journeyPersonal Update

My Love Affair with Atlanta

I had lunch with a old friend today in Atlanta. I went to this delicious place called The Flying Biscuit. Holy mess, y’all. Those biscuits are the gospel. SO GOOD. So get there as quickly as possible. As I was catching up with him, I was telling him about my dreams for my life. I was talking about living a great story, and how I knew that I wanted to get to Africa at some point, and hopefully South America this year. I was talking about how I wanted to be married, how I wanted to have at least one child and perhaps adopt at least one child. I talked about wanting to write a book, and spend time in…

journeyLife

If they are not Free, we are not Free

It’s the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr. When I think about that man, the legacy he left, the cathedral he built with his life, and in many ways is still being built, I cry. Everytime. I know that me crying is no surprise whatsoever to most of you, but man, it is SO good. Here was a man who was sold out to his cause. He was in it, he was ready, he was willing to lay it all down. And he did… He had to lay it all down to see the Kingdom advanced. How do I, how do we,  honor his legacy? Yes, our country has come a long way, but we can look at our country…

LifeStory

Closer than my Skin

My mother doesn't like tattoos. She professes it like the gospel, but she has figured out how to live with them. My brother, Robert, who took our family's tattoo virginity, couldn't have picked a more intense image to have inscribed on this arm: A ginormous skull on his left arm. Totally badass.  It looked awesome. I was always in favor of it because for my brother, it held such deep significance (and I just think tattoos are awesome, so!). Most people would probably say that their tattoos hold deep significance for them (with the exception of that one time when you got drunk, or got it on a dare, or if it is the name of an ex). I've had my…

LoveRelationships

A Desperate Lover

I tend to feel lonely when I have no reason to. I know this is not an uncommon feeling, and I am keenly aware that when I feel this way that there are proper ways to respond to these negative emotions, lest I slip into a cycle of sadness that I fail to pull myself out of. But I focus on my want, the immediate, visceral desire that seems to invade my bones like some sort of aggressive disease. I want someone to hold me. I want someone to tell me I’m something. I want someone to share my life with. Stuff we’ve all said. Stuff we’ll probably keep saying. But my initial response to all that is to ask,…

journeyLife

I’m gonna make this year my bi… bestie

“This year I am going to…” You know how many times I have said this? Plenty of times. And do you know how many times the tasks which followed those words have started with such promise and then ended in such quiet disappointment? So. Many. Times. You see, I think being active is awesome, but my diet sucks. And each time I say that I will eat better, it ends up falling away the second someone suggests barbeque. I also really like reading, and I would read more, but sometimes twitter is just hilarious. Sigh… the struggle. This year I want it to be different. Not so much that I want to stop doing things, but I want to finish…

journey

Haters Gonna Hate

I’ll just check it one more time before I get off the computer. Said every person who has done any sort of fundraising. We are a tad obsessive. We check and we check and nothing moves and we are just... drives us bonkers. Let me tell you what, raising money for anything is hard. It is especially hard when it is for mission work. I’ve sent letters, emails, had phone conversations, coffee dates, and for weeks on end, this little bar on my fundraising page sat at a whopping $430 of $9950. And as my date for moving to GA, and for CGA to start moved closer, a mere 19 days away, I started to panic. God, I know you…

LifeUncategorized

Linger with me…

I hosted my first dinner party at age 20. I felt like I was such an adult because I had prepared everything, dressed up, hung out, got the good wine (from my friend who was old enough to buy it), and invited a a few close friends over. Lemon pepper chicken with roasted, yukon gold potatoes. A salad made from the vegetables grown on our back deck. French bread, lightly toasted with olive oil and basil. I was one classy mucka mucka. The food by itself was some what of a miracle because I was just beginning to delve into exploring the culinary arts, and this night happened before the advent of Pinterest. Where would us shmucks be without it?…