I'd like to think things are changing...and maybe they are

You would think that by the time I hit twenty years old, I'd kind of be over my teenage insecurities, right? It's logical, isn't it? I'm in my twenties. I'm mature. I'm figuring my life out. I'm self-assured and totally confident in myself. That's the stereotype. Teenagers are insecure and petty. Young adults are secure and wise.

Let's just break down that stereotype right now, shall we? Great. Thanks.

In that one day that I went from nineteen to twenty, I didn't suddenly feel like all my insecurities melted away and like I could pound through the lobby of my dorm with the glow of a new women. November 13th wasn't that miraculous. It was a great birthday, but nothing happened. Other than a great dinner with friends, that is.

My point is that I had been deluded into thinking that being twenty would take away all my insecurities and that I would be 100% confident in who I am. I guess I can thank modern society for that little fantasy. 

But what I learned from that (rather unfortunate) lesson is some wisdom and a reminder of the same thing I've been hearing my whole life: in every milestone, I think that those who were there before me were so much more... (fill in the blank). When I was in elementary school, I thought middle school was going to rock (it was actually the worst 3 years of my life, but that's irrelevant). When I was an eighth grader, all I wanted was to be in high school. High schoolers were smart and cool and pretty and had life all together. They don't. Speaking from four years of experience. And from day one of my senior year at CHS, I was dreaming of college. College students were amazing. They had their lives perfectly planned out. They were so cool, to sound corny. They were living the good life and had it all together. So I thought twenty-something-year-old people were infinitely more mature. 

No. Wrong.

Turns out, everyone has issues with insecurities, whether you're a sixth grader without a lunch table or a college student feeling like you're completely invisible in a sea of 50,000 students. I know because I've experienced both. That dark thought of "I'm not enough" has been on my mind for too long. I thought it would change at every stage of my life and it hasn't. There's always something that I'm trying to achieve that's just out of my reach. Sometimes there's an adjective that goes between "not" and "enough". Pretty, smart, funny, charming, talkative, quiet, coordinated, athletic. All of those and more. And I've always thought it would change. But it hasn't and I've never known why.

Until now.

Now I know that it's me.

I've been clutching my insecurities like a lifejacket since I was twelve years old. They were constant and I knew how to hide them from everyone except for the people who knew me the best. No one who I didn't want to know didn't have to know. The issue was that while most of me was growing up and learning, I kept my fears and worries close until they became normal. I still don't know what to do with myself when I'm not feeling insecure because they've always been there. It's a new feeling to not be concerned with saying the wrong thing or worried that I'm going to knock something over and make a fool out of myself. Thankfully, I've let go of some of them.

But it's been a hard process. I give pieces of my heart away too easily. I wear it on my sleeve. I get emotionally invested quickly and have a hard time pulling out and letting go. Change scares me; that's why I've held onto things that hurt because it's the same all the time.

I'm getting better about being freer. I laugh when I trip and stumble over my words. I be the Linley that I want to be around people I don't know instead of trying to impress them. One of my best friends is accurately described as "genuine" and she's, thankfully, rubbing off on me at least a little bit.

I'm made in the image of a perfect God, flawless and beautiful, meant to be pursued and to have an enormous capacity for love. I know that. Now to embrace it. 

I can't even imagine

I can't even imagine...

What it was like to be 14 years old and suddenly pregnant because an angel said you would be

What it was like to be the human father of the Savior

What it was like to not have a place to sleep for a night

What it was like to have shepherds stare at your baby because he was supposed to save the world

What it was like to follow a star

What it was like to hide from a king who wanted your child dead

What it was like to not know how to raise a different sort of king, but definitely a king

What it was like to know you were just a part of history

What it was like to look at your child and know that he was born to die


Keep Christ in Christmas because, without Him, we wouldn't have anything.

Typical.

So last night after getting about half of my paper done for English, I went and hung out with friends for way later than I should have. When we went to Taco Bell at 1:30am, I knew that I probably wasn't making the best decision of my life. When I stayed up talking to a friend into the wee hours of the morning, I really knew that I should get to bed. In the back of my mind, I knew that my body would probably rebel against me in the next few days.

Unfortunately, I underestimated how fast my body was going to get mad at me. When my alarm went off for church this morning, the first thing I felt was the pounding in my temples and how it felt like my legs were full of jelly. When I finally got up--2 hours later--and stumbled to the bathroom, I learned that my stomach was really not happy and I'm a little afraid to eat anything at this point.

Naturally, this came when I'm going to be testing for almost 3 hours tomorrow and I still have a lot of studying to do. I should be writing my paper right now but I'm blogging. I know that I'll get everything done and I'll do my best on my tests, but the actual getting there? Especially when I'm getting there with a headache and stomachache? Not enjoyable.

At this point, I'm just praying to not be stressed. Tomorrow I have my two hardest finals and this paper is pretty important.

But how do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

Phil. 4:6-7

All in perspective

So I'm currently sitting in this lounge area by my dorm, doing chapter quizzes for my astronomy class. In the last 48 hours, I've probably studied during 24-26 of them and I'm still going nuts. I'm going to have sweet dreams of the 1050 Crusades and accretion disks flattening to become stars. Welcome to finals week, reader.

Here's my schedule: On Friday (tomorrow), I have 2 finals back-to-back. Astronomy and anthropology. Hopefully I'll be done testing by 4ish or so. When I sell those text books, I'll head back to my room to maybe take a nap and watch a show that I missed. Then I'll probably study or work on my English paper that's due on Sunday at midnight (though I plan to have it finished by the time I go to bed on Saturday so Sunday can be devoted to geography and history). On Monday, after a long weekend of studying, I'll get up and take my geography of Texas exam at 10:30, which ends at 12:30. At 1, my last final begins in my history class and by the time 3 o'clock comes around, I'll be free. Textbook-less, stress-less, and fearless, you will know one happy girl.

I cannot wait until Monday at 3. But I have a lot to truck through before I get there. 4 exams and a paper that I've been stressing about and studying for. And I'm losing motivation and strength. When I say that Monday afternoon can't come soon enough, I'm dead serious. I'm practically counting the hours.

But the fact of the matter is that it's 5 grades. All this stress and anxiety will amount to no large feat or moment in my life. Right now, it seems like a big deal, but in 5 years I'm not going to be thinking "Wow, that geography class was so important in my life" or something. No. I probably won't think about these classes (except for my English class) again after this semester.

What I'm getting at is that how I do in these classes is not going to determine the rest of my life. I'm not going to be rejected for a job because I got a B in my freshman history class. What's going to matter is the decisions I made outside the classroom. Who I spent my time with, what I invested in, where my hope was. And if I spent time with people who didn't love the Lord, if I didn't invest in my academics or my faith, and if my hope was in my studying abilities, I'll have to consider my first semester of college a failure.

Thankfully, it hasn't been. I've been blessed beyond all comparison with amazing friends, priority checks, and humbling circumstances that pushed me to put my hope in the infallible One. The Lord loves me regardless of the fact that I didn't make straight A's. He doesn't expect me to do more than what I'm capable of and what I can't do, He does. I succeed through Him and when I trust in only myself, I fall. But I'm caught in His arms.

I'm safe. I'm loved. I have a bright and beautiful future.

Finals, you ain't got nothin' on Him.

Next day, next week, next month, next semester

This post is going to be a jumbled mess. I'm just preparing you now before you start reading. Consider yourself warned.

Today is Monday. Today is the last day in my geography and anthropology classes. Today is the day that I start hardcore studying for my finals that are looming above me in the next seven days. The next day (some people call it "tomorrow") is Tuesday. Tuesday at five in the morning is when I register for my classes next semester. That means I'm rolling out of bed at 4:30 to make sure everything is in order and I'll constantly be refreshing the page to make sure all my options still have room in them (because a few are cutting it somewhat close). Most, I think, are good. But then, crisis, I need to be forced into a class. It's highly inconvenient but academic advisors are wizards with professors so we'll see what we can do. But if my dream schedule works, I'll only have one class on Friday and it ends at 12:20--which is kind of epic.

Next week, on Monday at 3pm, I will be officially done with my first semester of classes in college. That Wednesday I'll be home in a big, non-lofted bed with real water pressure in my shower and vegetables in the kitchen and a walk-in pantry and recliners. I'm a little excited. The family time will be so refreshing after only dealing with college students for 4 months. Sometimes, a girl just needs her mama.

Next month I'll have been a bridesmaid in a wedding (nuts!) and will be going to Maryland to hang out with my cousin in this awesome Christian fellowship that she's in. It'll be my first time to fly alone, so I'm a little scared (don't judge me...I've flown to Africa but I've never flown alone) but mostly really excited. However, Maryland is north of, say, Oklahoma, and will therefore be very cold. I'm a Texas girl. I don't do cold. Haley is definitely worth braving the weather, though.

Next semester is so dang close. I can't believe I'm halfway done with my first year of college! It promises to hold more friendships, more opportunities, more experiences, and more lessons. I know that the Lord is going ahead of me and has a perfect, flawless plan. And, though I know it'll be tough at times, I can't wait to see it continue to unfold.

My testimony. A less jumbled, more coherent version

So I was asked to give my testimony at my Bible study tonight and it was rough. I randomly started crying for absolutely no reason and was jumbled. I lost my train of thought about a hundred times in ten minutes and was awkward and weird and it was just bad. I'm sure all the girls in there were thinking, "What the heck?" and not following me at all. It was a mess. So here's what I actually wanted to say.

To be cliche, I grew up in a Christian home. I accepted Christ and was baptized at age eight and, in my little eight year old mind, I really do think that I completely understood what being a follower of Christ was. However, my faith did not become my own until I hit high school. Middle school was a rough time, not unlike most people, so when I was in high school, I decided that all things middle school were bad and was completely ready to start taking life seriously as pertaining to my grades, my relationships, and my faith.

At that point in my life, I thought I was so done with being immature and that I had a little bit of growing to do in my faith, but that I had pretty much hit my spiritual growth spurt and was done. But I was so far past wrong. That was when God really started to become a forefront in my mind. He let me be what I thought was the "model Christian girl" for my freshman year (as I got out of the awkward phases) but then he turned my world upside down as I entered tenth grade.

That was when He showed me that middle schoolers were not supposed to be laughed at or ignored or made fun of. He put it on my heart to be a mentor to the very girls I'd scorned. So I did. Starbucks dates, lunch meetings, texts. It was great and such a blessing. This continued throughout my junior as I learned how important community was.

My senior year of high school, I became a leader for my city's Wyld Life, which is Young Life for middle school students. See what I mean when I said God took my disliking for middle schoolers and turned it on it's head? Being able to serve my community by being a Godly leader was such a blessing. I also student taught at a middle school in the city and would frequently see some of my students come through, which was such a great ministering opportunity. I also began to lead a 7th grade girl's Bible study with one of my best friends. I honestly don't know who learned more from that, those 6 girls or Meredith and I.

During this time, I was part of a large youth choir (I'm an awful singer--I was in it for the service and fellowship) and we did service projects and an annual mission trip to somewhere in the US. We were called 86:12 after Psalms 86:12, which says "I will praise you, oh Lord, my God, with all of my heart, I will glorify your name forever." With 86:12, I went to El Paso, TX, Pueblo, CO, Memphis, TN, New Orleans, LA, McAllen, TX, Atlanta, GA, and New York City, New York. Seven years, from 6th through 12th grade, I made unbelievable friends, had awesome mentors, and created amazing memories. My whole family was a part of it, my younger brother and sister members with me and my parents being leaders. It was such a blessing to be part of a 200 person youth group and have such an unreal community. I loved it and I miss it so much.

One of the major steps in my faith was going to Kenya. It popped the perfect bubble I floated in for eighteen years. I saw some of the most extreme poverty in the world, held kids who wouldn't get dinner that night, and told Bible stories to kids who had never heard them. We bought mattresses for orphans who slept on the floor with threadbare blankets. However, I learned that reliance on God isn't based on your physical needs. These Kenyans were happy with what they had--which was close to nothing. Yet they had joy. Joy, I've learned, should not be determined by our circumstances.

Now, in college, I've been educated in ways that do not include lecture halls and homework assignments (but I'm learning things there too, don't worry, Mom and Dad). I've learned what it means to forfeit my plan for His, because if He doesn't want to me do it, He'll let me know. He carries me when I can't walk (or won't walk). He opens doors and they're there to walk through if I walk with Him. And I'm learning that not only does He sustain me, but He protects, leads, and, above all, loves me. Right now, I don't need anything else (despite what I hear from the world).

I'm learning how to deal with rejection and fear only by Christ alone and running to Him first is becoming priority. Truthfully, I'm not there yet. But I'm getting there.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Phil. 4:6-7

Another hit, another lesson

So, I've applied to 3 summer camps to be a counselor for. Sky Ranch, Pine Cove, and Laity Lodge. I've been rejected from Sky already and probably won't get the Pine Cove one because my interview just felt about average and I know that the interview is pretty important. I won't hear back from Laity Lodge until around March and haven't interviewed with them yet.

When I got my Sky letter of rejection, I sat in my friend's room and sobbed. To say I wanted to work there badly was an understatement. And that letter was just another one to add to my growing pile of rejections.

I'm just so sick of it. Of all the leadership positions, scholarships, and other various applications I've filled out, I can think of 3 that I've gotten: A&M, my church scholarship, and my church leadership team (which doesn't reject anyone). I'm tired of being average among a sea of exceptional. I'm weary of people getting what I want. It's so tired and so old. Why can't I be like my friends who seemingly get everything? What's wrong with me? Or, a darker question, what isn't wrong with me? Because it doesn't feel like I've got a lot going for me sometimes.

I've been asking God why He takes so many opportunities away from me, including the ones to glorify Him, like being a counselor at a Christian camp. I've been mad and annoyed at Him over it, wondering what the issue is. Why, for once, can't something go how I want it to?

But I'm slowly coming to realize that it isn't me. I'm not a problem. There's just something else I'm supposed to be doing. God's just different plans for me that don't involve Sky Ranch. They might involve Pine Cove or Laity Lodge. I don't know. Maybe I was relying on myself to get Sky Ranch. Whatever the reason, I'm not supposed to be there. All the rejection I've experienced has been God guiding me where I'm supposed to go. I was supposed to go to A&M, though my grades in high school didn't guarantee that I'd get in. That was such a God thing and I've found 4 fantastic best friends, closer to me than any I've ever had and who challenge me in my faith.

I'm broken, yes. And I'm being taught that I'm not as plain as I see myself, but my self-image still needs work. I'm far from average in most aspects of my life, but it's hard for me to see that a lot of times when I have friends who I think are prettier, smarter, more coordinated, or more personable than I am. Jealousy can eat at me. I pick at my faults constantly. I'm insecure on a deep level but have people who love me enough to look me in the eye and honestly say, "You are beautiful and exactly how you're supposed to be." At my worst, though, I have a hard time believing it.

I'm made in the image of God, who is flawless and stunningly beautiful. He's perfection. Yet He has been, is, and will be rejected. But that doesn't make Him any less perfect or lovely. Just like when I'm told a striking "no" it doesn't mean I'm not good enough.

I will still be hurt if I'm rejected from either of these camps and I'll probably still sink right back into my painful feelings of being unwanted. But the fact of the matter is that I'm loved regardless of what happens to me or what I do (or can't do). No one can tell me who I am because I am defined by the Lord. No one is over His authority.

Rejection hurts. Christ heals. Which do you think overrides the other?

Trust me, I'm preaching to myself more than anyone else on this one.

Appreciative

College makes you thankful for a lot of really random things. So here's a list of things that I love about home that college just doesn't quite have (in no particular order)

1. My parents. Completely irreplaceable. Totally amazing. Hilarious. Spoil me when I get home. I love them.

2. Familiar streets that I could drive with my eyes closed. I wouldn't. But I could.

3. A flood of memories with everywhere I go.

4. No game day traffic.

5. Less wait at restaurants every Saturday.

6. My church. There's just no place like VRBC.

7. A shower with real water pressure.

8. Tanner and Leslie.

9. Home cooked food and a real pantry.

10. Actually comfortable furniture.

11. Carpet.

12. My own room.

13. Old, embarrassing pictures all over the place.


I love, love, love college. But Dorothy nailed it: there's just no place like home.

Free writing and the randomness that comes of it

So, in my English class, we were having some real difficulties paying attention. So she gave us two options to write for ten minutes on: your latest dream or a superpower you would want. I chose the latter because my last dream was a nightmare about me getting my wisdom teeth out and I didn't want to relive that particular nightmare for a third time. So here's my really random free write. Do not be alarmed.


I would totally have the power to teleport. Being able to just picture a place and be there would be absolutely unbelievable. I mean, you could go get lunch in Italy, tea in France, and then dessert back in Italy in one day. Heck, you could do it in an hour (if you ate fast, of course). How awesome would that be?

And traffic? Forget it. you wouldn't even need to have to buy plane tickets anymore. So long to bag checks, long lines, and crabby flight attendants. You would never have to sprint to class or hike all the way up those ramps to get to your 3rd deck seat at Kyle Field. All you would have to do is picture the place you want to go, close you eyes, and be there. 


Personally, I would still do normal things like drive and walk to my classes (unless there was too much traffic or it was raining or I was late). But I would definitely forego the stairs I have to climb to get to my 4th floor room or not ride my bike to my car, all the way across campus. Life would be exciting and easier with the ability to teleport. I could travel the world and not get jetlag. I could visit family without putting $60 of gas in my car.

Then again...I would probably become really lazy and fat because I wouldn't be walking from my room to my car. That would be a bummer. I guess I would just have to teleport to the rec center then.

20

I am now into day 2 of my twentieth year. The earth has gone around the sun 20 times in my life. I've been through 2 decades. I'm in my "twenties", the young, professional phase of my life. Weirdness. I just sound so dang old. So in celebration of my short-ish life, here's a list of events year by year over the past twenty.

1. I was born to Mike and Karen McCord, and became the first of three children.

2. I moved to San Antonio where I got my first busted lip, setting the tone for my future lack of coordination.

3. I got a brother.

4. I moved to Tennessee and learned how to work a VCR to the extent that I could get out of bed at 3 in the morning and put in a movie.

5. I got a sister.

6. I started kindergarten.

7. I got my first pet fish.

8. I accepted Christ into my heart.

9. My country was attacked for the first time in my life.

10. My long stint of orthodontic work began. Ohh the headgear...

11. I began the awkward years.

12. I went to Disney World for the first time.

13. I went on my first mission trip with 86:12.

14. I wrote a book.

15. I got my first kiss.

16. I became a hazard to society in the form of a teenager with a car.

17. I helped to build a house.

18. I went to Africa to love on those who didn't feel loved.

19. I went on my last mission trip with 86:12. Never forget New York.

20. I started college.

And that just scratches the surface.

Twenty down, ?? more to go. All in His plan.

Wow, God is so ridiculous.

So for all you 86:12ers, I'm sure you fondly recall the prayer stations of New York this past summer. I was freaking out about it, so dreading that Thursday. However, I ended up absolutely loving that site (it was my favorite thing we did in New York that week) and really wanted to do it again. It was such an unbelievable experience and such a test of faith. It was answering a huge question: how bold are you for Christ? Of course that's completely out of people's comfort zones--I'm not at all discrediting those who totally disliked that site because y'all can bless others in ways that I can't. But I loved the empowerment that I felt in that through Christ, like He was really going before me and strengthening me. But then Thursday ended and that was that I thought. I got on the subway and headed back to Hoboken. I slipped back into being "normal" and not pursuing after people with a passion for the Lord, wanting to spread His love in the way that I knew I could. I thought that was my last time to ever randomly ask someone if I can pray for them and, honestly, I was okay with that.

Well, God obviously wasn't. Not even close.

I joined this organization at A&M called Aggie Sisters for Christ (ASC) and we have to do 3 outreach projects a semester. On Monday, one was put out there for going to Academic Plaza (center of campus) and asking people if there was anything we can pray for them about. And I was just thinking, "Oh my gosh. Is this really happening? God, you are RIDICULOUS." I was pumped and was the first one to sign up. Besides, I explained to the other girls who were doing it, after chasing after men in business suits for 4 hours in front of Madison Square Garden, this was going to be easy.

God just ignited this fire and I jumped in head first, bright and early Thursday morning. I was so happy to be doing this again and so thankful that He'd given me this opportunity. In New York, I never had any "cool" stories or anything. I talked to plenty of people, but no one was really intensely struggling--a lot of job interviews and family problems. But I honestly think that God gave me a generally positive and "easy" (as in, no one cussed me out or had any really heavy stuff) day in New York to prepare me for my day in Aggieland.

Early on in my two hour shift, I asked this woman, she was probably about 21 years old, if she had anything I could pray for her about. She quickly said, "No thanks" and rushed off. I kind of blew it off. I mean, she was nicer than how some of the people in NY had been, so I wasn't really fazed. I told her to have a great day and continued on with my morning. Then about 30 minutes later, she comes walking back in front of the Academic Building, headed straight at me. She then apologized and said that she was late to work and her boss had been texting her and she felt really bad about being short with me and that there was something pretty major in her life going on that needed prayer. One of her best friends, Jerri-Lynn has two children and is currently in an abusive relationship. The woman's mother (not Jerri-Lynn's) was helping her out but it was just a terrible situation. This woman started crying in the midst of telling me. It broke my heart but I was so thankful that God put me there to listen. The New York prayer station was my prep work for my A&M one.

It was such a surreal day and I so felt God at my side all day. I had great conversations and was thanked multiple times, but it was never me. God was just using me in such an incredible way and it was just awesome.

It's a trust issue

So, my friends and I are all really and unfortunately obsessed with finding our husbands. Typical freshman girls, right? Thanks, college. Anyways, we've all thought we've found some guy who is worth our hearts and have, in some way or another, obsessed over, talked about, talked to, and thought about way too much. We build these beautiful little fantasies in our minds that show us getting two rings in 4 years, one for each hand. Let's just say that the Aggie ring isn't the only one on our minds. And then all of these little plans and cute thoughts and time spent involving this boy comes crashing down, normally with tears and anger and more heartbreak than we'd like to admit.

In short, the four of us came into college expecting what every girl expects: to find our husband.

But that's our plan. Our misguided, cliche, painful, wistful plan. And our plan, in the end, won't get us very far. And where it does get us will get us on the wrong path in the wrong direction. It's like we'll be going south when we're supposed to be headed northeast. It just wouldn't be right.

So what is right?

I guess the better question would be "Who is right?" and the answer is simple: God. The knower of our hearts and the writer of the eternal storybook. He penned the tale that we're living. So He knows exactly what's going to happen.

The real issue that my friends and I are coming across is actually trusting that His story is better than anything on Oprah's booklist or the Times' top 10. We can read those books; we can't read God's. It's not something you buy at Barnes and Noble. It's something that leaves you hanging and wanting more. At least, that's how we're supposed to be. Unfortunately, we have a bad habit of not thinking that it's exciting enough or that it isn't going the way it should, so we start trying to rewrite it. Ever tried to rewrite a published book? Probably didn't work out so well, right? That's because the author knew his or her plan for the story and, even if you didn't like it, that's how it was and, if it was written well, everything came together.

Let me assure you, God is a master storyteller. His stories are flawless. Everything is purposeful and nothing is an accident. Characters will come and go. Stories have high points and low points. We have to trust that everything is meant to be how it is. And when we don't know the general outline of the story, it's hard to trust that everything will come together.

But it will.

God has this beautiful story for us that He made specifically for everyone.

The hard part is trusting that His is perfect and our's is not.

So, who's on the horse?

Cast your minds back, ladies, to your Disney days. Remember that handsome prince and how he always had a horse and he rode in and saved the day for the damsel-in-distress? Remember wanting to be the princess/damsel and suddenly really liking horses and boys who rode them? The man on the horse was two things: the love of your life and your rescuer. This post is going to focus more on the latter because I really don't have the desire to express my intense desire for a husband right now (thanks but no thanks).

What I want to focus on is the fact that the man on the horse is the rescuer. You're in trouble, maybe some crazy woman with too much makeup poisoned your apple or maybe your mom wants to keep you locked away because you have great hair. Regardless of your situation, you need someone to come save you because you really can't rescue yourself. The situation is beyond your control. You can do absolutely nothing about it but something has got to happen or else you're going to come completely undone. And, frankly, you're far too precious to not be saved.

So here's my question: who do you turn to when your world is falling apart?

Your answers may vary. Friends, parents, siblings, mentors, etc. Personally, I go straight to my mom and close friends. My mom is a phone call away and my friends are literally right across the hall. And I can cry to them and they'll hold me and talk to me and love me and tell me that everything is okay. But the sad truth is that, while they say that everything will work itself out, they can't do anything about it either. They all may look like the valiant hero, but there is literally only one person/being who can take your hand and pull you on the horse and ride into the sunset-streaked horizon, leaving the danger far behind.

And that, my friends, is Jesus Christ.

The thing is, you can't do anything to earn this. He braves the battle because He loves you. And He doesn't come at your every beckoning. He comes when the time is right for Him and, ultimately, for you. After all, you're the one who got yourself in that situation anyway. Only when you are ready will Jesus come and pull you out of the hole you fell into.

To clear some possible confusion, Christ never leaves us. Ever. But He will only pick you up and carry you off when you are ready and He saves the day when the time is right. He won't fix all your problems. But He will, without fail, save you. His infinite love to you won't falter even for a second and He will happily pull you out of the pit.

Turning to Him with all of your issues is the answer. He's the guy on the horse, coming to save the day. But you have to keep faith that He's coming, even in the darkest moments. He's coming. Be patient.

The simple things in life

"Tomorrow I'm going to get the new Rick Riordan book and buy the Lion King on DVD!" I exclaimed yesterday to my friend Ben, to which he promptly announced that it sounded like the dream day of a six-year-old.

I'm so misunderstood.

But today (well, I guess technically it was yesterday, but we'll just say today [Tuesday]) was a really spectacular day. I got to sleep in a little bit, did some studying, did most of my homework, and headed to lunch and class. I rocked my history test (I think) and marched back to my room to finish the rest of my homework. After that, I watched my boys clinch the American League West championship for the second year in a row--go Rangers! I'm so proud of them.

Ben and I both needed to run errands, so we headed over to my car out in Narnia (not really, but it's pretty dang far away). I acquired the latest "Heroes of Olympus" book, Son of Neptune, and was very happy with myself. Call me quirky. Then we went to Target because I wanted to get the Lion King before the Disney Vault inhaled it again and Ben needed a calculator.

Then it was Breakaway time. A&M owns all with it's amazing Bible study on campus. It's such a blessing to be able to proclaim my faith proudly and boldly. Then I ate dinner with sweet friends, had a Skype with a friend, and then buried my nose into the book, hauling through 150 pages of it (out of 521). I expect to be done by Thursday evening. Unfortunately, school doesn't stop because a new book comes out and I still have tests that need to be studied for.

INTENSE NERDINESS STARTS HERE.

The only "bad" part of my day was when I started crying because the main character who I watched grow up in the earlier series doesn't remember anything about himself. It is devastating. This kid is one of my favorite book characters of all time and he doesn't even remember who he is.

Here's my critique: Rick Riordan should have had two series going at the same time. One that focused on the Greek camp and one that focused on the Roman camp, the books coming out about six months apart from each other. That way readers could know both the main characters, Percy and Jason, well and feel for them more. Because right now, all readers are going to lean more towards sympathizing for Percy because we know him so much better. Not to say we don't like Jason; we just know Percy because we saw him go from the "There-is-no-way-my-dad-is-a-Greek-god" to the leader of his camp. We just met Jason at the peak of his awesomeness and didn't see the journey that got him there. What's the saying? The journey is more fun than the result? I would say that's a fair statement about these books.

Anyway, that's my two cents. Take them or leave them.


Yes, this is what I do at 1 in the morning: analyze book series intended for 12-year-olds. Don't you dare judge me.

Post-season, books, jobs, and sickness

Dear MLB post-season: Meet the Rangers. Oh, you've already met? That's right. Sorry for my mistake. I'm still not used to my main men OWNING. I plan on them transcending the "3rd time's the charm" cliche. I mean, who needs 3 tries when you win it all in 2? Your thoughtful fan, Linley.

Yes, America/world, it's happening again. My favorite, favorite celebrities are marching into the post- season with a nice little lead. No wildcard for them--they earned it all. I'm so proud of my Rangers. They are seriously amazing and I love them so much. So claws, antlers...and whatever that cobra thing is. But they can rock it and for that I am grateful. Thank you boys for giving Texas pro-sports a good name because we know that Jerry isn't doing it for us.


In one week, The Son of Neptune debuts into the world. That's right, fellow nerds, Rick Riordan's second installment of the "Heroes of Olympus" series hits the stores and I plan to ride my bike over to my car (yeah, my car is parked that far away...ugh) and get over to Barnes and Noble...right after my history test. It is a blessing indeed that my two tests next week fall on Monday and Tuesday so the rest of my day can be spent in Greek/Roman mythology. And, sorry Dr. Brooks, but mythology is way more interesting than the Puritans and "Common Sense". Personal preference; don't be offended. After reading the released first chapter months ago, I've been awaiting this day May. And it's so close to me I can practically feel the paper in my fingers. Don't judge me and my nerdiness. I embrace it wholeheartedly.


So, being a Pine Cove counselor has been my dream since the day I stepped foot onto that camp... 5 summers ago. Yesterday, I interviewed to be a counselor (when did I get this old?). I was nervous out of my mind and it sounded like I was going to cry the whole time because my voice was all janked up from me hollering my brains out at the football game on Saturday, but I wasn't. Except for when she asked about  my most traumatic event (the death of my grandfather). Then I kind of got choked up. Otherwise though, I was good. After my interview, I went back to my dorm and was about to head upstairs when I saw the Sky Ranch table. Sky Ranch and Pine Cove are very similar--both awesome youth Christian camps who exist to serve and minister. On a whim, I stopped and talked to the guy at the table and ended up signing up for an interview the next morning (this morning). I applied online last night and had my interview and it was fantastic. And if both camps offer me a job, I honestly don't know which one I would choose. They both seemed so solid and amazing and it would be an honor to be one of the "cool counselors" for their camps. But we'll see what God's got in store for me. He'll provide what He wants me doing this summer and I'm pumped to see what it is.


But major bummer: I'm sick. Headache, weak, congested nose and throat, stomach not happy with me. The works. I think I'm just exhausted. School and staying up late has finally gotten a strong hold on me and now it's time for this girl to take some Advil sinus medicine and sleep until the cows come home... or when my alarm goes off. I'm going home this weekend (yippee!) and will be all doctored up and rest in my big bed (though my school bed is pretty comfy too). I also think a reason for my sickness was that I ran around in the rain last night. That couldn't have been too helpful. Darn thunderstorm. We need the rain, but couldn't it have waited until I was back in my dorm? Apparently not. So now my bike is still all the way across campus and I couldn't go to Breakaway tonight because of my sickness. Ick. Not fun.


So that's a nice update on my life, world. Sorry I haven't been blogging much. I've got notes to write, homework to do, people to Facebook stalk...it's a busy life I lead. But I'll try to keep you posted.

Tests...and other thoughts

So, today is Thursday. It's the first day of autumn (the autumnal equinox...thank you, astronomy) and, in College Station, it's going to be a pleasant, fall-y 94 degrees outside. The pleasures of humidity and Texas.

I have my astronomy test today and, from a knowledge standpoint, I got this. I get all of it. I could tell you really strange, irrelevant facts about the solar system and it would be great fun. But the math part of it? Yeah, no. I have no idea what I'm doing on that standpoint. Some things are pretty straightforward and I'll have my formula sheet, but I honestly don't know what some of the variables stand for. So that's going to be a hurtle I'm going to have to jump over. But I'll probably end up stumbling over it, falling on my face, and losing. I really, really hate math. Memorize or reason through something? I'm your girl. Tell you how to find the mass of a star a bajillion lightyears away? No thank you.

But my day doesn't end with my astronomy test. Nope. Afterward, I have to go straight to my history class, across campus and really annoyingly close to my dorm/my bed, and sit and be bored out of my mind for 75 minutes. Great professor, but I already know American history. Thanks, and gig 'em. After history, I go back to the astronomy building out in kingdom come, just short of five and a half zillion miles from my dorm/civilization for a two hour lab that won't set me free until 6:00pm. And when I get that lab notebook checked off, I will get on my little maroon Shwinn and haul across campus like there's no tomorrow. At 7, I'm meeting friends for dinner at the best dining hall on campus and when I get home from that, I get my reward.

Castle, Survivor, possibly Pan Am and CSI, Facebook, Twitter, and Skype. I have grounded myself from all of my favorite things (except for the Rangers, I watched them win last night after I'd done some major studying) so I could get work done (and I was largely successful). No social networking was a killer when it was so available, but it was by sheer will power alone that I did it and was able to study. WIN!

Later, I'll post some revelations I had while studying/stressing/walking across campus/at Breakaway/at ASC. But right now, astronomy beckons my name once again.

Ben Rector, love songs, and peace

One of my favorite artists in the world just released a new album. And it is excellent. The concert of his I'm going to in October cannot come soon enough. I'm so excited. I went to one back in April and got to meet him and there is now a picture of me and two of my best friends with him on my nightstand. So, points to Ben Rector for making me swoon an impossible amount. You rock my world. And my iTunes.

His music is my dose of love songs. I'm not usually a romantic kind of girl (don't give me Nicholas Sparks or I'll probably throw it back at you) and don't get real excited for things like romance movies or romance novels. Fact of life. But music...that's an entirely different thing. Music is my thing. I build stories off of songs (my post "Run" was based off "Forever Reign" by Shane and Shane) and make playlists for my stories. That's who I am as a writer and as a girl. Reading about someone falling in love? Forget it. But hearing it sung? Sure. Because it's easier to put yourself on the receiving end of that love in a song than feeling creepy and making yourself a character in the book (which I've done, mind you). I would so much rather pretend a guy is singing Ben Rector's new song "She Is" than pretending I'm Juliet or Hermione (though being Hermione would be pretty freaking awesome). All that to say, I only let myself fantasize about being in love through music. Not so much in books or movies. It's all music. And Ben Rector has a habit of speaking to my soul.

As for the peace, well, let's just say life is starting to get crazy. And though I have a project due on Friday in geography, a project in English due on Sunday, a test in anthropology on Wednesday, a paper due in history on Thursday, and a test in astronomy on Friday, I'm feeling weirdly chill. Everything is going to be okay. I'm going to make it. And as for the boy part of my crazy, that's getting better too. After extensive prayer and lots of journaling, I've come to realize that my heart is about a bajillion times more fragile than I think it is. And literally the only One who can protect it is Jesus. And once He's got it, I'm safe. The hard part is not trying to take it back, because I'm going to want to. I'm going to want to give it to guys who don't deserve it. Christ is the only one who has the right to give that part of my heart away. He alone determines who I fall in love with. Until then, the heart is the Lord's.

Peace, love, and Ben Rector.

9/11 Post #2

When I think about it, September 11th, 2001 showed the very best and the very worst of humanity.

The people who attacked America on that day hated, absolutely hated, my nation. With a passion. They would die to prove this faith. Some of them did. They killed nearly 3,000 people who had done nothing but live in the US. They were mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, friends, husbands, and wives. They had come to work on a beautiful day in New York, expecting to leave that night and go home and come back the next day and do it all again.

Others were going to visit friends or family or go on vacation. They had made plans and packed suitcases. They were wondering what time the plane was going to land and what they were going to do when they got there. September 11th was normal all around until 8:47am.

That's when terrorists attacked some of the most iconic places in the world, reducing them to rubble within the next hour. Families were destroyed. People were throwing themselves out of windows in order to not die at the hands of a fire caused by hijackers who crashed a plane into the place they worked.

They're cowards, the hijackers. They died without names or faces. They died being absolutely hated by millions of people. They were the first casualties of war. They are the evil of the world.


But New York, America, the Earth, showed a brand of people, who unfortunately aren't acknowledged enough, that day. The heroes came out that day. They saved lives, even if it meant losing their own. Firefighters, policemen, fellow civilians all grabbed hands and dug people out and rescued those who couldn't rescue themselves. The bravery took over the cowardice on United flight 93, forcing the hijackers to crash land in a field in Pennsylvania, saving an unknown number of lives.

The raw fear of the day was swallowed and taken in stride by the incredible efforts and valor of city employees. Those people make me so proud to be an American. Their sacrifice brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it.

My dad was in New York at the time. He had a meeting in the South Tower at 10, meaning he would leave his hotel room (across Manhattan) at 9, getting to the tower at 9:30 in order to get to the 47th floor with plenty of time to prepare before his meeting.

Obviously, he never made it out of his hotel room--both towers had been hit by the time it was 9:00. He stayed in his room and was glued to the TV (similar to the rest of America), occasionally wandering over to the window to see the smoke billowing over the island.

The next day, he decided to venture out into the city. Recalling this, he said that the city was the most deserted and quietest he's ever seen. He stood in a line outside of a large building for about 8 hours to give blood. Street vendors came buy and gave them water and hotdogs. The bank across the street ordered all the people in line pizzas and paid for it all. My dad made friends with native New Yorkers and businessmen from Michigan and vacationers from California. They were all there to support the nation. At one point, the wind changed and blew back towards the city. The jet fuel smell hung in the air, ominous and saddening. For 15 minutes, the whole line of people were silent, the weight of what had happened the day before settling back on them.


America has never been the same. And I never want us to be. Americans are certainly not perfect; no one is perfect. But we came together. And we won't ever forget what happened to the Pentagon, those on flight 93, and in New York that day.

We came out on top. They served us a blow, but the American spirit stood strong and proud.

God bless the USA.

9/11

It happened when I was in 3rd grade.

It happened when my teacher rushed to turn off the little TV in our classroom.

It happened when kids in my class were being picked up early by their parents.

It happened when there weren't any planes in the sky anymore.

It happened when two buildings unwillingly fell.

It happened when the government was attacked.

It happened when Bush declared war.

It happened when bravery stood up to cowardice in a field in Pennsylvania.

It happened when my dad was in New York.

It happened when my dad's meeting was in the South Tower at 10am.

It happened when my dad missed a meeting.

It happened when I could've lost my dad if his meeting had been an hour earlier.

It happened when the New York skyline was broken.

It happened when citizens helped citizens.

It happened when firefighters came to the rescue.

It happened when my mom carefully explained what happened.

It happened when I was horrified that anyone would do that.

It happened when people waited in line for hours to give blood on 9/12/01.

It happened when New York street vendors freely gave food and drinks to the donors.

It happened when our nation banded together again.

It happened when my dad finally got home after driving from a locked-down city.

It happened when I started bawling a few weeks later when he had to get on another plane.

It happened a year later when my dad was dead silent on the anniversary.

It happened every year when the nation stepped back and thought about what happened.

It happened on May 1, 2011 when Navy SEALs tracked down the orchestrator.

It happened when Osama bin Laden was killed.

It happened when I went back to the site and saw how life was going on.

It happened when I saw blueprints for new buildings and lots of memorials.

It happened every time a worker put a piece into the building puzzle.

It happened when America stops and remembers.


Don't ever forget that day. Remember where you were, who you were with, and what you saw that day. Remember the stories you heard and what the TV told you. Remember how you felt.

Remember 9/11/01.

College lessons as of week 3

So I've been in college for 3 weeks now and I have learned a multitude of things. Here's a nice list of knowledge that I have acquired.

1. Snacks in your room are dangerous.

2. Laundry really isn't that difficult.

3. Motivating yourself to make your bed is really difficult.

4. If you don't make your bed, your room looks way messier.

5. You have to be on top of your cleanliness. Things pile up. Fast.

6. If you eat all your meals in the dining hall, you won't ever want to eat after a while because you're sick of the food.

7. If you keep your door open, you meet a lot of people.

8. Don't keep your door open if you don't want people to come in.

9. You definitely to find a study niche.

10. Libraries are excellent places.

11. Email, more than ever, is your friend.

12. Be spontaneous.

13. Don't be afraid of people. Go forth and socialize.

14. There is no happy medium on your thermostat. It's either too hot or too cold.

15. Thou shalt keep up with your reading.

16. Do not be alarmed if your professors cuss. It happens frequently.

College lessons by Linley.

SECede!!

So, A&M is almost officially headed to the terrifying and powerhouse-stacked Southeastern Conference. Their board of directors, or whoever calls the shots, unanimously voted A&M into the SEC and the Aggies couldn't be more excited.

There's just one, little problem: Baylor University of Wacko is taking legal action. They want to prevent A&M from heading into the strongest conference in the nation. On one side, I can see their angst. I felt the same way when tu was attempting to get into the Pac 10 (or was it the Big 10?) last year. I didn't want the football conference to fall apart.

But let's face it. The Big 12 is about to be extinct. I know that tu was threatening to never play A&M again if we moved to the SEC, but I that was a while ago and I'm not sure on any further action. I feel fairly confident, though, that Thanksgiving day will always be dedicated to A&M and tu as they fight out their century-old rivalry. I would be stunned if that didn't happen.

My wheels are turning and I still have several unanswered questions about who we'll still play and who we won't. The times are changing for college football and I guess I'll just have to wait and see how everything pans out. Only time will tell. And a lot of guys with a lot of money who care a lot about college football. And it wouldn't surprise me if ESPN sponsored some switches.

But that's just my opinion and slightly uninformed analysis. I'll keep you posted, readers.

Thanks, and gig 'em.

Personality flaw

So, you should know that I'm very, very competitive.

I have never been a good sports player, but I am an avid watcher. Baseball and football are my sports that I know a striking amount about and I flaunt that shamelessly. I'm the one who explains the game to my friends who are sitting around me. I'm the one who excitedly checks the ESPN app on my phone to see what time my teams play. I'm that girl.

So, naturally, I get very into my teams. I'm very protective of them and overly defensive. I'm a devoted fan but a realistic one (let's face it, the Aggies probably won't win the national title this year, as good as Tannehill's arm is and as fast as Cyrus Grey can run). I know what I'm talking about when my teams are brought up and even though I'm going to A&M, I still am a devout TCU fan.

The sad fact is that I am not gracious in defeat. I do not do well with playful taunting. I have an ego and don't have great sportsmanship if prodded. It's a character flaw that I'm working on, but with the fact that A&M football is a way of life here, I don't see my efforts going very far. I get myself in trouble when it comes to being outspoken about my teams. In 24 minutes of having an anti-Baylor status up, I got 9 comments (mostly from adults who went to Baylor and my church...and my mom) about how I should watch my mouth and what I say and see if I have any babysitting jobs this upcoming summer if I keep this up (basically, 80% of my church went to Baylor). I responded to all of this with: Not apologizing.

Do I regret being sassy and standing up for TCU when they suffered a rather embarrassing loss at the hands of a school with a mediocre football team? Absolutely not. I will take the heat and dish it right back. And you better believe that I'll be 100x louder and prouder when it comes to fightin' Aggie football. So, VRBC, I love you, but I'm going to speak my mind about what I think about my teams and yours. And don't test my knowledge.

There's more to me than what meets the eye.

I hate apologetics.

So, here's the deal.

One of my best friends in the entire world is a staunch Catholic. And really, it's not a problem at all. He is firm in what he believes, which is essentially what I believe as a protestant, though lately I've been straying away from that word and just saying "Christian" in that the specific title doesn't really need to be mentioned. I say I've grown up Baptist but I'm not going to stick solely to that as I church hop. I'm not going to go to some crazy church that doesn't share my beliefs, but I'm broadening my horizons.

However, tonight I had a major discussion (it wasn't really an argument and not at all a fight) with this friend and we both contradicted ourselves and each other and got confused and annoyed and frustrated. Both of us are good with words and both of us can turn the tide on each other. We're entirely too opinionated and know far too little about the other's walks with Christ. We got too focused on small stuff, like tradition and interpretation. And both of us are agreeing on the same things and not realizing it and therefore capitalizing on the confusion of the other. We are currently on break from said discussion because we weren't getting across what we wanted to say. He thinks he did, but he agrees we need to have more conversation about it.

It's so stupid that we're doing this. We aren't going to change each other's opinion and we aren't going to "convert" the other or ever see eye-to-eye on things like who started the church and who is right and who is wrong. He's being condescending and I don't have enough knowledge about topics that I should know about. We're both at fault.

But what it boils down to is this:

We both believe that Jesus Christ came to save the earth from eternal hell. We both believe that we need a personal relationship with Christ. We both believe that grace and grace alone is the only way to eternity in heaven. We both know that we are forgiven but need to ask for it first. And if this is your true belief, God is not going to give a "flipping crap", as my friend Rachel said, about what church you attended.

What we need to really understand is that the Bible is the Word of God. Anything that the church does that is not in the Bible is not of God. Obviously, you're going to have your crazies who think that the Bible tells them to hold snakes in their hands, but that's an isolated event in which people who have not read the context clues have made their own rules. The Bible and the Church are meant to be practically the same thing.

That being said, the Bible and the Church should go hand-in-hand. But humans have run the church, so it has flaws, hence the Protestant Reformation led by Martin Luther. The Catholic church had fallen from it's roots in some aspects and there were disagreements. Obviously. You can't always take what people say and how they interpret the Bible as truth; you need to dig into it yourself. Be educated about it and learn from those who are masters in it, but also do some digging. Don't just take what church leaders say for fact automatically. Disagree. Get answers. Your church will always have something off, something that isn't entirely Biblical. It's sad, but, unfortunately, it's true. Even the churches who have been around for millennia. There will be answers to questions, but, the point is: are they Biblical? Where do the answers come from? Find out.

There are always going to be contradicting things in theology. Always. Among all the branches separately and within the branches themselves. Someone will always be "wrong". But refer to my paragraph about what we all, as Christians, should believe. That is incontrovertible.

Please do not think that I'm picking sides or bashing the Catholic branch of Christianity, because I am absolutely not. Yes, I'm naturally biased because I am protestant and have had my beliefs officially for the past 20 years but coherently for probably the past 4-5, when I really started digging into my faith. But the fact of the matter is that all Christians should follow Christ passionately and knowledgeably. We should not take our faith as it is. We should challenge it, especially if it's been the same for hundreds of years. We should ask questions, hard questions, and hunt down the answers in the one true book that has the answers. We should know not to take certain aspects, like "take up serpents in their hands" literally and not go around with snakes in our hands.

I can't tell you how to interpret the Bible. That's something you learn from someone who has vastly more knowledge than I do. But I can tell you to read it and to find commentary on it. Be strong. Be smart. And know Christ.

My first college breakdown

So, breakdown.

A long day of being confused and frustrated and trying to hold strong with a near perfect facade. And it all ended with a nonfunctional debit card and tears in front of my best friend who had no idea how to react. Have I ever mentioned that I'm a pro at hiding what I'm feeling? I think so. Several times, actually. But after waiting in a line for an hour to get books only for them to be downstairs and then waiting in that line and then waiting in line to buy them and then my debit card getting rejected, I was pretty much ready to call it quits and head home. Thankfully, the book crisis was worked out (though my debit card is still in question...).

However, when I get really frustrated, I cry. And the whole way back to my dorm room, I was staying strong and holding in the tears. I kept them in for over half an hour. I even was laughing hysterically at one point and was thoroughly confusing my friend.

And then it all just crashed. I started thinking about the fact that I was exhausted and that I didn't have my parents and that I was missing my dad's birthday and how I felt pretty alone. I started crying. And, poor Ben, had no idea what to do. He asked if I needed a hug, if I needed to be alone, if he could do anything. I was embarrassed out of my mind, for one thing. Part of me didn't even know why I was crying but most of me didn't really care. It felt good to cry. I was in a weird mood for a while (freaking Ben out more I'm sure) and not my usual bubbly self. But it passed. And the day got better.

I got some realizations in the midst of my strange sad portion of the day.

The thing is, I really want to be in love. I really want to fall in love and I really want someone to love me. And this has been consuming me. It's constantly been on my mind. But I'm a freshman in college who hasn't even had her first day of classes yet. I don't need a husband, much less a boyfriend. Right now, I just need friends who won't believe me when I lie and tell them I'm okay. I need friends who will stay up and talk about everything with me, and leave nothing off-limits. I want friends who know me.

I also need to be strong in my faith as a daughter of the Lord and strong in myself.

College is a mountain that I can't climb alone.

So I won't.

College post

So I moved to college on Saturday.

I've eaten in the cafeteria, ordered my books, gotten some free food, and stayed up way too late.

Notice something missing?

Yeah, classes haven't even started yet.

I'm not rushing and am bored out of my mind.

Fun fact: if you don't know very many people and don't make plans to hang out with those that you do know until that day, you end up painting your nails and watching a movie all by yourself in your dorm room.

Honestly, I'm feeling completely unproductive right now. I want to be busy. I want classes to start. I want to have to study. I want to go to football games. I want to join the clubs. Just get me out of Krueger and into some social opportunities please.

I know that I could be doing a lot more right now to develop my social skills, like wander around the hall and meet people, but that's just not me. It needs to be me. But it's not. So now I'm sitting in my room hunting for someone to just go get some pizza with when I really want something healthy like strawberries.

College is really not that fun right now. It will get fun. But right now it isn't. I don't want to go home, but I don't want to be here.

So...now what?

THIS IS HAPPENING.

Observations by Linley:

1. I move to college tomorrow.

2. I can eat solid foods now.

3. Oral stitches are the most disgusting things ever.

4. Antibiotics are the second most disgusting things ever. Ew.

5. My room had to get messy to get clean.

6. I came pretty close to crying tonight. Didn't happen, but almost.

7. I'm leaving behind some great friends.

8. Tomorrow, I have to haul tons of stuff up to the fourth floor of a building with no elevators.

9. I'm about to become really good at utilizing spaces.

10. Home chapter is closing tomorrow. Independence opens tomorrow. 

I really didn't want to say, in that last observation, that "life" starts tomorrow with me going to college. Because, let's be honest, life started almost 20 years ago for me. I have been living. I have been getting memories, lessons, experiences, pain, and laughs for the past 19 years. A new part of life is starting, absolutely, but not the whole thing. I'll still remember my times as a "kid" as I step into my next chapter.

So bring it A&M. Bring me new things and teach me to understand old things. Let me grow and learn. Let me make mistakes. Let me laugh and let me cry. Let me win and lose. I'm ready for this new adventure. 

Growing up but staying young, ready or not, here I come. 

Standing on the promises

You're on a mountain.

This mountain is part of a rather large range and you can distinctly see one end of it (behind you) but, if you look ahead, the range just seems to go on and on. But what you can see is truly beautiful. The peaks are shrouded in clouds and there are lush, green forests all over the place. The view from the summit that you're on is breathtaking and you're just soaking it all up.

It literally feels like you're on top of the world.

But you aren't alone.

You see, Jesus is up there with you on that summit. In face, He is the very reason you got to the top. Without Him, you still would be motionlessly and ineffectively spinning your wheels in the mud at the bottom of the mountain.

You think about how Jesus carried you, pushed you, coached you, led you, and walked, crawled, and ran with you up this mountain.

Looking down the path you took, you can see the remains of the struggles you went through to get to the top. You see that spot towards the base where you fought with some creature and finally, after almost losing the fight, let Jesus take over. You see the fork in the path that you were so torn and indecisive about that you sat there and cried because you didn't have any idea what to do. Until, that is, you finally looked to your side and saw Jesus just waiting for you to ask for help. More towards the middle of the mountain was a dark forest where you forged ahead and got completely lost. But when you spun around, looking to go back, you saw Jesus, ready to guide. And then there was that last stretch. It was steep and long and you were so exhausted. You almost lost your grip more times than you could count. But Jesus was always there, give you a boost, hauling you up, making sure you knew that you had help and that you didn't have to climb mountains on your own. You really don't have to do anything on your own, actually.

So there you were. On the mountain. Feeling like royalty with the greatest Savior you have. And, frankly, the only savior you have.

You turn around and see the other side of the mountain. It's steep and jagged. You do not, after all you just went through to get to the top, want to have to go all the way back down.

But you know that you have to. You'd accomplished this peak. It was time to start trying to tackle another.

"We have to go down, don't we?" you ask Jesus, just to make sure. Even though you know the answer, you just need Him to confirm.

"Yes, we do," He replies.

You take another look down and swallow hard. You're already scraped and scarred from the journey up. What will going down be like?

"I'm scared," you admit.

"I know. But look how far we've come," He says and gestures back to where you came from, the path up and the other mountains.

"Stay with me," you whisper.

He extends his scarred hand to you. "Always."


"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4

Wisdom teeth post op

So it's the tail end of Tuesday after I went under the knife.

But let's start at the beginning of Monday, shall we?

I started crying on the way to the office because I was so dreading what was about to happen. Call it dramatic or unreasonable, but I was terrified. It was not my idea of a great end to the summer and the very thought of an IV putting me to sleep so they could make my life miserable for the next few days was not at all exciting.

I went into the office and they laid me down and took my blood pressure and hooked up some monitors to my chest and ribs. Then they gave me the relaxing gas and I was trying really hard to just chill out and breathe. The medicine helped, but I still really aware of what was about to happen. Then they put the IV in. I remember the prick and thinking "That wasn't bad" and then I was sound asleep.

When I woke up, apparently the nursed asked if I was seeing double (I wasn't...though I don't remember saying that). I vaguely remember stumbling out to the car and being in the passenger seat at Whataburger while my mom got me a shake. I was feeling my chin, or trying to, and being really goofy and then told my mom to stop laughing at me.

What was awful was that I knew what was going on when I got inside my house. I don't remember actually getting into my house, but I remember being really frustrated because I couldn't vocalized what I wanted because my mouth was all numb and gauzed up. I basically couldn't feel anything within the space below my eyes and above my neck. Slowly, the numbness went down throughout the day until I had total feeling and no gauze (it was a long process).

I slept a lot that day and ate a bunch of ice cream. I managed some mashed potatoes (I was starving) and then conked back out and stumbled upstairs to get in my own bed.

Today I was more mobil. I had some rice and ice cream and pudding. I started college packing and wrote a few thank you cards. I cleaned a little. Mostly, I watched TV and was on Facebook. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. It still hurts to smile and my face looks like a giant puffball (my left side more than my right though...we aren't sure why). Hopefully all the swelling will be gone by tomorrow. Food is becoming a little easier, but I felt my stitches today and kind of freaked out. Gross.

Basically, I'm ready for all this to be over. And it's only day two. Yuck. I can't even yawn without my jaw hurting. Now that's just pathetic.

Wisdom teeth

Here's my question to God: Why?

I repeat: WHY, GOD, WHY?

I get my wisdom teeth out at 9:50 on August 15th. I'm not allowed to eat normal food for another week. I'm going to be knocked out and operated on. I'm going to drool and not feel my face for the rest of the day. I'm going to say really stupid things while on the drugs, definitely embarrassing myself. I'm going to be incapable of being normal for who knows how long. I'll have to sleep sitting up. The last week before I go to college. Of course.

Everyone keeps telling me how great it is. It's fun to be all goofy on the drugs. Being waited on is wonderful. Having an excuse to eat only ice cream and pudding is a gift from the heavens.

But is no one normal? Is no one freaked out at all by having people go into your mouth and take out teeth while you are completely unconscious? Who knows what could go wrong! What if they break my jaw or something? What if I don't wake up?

What if I die when they're trying to pull teeth?

I'm not a squeamish person normally. But when I was walked through the procedure at my consultation, I almost fainted. Like, I needed water and to be fanned and was all pale. So that was embarrassing. I get that they're going to give me laughing gas so it'll feel like I'm floating and I'll be asleep before I know it, but they still might have to give me Valium or something to make me chill out. Just thinking about it scares me. Maybe I've heard too many horror stories about dry sockets and bloody gauze, but my dad might have to drag me out the door to get me to go.

I so do not want to do this.

Please don't make me do this.

Let me stay wise.

So much angst.

Busier than a bee in the springtime

Hi. I should be doing a number of things right now instead of blogging.

I should be cleaning my room.

I should be getting cash for the weekend.

I should be making sure the rest of my house is clean before it's invaded by an undetermined number of middle school girls.

I should be throwing my pillowcases in the dryer so freshen up a little bit.

I should be helping my sister put the sheets back on her bed.

Am I doing any of things these? Nope. I'm blogging. And, honestly, the only thing productive about blogging right now is that I get myself to actually breathe for a few minutes. But sometimes it's just better to hold your breath.

On another note, my life has gotten marginally better since the August 1st post ("Ugh"). I'm no longer sick. I found out where my parking lot is but I still don't ever recall paying for it. My room still needs work. I got a haircut and made a major dent in the dorm shopping. I have a solution to the lack of wifi in my dorm. I don't need to find a replacement babysitter. I have some cute clothes. I'm not in need of Ibuprofen at the moment. I'm making strides in my book, but it still won't be finished before school starts. I can't really change the weather but I'm getting used to the heat.

Okay, so it might not sounds that much better, but not being sick is a huge improvement.

However, my life is about to go ballistic. Tonight I'm hosting a middle school girls sleepover at my house that I have to get everything ready for and clean up after. Tomorrow I'm going shopping with my best friend who I won't see again until October. Tomorrow afternoon I'm driving down to College Station with a friend for fish camp. I have to make a list of things I need my parents to get while I'm at fish camp for the next week. I have to go to the bank. I need to finish cleaning the house/my room. When I get home from fish camp, I go to a family group party that night (my last thing remotely associated with VRBC). The next day, I get my wisdom teeth out. And on Saturday the 20th, I make sure all my stuff is packed and drive down to college.

Yeah. It's all happening that fast. I'm scared. I'm excited, but I'm scared.

Ready or not, here I come.

Justin Bieber

I'm not on the bandwagon of crazy. I do not loathe him. I do not love him. I think he is very talented and has catchy music that you can sing to easily (best for nights with friends in the car with the windows rolled down).

But let me say this: I am slowly falling in love with Selena Gomez's man.

Before I saw the movie, the craze was in full swing and I thought it was extremely overrated. I didn't dislike him; I just was ready to stop hearing about Justin Bieber. Like I said, nothing against him at all. It was one of those things where I didn't like the principal of the obsession. I stopped liking the Twilight books so much when everyone went stark mad about them when the movie came out. Same kind of deal pre-Never Say Never.

After I saw the movie, I got an immense amount of respect for him. He is outrageously talented with a crazy clear voice. He's...normal. He has divorced parents. He still has his best friends from his "undiscovered" days. He doesn't have any weird piercings. He doesn't do drugs or drink (to my knowledge). He fights for a cause. He's relatable. He had humble beginnings. He's passionate about life.

Justin Bieber is refreshing, frankly. Of course, all of America is holding their breath for him to mess up and be seriously scrutinized. But from what I see in magazines and his movie, he isn't on the track for destruction. If he died, I wouldn't just say, "Oh, what a shame. Predictable, but a shame" like I did for Amy Winehouse. Unfortunately, our society is so used to screwed up public figures that when someone who is normal but has spectacular musical talent comes along, we either become obsessed with him or we turn away, wondering when he'll let us down too.

I'm not waiting for Biebs to mess up like I am with so many other celebrities. I'm waiting to see what else he's going to do and where else he's going to go.

No, I'm not in love with him. You won't see me pining for tickets to his next concert or going out or buying a bunch of his clothes or his new scent. But, sure, I'm a fan. Label me that. I'm good with it.

And, like Justin Bieber, I just need somebody to love.

Itching to write with nothing to say

So I've gone to my blog about 10 times today and stared at the "new post" button every time. I want to write but I literally have nothing important to say. I will now list off a bunch of exceedingly random things that pop into my head over the next ten or so minutes and call it a blog post. Bear with me.

I'm listening to Switchfoot's new single "Dark Horses" off of their upcoming album "Vice Verses" due out on September 27th. The song is excellent, probably one of their best, right up there with "Dare You To Move". Almost, but not quite.

I have a pounding headache and my stomach feels bad. My cough is getting worse. And I go out of town in 4 days.

I haven't spoken to one of my best friends in a few days. Weird.

I really should be going to bed now. But I'm not.

"Dark Horses" is really good. Go check it out.

Switchfoot is seriously genius. I love them passionately.

It is so weird to think that I go to college in 17 days. When did I get this old?

I'm hungry but I can't eat because my stomach feels bad and food is not nearly as good the second time around...if you know what I mean.

I love driving because I can jam to my music.

I made a playlist for my book that I'm writing that won't be finished anytime soon because I'm in a slump.

I need to start packing for fish camp/impact/college.

My room still looks like a store barfed all over it.

Aghhhhh my head hurts.

I get my haircut tomorrow. I'm not doing anything interesting with it. I think I want to grow it out.

I tried to paint my nails this edgy electric blue color but it looked terrible so I took it off and now there's blue nail polish in my cuticles.

How am I supposed to part with all my books for college? Did you know that there isn't enough room to bring my vast collection of book to school? Whose idea was it to make dorm rooms so small?

Okay. I'm going to bed now. I hope this post of nothing entertained you.

Ugh.

Thorns in my side:

1. My impending illness (sore throat, headaches, lack of appetite, headache, weakness)

2. The fact that the lot that I now have a permit for at A&M seemingly does not exist. 

3. I have not paid for said lot but I have a permit for it. What?

4. My room looks like a store threw up in it. 

5. I only have 2 more weeks to get my wisdom teeth out, get a hair cut, get all my dorm stuff, to say goodbye to everyone, and to get all my school supplies.

6. I recently found out that my dorm does not have wifi. 

7. I have to find a replacement babysitter for the family I've been nannying all summer by Friday.

8. I still need to go clothes shopping because my current wardrobe will find me no cute boys in College Station.

9. Ibuprofen does not, in fact, stop all headaches. 

10. I've started reading 3 books this summer and have not finished any of them.

11. I will not have the book I've been writing finished by the time I go to school. Consider that goal a fail. 

12. The lowest high temperature for the week is 106. I like heat, but I don't like feeling as if my buns are going to burn off.

So, I'll leave off with this and hope I get some sleep tonight.

"Be anxious for nothing, 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 comprehension, shall guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7

My second home

So I've gone to the same church since I was 4 years old. I went through all the programs I could growing up (preschool, Awanas, kids choir, youth group) and have graduated from the church. Of course, there's been the weird summer period where I don't really belong anywhere, and it's been fantastic, but that's irrelevant. What matters is that tomorrow will be my "last Sunday".

Next Sunday, I'll be at Fish Camp. The next Sunday, I'll be at Impact (Christian Fish Camp). The next Sunday will be move-in day, where my parents will drive home and I will stay in College Station until October or whenever I feel like I want to come home for a weekend.

It's just so weird to think that I place that I've been going to weekly for the past 15 years will suddenly no longer be a part of my life. I'll have to find a new place in College Station that I feel as at home at as I did at VRBC. And it's going to be hard to keep my mind open in this new church because I'll be looking for what I grew up with and it's not going to be there. Not the same thing, anyway. I know I'm going to cry tomorrow.

After 15 years somewhere, you kind of grow attached to it. I'm accepted and not questioned when I walk into the church offices. It's not weird to see me up in the youth area helping out with stuff. I feel like I belong at VRBC because that's all I've ever known. And I'm scared of not finding somewhere that I love just as much when I go to school. God will push me in the direction I need to go, I know. But I'm still just wishing that VRBC could move with me. The staff, the members...everything. It's my second home.

I know I'm ready. It's just a matter of accepting my readiness, if that makes any sense at all.

So, VRBC, thanks for seeing me through. Thanks for teaching me the difference between an apple and an orange. Thanks for teaching me John 3:16 and Psalm 86:12. Thanks for giving me opportunities to grow in Christ and as a leader. Thanks for seeing me through everything. Thanks for having a solid foundation physically and spiritually. Thanks for giving me people to lean on. Thanks for showing me how to step out of my box. Thanks for feeding me. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for the leaders. Just...thanks. You've left your mark and have a chunk of my heart. And it'll travel down I35 with me as I head to A&M. Love you.

Bye.

LIFETIME MUTANT NINJA THYROID!

So I have this condition and I don't really know what it's called (I know it has a name). But, basically, I don't have the use of my thyroid.

What's a thyroid, you ask? Good question. Basically, it's this little gland in your neck, right under your Adam's Apple and it does a few fairly important things. As a baby, it helps to develop your brain. But as you grow, it does things like control your weight by using energy, distribute hormones, and gage hormone reaction. It works closely with your pituitary gland, which is at the base of your brain. I have a perfectly functional thyroid and a perfectly functional pituitary gland. But there's a small problem: the message from my pituitary gland to make my thyroid work gets all messed up.

It's called the TSH, or the thyroid stimulating hormone. The hormone that informs my thyroid that it's time to start producing is mutated, making it so that it doesn't work at all. The message is lost because it was never fully formed. As a result, my thyroid never hears what it's supposed to do from the pituitary gland. Something goes wrong. The only reason my thyroid doesn't work is because the hormone never gets there.

Now, I wouldn't be telling you about my mutated hormone if I didn't think it was important/interesting. What I find cool about this is that my family is one of five recorded families in the world who has this condition. My sister and I are the only ones in North America. The others are in Brazil, Belgium, and Germany. It's easy to deal with--I just take a pill every morning that acts as the hormone--but it's just so weird/awesome that I have this unbelievably rare problem.

Obviously, I'm normal (don't make jokes, smart alecks). I have a normal height, weight, and brain abilities. I was given hormones fast enough so that the lack of the natural hormone as a baby didn't affect me, thank goodness. If I hadn't had care within a certain time frame, I would've had mental disabilities.

So that's my medical quirk, a form of hypothyroidism.


I am...

Listening to: "What I Know" by Parachute
Pumped for: the Rangers game tomorrow!
Thinking about: the great night I had with my friends and at Bible study
Reflecting over: judging and how to stop
Happy because: I get to babysit my awesome cousins tomorrow

Why I write.

I've found that, in a very loose way, I am like King David of the Bible. When I write about my toils and things that I'm going through, I find that I change a lot from the beginning of the piece to the end. I typically start out at point A and, by the time point B comes around, I'm a lot different. Normally, it goes from a negative to a positive. And I do a lot of learning about myself.

Now, go find a Psalm. You'll see that David normally starts out with some problem and complaining about how he feels forsaken and like he isn't being looked after and by the end of the Psalm, he's all, "I LOVE YOU GOD!!!"

See what I mean about David and me? He lived a few thousand years ago and was royalty and I'm a 21st century upper-middleclass girl but we both share two things: our love for our God and a love for writing.

Transition.

I write for a lot of reasons. One being that when I speak, my words aren't words and when I'm actually speaking English and not my own language, I have a bad tendency of stumbling over my words. Another reason is the one I mentioned earlier; I learn about myself when I write. I overcome things when I write. I get lost when I write. And only when I get lost can I ever be found. Because, honestly, what idiot would go searching for something if they knew where it was?

If you looked around my room, you would be hard pressed to not see any books. Books on my desk. Books on my nightstand (a whole stack of 'em). Books on my shelves. Books on my dresser. Books on the floor. A whole library of books neatly organized in my closet. Writing and reading has built me. It's the reason I am who I am. Without the fictional worlds that I have a tendency to overanalyze, there's no way I could even think about existing in the "real" world.

When I write, I build a character that is like me. I modify the character, of course. Give her blue eyes and a better ability to speak coherently. Give her weaknesses. Give her a boy to fall in love with. Give her a mission she'll fight for and people to love on. She is me, but she definitely isn't me. I think I do this because I've always made myself a character in the books that I read. I want to be the heroine. I want to be the Hermione (of Harry Potter) or the Annabeth (of Percy Jackson and the Olympians) or the Viola (of Twelfth Night...or She's The Man). They're strong, smart, witty, sometimes confused, always awesome, and, above all else, the heroine of their story. They impact and save lives.

I write because I love stories. And I'm in one. As Shauna Niequist said in her book Cold Tangerines, "God is a storyteller. He's a mad-scientist and a father and a magician, and certainly, he's a storyteller", God loves a good story and He has complete jurisdiction over all "real life" stories. He wrote the book to your life. So maybe I am the heroine of my story and maybe of someone else's too. But it doesn't matter if I'm the star or the supporter: I'm in stories.

You can't have a writer without a story. You can't have a story without characters. You can't have characters without being inspired. And you can't be inspired if you don't step out and figure out your own story before you start writing a fictional one.

Go and have stories. Let me know how it works.

Embarrassing

I embarrass myself a lot. Not "Oh-my-gosh-toilet-paper-is-stuck-to-my-shoe" or "Shoot-the-guy-that-I-have-a-crush-on-knows-that-I-like-him" embarrassment. More like the "Oops-I-tripped-on-my-own-foot" or the "Sorry-for-not-being-able-to-coherently-make-words-when-I-get-excited" embarrassed. Little, insignificant things. Nothing catastrophic really ever happens in my life for me to get so embarrassed over that I need to go climb in a box in the corner for the next half century. Mostly, I just laugh at myself and other people think it's embarrassing that I tripped.

But I have come across some things that I have found fairly embarrassing that I'm going to share. Do not judge me when you read these.


1. I have found myself trying to impress the 14-year-old girl that I nanny/babysit/drive around. I'm trying to break this by not wearing any makeup around her. It's kind of working.

2. I've discovered that I'd really like to be fictional. I want people to read about me and think I'm interesting/cool/heroic/whatever.

3. I've also discovered how ridiculous the above two confessions are.

4. As shocking as it is, I'm becoming clumsier. Yeah. It's happening.

5. I'm scared out of my mind about getting my wisdom teeth taken out.

6. If I had all the money in the world, I would spend it on TOMS and a pair of glasses for every day of the week.

7. I know I've said this before, but I really want blue or green eyes.

8. My cousin and I are now reading the same books. He just turned 10 years old and is going into 4th grade. Yikes.

9. I look like a sleepy hobo in my student ID picture for A&M.


That is all.


I am...(not necessarily the same as during the 30 day challenge)

Listening to: "Miss Me" by Andy Grammer
Reading: "Lethal Warrior" by David Phillips
Procrastinating: Showering
Annoyed by: Being waitlisted for parking
Excited for: The Rangers game on Thursday that I'm going to

I know what love is

So you know how in those soap operas or Disney Channel shows the main girl character "falls in love" with the boy of her dreams and wants to give up everything for this boy and the mom snaps at her and is all, "You don't even know what love is!"

In fact, some real people (as in, not actors) have that same mindset. Teenagers don't know what love is, they say. They think that the younger generation doesn't have enough life experience to know what true love is and, therefore, cannot use it as an excuse/explanation in life.

I disagree, but not for the reasons that you might think.

You see, I believe in this all consuming, unbiased, uninhibited, unconditional love. Such a thing only comes from Jesus Christ. This love is perfect because He is perfect and everything He does/is is perfect. And, due to the fact that I profess myself to be a believer and follower of Christ, I get this love. It conquers all in every circumstance. This love cannot be destroyed or overpowered. This love is absolutely flawless because it sees no flaws. Love, as John Mayer says, "turns the whole thing around."

Because I have a part of this love, I know what love is. Jesus Christ died for me because of His intense love for me. Nothing I do can make Him stop loving me. He willingly put aside Himself and His desires and fears to die for someone that He passionately loved. He felt that He could not live without me and, therefore, threw down His life for me.

I do not, in any way, shape, or form deserve this sacrifice. However, love does not base things off of debts or levels of entitlement or seniority. Love simply loves and ignores all else.

No, I have never been in love. I want to be (I seriously can't wait to fall in love), but I'm not yet. But I know what love is. And I'll know that I'm in love because I have such a powerful example through Christ.

So I don't need mistletoe or Cupid or a love calculator. I just need my heart in the right place and to keep running after the one who loves me most of all. Only then will I find someone who will run with me.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8

Leaving my legacy

I have four more weeks left in the home town I've lived in for the past 15 years.

15 years is a long time. A girl goes from a preschooler to a graduate in 15 years. A family is made in 15 years. Friendships are built, broken, and reconciled in 15 years. Change happens in 15 years. People get to know you in 15 years. Legacies are built in 15 years.

So what's mine?

Mine is with teachers. Mine is with a church. Mine is with adults who's kids I've babysat and led at VBS. Mine is with the kids who I have babysat and taught at VBS. Mine is with the workers at certain restaurants that I go to a lot. Mine is with that one worker at Kroger who knows me because I buy really random things and that I'm 19 going on 14 years old. Mine is with my eighth grade English teacher who still has the terrible "novel" I wrote. Mine is with the church leader who still remembers the Linley with glasses and braces. Mine is that my teachers in my earlier years remember me as the quiet girl with her nose in a book...constantly.

But those don't matter in the great scheme of things. Who cares if my fourth grade teacher fondly remembers my obsessive reading of "The Boxcar Children" or that the Kroger employee will forever think it's strange that I buy onions and a box of brownie mix in the same purchase? Things like that are irrelevant to what I really want to leave home.

I want to leave with a legacy that forever honors my Savior. I want people to think of me as the girl who invests time in others with little regard to what she needs to be doing for herself. I want people to think of me as the one who cared too much for what others needed. I would rather care too much than too little. I want girls who are insecure to look at me and know that if the dorkiest girl on earth can make it through middle school and high school, they can too. If one girl keeps her head up in a rough time because of looking at me, I've succeeded in doing what I've been called (by name) to do. If anyone is a follower of Christ because of me, if anyone steps away from their insecurities and fears because of me, and if anyone is a leader because of me, then I have done what I was here to do.

My legacy is what people will think of whenever they hear my name. I know not all of it will be good; I'm far from perfect and know my faults. But negativity and the downward cast of an eye will not keep me from stumbling along the path that I've been set on to follow. And I will stumble. Not everything is a stroll in the park. I'm going to have backbreaking spaces that I'll need to grab ahold of God's hand for and adversity is one of those spaces. But there will also be times where I'm skipping along the road, freer than any bird you've ever seen.

I'm leaving soon. But think of me every once in a while and don't miss me too much. I've left behind a little bit of Linley here and there. And, hopefully, it won't be hard to find.

Harry Potter.

I became a Harry Potter fan by accident. I was going to Washington DC on vacation and right before I left for the airport, I went to my then boyfriend's house to get something. While there, he traded the book I currently had in my backpack for Harry Potter without me noticing with a note that said "Enjoy!"

I am forever grateful for this act of trickery.

At that point, almost all the books were out and by the time I finished The Half-Blood Prince, the seventh book came out. There were no midnight Barnes and Noble stakeouts for me or waiting impatiently for JK Rowling to put out the next installment. But I devoured those books. I quickly fell in love with all the characters. And I quickly decided that I hated Bellatrix Lastrange a million times more than I hated Voldemort himself.

It was a fun and exciting to see this masterful story unfold and how all the pieces fit together in this intense, overarching plan that boiled down to unexpected secrets and major plot twists. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are, obviously, three of the best protagonists of all time. They were human in the sense that they had issues; they got jealous, they got mad, they made up, they got mad again, and they always, always, saved each other's butts when it counted. Harry, the moody chosen one. Ron, the funny been-in-the-business-since-birth one. And Hermione, the stunningly beautiful know-it-all.

But what about our supporting characters? My favorite has to be Neville Longbottom. In my opinion, his story is the most heartbreaking. His parents were tortured to insanity by a sickeningly cruel woman. Neville was not The chosen one in the sense that he would destroy Voldemort. But he was the one who held Hogwarts together. He was brave all through his 7 years at his school. He was smart and sweet and endearing. I don't want Harry or Ron; I want Neville. And then there's the ever-essentric Luna. Beautiful, strong, hilarious Luna. Strange by all counts, but the war would not have been won without her for so many reasons. Fred (tear) and George. They are right behind Neville in the "favorite characters" list. I definitely started crying in both the book and movie when Fred died. They were hilarious and, without a doubt, the comic relief that this dark story needed.

I could go on and on about how much I love the characters and how amazing the story was. It was unbelievable put on the big screen and, though my mental movies are pretty good, it made everything seem so much more real.

Harry Potter, you will be missed. But you are far from being over. I have a feeling that this is not the last we'll be seeing of you.

"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are." --Sirius Black