shouts of joy

"I used to believe in God, but if He really exists why is my life falling apart?" "Everything I get, I work for, it comes from me. God doesn't have anything to do with it." "I'm happy that you think you can trust this God and live with peace or whatever, but I'm the one that takes care of you." "When I can't afford to live anymore and support my family, what is God going to do, provide a bridge to live under?" "You say not to worry, but if I don't worry who will? Obviously not God." "You rest on the Sabbath, but if I rested every Saturday we couldn't afford to live." "Yes, I'm depressed. But what is God going to do about it? He hasn't done anything yet." "That accident? So, that was God's will? Why would I trust a God like that?" "I used to pray that He would make things better, but it's been years and nothing has happened. I give up!" It was opened. I heard

It's Christmas. A year ago today I was on a beach with 80 orphans. Family. Brothers and sisters. I love them and miss them. December 25, 2008 - Simple days bring the sweetest memories It's mid afternoon, the sun is bright and the air is warm. I slowly open my eyes and find myself laying on a grass mat looking up at a blue sky and the palm trees that provide shade. I close my eyes again in the wonder of this moment and my body goes limp again as the girl holding my head in her lap continues to play with my hair. As I lay with my eyes closed, I store the precious memory in my mind and title it, simply the best Christmas ever. It was a simple Christmas this year, no large wish lists and no big gifts. Infact Christmas day found us at a beach with 80 kids where we played in the warm salt water and laughed so hard our stomachs ached. Not only did we have a good time with the kids and make new friends but we spent time with old friends. Kara and I met Ryan at the orphanage and it was

And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." - Matthew 18:3 I slept in yesterday morning until 8:00 and everyone was still sleeping, except my adventurous friend Emily, so together we tip-toed our way through the house and down the hall to the swimsuit drawer. Pulled on our suits and ran outside to the hot tub. The gray fog covered the valley below and the steam from the hot tub encompassed us with warmth. Just to slide into the hot water with another soul searching friend was the tranquil remedy my soul had been in desperate need of, to recover from the past week. We talked about everything. Friends, school, God, dreams, the past and future.She shared with me a story about love. A love so young and free, without a single care. A love that sounded like an irrational and silly, make-believe fairy tale. This love sounded childish, impulsive and naive, but so pure and passionate. This love was

Remember the days when we shared a room with a sibling? After big fights I remember pulling out the duct tape and slapping a long strip across the middlest part of the room. Trying to slice the closet, dresser, and other items in half, in order to keep out the enemy. "Don't cross my line. And I won't cross yours!" The rules were simple: No crossing the line! No taking things from the other side, no throwing things to the other side, keep to your own side. One time I even got the sheets out and taped the sheets to the ceiling above the middle line to keep from seeing the enemy. "Don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't take anything that belongs to me, don't touch anything that isn't yours, and most definitely don't cross the line!" I remember yelling these things to the enemy and not regretting a single word. Until hours later when I was lonely and bored. But due to a stubborn bone inside me, I never confessed or apologized. I would

If you're moving, if you're breathing, if you're thinking, if you're loving or searching. If you're praying, if you're hiding or even just sleeping. You are risking. Risking the small chance that something might happen. Things happen. Good things. Bad things. Cancer, accidents, poverty, trafficking, cheating, lying, rejection. Trusting, hoping, believing, accepting, committing, loving. She dedicated a year of her precious life to serve and trust, but never made it back. She committed her life to raising her daughters the best she could, but never lived to see the great impact she had. She trusted him and gave her heart, but he didn't keep it long before he handed it back. He believed that everything would work out, and now he wonders what life is worth. It's everywhere. All the time. The risk. We can't live in fear that we will live the risk. We must live despite the risk. Live with out doubt, without fear. If we don't take the risk we'll los

We always remember our "very first" of something. Usually the thought of the "very first" is also identified with the person whom we shared the experience with or who might have influenced us. I enjoy thinking about all my firsts and remembering the people who helped me take another step into life. First day of school with my mom. First snow fort with my dad. First time piercing my ears with Kati Winkle and Ashley Brito. First time living in a dorm with Brianne Bechtel. First time driving without parental supervision with Nick Maniscalco. First time drinking straight black coffee with Nancy Blaire. First time traveling in India and Nepal with Kara Hughes. First time eating carrot mush with Emily Wilkens. First time wakeboarding with Chris Parker. First time leaving UCA without permission with Kristen Milligan. First time coloring my hair with Sasha Bothe. First time biking around Hayden Lake on a tandem with Nolan Kinne. First time to Africa with Laura P. First time

It's funny... I have found that the things I desire most in life are the things that are unattainable and just out of my reach. I tutor two days a week after school and there's one boy who just really ruffles my feathers. On Wednesday he sat at a table for one hour and didn't do a single problem on his pre-algebra math paper. I tried everything. He would sing. I would take away a recess. He would get up and distract another boy. I would pick up his things and move him to a secluded place. He would chatter loudly to himself. I would give him lunch detention. Really? At the end of the hour I was exhausted and fuming. I don't think I've been so frustrated in such a long time. And I think he was quite aggravated with me as well. The crazy thing is... when I get in my car to leave I look back on my hour with him and laugh. This irritating kid is by far one of my favorites. When I was in India I had a student who sat in the back, which is trouble from the beginning. He ca

Boys are bullies! Girls are tattle-tails! I was playing four square at recess with a few 4th grade girls a few days ago and when I looked up the boys were pummeled in a pile in the center field. Headlocks, flying fists and kicking. As I began marching towards the scene all I could here was the the sounds of fists hitting a hollow gut, skin smacking skin, bodies being crushed, and the pain being muffled. No talking. No shouting. No tears. Just bullying. My eyes were narrowed on the boys as recess continued when a group of girls encircled me. "She said I...", "But I said...", "It hurt my feelings when...", "Now we can't be friends and I..." and before the quarreling ended there were a few tears. No fists. No headlocks. No crushing. Just tattling. I remember a time when I was in the third grade and there was a boy who chose to pick a fight with me. We decided we'd settle it behind the baseball diamond during recess. The next recess there I s