Day 6: A picture that makes me happy.

Meet Tyson. He's four years old. He is extremely ticklish. He likes suckers. He has long eyelashes. Sometimes he sings for you. He's little bitty. His laugh could light up the world if it were put on a global microphone.

Meet Tyson. He wore the same clothes every day I saw him (four days). He speaks very little English. He had scars on his stomach. He lives in a slum. He has missing teeth. He never showed me any of his family. He cried when someone didn't hold him.

I met Tyson when I went to Kenya this summer. He was kind of adopted by my friend Mary Beth and me. He wore these three necklaces every day. This picture is of him laying across my knees while I was tickling him. My camera was in one hand and my fingers were tickling his ribs with the other. I miss him. I pray for him. I worry about him. I don't know how much he gets to eat in a day, a week, a month. I don't know where he lives. I don't know who takes care of him. He's precious and has a contagious smile.

Whenever I see pictures of Tyson, I can't help but smile. Though I do worry about him, there was just something about his innocence, his laughter, that was comforting. God's got him--and, really, that's all that's important.

I miss you, sweet boy. Keep smiling.

Day 5: A song to match my mood.

Right now, I'm feeling both optimistic but frustrated. Here's why:

We'll start with the optimism. I just sold the TOMS I bought off eBay that didn't fit--so that's great news. I thought I'd be stuck with those for a while. On a bigger scale, I'm realizing that I'm a second semester senior--meaning that I am checking out. So long, hometown, because I'm ready for college. Literally, the only thing that motivates me to get out of bed in the morning is getting good enough grades so that I can be exempt from my finals. But I'm optimistic about becoming a college student and looking forward to this summer. Of course, I'm still focusing on the now and am living every day for right now.

However, I am frustrated. Even though I've been officially accepted into school, I have to spend eight hours in school because I'm required to by law. And my graduation credentials. I'm frustrated by the fact that TOMS.com doesn't have my size in the maroon pair that I want. Frustrated that I have math homework--this is the first time I've had math homework all year. And I'm frustrated by the fact that I'm getting sick. Awesome.

So here's the song: "Fight Another Day" by Brandon Heath. The lyrics are as follows:

It's an uphill climb

But it's all you know

So you spin your wheels and dig your heels

And down you go

So predictable

But it's not your fault

How can you expect to do your best when you're scared to fall?

'Cause the pain is real

But you will survive

It's how you know you're alive

'Cause it's okay now

Hey now

You can let go

'Cause when you find out, find out

Everybody knows

There just ain't no, ain't no

Easy way out

I know it might not look that way

But you're going to live to fight another day

There's a place I know

Outside of town

Let's get out of here

Where all our fears don't hang around

It's another chance

Take it while you can

'Cause it sure won't last

It'll move so fast

And it's gone again

You're on the edge now

But you will survive

It's how you know you're alive

And cause it's okay now

Hey now

You can let go

'Cause when you find out, find out

Everybody knows

There just ain't no, ain't no

Easy way out

I know it might not look that way

But you're going to live to fight another day

Another day, yeah

You wonder what you were made of

I'm telling you know

You're going to make it somehow

What are you so afraid of?

Hey now, hey now

You can let go

'Cause when you find out, find out

That everybody knows

There just ain't no, ain't no

Easy way out

I know it might not look that way

But you're going to live to fight another day

Now hey now

You can let go

'Cause when you find out, find out

Everybody knows

There just ain't no, ain't no

Easy way out

I know it might not look that way

But you're going to live to fight another day

Fight another day

Fight another day...

"It's an uphill climb"? Ugh, yes. I feel like I have to constantly dig my heels and spin my wheels. It's tiring, really. But you know what? It's okay when I let go. Everyone gets that we have struggles and I will continue to fight another day. Because what's high school in the grand scheme of things? What's a website being out of stock in the great picture of life? Nothing overly significant.

So that's my mood in a song. Ta-da!

Day 4: My parents

Ahh, parents. Gotta love 'em. So, without further adieu, here's my ode to Karen and Mike McCord:

My mom. She was an army brat growing up and therefore lived in several states and one other country (the Japanese island of Okinawa...or however you spell it). She's the third of four with a younger brother and an older brother and sister. She looks most like her younger brother (James) but acts more like her sister (Carol). And she occasionally burps like the last brother, John. But don't tell her I said that. She grew up Southern Baptist, so that's why the rest of my family is. Basically, what Mom says goes. And if she ain't happy, nobody is happy. Fact o' life. She's hilarious ("Mike, you don't put 2 pounds of lard down the garbage disposal!"), picky about clean rooms ("Linley, you had socks on your floor! No Facebook for the rest of the day."), an excellent cook ("I made spaghetti!"), a woman of the Lord ("I have a youth support team meeting today--those are so fun!"), and your typical mom ("I'm tired of cleaning up after everyone!!!!"). My dad and I make fun of her purely out of love because she gets annoyed with some of the simplest things (see "rewinding an annoying commercial over and over to see when she notices/gets mad" for more information). Yeah, we're a normal mother and daughter because we drive each other crazy. But we also love each other like crazy. Love you, Mam Mam.

My dad. Or, as I call him, "Tick" or "Pa". Long story that will be addressed in the upcoming "Nicknames" post. Don't worry about it for now. He is the oldest of three boys (Michael "Mike", Gregory "Greg", and Andrew "Andy") and all of them were the mascot at TCU. Family tradition that I will not be continuing. Sorry, boys. Anyway, my dad was actually born in Japan (some US air force base though) so he has dual citizenship, which is pretty cool. He lived in several places too, but went to high school in New Mexico and then moved to Texas when he started school at TCU. He told me that he worked at a ski shop only to talk to the cute girls who came in--my dad the player. He is now the family's errand man and money man and go-to man and "come fix my (insert whatever is broken here)" man. He can make pretty much anything grilled--and that's about the extent of his cooking abilities. Well, he can make cereal. But that's pretty much it. He's hilarious and my partner in crime when it comes to harassing my mom (see above paragraph). And we say "I love you" a little different. So, wuvins, Pa!

So yeah. Those are my parents. I wuv dem.

Day 3: My First Love

I am SO glad that I'm getting this one out of the way. Why? Because I've never really had a "first love". So this post will be sufficiently awkward and full of ramblings about the fact that I've never really had my heart broken by any one guy. But I pledged to do this 30 day challenge and so I have to do this post.

My first (and only) boyfriend came around when I was in eighth grade. We'd been best friends since probably fourth grade and are really good friends now (thank goodness). And in eighth grade we affirmed that we liked each other and should therefore date. And we dated until we were early into our junior year of high school.

We were each other's best friends--we told each other everything. We didn't pull the other away from our other friends and were there for the other when we needed to be. We went slow and didn't kiss until we'd been dating for awhile (yes, our first kisses). We were tight. We still liked each other from eighth grade to summer before junior year.

Then things changed. It was gradual. I realized that he wasn't the guy for me. After nearly 3 years of dating, we hadn't told each other "I love you" because we'd never meant it. We had no regrets with each other because there wasn't anything to regret. I'm glad that he was my first kiss. But junior year, I just decided that, as much as it would hurt both of us, I had to end it.

It was quite possibly the hardest things I'd ever done. But I knew I had to for both of us. So gently and explaining it as well as I possibly could, I broke up with him (in person, I assure you). I tried to make no mistakes in the process (no texting, don't be vague, etc) but used the painfully cliche "I just want to be friends" and "It's not you--it's me" break-up lines. But I realized that they were overused for a reason--they're true more often than you think.

.

He wasn't my first love, but he's the closest thing that is. I love him like a brother but not as a husband. I'm proud to say that we're back to the point of being comfortable with talking to each other and do so often. He's a great guy and I know that God has an amazing girl for him. Just like God has the right guy for me.

So, I guess if I wanted to be a bit corny, I'd tell you that God is my only one and true first love. Because it's true. But I thought I'd give ya a little insight into the love life (as small as it may be...thank goodness) of Linley. Sorry for boring you to death if I did.

Girls, guys will break your heart. It broke mine to hurt the guy I dated for so long. And I've had my share of drama as pertaining to boys, I assure you. But let me promise you this: God's got one for you. So don't chase boys. It's a waste of time. How about this? You run and see who chases you.

Guys, girls will break your heart. It's a fact. But I'm not a dude so I can't give you any sage words of wisdom to give you hope, other than the fact that God's got your girl. All you have to do is listen up and put on your running shoes.

Go.

Day 2: The Reason Behind the Name

Okay, so this post is supposed to be about why I named my blog what I did, "in God's hands". But I kind of think that you need an explanation as to what my real name--Linley--is. Most people ask, so I feel like I should save you the breath (assuming you're that interested in my life...which is a long shot) and just tell you now. So here are the reasons for the blog name and my name.

Linley. L-I-N-L-E-Y. Most people spell it with a "d" in there, making it Lindley. Apparently, people know others with that name, according to my mom. I've never heard of anyone, though. Anyway, my name is a combination of my aunt's middle name (Lynn) and my mom's middle name (Lee). Obviously, my name isn't spelled Lynnlee. My mom did want my name spelled Lynlee, but my dad decided that it wasn't "logical" or whatever. But, when I'm a published author, look for Lynlee...because you're not going to find Linley. I assure you. As immature as this may sound, I want the sort-of pseudonym of Lynlee. Don't laugh. I think it's kind of artsy. But that's just my opinion, of course. So yes. That's the story of my real name.

As for the blog name, I went pretty personal. I can't remember where I heard this--maybe a sermon?--but someone was talking about how we're all God's kiddos. His holding us all tightly in His strong, sure hands and we have nothing to be afraid of. We were made to be held by Him. That was the inspiration for the blog name. I just love the concept that I am held so tightly and so snugly in the hands of the savior of the world. It's so comforting. So I wanted to exemplify that in my blog and let it be an overriding theme.

I used to sing this song when I was in preschool. It went like this: "He's got the whole world in His hands/He's got the whole world in His hands/He's got the whole world in His hands/and He's holding on tight to me" or something like that. Then it goes on to talk about all the people God has--but I forgot how that part goes. Oops. Anyway, the truth that I sang in preschool still applies to my life as a 19 year old.

Yep. There ya have it.

30 Days of Blog (Day 1: 15 random facts and a picture)

Hi. I feel like all of you readers know me fairly well, but I'm trying to blog every day for the next 30 days, so some of this stuff will be repeat material. But I'll try my dang best for it not to be. No promises, though. Anyway, I will now provide you with some picture and 15 random pieces of information about me, myself, and I.

Fact:

1. I used to be the most anti-Mac person in the world. Then my Dell crashed and I lost a lot of stuff. Now I'm obsessed with my Mac and have named it Alfred.

2. I'm strangely obsessed with middle schoolers because I find them 1. hilarious and 2. educational (on so many levels)

3. The drama show ER is my obsession. I mean, there's a reason it ran for 15 seasons.

4. When I thought about the concept of leaving my church that I've grown up in, I started crying. In the shower. Good times.

5. The only folder on my desktop is titled "Writing Goodies". Because, clearly, my mind works like a five-year-old's.

6. I'm obsessed with Twitter. It fascinates me.

7. If I could wear shorts and t-shirts for the rest of my life, I would be one of the happiest people alive.

8. I find Kelly Clarkson EXTREMELY irritating.

9. There is a fair chance that I am the clumsiest person ever. Hang out with me for a day and this fact will be proven.

10. I fall in love with characters. Fictional characters. In books. I have a whole list of male characters that I would happily marry should they be real.

11. Every time I see anything related to Miley Cyrus, I laugh. Five years ago, she was all, "Yeah, I'll be the good, Christian girl everyone from home knows me as!" Now what's she doing? SMOKIN' SOME JANK FROM A BONG.

12. I could die happy if I got to ha

ng out with the Rangers for a day.

13. I've never been superstitious about Friday the 13th because sometimes my birthday is on Friday the 13th. Who wants to think about avoiding black cats when you're worrying about not getting enough cake?

14. I have officially decided that 19 is the single most awkward age. Not the "Wow, you're an adult now!" newness of 18 but not the "Dang, you really are an adult now..." awe-factor of 20.

15. Nutella is my new favorite part of life. Try it with pretzels. Nom, nom, nom, nom.

The picture is of me (the piggy-backer) and one of my favorite people, Meredith. Thanks for reading!

I'm a big kid now?

Sixth grade. I was as nerdy as nerdy could be. No question about it. Glasses, in need of braces, constant ponytail, and in band. You can't get much more geekier than me. So when I walked into the youth group thing on Sunday night for the first time, the senior girls were perfect.

They were amazing. They had perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect clothes, perfect lives. They seemed like they had it all together. They were friends with the leaders and talked to boys without being stupid. If one of them said hi to me, I almost fainted. I was intrigued and jealous of these...women. I aspired to be like them.

But I didn't realize until last night that I am now one of them. I'm one of those fascinating, beautiful, terrifyingly perfect senior girls who looks like she has it all together and seems as if she is the most self-confident woman on the planet. I am perfect.

Or someone might like to think.

I assure you, middle school girls, I am no such thing. Yes, I may be a senior, but I am not the most confident woman on the planet. I am not overly fascinating. I do not have it all together. Do not be afraid of me. And, most importantly, I am not, by any means whatsoever, perfect.

Don't be surprised by these facts.

Can I just express how extremely weird it is to be in the group of senior girls? I am looked up to by tons of girls--some of which I might not even know. I'm not trying to flatter myself. When I was in middle school, I don't think any of those seniors had any idea that I thought so highly of them. I'm really just soaking in the very weird idea that some girl is looking to me to see what she should do.

I'm blown away by that.

But there's my theory: those girls were so incredible to me because I didn't know them. I just stood by in reverence. My plan is to get to know this year's sixth grade, seventh grade, and eighth grade girls so that maybe, just maybe, they'll see that high schoolers aren't nearly as perfect as they are falsely perceived. Only a few times did those girls show an interest in me, but I'm going to change that for you, middle schoolers. I have been changing it. I love middle schoolers, a lot. And, again, I don't want to toot my own horn, but I think it's so important for high schoolers to show genuine interest in the younger ones.

So that's what I'm doing. I don't know if the younguns are looking to me with more awe or with less. But, frankly, I don't care about my awe-factor. I just want to know them and befriend them, grade difference aside.

Maybe I look like the perfect senior girl who has everything under control all the time. But get to know me. And once you do, please laugh with me as we bust the above myth.