tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13689085210313325412023-11-16T08:38:59.377-08:00Because God is Love.And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.
1 John 4:16elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-31268076058945364792011-02-06T19:33:00.000-08:002011-02-06T19:33:04.465-08:00If I really...For a couple of weeks now I have been playing this game with myself where when I come across a situation I think "If I REALLY loved/trusted/believed God what would I do?" Now don't get me wrong, I love God. Or I at least desperately want to. But I am talking about if I was really over the top like crazy in love kind of thing. Basically, it keeps coming back to the same answer each time: I would obey God's word. <u>Wholeheartedly</u> obey. No secret part of me crying out to do my own things and go my own way. I have to die to my flesh. The other thing is that I have to know God's word. Like know it so well, that somehow [through God working MIGHTILY in my heart, that's how] it becomes instinct to obey instead of to sin. <br />
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Tonight at church, our pastor challenged us to examine the areas of our life where we don't trust God. My first thought was "uhhhmmm... probably all of them." That's not exactly true, because God has driven some things into my extremely hard head. But I started thinking of all the times I had played my little game "If I REALLY..." and then didn't follow with what I thought someone that REALLY trusted God would do. <br />
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It's no coincidence that this verse was in my QT this week. <br />
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Psalm 62: 8<br />
Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. <br />
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If I REALLY trusted in God, I would pour out my heart before him at all times. In every season. God would be my refuge. Not my friends. Not alone time. Not working out. <strong><span style="font-size: large;">God</span></strong> would be my refuge.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-81729620663097045392011-01-24T06:48:00.000-08:002011-01-24T06:48:42.893-08:00What inspires you?So this weekend I went to the Create Conference in Waco, put on by ACC. Honestly, I wasn't super stoked about it at first, really I was just going because it was my high school besties 21st birthday and she wanted to go so... I tagged along. But, I ended up having a really awesome time, so I am going to tell you all about it. <br />
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The whole theme of the conference really resonated with me because I love to be creative and think of new things and new solutions to problems. I would never call myself a creative type though. I am just not artsy chill or supernaturally gifted in artistry and I wear normal clothes mostly. But, God is creative. If you don't believe me, go read Genesis. And then read the rest of the Bible, because he never stops moving. <em><a href="http://bible.cc/isaiah/43-19.htm">Behold, I am doing a new thing.</a></em> <br />
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One of the big questions of the conference was, <br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">"What inspires you?"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Music. Music inspires me. I get songs stuck in my head like crazy. If I am tired, I sing worship songs in my head until I fall asleep <em>(Does anyone else do that? I am so weird <strong>always</strong></em>.). If I need to find joy, I sing worship songs to the Lord. If I am afraid, I sing of the Lord. If i need to find motivation, I listen to music that physically moves me. When I run, I need music to accompany.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't make music. I am not a song writer. I am not really gifted with words of any kind actually. But I know that music does something in my soul, so it is super important that I am careful what kind of music I listen to. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Phillipians 4:8</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I realized this weekend that I need to know and find what inspires me toward such things. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-57835096150937140152011-01-17T16:49:00.000-08:002011-01-17T16:49:42.675-08:00ImageI change my mind all the time. No joke. <br />
<br />
I have to plan things out or I will lose my mind trying to decide what to do with my time. Even now, I have a big fat to do list and that's not even helping because I can't decide what needs to be done first. And so nothing happens. But that's a <em>bunny trail.</em> <br />
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I change my appearance all the time too.<strong> Do I like my hairs up this week or down? Curly + Poofy or Straight + Frizzy? Should I dye my hair Auburn or Dark Chocolate? </strong>So many choices. <br />
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The other morning, I was doing my <a href="http://www.esv.org/assets/pdfs/rp.chronological.pdf">DBRP</a> and I came across this verse: <br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Psalm 92: 12-15</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. The are planted in the house of the Lord; they fluorish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright; he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him. </span></em><br />
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This is what I want my image to be. Alive, vibrant and fluorishing. Rooted in the Lord. Visibly declaring that the Lord is my God and I know Him.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-37018069505427835332011-01-03T12:33:00.000-08:002011-01-03T12:33:16.008-08:00year two thousand and eleven.2010 was good. Hard, but definitely sanctifying. I learned a lot about forgiveness after my family seemingly fell apart and then in turn learned a lot about the healing and redemption that accompanies brokenness. Through the blessing of friendship with some very wise women, I learned a lot about what it means to live as a woman of God. Along with that, I figured out that I have a million and a half things to work on before I look like anything close to a wise woman of God. I halfway learned how to use a sewing machine. I know in theory how to rock climb, however in practice its a little ugly. Recently, I learned (very unwillingly) kind of sort of the different parts of a car.<br />
<br />
There is still a lot of progress to be made. <br />
<br />
The agenda for twenty eleven: <br />
<br />
- Become a Better Steward<br />
<ol><li> Making a budget</li>
<li> <a href="http://www.epm.org/store/product/money-possessions-and-eternity/">Making purchases in light of eternity</a></li>
<li> Let things I have currently wear out before buying something new <em>(Ex. Not buying new jeans until I rip/ can't wear a pair of my old jeans; not buying a new book until I finish all of the others on my bookshelf and/or if buying it is necessary)</em></li>
<li><em> </em>Save money for the future <span style="font-size: x-small;">(mom and dad won't keep me on their payroll forever)</span></li>
<li> Give as often as possible of my resources: </li>
</ol><ul><li> Time</li>
<li> Offerings</li>
<li> Meals</li>
<li> Gifts</li>
<li> Encouraging Words</li>
<li> Prayer</li>
</ul>- Get Serious about Memorizing Scripture<br />
<ol><li><a href="http://www.gnpcb.org/assets/bibles/esv.truth.memory.pdf">Treasuring God's Truth in Your Heart</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.austinstone.org/files/thor-scripture.pdf">History of Redemption</a></li>
</ol>The resource that has given me such inspiration for memorizing scripture is David Platt's (I love him) book, <a href="http://www.radicalthebook.com/">Radical</a>. Platt opened my eyes to the truth that in America bibles can be little more than a novelty, but overseas a bible could cost your life. If someone was to take away my bible, how much of it would I have written on my heart? Ummm... not much. <br />
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- Pray Faithfully <br />
<ol><li>Journal daily</li>
<li>Follow the <a href="http://www.operationworld.org/">Operation World</a> prayer guide daily</li>
<li>Plan time to pray</li>
<li>Pray in the moment (<span style="font-size: x-small;">don't just say, "I will be praying for you" but stop and pray in the situation</span>)</li>
</ol>- Be a Planner<br />
<ol><li>Schedule time each week to plan</li>
<li>Pray over my schedule</li>
<li>Plan time to minister</li>
<li>Plan time to study</li>
<li>Plan so that I can use time effectively</li>
<li>Waste less time on facebook, twitter, and blogs. (Except for mine, of course.)</li>
</ol>- Buying food<br />
<ul><li>Use coupons</li>
<li>Buy in bulk less</li>
<li>Reduce wasted food ( use fruits and vegetables completely, instead of eating half and the other half getting moldy. gross and not cost effective) </li>
</ul>Here's to trying!elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-6254475133673549812010-12-01T10:39:00.000-08:002010-12-01T10:39:15.571-08:00my love languages.<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Just in case you want to show me some lovin ever... here is how you should proceed.</span><br />
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<img height="470" id="il_fi" src="http://vintageindie.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/2008/07/11/stationary_mariesvintage2.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="573" /><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">1) write me a note telling me about your life on some super cute stationary. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">2) tell me how great I am at cooking. (this only applies if you have actually tasted my cooking)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">3) tell me that you can see my arm, leg, or neck muscles. compliment my forarms if you want me to kiss you smack on the face. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">4) read my blog and think that i am funny. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">5) study with me. even when you know it is going to be unproductive because I will probably talk and people watch the entire time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">6) tell me that I look really fast when you see me running. (I always have a fear that people are judging my slowness when they see me run.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">7) tell me that no it's not weird that my baby hair won't ever go away and it is actually endearing instead of awkward. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">8) smile back at me when I smile at you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">9) forgive me when i make mistakes. show me grace. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">10) laugh with me when i do, say, or think anything silly. </span>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-43202091219742731712010-11-20T08:05:00.000-08:002010-11-20T08:05:17.654-08:00sweet dreams.<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I have been in the process (since forever) of trying to compile all the verses that have ministered to me during specific struggles in my life. You wouldn't believe me if you saw me now, or my senior year of high school, but I have always had a hard time sleeping. I would frequently wake up screaming after having a terrible nightmare. Like until this past summer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This was a<strong> big thing</strong> in my life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, finally, this summer when I was doing the 90 day read through the bible plan, I came across some verses that spoke directly to my heart about the subject of sleep. <em>Who knew that the bible even gives sleep advice? </em>If I had known earlier, I probably would not have to put under eye concealer on every single day of my life. I am convinced that comes from years of being too afraid of my nightmares to go back to sleep. </span><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Psalm 3:5</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I lie down and sleep; I wake again because the Lord sustains me. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Psalm 4:8</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Psalm 5: 11-12</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you. For surely, O Lord, you bless the righteous; you surround them with your favor as with a shield. </span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">These verses worked on my heart, because they revealed that my issue not trusting in God for sleep. I didn't realize that my fears came from a lack of trust in God (but like 150% of the time that is the case). I didn't believe that God was in complete control of my sleep. If someone came in and sliced me, He was in control. If I had a terrible nightmare, He was in control. If I had the sweetest sleep and the sweetest dreams, He was in control! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I wrote each of these verses down on a notecard and would read them every night before I went to sleep. I would read them when I woke up in the morning and thank God that I could see the truth of His word each night and each morning. After a couple of weeks of this, I haven't had a single problem with sleep! Not that I am saying this has cured me forever, but it has been an <strong>obvious</strong> transformation in my sleeping life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sweet dreams! </span>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-87207069800649602552010-11-13T07:27:00.000-08:002010-11-13T07:27:47.184-08:00again with the celebrating. (part two)See previous post for the first half of my celebration of turning twenty. And Britt turning twenty-one. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiccLB78X_LNn2ubk80XDeocfnt7i951rwnleO16u6T1ijV7RW8jounnpmMMIIBnxZQSEBA5GhEQUQeqz48xrB0B41OUwLR2WL1wbxb7sb5g7iYCfkK3Y89xPGc8Xj7u4BWkMybTSBhU/s1600/Two+Decades+085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiccLB78X_LNn2ubk80XDeocfnt7i951rwnleO16u6T1ijV7RW8jounnpmMMIIBnxZQSEBA5GhEQUQeqz48xrB0B41OUwLR2WL1wbxb7sb5g7iYCfkK3Y89xPGc8Xj7u4BWkMybTSBhU/s320/Two+Decades+085.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>12) Try on size 20 (21) pants. Well they actually don't have size 21 pants, so Britt wore size 22 pants. Like one to grow on. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFeEzNfnpbbHypsN1UyjA57GguqOR0tlZ2nMuDAxkHWWvMC4W1DqwWXQCvIo00uWrhok6UBsirmkq2gYspDVFkRDuOYwaSj1ZNM5KaIYBH4DHTS9ffw4GN9KOnlFCaOq6YnXeOClmAOo/s1600/Two+Decades+093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFeEzNfnpbbHypsN1UyjA57GguqOR0tlZ2nMuDAxkHWWvMC4W1DqwWXQCvIo00uWrhok6UBsirmkq2gYspDVFkRDuOYwaSj1ZNM5KaIYBH4DHTS9ffw4GN9KOnlFCaOq6YnXeOClmAOo/s320/Two+Decades+093.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>13) Hula hoop 20 (21) times. This was no problem for me. Little known fact: I won fourth place for hula hooping when I was in fifth grade. I attribute my success to the fact that my hips don't lie. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRjW6Vkya1ltqcryzGeFQkRW2JUwIBHTrcI2SlB0xshVBqAbybp7cWbzci6lno_mwTp-ApmkU36hI48BofH78hXVdVnMYfjzL5HVZsBbom47GsYgEFGHzTvO0NoCWypHQzepwdAxw5aw/s1600/Two+Decades+098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRjW6Vkya1ltqcryzGeFQkRW2JUwIBHTrcI2SlB0xshVBqAbybp7cWbzci6lno_mwTp-ApmkU36hI48BofH78hXVdVnMYfjzL5HVZsBbom47GsYgEFGHzTvO0NoCWypHQzepwdAxw5aw/s320/Two+Decades+098.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOoE1l9GAND0SOlRCZUgjXdcihzKd7zLQXlnJZlkOm6jWGsk5FcS190JRkAgX8v2dBIxMv8m3yggeb_PeUOUGzwRA3NPOsz_yb8E4TuitwuKe33SGkrw3W-1FV2dXt-9x5-ZScIf_QLA/s1600/Two+Decades+100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOoE1l9GAND0SOlRCZUgjXdcihzKd7zLQXlnJZlkOm6jWGsk5FcS190JRkAgX8v2dBIxMv8m3yggeb_PeUOUGzwRA3NPOsz_yb8E4TuitwuKe33SGkrw3W-1FV2dXt-9x5-ZScIf_QLA/s320/Two+Decades+100.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>14) Ride elevator up and down 20 (21) times. A more known fact: I am extremely motion sick. So this was definitely my least favorite event of the night. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ahOpz6Cftp6jYFgEw7w24Sd6lICPVKFfxVkEWmk3NBnbUzUsyNhYSR_92X27ICos-BauAteZidjGBCImYByIVUnJAkpIx-ALXAVb_mvAz1PqXK-0MFs44hgRplXJgdbRChSd_bMtO3I/s1600/Two+Decades+104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ahOpz6Cftp6jYFgEw7w24Sd6lICPVKFfxVkEWmk3NBnbUzUsyNhYSR_92X27ICos-BauAteZidjGBCImYByIVUnJAkpIx-ALXAVb_mvAz1PqXK-0MFs44hgRplXJgdbRChSd_bMtO3I/s320/Two+Decades+104.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>15) Go pond hopping for 20 (21) <strike>minutes</strike> seconds. It was a little chilly. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AMsLLGHNwpejohZDTyq49j5naxzrzqcaNOJ8QnXf_4bgm4OwxPJYDyHHR7GA-5uNXtyJfsScwPBkp7dFbcWpwRVQMZwErm-n4H938Nmfyl_XXKfydGYaNsuU0MXLIcnNros1fjycQIA/s1600/Two+Decades+109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AMsLLGHNwpejohZDTyq49j5naxzrzqcaNOJ8QnXf_4bgm4OwxPJYDyHHR7GA-5uNXtyJfsScwPBkp7dFbcWpwRVQMZwErm-n4H938Nmfyl_XXKfydGYaNsuU0MXLIcnNros1fjycQIA/s320/Two+Decades+109.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>16) Roll down the hill 20 (21) times. Britt rolled down once. I rolled down zero times. <br />
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<em>The next couple were not documented, so just trust me they happened. <strong>True Story.</strong></em><br />
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17) Dance every time the minutes say 20 (21). Undocumented, but let me just assure you white girls have moves. <br />
18) Ask sales clerk at Wal-Mart 20 (21) different questions. Kristen was a champ. As much as possible, the questions and conversation flowed naturally. It didn't hurt that the male sales clerk was all too willing to keep the conversation going as long as possible. <br />
19) Give 20 (21) kids high fives throughout the night. This one was a complete fail. It turns out most children are scared (and most parents are wary) of college students running up to them and very enthusiastically demanding a high five. <br />
20) I just realized there were not twenty things on the list. Apparently, <strong>we cannot count</strong>. No big deal, we are just juniors in college. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHezwTKWuFS9hxOo0xygg7cOtOpmdCFdImNInNjCcOdbeXwWgveGAE2XeWz3QZecq3jeuO13sxENUyUKOzDce_Db1htcI-ATRRkVnz3rlTb9Uf_0rl3G7IzqemWSMGdxVerh0eE4QmRWo/s1600/Two+Decades+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHezwTKWuFS9hxOo0xygg7cOtOpmdCFdImNInNjCcOdbeXwWgveGAE2XeWz3QZecq3jeuO13sxENUyUKOzDce_Db1htcI-ATRRkVnz3rlTb9Uf_0rl3G7IzqemWSMGdxVerh0eE4QmRWo/s320/Two+Decades+046.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>21) Britt enjoys a 21st birthday drink. They said they were out of the pretty glasses, but its ok she was happy to get extra alcohol. Totally just kidding.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-62749977334222751122010-11-12T21:28:00.000-08:002010-11-12T21:28:43.027-08:00celebrating two decades worth of life. (part one)I think I have finally embraced 20. I like being able to tell people that twenty years ago, I did (fill in the blank). As a baby, I actually probably didn't but I pretend. <br />
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Because I have wonderful, beautiful friends and a presh roomie who shared my birthday week. We celebrated big. I mean why not, our births are a <strong>big deal</strong>. Obviously you think so, or you wouldn't care about my blog. So in the spirit of big deals and celebrating, we had 20/21 night. <br />
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Twenty (one) things had to be done on this night: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL0f0tAl39m3mLt4_pgyWg0oKvQclfXj7P3oJK9Xgv_2iFUG0nN8SGFwb0Ci7S1k23iWNtnt1lB6uVD3VgFgFL7rCteUbQ8y7mMPXpAqoXPgAEfU3rTQ9EQssQBd_RhBhO4LfPXhdiEs/s1600/Two+Decades+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL0f0tAl39m3mLt4_pgyWg0oKvQclfXj7P3oJK9Xgv_2iFUG0nN8SGFwb0Ci7S1k23iWNtnt1lB6uVD3VgFgFL7rCteUbQ8y7mMPXpAqoXPgAEfU3rTQ9EQssQBd_RhBhO4LfPXhdiEs/s320/Two+Decades+018.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>1) Karaoke for 20 (21) minutes. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JyI7MOO3piUbzQOSRpt1Qylz3Q1Y0bZPM0x9Nks0Xeac0-EWmIifPiojdsaEcv6syF-hMa3stfDqOkJv5a2EnRINSHc8WCgRX01-wRyiwJh9xCovRmzeUnYSwnseAfXQB-qZor955SI/s1600/Two+Decades+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JyI7MOO3piUbzQOSRpt1Qylz3Q1Y0bZPM0x9Nks0Xeac0-EWmIifPiojdsaEcv6syF-hMa3stfDqOkJv5a2EnRINSHc8WCgRX01-wRyiwJh9xCovRmzeUnYSwnseAfXQB-qZor955SI/s320/Two+Decades+024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>2) Give yourself a 20 (21) tat. (Depending on your age)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpupOJXeh0tfXkL-cHAPPYuwoPGnO2nIlh8zKaVMZhtrsKuj7z6yLjndpK5eVVk8xfrWAjAmJaG8-gjdwZzOWoQKaJ0GVDX1ARNMyBJ3Zx6ZEkPo3vgYNm-0yx9hGJ89yM3TeUPBul0a0/s1600/Two+Decades+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpupOJXeh0tfXkL-cHAPPYuwoPGnO2nIlh8zKaVMZhtrsKuj7z6yLjndpK5eVVk8xfrWAjAmJaG8-gjdwZzOWoQKaJ0GVDX1ARNMyBJ3Zx6ZEkPo3vgYNm-0yx9hGJ89yM3TeUPBul0a0/s320/Two+Decades+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>3) Stuff 20 (21) almonds in your mouth. The only problem with this is that they were really salty. I think that's why I drank a gallon of Dr.Pepper at Chilis. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5luKBW7AvIP66RaG__JVMTCrfR-kIdK5jZutgFZXProWUQKHNN7sPRf1bY1EylUW3FRltaOAiTMUd7jB5cUSI0YIyF1mSNr3lx-qcf5ujweU-9OwtqdAzlT13oDVzWWABFqJewJ16aaM/s1600/Two+Decades+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5luKBW7AvIP66RaG__JVMTCrfR-kIdK5jZutgFZXProWUQKHNN7sPRf1bY1EylUW3FRltaOAiTMUd7jB5cUSI0YIyF1mSNr3lx-qcf5ujweU-9OwtqdAzlT13oDVzWWABFqJewJ16aaM/s320/Two+Decades+034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>4) Taste 20 different peoples food at Chilis. Britt opted not to participate in this one. No one acted like it was weird at all for me to go around asking people to sample their food. Everyone just laughed and pushed their plate toward me and then smiled for the picture. I have decided that if I am ever having a poor college student day, I might try this again. And also to get the cheese fries next time because those were really good. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaLeFAd9fyG9-NN7Vo2QH3t_7DyW6rjNDefcF4DztOnvucRwwQyUIo-IQoy5O0BsIxvACu7dZW-_qmsCWrXkiO77z4bwG9g7cS5XGw-TGeiXygSobP4FIZ2Y-i8XB7LXA7Xr6pJ7ZmBc/s1600/Two+Decades+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaLeFAd9fyG9-NN7Vo2QH3t_7DyW6rjNDefcF4DztOnvucRwwQyUIo-IQoy5O0BsIxvACu7dZW-_qmsCWrXkiO77z4bwG9g7cS5XGw-TGeiXygSobP4FIZ2Y-i8XB7LXA7Xr6pJ7ZmBc/s320/Two+Decades+050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>5) Eat 20 (21) different things throughout the night. I think I ate (no judgement!): chocolate chips, almonds, chips & queso, chips & salsa, fries, cheese fries, enchilada soup, salad, quesadilla salad, quesadilla, honey chipotle chicken crispers, southwestern egg roll, corn on the cobb, a burger, mashed potatoes, part of a rib, a mozzerella stick, brownie, ice cream, and... I can't remember the last one! But it was <strong>a lot of food</strong>. Thank you body for not gaining twenty pounds after that night. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue03ItpHmqIdhxLohp3gY-NG3a0dqz4bZa9YmdqgtAORu9gwJp02UZKaIJQff_XzTJMm7663tSK3sdV9M3uN6rz8wzw72-mE19q2kQLpTPBobxtgq13qMBKlfLHYZGvOrW3epwijCu1c/s1600/Two+Decades+054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue03ItpHmqIdhxLohp3gY-NG3a0dqz4bZa9YmdqgtAORu9gwJp02UZKaIJQff_XzTJMm7663tSK3sdV9M3uN6rz8wzw72-mE19q2kQLpTPBobxtgq13qMBKlfLHYZGvOrW3epwijCu1c/s320/Two+Decades+054.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>6) Text 20 (21) different people. In the spirit of obnoxiousness, we only texted people smiley faces. <br />
7) Burp 20 (21) times. We are classy like that. Sadly, these moments went undocumented. <br />
8) Give 20 (21) different compliments. Also undocumented, but I will give you examples: Hey, your teeth look beautiful. You are sooo bootylicious. I really like your arm veins. And so on. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFv5NLs9iFycqUbdv6OW5HX4Ga2YP98A8cMvtu3KJwJHoACe2MgyHXiqQy_HW3sm7un-XH-nIQf4XyXwgMLNRjk1U8x7cjszGq31GPFK6B_mmnBcwyoylOy8okzMhafiwCI7RKApNXK4/s1600/Two+Decades+058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFv5NLs9iFycqUbdv6OW5HX4Ga2YP98A8cMvtu3KJwJHoACe2MgyHXiqQy_HW3sm7un-XH-nIQf4XyXwgMLNRjk1U8x7cjszGq31GPFK6B_mmnBcwyoylOy8okzMhafiwCI7RKApNXK4/s320/Two+Decades+058.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>9) Take pics with 20 (21) different guys. The last guys we took pictures with were French (not pictured - my camera was tired by this point), which was pretty great. Welcome to America, where girls will acost you in Walmart and beg you to take a picture with them. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWmPGeXmAURNArNkinXujYSIEJS3WbvHm423jEDZsykgB1dEML2acwD8R-0DJxU39OuA3x6xxzsecWyuXkUGg_sUi7FFb3d-P5y04QmsPJYYo3jnVYtuvmdSlWn44t54y0fzs_zgobwA/s1600/Two+Decades+063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWmPGeXmAURNArNkinXujYSIEJS3WbvHm423jEDZsykgB1dEML2acwD8R-0DJxU39OuA3x6xxzsecWyuXkUGg_sUi7FFb3d-P5y04QmsPJYYo3jnVYtuvmdSlWn44t54y0fzs_zgobwA/s320/Two+Decades+063.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>10) Try on 20 (21) different products at Ulta. This was harder than you would think. I am not even sure all the makeup I have ever worn would equal the amount I had on my face that night. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOFm1OhYcqz08SkMQbBGSLnDTtLnlVI5dkp-DJCJsNwceO6iIVelxOaRw_2By1A5zn48t4nK7f15GY7GppFv3WMWq6MRjc59G-ltYyhr_XeAh5nmQR0gGtE-8WnsvAFVANbw5OsTHA_s/s1600/Two+Decades+075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOFm1OhYcqz08SkMQbBGSLnDTtLnlVI5dkp-DJCJsNwceO6iIVelxOaRw_2By1A5zn48t4nK7f15GY7GppFv3WMWq6MRjc59G-ltYyhr_XeAh5nmQR0gGtE-8WnsvAFVANbw5OsTHA_s/s320/Two+Decades+075.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwPTLS9sZ-gkn0KAZqgfUtmu5KWSuJf0SRch6k9XFCXaN_tNlC4f5RN4RICKBUAjh50zhzXL6TJpz20pzN92fGT5l_q7YA-up8XTOoa_K3X_DG7hjqjZ7wSOkMinTeTI6BoMes-IYVLk/s1600/Two+Decades+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwPTLS9sZ-gkn0KAZqgfUtmu5KWSuJf0SRch6k9XFCXaN_tNlC4f5RN4RICKBUAjh50zhzXL6TJpz20pzN92fGT5l_q7YA-up8XTOoa_K3X_DG7hjqjZ7wSOkMinTeTI6BoMes-IYVLk/s320/Two+Decades+073.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>11) Try on 20 (21) different accessories at the same time. <br />
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The rest of this post will have to wait, because I can't put any more pictures on and I know thats the most important part.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-55500281244329650112010-11-08T10:08:00.000-08:002010-11-08T10:08:15.766-08:00Kneeling before the Porcelain Throne<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">WARNING: Not for those with weak stomachs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At approximately 12:05 on Sunday night I woke up to begin what was going to be my most philosophical sickness yet. I made it to the bathroom in time, but I had to throw up in the trashcan because my rear end was occupying the toilet. Don't worry, I made it in the toilet every other time. After my second time throwing up I realized how good I have it. I can throw up in this big white toilet and then flush and everything goes away. <strong>What about people who don't have toilets? What do they do when they are sick?</strong> I realized I could not wait until morning to go get some Sprite and saltines, so I put a sweatshirt on over my nightie and went to CVS at 130. I am sure I was a very welcome sight in my pjs and slippers carrying my trashcan around with me (not kidding... I really brought my trashcan in with me.) The cashier was very sympathetic and after I apologized profusely and assured him that I really wasn't trying to make him sick, he told me how grateful he was that I had brought my trashcan because yesterday some little kid came in and threw up... I didn't hear the rest of the story because I shoved my fingers in my ears and said "DON'T TELL THROW UP STORIES NOW!!!" As I was driving back home I realized what a<strong> luxury it is to be able to drive to the store and immediately get what you want when you are sick. </strong>As I lay back down in bed, I kept thinking over and over again about how I didn't deserve for my life to be this easy. Sickness isn't life-threatening, it's merely an inconvenience. I repeatedly asked God to give me joy and humility - that I wouldn't use my "sickness" as an excuse to have people serve me, but to consider others better than myself. Later in the day I popped in the thermometer to discover that I am now running a low grade fever. I call my mom, we chat about it, she tells me the best option is to let my fever run its course so that it will kill the virus naturally, but I can take some advil if I get really uncomfortable or my fever climbs too high. <strong>What a luxury it is to have the option to take medicine. </strong>After 11 hours of sleep, I am totally fine. You would never know that 24 hours ago I was kneeling over the toilet throwing up everything I had ever eaten (slight exaggeration). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Honestly, I had never really considered how easy illness is here in the U.S.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> My worst day would be a luxury to most of the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Just something to think about next time you kneel before a porcelain throne. </span>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-16355575014207563392010-10-29T12:12:00.000-07:002010-10-29T12:12:37.828-07:00age is just a number.<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't remember the name of it, but I read a book when I was little that changed the way I thought about age. In the book she explained how in different moments you can feel different ages and so she would tell what was happening and then explain what age that made her. Ever since I read that book I will sit back and evaluate what actions my age make me.<strong><span style="font-size: large;"> Enjoy: </span></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am in <strong>elementary school</strong> when I act like there is nothing that I possibly can't do. Of course I can do it and I will be awesome at it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am in<strong> junior high</strong> when I tell everyone about my crush, because I just can't contain my excitement. I do everything but write "I love ****" on my hand. (Not that there are the correct number of stars or anything).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am <strong>16</strong> again when I just want to drive around just for the sake of driving or take the long way home and listen to some good, loud music. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am<strong> high school</strong> again when I get obnoxiously hyper at night and just want to be crazy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am not sure exactly what age, but I am definitely a <strong>teenage girl</strong> when I sit down to watch Jonas L.A. It's just funny, ok?! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am a <strong>freshman in college</strong> again when I stay up to do something pointless that will leave me exhausted the next day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am an <strong>adult</strong> when I start each day with a cup of coffee, because my brain literally won't start without it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am a <strong>wanna be wife</strong> when I look cute wearing my apron, just to have fun while cooking. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am a <strong>wanna be grandma</strong> when I wear a cardigan and my hair in a bun and go to bed at 9:30. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I don't think I ever feel <strong>20</strong>. </span>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-54202909827551756712010-10-26T11:04:00.000-07:002010-10-26T11:04:15.838-07:00ripping off a band-aid<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My sister can tell you. When it comes to band-aids I believe its best to just rip it off. None of that soak it in the water and pull it off slowly stuff. Just rip, bite your lip, and then breathe... its all over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I feel like this is exactly what my spiritual life looks like lately. It seems like God is just ripping the band-aids off that are covering my pride in all of its many,many forms. Then I just sit, exposed. With ugly wounds that are evidence of the mistakes I have made. Everyone is painfully aware of my wounds, but no one can heal me. No one can help. God is the only one who can take the broken and bruised pieces and bind them back together. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's beautiful, but very painful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I have spent the past two weeks just biting my lip, waiting to breathe. The relief hasn't come. My wounds keep healing wrong. I keep trying to make it go faster and urge the healing on in my own power. My goodness, I wish that this is how it would work. So God has to rip the band-aid off again. He is patient with me. He is faithful to me. Despite my acting like a two year old and insisting on doing things my way. He is so good to me. He continues to rip my band-aids off. So that I will heal, like only He can heal me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Phillipians 1:6</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will <em>carry it on to completion</em> until the day of Christ Jesus </span>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-73975990003081965822010-10-15T10:49:00.000-07:002010-10-15T11:31:38.271-07:00Praise & Prayer RequestsRight now, I am leading a small group and a covenant group in the christian sorority on campus, Sigma Phi Lambda. It is a tremendous blessing to have this opportunity to invest in my sisters in Christ and to get to see their lives and hearts on a regular basis. I love the intentionality of our time (although it is required). Anyhoo, I feel like I am a broken record because every time we meet together I insist on taking prayer requests. Now, I am definitely not the world's greatest pray-er. Probably not even in the top 5. or top 50. You get the idea. But I just love the way prayer requests 1) bond people 2) reveal what you care enough about that you want to tell others so they can join with you in lifting that thought up to our King.<br /><br /><em><strong>Ummm...<span style="color:#ff99ff;"> beauty-full.</span></strong> </em><br /><em></em><br />In my covenant group I always ask each girl to share a praise and a prayer request, so we can have that constant reminder to rejoice in the Lord while also being faithful in prayer. I can't speak for anyone else... but I love it. It's a big hit in my life.<br /><br />This is a very long drawn out way of saying that I am about to share with you the things that I am praising Jesus for and the things that He could definitely work on in me.<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#cc66cc;">PRAISE </span></em></strong><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><em>Psalms 4:6-7</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><em>Many are asking,"Who can show us any good?" Let the light of your face shine upon us, O Lord. You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound. </em></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">God has revealed sin in me.</span> </strong></span><br />Now, normally this totally wouldn't be a praise until there was much moaning and crying and oh me how much do I stink at life... but this instantly brought me so much joy in the Lord! Dearie me, I did not even realize how much I was trapped in this mindset of having to work for approval, work for recognition, work to serve, work to be loved, work, work, workity work. Trust me, it was exhausting. And I am very easily exhausted. Realizing that my pride was keeping me from daily accepting Christ's finish work in my life has been so so freeing. Nothing I do has any effect on what he has done. What a relief! I can't be too bad, too sad, too fat, too anything. I will never be good enough. I will never be too bad. I will never not need his saving grace. In the back of my mind Satan always whispered this "A good Christian would... X, Y, and Z." Now I can just tell Satan to talk to the hand, because that lie ain't working on me no more. (Lord willing).<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#009900;"><em>PRAYER REQUEST</em></span></strong><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Psalms 5:1-3</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing. Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation. </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><strong>My brain is about to explode, and is also falling out of my head.</strong><br />If these situations weren't so debilitating/time-consuming/not fun they would be funny. I have metioned in blog-land before about both my headache disorder and my scatterbrain-ness. Well both are quickly increasing in frequency and intensity. I had a headache Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday which is just three days too many. The pain is endurable if I have enough medication in my body, but what I really hate is how debilitating these headaches are. I hate that I have to stop functioning and basically ignore everyone and everything and run to my room to lie down. I hate that I have to take a number of pills each day for life to be bearable. I now have a fear of my liver just bursting after a round of advil and tylenol and allergy medicine and motion sick medicine. My liver is just going to explode, unless my brain does first.<br /><br />On a much lighter note, my scatterbrained moments are occuring pretty frequently these days. I keep forgetting when I drive to campus that I will actually have to drive home from campus as well. My body just automatically walks to the bus stop and gets on the bus without a second thought... Until I am already on the bus and moving, in which case, I run to the front of the bus and plead with the bus driver to let me off, and then my request is promptly rejected. Other funny moments include my naptimes. I frequently have vivid dreams during my naps. Last week, I dreamed that I had slept a whole 24 hours and subsequently slept through my exam the next day. To which my reaction was to jump up and run in circles around the living room screaming "OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH, I MISSED MY TEST" over and over and over again. Reality hit me when I looked down and realized that I had worn that outfit to school that day and so there was no way that I could have missed my test because it was still the same day. Pretty frightening.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-44402079990851558032010-09-27T11:22:00.000-07:002010-09-27T11:34:01.776-07:00you know how i love/am obsessed with black people?Well today, I had an epiphany.<br /><br /><strong>hallelujah.</strong><br /><br />I feel like this makes it a little more normal. I love black people and want to be their baby mamas because... I had a black babysitter growing up. I don't know how I never put two and two together before. From the first moment I met Cardia - I walked straight up to her and rubbed her legs and asked her if she was wearing panty hose - I have loved black people. She is the one who told me that I was ashy and needed lotion, and so I think that I have a permanent right to use the word ashy for myself. I have a very vivid memory of getting stung by a wasp and her FREAKING out. I don't even think I was crying but she was in superdrive pulling out the alcohol and calling my mom to make sure that I would live. So funny.<br /><br />I am debating whether this connection to a black person gives me the right to walk up to a black person and holla at them or start getting on with my ghetto self. I probably won't because I don't want to die. Not because I think they would kill me, but because I think I would die of embarrassment.<br /><br />Now that I have had this beautiful epiphany, I am determined to make some black friends and become a little more in touch with my heritage. And also I just need to know because when I have me some little chocolate children, I don't want them to be growing up like total cracker babies.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-19659021310697504692010-09-21T19:41:00.000-07:002010-09-21T19:56:31.344-07:00Countdown to turning old.This is my last night to be a teenager. I will never ever be a teen again. That means I no longer have an excuse to be dramatic or rebellious. Darn. At least I got it all out then...<br /><br />People in their 20s have to start moving forward with their lives... like getting married and making babies. Talk about pressure! I feel like I am just now learning how to be a college kid (minus the staying up late, drinking, promiscuous activity, wild partying, etc.)<br /><br />In two hours, I will officially have lived two decades. I experienced the 90s and the millinium. Bring it on 2011!<br /><br />It doesn't really matter that I am turning 20 though, because people will<strong> still</strong> ask me if I am 12. And yes I might be thankful about that one day when I am older, but I am not thankful for it right now.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-52156377700525977112010-09-15T09:20:00.000-07:002010-09-15T09:27:49.056-07:00I believe in Jesus... and coffeeIt's official. I am an every morning coffee drinker. <div><br /></div><div>As in, when I am running so late that I can't make it or forget my cup or suddenly feel the need to be independent from coffee so I don't drink any, you probably shouldn't talk to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is something magical that happens when I am finishing my cup and suddenly I look up and realize that I am now awake. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know what I was waiting for my whole life. I was probably never even awake until this summer. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you Jesus for coffee. And for the creamer and the sugar that make it actually taste good. </div>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-57713682864469009802010-09-08T09:29:00.000-07:002010-09-08T09:34:56.302-07:00sassafrassToday, while cooking, I decided that I need to use the word sassafrass more often. I have no idea what it actually means, but I am choosing to use it as a word to express my liking of something. <div><br /></div><div>Examples: </div><div><br /></div><div>That's so sassafrass. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh sassafrass (term of endearment). </div><div><br /></div><div>So I was reading the most sassafrassiest blog the other day.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously, how fun is that to say? I am pretty sure it would like MAKE any conversation. </div>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-79601941602520953682010-08-31T16:42:00.000-07:002010-08-31T17:11:32.286-07:00Remember that summer I had epilepsy?My life is pretty bloggy. By that I mean, I read blogs (stalk would be more accurate, seeing how its mostly people I don't know) and it has caused me to start thinking in blog format. I have mentally blogged the following a thousand and one times but could not tell everyone yet. Here goes:<br /><br />My summer started off pretty uneventfully, just full of the things listed in my last post. However, it became notably more eventful when my second EEG came back abnormal and I was diagnosed with epilepsy. Just remembering that makes my heart beat faster. I started on some meds and then pretty much fell asleep for the next couple of weeks. My medicine made me so tired that I would sometimes take two or three naps a day and I was still sleeping a good eight or nine hours a night. Flashback to having mono. Still the medicine was NOT helping. My headaches were getting worse and then I saw some of the medicine's side effects when I spent a good hour and a half crying for no stinkin reason and when I suddenly forgot how to spell (I was in the spelling bee every year in elementary school - I know how to spell) and when I forgot how to talk (every thought pretty much ended with the word thing because I couldnt remember what anything was called). So all in all, NOT WORKING. My mom decided to take me to an epilepsy specialist to find out some more info and to figure out how I could better adapt before going back to school. Hedecides to put me in the hospital for a week so that I can be constantly monitored in order to determine what symptoms are indicators that I am having a seizure in my brain. It was fun let me tell you. I feel bad for every person that talked and/or looked at me during that time because I was a big whiny mess. Poor nurses. The end of the week comes and I don't have epilepsy anymore. Now I have a headache disorder exacerbated by stress. I don't know about the stress. I have argued with my mom and with my doctors until I am blue in the face because I absolutely do not believe I am stressed. But I don't have a masters or Phd, so I lose. So who knows what will happen from here... I am sure I will laugh about it one day. I will be talking to my sister and say,"Hey, remember that summer where I had epilepsy and you had to drive me around everywhere?" Her response will probably be either to laugh, glare at me balefully, or burst into tears (because she does that - love you Catherine!).<br /><br />So now that mess is a little less resolved, but seemingly a little less chronic and less severe.<br /><br />I just started school yesterday. I always get excited for the first day of school, I don't know why - it's a sickness. Maybe with the exception of the year before I started high school when I cried because I was so scared. This year was accompanied by none of that excitement. Now that I have two days under my belt I am really excited about my classes and schedule. Every year since I started college on the first days of class I always imagine how well I am going to do in each of my classes. Usually in my daydreams I get straight 100s on every exam and my professors praise my genius and my knack for whichever subject. So far, it hasnt happened. But my daydreams still continue and will until they are crushed by my exam grades.<br /><br />I was planning on writing more, but I think its Jesus time now.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-91852029289648694062010-06-29T15:43:00.000-07:002010-06-29T16:32:14.442-07:00Snapshots of Summer<div>Summer is going by so fast. I have been awful at updating so I decided to just show you what is happening in my life.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://ghgroupllc.com/sitebuilder/images/lifetime_fitness2-600x300.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 519px; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ghgroupllc.com/sitebuilder/images/lifetime_fitness2-600x300.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div>Every single day my brother, sister, and I go to Lifetime. I really hate how big and impersonal it is because I am used to the family atmosphere of the YMCA, but lets face it: this gym has everything for everyone. And I like that it's open 24 hours. Because if you ever have to stay up all night, you are going to need some endorphins.<br /><br /></div><br /><div><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 260px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.summeractivitiesforkids.co.uk/images/5317.jpg" /><br /><br /></div><br /><div>Rock Climbing. I am addicted. I am probably not even as good as the little girl doing it in this picture, but I love it. After about 45 minutes I feel like my arms are going to fall off and I look enviously at the little girls who have unending amounts of energy and can climb walls way harder than the walls I can climb. It's just sad really. But the second I leave I start thinking about rock climbing again and how I wish I was back there and how I know I will be able to finally get to the top this time and how awesome my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">forearms</span> might look if I could actually commit to this sport.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="http://www.lovemygrandchild.com/Images/Boys%20reading%20books.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 451px; HEIGHT: 335px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.lovemygrandchild.com/Images/Boys%20reading%20books.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><div>I have been spending a lot of time reading. And yet I still have a billion more books to read. I just ordered a new library card to spur my reading on even more. Each day I try to read at least a chapter from a book that teaches on general Christian Living, a chapter from a book that teaches me how to fulfill my role as a biblical woman, and of course the Bible. Right now, I am currently going through the bible with the 90 day reading plan. It is wonderful. Each day I realize how much I need the bible to daily feed me AND I need to know what it says. </div><br /><div><a href="http://pattisoriginals.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/sewing20machine.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 370px; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://pattisoriginals.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/sewing20machine.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This summer I am choosing to spend a lot of time learning what it looks like to have the characteristics of a Proverbs 31 woman. There are a lot of practical skills that I am completely devoid of, so I am attempting to develop them. While I am at home, I am trying to learn as much from my mom as I can. She has all these skills! I don't know if she didn't want to teach me or (more likely) I didn't want to learn, but its happening now so better late than never. She has been attempting to teach me how to use the sewing machine. My sewing skills are still pretty much non-existent but I have managed to make an apron and a skirt. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I am so thankful that I get to use this time for these purposes. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>What a sweet summer. </div></div>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-62305436312352424192010-06-19T14:59:00.000-07:002010-06-19T15:16:49.974-07:00Some Major SurgeryI don't even know where to begin...<br /><br />Ok, let's go back a couple of weeks. I am now going and hopefully soon joining New Life. Everyone there is simply amazing and I already feel such encouragement through this community. The bad part: Everyone is wonderful. Which translated means: I probably am not wonderful, Godly, or knowledgable enough. Which gives you a glimpse into my heart.<br /><br />There are some very ugly and me-centered things in my heart. I want to be great. I want to be told I am great. I want validation from people. None of those things line up with scripture. Not one.<br /><br />God is showing me just what he has to do with me. Major surgery. Scooping away my desires and filling me with His instead. Picture a canteloupe. Or pumpkin. Those things are so gross and slimy on the inside.<br /><br />It will be a life long battle for me. Good thing he is so faithful.<br /><br />The main thing I have realized through all of this: my sin comes from somewhere. Every single sinful thought I have grows from a very dark root called: not trusting God, not loving God, not enjoying God, not believing God, etc.<br /><br />Sometimes it makes me incredibly discouraged. I am so stinking filthy what will God ever do with this nasty heart of mine. Other times, I find joy in the fact that God knows all of my thoughts and still loves me perfectly because of Jesus.<br /><br />Go look up Romans 5:20. I am clinging to Paul's words.<br /><br />Books that God has used to teach me about this subject: Respectable Sins by Jerry Bridges, When I Don't Desire God by John Piper.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-46704124936575479952010-06-17T20:59:00.000-07:002010-06-17T21:10:37.473-07:00lets all swoon over Kirk Cameron<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/f/f0/Growing_Pains_screenshot1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 223px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 178px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/f/f0/Growing_Pains_screenshot1.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Kirk Cameron. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I have loved him since I was a little girl. I grew up watching reruns of Growing Pains. Ah Mike Seaver. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Kirk is so great. Complete turn around to Jesus. He now uses his wildly talented self to make movies that proclaim the truth about God. I LOVE that. Talk about using your gifts for Jesus! </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>God definitely knows what he is doing. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>If you haven't seen it yet, go watch Fireproof. If you have already seen it, watch it again. </div>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-43866034824711842862010-06-08T20:38:00.001-07:002010-06-08T20:56:59.309-07:00See you never, LSAT.I have tamed the beast. And by tamed I mean endured. And by endured I mean I survived.<br /><br />Highlights of my day:<br /><br />I didn't get lost on the way there. I did cry though, but it was the good kind. Where my tears fall down as I realize God is once again healing the brokenness in my soul (which I will explain later... maybe).<br /><br />I am convinced that part of the test is figuring out which building the LSAT will be administered in. I asked a longhorn for help... only because I didn't see the applique cow head on his shirt before I got his attention. He didn't know so I felt a little justified.<br /><br />I peed five times in the 30 minutes I had before starting the test.<br /><br />Once in the testing room, I got a good 20 minutes to people watch the future lawyers. Several people were putting in eye drops and stretching. Some were just staring blankly. Others were discussing horror stories of past LSATs.<br /><br />And then after a mere 2hr 55min test and a 35 min essay, I was done. I practically ran back to my car, I was so desperate to be as far away from that experience as possible.<br /><br />And that's it. Until I get my score.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-37779414285024224642010-06-07T08:18:00.000-07:002010-06-07T08:26:41.173-07:00It's Standardized Testing TimeI woke up this morning with my heart beating really fast. One of those days where you immediately realize exactly what is going to happen today. Like Christmas. I am about to leave for Prairie View A&M University to take my LSAT. I really don't want to be anxious. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't. And my heart is beating way too fast for anyone to believe that I am perfectly calm.<br /><br />I don't even think that I will be using this score, in light of all that God has shown me about family and my role as a biblical woman.<br /><br />Still my heart beats fast. I think it's because I don't know what this day means.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-79018232555888928542010-06-05T21:26:00.000-07:002010-06-05T21:37:21.539-07:00Homage to SteinMart.Yesterday was my last day. I am not terribly sad about leaving SteinMart. Although I will miss the money. And the smell of the chinese buffet next door - weird but true.<br /><br />Working in retail gives you a lot of interesting moments. Like the time when a lady walked out in a completely see through shirt without the appropriate undergarments to get the attention of a sales associate. She attracted some other attention as well. You get a lot of boring moments as well, because there are only so many times you can dust the shelves in a day. Stressful moments don't happen that often, but when they do they are quite unforgettable. Like the time I accidentally stole $34.00 dollars from a lady. Thinking about it still makes me want to cry. My coworkers were quite an interesting collection of people, but always kind and all too willing to share their opinion of the days events. Definitely, one of my favorite moments would have to be me begging one of my managers to pull the splinter out of my foot. She was very sympathetic, but not helpful.<br /><br />All in all, a successful six weeks.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-11428084967667877662010-06-03T12:08:00.000-07:002010-06-03T12:37:53.301-07:00The Pilgrim's Regress<a href="http://img.aquinasandmore.com/items/31225lg.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 422px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://img.aquinasandmore.com/items/31225lg.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>I loved this book. I am sure I only understood it on the most basic level, but it is definitely thought provoking. C.S. does such a good job describing the "immortal desire" that drives the search for Christ, whether one even realizes it or not. One of the things that this book really convicted me about was to be mindful of areas that I am looking for satisfaction outside of Christ. My desire has already been fulfilled, so why do I act like other things will satisfy me? Another thing that I thought was really well articulated, is the illustration that people reject God because they misunderstand who He is. What a great reminder to be intentional about the picture of God I present to people! </div>elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1368908521031332541.post-63490326047858683632010-05-23T21:01:00.001-07:002010-05-23T21:26:29.420-07:00epiphany!For pretty much as long as I remember, I have been trying to figure out the way my brain works. I will be the first one to admit that my brain is just plain crazy. When guys always complain that they don't understand girls, I always think about how weird my brain is and then feel bad that if all girls brains are like mine then there really is no hope for guys. But it's becoming a little clearer:<br /><br />1) I am never just thinking in present time. From minute to minute I am in this time warp, thinking about the present, but remembering the past, and imagining the future, all at the same time.<br /><br />2) BUT when I think about the future, I never see the big picture. I pretty much just see a huge question mark for anything pertaining to actually important future concerns. But if you want to know what my future imaginary house looks like I can totally tell you.<br /><br />3) I am never thinking about just one thing. If we are having a conversation, just know that I sincerely am listening to you, but I am also thinking about other things too. (If I ever ask you to repeat something, it might be because my brain was talking louder than you were at the moment.) This is how I end up laughing at wildly inappropriate moments. Like in 8th grade when we were having a serious discussion about suicide... Mrs. Braxton stopped the class to ask me what I thought was funny and then made me explain how my brain went from suicide to whatever was making me laugh. It was like an 11 step process to make that jump.<br /><br />4) I think really fast but I have THE HARDEST TIME putting my thoughts into words. You will know this if we have ever had a conversation. I think part of the problem is that I am also thinking about other things when I am talking so I get easily distracted.<br /><br />5) I am generally pretty quiet when I meet new people or I am in new situations. I have to stop and mentally process. I have to read people. I have to figure out what kind of person they are and how to deal with the words they are saying. I really only become comfortable with people, when I know them well enough to read their expressions, and their tone, and their word choice, and their actions. It's a pretty slow process.<br /><br />6) Once I do figure someone out, the funniest thing is when something they do/say surprises me. I love that.<br /><br />7) I surprise myself sometimes. I think the reason why I laugh at my jokes is because I say them before I have fully processed them, and so it surprises me how funny they are. (Usually, others don't agree.)<br /><br /><br />So that's my brain in a nutshell.elizabeth gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528366741749488791noreply@blogger.com0