainment during painful stretches and finishing up those podcasts you wanted to hear.
11. Food. After a long run, you can seriously eat all day and still be hungry. Which means you can make cookies and still want to eat some after licking the bowl. I mean, ahem, eat apples and carrots and protein all day...not. ;)

There you go. Eleven whole reasons why you should go pull on your shoes and get out the door. Convinced?

-Kira

Mask

Are we happy plastic people?

Under shiny plastic steeples?

With walls around our weakness?

And smiles that hide our pain...

I've worn a smile that hides my pain more than I care to admit. And the walls around my weakness? Yep, been there. The mask of plastic? Worn it.

Casting Crowns' Stained Glass Masquerade does quite a good job of capturing just what it is to hide your true self behind a mask.

And I don't mean that stuff about who you really are in a Disney way. I mean it in a Christian way. Even though I had the head knowledge that I could exchange man's judgement for God's, I didn't believe it until this past summer.

"Yeah, okay, I'm being who God wants me to be. I don't worry about what other people think about me because I don't have to."

Right. That's what I told people. "It's all under control."

But that's part of the mask. It's not all under control. At any given point in time, something's not going to be perfect, but why does anyone else need to know that? I just kept it inside. As I smiled and said I was doing splendidly, my inside voice whisper-screamed, "No! I'm not okay! I can't do this any more!"

That's one I thought over and over again. "I can't do this any more!" Meaning school, friends, church, family. It's exhausting to be acting constantly. But guess who I told? No one. Because what if they judged me? What if they had it all together and I would just look bad if I told them I didn't?

It turns out, no one has it all together. And it also turns out that a lot of other people don't want to share their problems either. That's what I learned this summer. Written like that, it looks pretty depressing. But when you add the third thing I learned, it sounds a little more comforting.

Everything is better when you share your life with other people.

They can pray for you, they can hold you accountable, they can comfort you. The people around you are struggling too. And they want to help.

I refused to realize that completely until this summer. When I had to, I would give some small struggle that wasn't really the whole picture. I thought that would fool people. It didn't. When I finally opened up this summer, or, rather, took off the mask, I found out that you can't actually hide yourself from the people who love you and that it's not worth it to try.

I don't have some huge climax to this story, but I will tell you that it's made my life so much better to let other people see that I'm only human. I feel free - I'm not locked behind an image that I wanted the world to see. Now I can actually care what God thinks. And people still love me.

But if the invitation's open

to every heart that has been broken,

maybe then we close the curtain

on our stained glass masquerade.

-Kira

Reasons and Excuses

If I were so inclined, I could produce a plethora of reasons (insert: "excuses") as to why I haven't written anything in the past few (ahem, five) months.

Fortunately for you, I am not so inclined.

I will, however, state one reason (do not insert "excuse" here): I haven't had anything to write about.

I'm completely serious. The author wannabe hasn't had a single thing to write about in nearly five months now. Not counting, of course, a few e-mails and texts and things of that nature. Though I will admit I am abominably slow at replying to such things. Oh, and homework. Who could forget a lovely thing like that?

But I haven't had anything to say on here, on this blog. As you likely know, I usually write things like fiction, anecdotes from my real life, and ways that God's been working on me.

Ah, ways that God's been working on me. Such a lovely thing to ponder... Wait a minute. If I haven't had anything to say on any of those topics for almost half a year, does that mean He's just stopped? I'm no longer growing? I've finally reached that point of perfection so long sought after?

I'm not going to insult your intelligence by trying to convince you of that. No one's perfect, believe it or not, and I'm pretty sure it's a safe bet to say you believe that.

So why the drought of words? If I haven't become the epitome of all that is beautiful and pure in the world, why have I had nothing to say on the subject of anything lately? Has God given up on me? Is that it? He threw up His hands in disgust and left to work on some holier project?

Um, no.

I can tell you with 100% certainty that God hasn't given up on me. If Jesus went all the way to the point of death on the cross for me while I was still as dead as a person can get in my sin, why would He stop molding me to His image now? The thing is, He wouldn't.

So that brings me back to my original question. What happened to all the thoughts that I normally transform so eagerly into sentences to push out into the wide wide world to be read by people who aren't me and my imaginary friends?

I'll tell you what happened. It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say. Nope. Just ask my sister, I've been talking probably more than ever since the July of my last post. And we've already determined that God hasn't stopped working on me. Quite the contrary actually - He's been growing me in ways that make me beyond grateful and that I didn't see coming.

So are you ready for the answer then? The reason behind the lack of typed verbiage? There are two of them actually and here they are:

1. I didn't think any of it was good enough to say.

2. I didn't think I could do justice to what I did want to say.

Can we just take one second to laugh really hard at reason number 1? Seriously, go ahead. I have.

I'll explain that moment of laughter. If I claim to be a Bible believing, born again Christian (and I do), shouldn't I be growing in my faith every single day and not taking five month breaks? Yes, I should and yes, I have been. So if, like I've said, God has been working in me this whole time, isn't that part of my testimony or witness or whatever word you want to use? Yes, of course it is. My testimony doesn't end with salvation. That's more like the beginning. Finally, if that growth is part of my testimony, how can it possibly not be good enough to say? Am I really criticizing God on how He's been using me and growing me and telling Him it's not good enough to post on the internet? Let's take another laughing break, only this one should be in disbelief and with lots of head shaking.

But that's what I've been thinking. "Wow, I love all this growth and learning new stuff, but I don't think anyone else would want to read about it. So I'll just go read some other blog written by some interesting person." Really? First off, who cares if anyone wants to read it? My popularity (or lack thereof) in this life has absolutely nothing to do with who I am. Nothing. At all. Second, if God loves me as His daughter and is taking the care to grow me in a way that is special to me, He deserves praise and glory for that. Right? I mean really, am I right? Yes! So how dare I think that I don't have anything good enough to say! If God's working in me and through me, I should never run out of things to say, regardless of who reads them.

On to reason/excuse number 2.

I didn't think I could do justice to what I did want to say. So, yes. there were a few things that I thought I'd like to write about and post, but I didn't think I could say them well enough. I mean, I'm a teenager, still working on my writing, growing my fancy-schmancy vocabulary and learning how to make things interesting and fit together. How could I possibly say what God wants me to say in the way He wants me to say it? It simply can't be done.

I am really hoping right now that you read that last paragraph in the most sarcastic voice your brain could supply. If you didn't, please go back and try again. I'll wait.

Am I ever going to be perfect? Nope. So am I ever going to be able to perfectly show what God's doing in my life? Nope again. Well, if I can't do it perfectly, then why bother?

Turns out, I'm supposed to bother because God told me to bother. If I don't praise the Lord, the stones will. And who wants to lose in praising God to a bunch of rocks? Um, not me.

No, I can't write everything perfectly, no matter how hard I try. And I probably can't do it justice. But the point is that I try. I give my absolute best for God and quit acting like I have to be any good by my own strength before He can use me. Guess what. He can use me now. He could use this imperfect post I'm typing viciously away at however He feels like it. And who am I to stop using the words He's given me because I don't think they're good enough? No one, that's who.

So there you have it. That's why I haven't been writing. Because I'm a sinner who doesn't want to praise God for what He does for me.

Well, that's going to change. In fact, it already has. Look at this, I'm writing about what God showed me recently right this very second! I love my God and I want other people to love Him too. I want to be used by Him to show other people how great and amazing He is. I'm not going to do it perfectly, but I still want to do it. What could possibly be better than to have a testimony and a witness used by God in someone else's life? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So maybe now you could go back to where I said not to insert "excuse" and go ahead and put it in there. Because there is no reason good enough to not give glory to God.

-Kira

My Summer Mantra

In my mind, nothing compares to the blissful peace (or, at the very least, comforting familiarity) of spending uninterrupted days at home. Enough work to occupy the morning and most of the afternoon, completed at an old desk featuring a map of Tolkien's Middle Earth. A stack of more library books than will likely be read before the due date, despite my loathing to admit the fact, on the wall of bookshelves. Two dogs overwhelmed with joy whenever I deem it within my means to give them a simple pat on the head.

As Maria from The Sound of Music put it, "These are a few of my favorite things!"

Wouldn't it be nice if that was all life consisted of? Old friends, familiar running routes, black coffee in "You Are My Sunshine" mugs. The comfortable, the worn, the familiarly frayed things that surround us at home.

Of course, anyone older than two can tell you that this fantasy is not how the world works. We can't always stay home and enjoy the archives of Doctor Who while eating vanilla ice cream covered in too many of the colorful sprinkles that delight young children. Sometimes, instead, we have to get up early in order to consume a hotel breakfast with hotel coffee before everyone else in said hotel wakes up and descends upon the breakfast room.

That said, I have been traveling for the last few weeks without much of a rest at home in between, heading from place to place to place. To place.

Don't misunderstand me - I love to travel! I love seeing new places, gaining new experiences and spicing up life with variety. However, as I have before mentioned, I do tend to have introvert inclinations and I love being at home.

Just over a week through, a thought kept trickling through my mind. Aren't vacations supposed to be restful? Any time something didn't happen just the way it should or I was getting tired and edgy yet again, that's what I would start thinking. Aren't vacations supposed to be restful?

That, of course, got me absolutely nowhere. How could it? Asking a useless question to yourself and not someone else in an overly sarcastic mental voice is not ever going to change anything one bit. Or so I have discovered.

I had halfheartedly been doing devotions every day of the first vacation (and a few days into the second), mostly wishing for home in between trying to glean something from distracted reading when God did one of those things where He completely and totally changes my perspective on something. I don't remember what I was reading. I don't remember what I was thinking. I do remember that I was sitting on a hotel bed in a blessedly empty room with my Bible app open on my kindle fire. But I wasn't dutifully and mindlessly reading. I was praying.

It wasn't one of those "please bless so-and-so and thank you for enough food and clothes" types of prayers (though there's nothing wrong with those). It was one of those "Just help me make it through this vacation! I can't take it any more! My brothers are driving me insane and I'm sick and I have a hundred things I would rather be doing at home right now!" prayers. One of those where you let everything spill out (sometimes including a few tears, as long as there's no one else in the room) and admit you can't do it by yourself.

Then a different thought came to me - one to replace the ever bitter Aren't vacations supposed to be restful? I know that the new thought wasn't from me though. I was still in my "get me out of here!" mindset. The new thought was this:

God is the same everywhere.

Just five simple words. God is the same everywhere. An indescribable mixture of peace and joy rose up from inside me at this new thought.

God is the same at home and at camp and on vacation and at work and in the Eiffel Tower and on the moon and everywhere else. Even when my morning routine includes spreading goopy sunscreen all over already half burnt, half tanned skin and when lunch is from a cooler in the back of the car and when respite is sought in a few feet of shade within earshot of someone else's little sister attempting karaoke. That became my new mantra (if you can call it that) for the rest of the vacation, helping to push aside Aren't vacations supposed to be restful?

The next week, I was away from home again. And guess what? Those five words were still true. I know, go figure. God is the same everywhere.

I pray that those five words stay with you and encourage you, whether you're in a hotel in Europe or a cabin in North Carolina or on the couch in your living room with an old book.

Believe it or not, after getting home a couple days ago, we're leaving again Saturday morning for yet another trip. I think my "mantra" from that second week will turn into my "mantra" for the summer as I continue to be away from home doing all sorts of different things and visiting all sorts of different places.

And as I climb into the car from the crisp Virginia early morning air on Saturday, I will remember.

God is the same everywhere.

-Kira