Into Marvelous Light

After this Thanksgiving Break, it's only right that I look back and appreciate life a little bit. I have been blessed beyond words, and I will never be able to express how grateful I am. Allow me to try and fall short: I am thankful, above all, for Jesus. I will forever sing His praises, and I endlessly look forward to the day when I can pass through the veil and thank Him for His sacrifice. I don't know if I will even be able to stand in the presence of His all-consuming Glory. All I know is that I ache for it. He is everything. When life is hard, it is well, and He is forever good. In turn, I am forever grateful. I am thankful for my family. They will always open their arms and welcome me home, and I will always run to them. I could not have asked for anyone better than the Gerbers and the Kipfers. You don't choose your family. But if I could choose, they would be it. They are  it. We're not perfect; life gets messy a lot more than we care to admit, and still we c

I read a book recently that really got me thinking, so here are those thoughts:: We live in a world of consumers. There are so few things in life that I have wanted for—and literally none that I have needed for. It’s haunting. Never have I known the cold of winter without also knowing the warmth of a coat. Never have I known a pang of hunger without also knowing the sweet smell of food on the table. Never have I known the feeling of threadbare clothes without also knowing the feeling of brand-new material against my skin. And sometimes, it makes me feel sick. When is the last time you dropped a few dollars on some unnecessary snack or drink? When was your last impulse buy? When was the last time you went to Wal-Mart or Kroger and picked up a few things that weren’t exactly on your list? When was the last time you bought a new pair of jeans or a shirt because they just looked good on you? I’m only asking you because I’ve been asking myself these questions a lot over th

I found this on Pinterest last week, and I really just cannot get it out of my head. Isn't it beautiful? Sometimes I catch myself drowning in my own self-pity, and I'm realizing how terribly wrong that is. Life isn't fair, but isn't that common knowledge? Why do we see struggles as something to be feared? Why can't we embrace them? Because each wave of sorrow that hits me sends me crashing into the Rock of Ages, and there is nothing more solid or strong than Him. So instead of fearing the pain, I am learning to kiss the waves. If I could stay afloat without Jesus, I wouldn't ever go back to Him. I guess that's kind of the point. When you have it all, you find fortune. When you have nothing, you find Jesus. As it turns out, I don't need it all. I just need Him. I've heard it said that sometimes God takes us into deep waters not to drown us, but to cleanse us. Hey, I'm not going to lie. Most days of this life, I feel li

How my mind works: This research paper is due the week after Thanksgiving Break. Next week is Thanksgiving Break. Paper must be done this week. In case you were wondering (I know, I know—you weren't. Stick with me anyway.), that’s how I function on a regular basis. Is it healthy? Probably not, but that doesn’t matter because my study habits aren’t the core of this post. I just wanted to give you a little background to put this lesson I learned into perspective. Okay? Cool. Here’s the meat (well, actually, a little more backstory and then the meat): So, flashback to Tuesday, and I have a big paper to write with a due date that I’ve set for myself of Friday. My Tuesdays are pretty much free after my class ends at 3:30, so the goal that afternoon was to get a significant portion of that paper written. Totally doable. I was psyching myself up for it and everything. Then during the break, my phone rang. Enter: Jenna. (Side note: Jenna is a girl on my hall who is actually also from

So this is an embarrassing confession, but occasionally I have therapy sessions in my RA’s room [[because Deborah is an actual gem. Like diamond-quality. Except diamonds are probably too mainstream. She’s more of a sapphire. Anyway.]] The embarrassing part isn’t the therapy part—I actually totally advocate counseling. No stigma. For real. The embarrassing part is that poor Deborah has to handle me sitting on the edge of her bed and blubbering incessantly while trying to form coherent sentences. Usually this all goes down while she’s trying to register for classes or write a paper. Which is why she’s a gem. Because she sets stuff aside for people who need her. It’s wonderful. And I’m off-topic again. This blog thing is harder than it looks. ANYWAY. A couple weeks ago, our conversation centered on the way we view losses in our lives. Fun fact for ya: College is hard. Not the school part. That’s old hat for someone who’s been living that academic life for over a decade. No, t

I like words. A lot. Actually, I kind of love them. Isn't it weird how 26 letters can have so much power when you string them together? Oh, I should probably warn you (as if the title of this post didn't already do that) that if you don't love words as much as I do, this might get a little weird for you. But hey, at least I gave you a heads up. Anyway, I have gathered you here today for this post in order to show you some of my  words. Because even if you know me pretty well, you might not know how I write. And I feel like you can tell a lot about a person from the way they write, you know? So featured below is one of my assignments from AP Lit last year. I don't particularly enjoy creative writing for a grade; I'd rather just open a vein when I feel like it, and let whatever happens on the page happen. But this was required, and I ended up actually liking it when I was finished. And I don't know, what's a blog if you don't get to share the things

So. This is a blog? Okay. Cool. For real, though, I thought maybe I should explain myself a little bit. Fast Facts: I’m nineteen. I go to Grace College. I’m a journalism major [for now]. I love Jesus. Kinda boring, right? Right. But see, that’s the thing. I won’t be writing any of these posts for someone who may or may not read them. I’m writing it for me. My brain is a mess of half-finished thoughts, and they just need to go somewhere. I firmly believe that everyone has a story to tell, and they should get to tell it. Not for the people who want to hear it. But for themselves. So this “blog” is for my story. My woes, my wonders. My happiness, my sorrow. Maybe you’ll come along for the ride; maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll see something that resonates with you; maybe you’ll see something you don’t like. At the very least, I hope it makes you think. Even if that thought is, “What is wrong with this girl?” If you have insight to offer, I hope you’ll tell me. If y