~happiness~

Gem and I have been so, so happy lately. I don't even know why. I think we're just getting into a good rhythm, learning each other, figuring out what works and when to back off.

So far this week we have watched The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Gem's first time), had an impromptu dance party, watched a lot of Friends, done some crossword puzzles, snuggled on the couch, tried making enchiladas, spontaneously bought and made brownie sundaes, and laughed a TON.

I got a migraine Tuesday night, and while it sucked, it also ended up being kind of cool because I just laid there are visiting with God for like two hours. I had some cool revelations and just enjoyed praying.

I have never been this happy. Work isn't stressful right now, Gem and I are doing wonderfully, and working out is still going well. This weekend we have plans to watch Les Mis, go clubbing (!!!), have brunch with my aunt, and play Cards Against Humanity with Gem's brother and sister-in-law.

Easter is soon. That means Cadbury mini eggs and The Ten Commandments movie.

The weather is warming up.

I am just love, love, loving life. I don't feel like this much anymore. But maybe I will more now. I dunno. I'm so happy :)

I hope you're doing well, if you're reading this. I do miss the blogging community.

~Stephanie

I've Been Reading

I've been able to start reading again.

"Read," is the advice always given to budding writers. Actual practice helps your writing improve too, but reading... It seems to train your mind to Hear and See the world with capital Hs and Ss.

When your car rushes through a rain puddle, the sound registers as "a lush hiss" instead of not registering at all. A dance recital audience reaction becomes "an appreciative rumble of laughter" instead of just "chuckling." You have conversations and naturally detect things like others' "clunky giddiness"or "apologetic authority."

To me, words give the world more substance. When I read a lot, I start to sense the depth in the molecules around me. It's not like the world is brighter; it's like I start to see new colors. Everything isn't more beautiful, but everything is more intentional, specific. I'm not sitting on my couch; I'm sitting on My Couch, where I had a kiss that tasted like ramen, where I first fell asleep on Gem, where I once cried a tear stain into the cushion.

When I immerse myself in words, everything feels more real. It's like tapping a secret source of energy.

I guess this makes sense, seeing as the entire world is Words. "In the beginning...the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep... And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."

This entire world is literally words. There was nothing, and then God spoke, and from His words came the existence that I now try to describe with my own words, like "lush hiss" and "appreciative rumble." Is that redundant? To use words in an attempt to express/describe/create a reality that is already so perfectly linguistically expressed that it is actually tangible?

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."

Jesus is--maybe literally, maybe figuratively, maybe spiritually (which is probably some inexpressible middle ground there)--Words. God is Words. He made our world of words with His words. We are in this world, made in the image of God. We are spoken. We are words. The light is words; the water is words; the land is words; the day and night are words.

So yes, it makes sense that everything gets more beautiful and more real when I connect with words. Don't you understand the ocean better when you jump in?

Words are fun and powerful and persuasive and enduring and endearing and funny and piercing and beautiful and satisfying and frightening and dangerous. I like words, on principle, because I am a writer and a reader and I like to reason and persuade. But even deeper than that, I like words because I think they are cosmically important. When it all comes down to it, the world is just atoms and energy and space.

But when atoms and energy and space come down to it, they are all words.

~Stephanie

Yahweh

As I sit at my desk, waiting for my 11 o'clock interviewee to pick up her phone, it strikes me that it has been more than a month since I posted here. Or anywhere, really. I haven't posted on Reason in the Rhyme in even MORE than more than a month. That is especially embarrassing, because it's my "professional" blog. I am literally broadcasting that I am a writer who does not write.

But while I've been living my life and not writing, things have been going rather well. My not-so-little-anymore sister went to Europe and returned without trauma. My church hosted an awesome pastor named Peter Lord. Two of my unbiological brothers are now allowed to consume alcohol in public. Cassidy has slept at my house and dog sitting houses more than at her own. My parents have been great givers of freedom and trust to me. And Gem has been, well, the only person I can imagine wanting to spend my life with. What's new.

Oh, and I cleaned my room. Once.

All in all, my takeaway for this half of the summer has been that God is real. I'm not sure exactly why. I haven't seen anyone instantaneously cured of cancer before my eyes. {But I did see a woman with unexplainable, persistent back pain feel better a day after my church laid hands on her and prayed.} I haven't had amazing quiet times. {But I have been HAVING quiet times, as short and shallow as they sometimes are.} I haven't had incredible supernatural powers. {Although I think I have finally forgiven the biggest offense ever committed to me, which is nothing short of a miracle.} God didn't suddenly unveil his master plans to me. {But he did prove to me that his love and promises are true.}

It's interesting:  I didn't plan any of those bracketed statements. I was actually just trying to explain to you why it didn't make sense for me to feel so strongly that GOD IS REAL. But as I sit here and try to tell you that this hasn't been a God summer, I am convicted even more strongly that it WAS. It so was.

I see God working in the lives of everyone around me, and it's inspiring. Cassidy is journaling and studying the Bible and examining her future plans, and I really feel a huge difference in the strength of her character. She's becoming more of who she is in God, and it inspires me.

Sarah says things like, "I feel pretty good about it. I've been praying a lot," and my eyes open to the fact that she is not just my little sister, but a very effective and committed warrior of Christ.

Gem...God is so real to Gem that sometimes it's like I can feel God through Gem. I don't know how else to say it. Gem prays to God like he expects an answer. He turns to God like he expects to be supported. He listens to God like he trusts him. He pursues God like he finds him enthralling.

God is so real to me right now. I want to know him. I want to follow him. I want to be on his side.

I hope this post doesn't seem like directionless fluff. I didn't know what I wanted to say when I sat down, but I think this is it. I think this is what I wanted to say.

God is real, and I hope this post has piqued the interest of your heart, because God really wants to know you.

~Stephanie

P.S. It just occurred to me that I chose "True" as my word of the year. Authentic. Real. Huh :)

In My Arms Reprise

WARNING:  This post may get sappy. It will definitely praise God.
 ~~~~~~~~~
A little over a year ago, I posted THESE lyrics.

To date, I think "In My Arms" by Dead By April is the most influential song in my life. A year ago, God broke my heart, with a lot of help from myself and someone else.

 {I know it's hard to let go all that defines you. You feel like you'll never be whole again.}
 
When I heard "In My Arms" one day in April of 2013, I KNEW God was speaking to me. I let my walls come down and I just surrendered it all to Him. I demanded of myself to trust God and brokenly believe that the words of "In My Arms" would someday be true for me.

I. HAD. NO. IDEA.

{Don't give in. Don't let your memories break you.}

I spent a year trying not to let my memories of PC break me. I tried not to look back. For the first five or six months, I failed miserably. I deserted all my promises to God. I turned back to my own twisted logic. I began to depend on my own perversions of the future. It was unhealthy and shameful and I lost a lot more than just valuable time.

The words of "In My Arms" remained a faint but persistent promise in the back of my mind.

{All you've lost will come again; just stay here with me.}

I couldn't imagine gaining back a fraction of what I'd had in PC. He was my best friend. He represented everything I'd ever wanted in a companion, plus some. He understood me. He challenged me. He made me happy.

All I'd lost would come again? WAS GOD CRAZY?! WHAT KIND OF RIDICULOUS BULLSHIT WAS HE TRYING TO FEED ME?

I finally got a grip around the middle of this past December. I don't know why, but a straw broke my back and I in turn broke free from my broken lifestyle and broken relationship.

It hurt intensely for about a week. And then?

I haven't looked back. I haven't let my memories break me. Honestly, they're starting to fade, and rather than panic and relive them in my head, I'm just letting them. I'll never forget PC, and I'll always love him, but I don't feel compelled to deal with the painful close clarity of the memories. It's unnecessary. It's unhelpful.

He defined me entirely too much. Looking back, that fact has filled me with an indignant resentment. But lately, the resentment is distant; it's shadowy, easily put out by the light of my life now.

Because in just one short year, God has shown me that He is not a liar. In fact, he has shown me his divine ability to remain faithful even when we are faithless.

I've spent the past year living 90% for myself. I've made selfish, immoral, dangerous, short-sighted, tragic decisions. I haven't prayed enough. I haven't read the Bible enough. I haven't been a good representation of a Christian at all.

But for some reason, God has decided to show me what He and His promises are made of.

All I've lost will come again?

Thankfully, that is not quite the case. Instead, God has given me immeasurably more than anything I've ever had before.

I've JUST started dating Gem, so it's way too early to be feeling or knowing much, but guuuuuuuuys. This boy. Life is so not all about boys or dating, and God certainly isn't, and normally I'm not either, so it's very unexpected and unprecedented that God has decided to reveal His "all you've lost will come again" promise with such a direct, parallel shift:  when I finally relinquished PC, I could see Gem.

I don't know why Gem waited for me for three years. I cannot wrap my mind around why he wants to date me now. He is so out of my league.

I don't know what God has planned for me and Gem. Maybe we'll date over the whole summer; maybe we'll decide being friends is better for us; maybe we'll last for a long time. All I know is that when I finally stopped fighting God tooth and nail for MY plan with PC, God opened up floodgates of amazing, amazing things.

There is more joy in the world than I thought possible. And right now it feels like God is trying to hand every last bit of it to me :)

That song! "In My Arms" came true! When I posted it, I didn't know how it could be true, I just knew that God was calling me to trust it blindly. Eventually, I submitted to God's plan, and oh my gosh, a year later, I sit here and wonder how I was so blind for so long.

How could I have doubted God? I really hope I get better at not doing that XD

~Stephanie

Apathy

After nineteen years of being told "you worry too much," "you care too much," "don't be so uptight," and "just chill out," it is incredibly strange to be repeatedly accused of the opposite.

It's true. I don't care very much anymore. Not in a depressed, sleeping all day, refusing to wear real clothes kind of way, but in a spontaneous, shallow, slightly cynical way. I don't want to tell anyone that I love them anymore. I don't want to make plans just to talk. I don't want to get involved in a campus ministry. I don't want to seek out counseling.

I have plenty of fun, but I'm frighteningly apathetic about things that should be important to me, including myself. Sam and Cassidy have really wanted me to talk to a counselor for a long time, for a lot of reasons, but I haven't done it.

Sam feels like I don't care enough to do what's right for me. I don't care enough to look my problems in the eye and DO SOMETHING because I'm emotionally lazy. He feels like I've lost my strong sense of direction, and even the desire to get it back.

Cassidy thinks I don't care because I don't value myself enough. I have so little respect for and confidence in myself that I don't even want to try. I see myself as a lost cause, one too weak even to strive for what's right.

I dreamed last night that Justin told me I had to be more careful of people. Just because I don't care doesn't mean I can assume no one else does either. My apathy is hurting people.

Even Sam's friend James sees it. I barely know James, but in talking to him last night, he gently told me that I can't just "wait for my conflicts to work themselves out."

Everyone has different motives and interpretations of what my issue is, but I think everyone can agree that I majorly need to get my shit together. The only problem?

I can't make myself care.

I don't want to sound like a cliche charity case, but I think Cassidy's right. I recognize that certain things I do are wrong, but I know I won't stop doing them. I sit in church and take notes, but feel nothing. It's good stuff, it really is, but I know I won't apply it. I've gone too far to save myself. I just don't think it matters anymore. I am where I am, and it's past the point where turning around will even do any good.

I know that God specializes in just such cases, but one does have to LET him. I can't meet him halfway right now. I can't meet him a fourth of the way. I don't even think I could walk with him if he took my hand. I need to be DRAGGED out of this rut, but no one can do it for me.

I wish this post were a battle cry. I wish it would end with some lines like, "But you know what? That attitude ends today. I am worth this fight, and with God's help, I can be the best Stephanie this world has ever seen."

But it won't. It'll end with "I realize that my apathy is killing me and those around me, but the thing about apathy is that you just can't care."

~Stephanie

I Will Not Be a Cold and Timid Soul

Day Seven: The thing you're most afraid of

The answer "losing people" immediately springs to mind. It's the answer I've typed into countless tags, used for countless youth group devotions, chosen for countless examples of fears. It's so automatic now. Without meaning to, I've ingrained that simple, solid fear into my mind. That doesn't necessarily make it any less true or valid, but its mindless, knee-jerk quality signifies that it's time to reevaluate.

What am I most afraid of?

Failure, I think.

Most of my fears can be traced to under the great, dark umbrella of "Failure."

If I lose someone, it's because I failed to keep them.
If I miss someone, it's because I fail to control my heart.
If I realize that I'm wrong, it's because I failed to choose the right answer.
If I don't get married, it's because I failed to fall in love at the right time.
If I get fat, it's because I failed to make good lifestyle choices.
If I get rejected, it's because I failed to make myself desirable enough.
If I don't get a good job, it's because I failed to plan sufficiently.

All I've ever wanted in life was perfection. The perfect friends, the perfect love, the perfect school, the perfect degree, the perfect job, the perfect body, the perfect family. Is that really too much to ask?

Um. Yes?

Life isn't ever going to be perfect. I can bust my ass trying and make myself {and those around me} miserable, or I can do my best and leave the rest to God. He won't let me truly fail. I might fail to keep someone; I might fail to stay thin; I might even fail a college class. But if I put my trust in him and my effort behind his will, I really believe that "all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."

Also this:

"The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat" ~ Theodore Roosevelt

~Stephanie

Pandora No More

In honor of this blog's 500th post, I've decided to change the name.

I've been casually considering changing the name for a while, and in the last couple of weeks, the desire became almost like a conviction.

"Pandora" isn't the right name anymore.

{Click HERE to see the reason behind why I originally chose it.}

For one thing, the name doesn't actually make sense. Pandora is the name of the girl who opened the box of evil and hope. This blog would be the box, not the girl, and the box {to my knowledge} has no name.

It's a little cliche. I like it, but it's...not really fun.

It also gets confused with the music Pandora.

It's time for a change.

The past couple of months have held more change for me than perhaps all the nineteen years leading up to it. Sam and I broke up; I decided that I love college; I made real friends; I fell in love with God with a phenomenal, electric enthusiasm; I found an additional person that I can trust; I got a somewhat full-time, real job; I became a college sophomore; I moved home for the summer.

When I mentioned changing blog names, Natalie commented with a great list of Greek words. I scanned the list and jotted down the ones that caught my interest.

Then everything sort of fell into place on Sunday.

Life has turned out to be nothing like I expected. In some ways it's easier; in some ways it's harder. Nothing is clear. I'm starting to get the idea that it's just a wildly exciting, unscripted adventure.

In the sermon, the guest pastor stressed that striving to imitate Jesus every day is a serious adventure.

PC recently joined the church band, and he's trying to get them to play an Angels & Airwaves song. The name of it? "The Adventure."

Sunday, driving home with Sarah, Cass, and PC, I said, "So, you know how I've been thinking about changing Pandora's name?" They did. I told them the reasons I've just shared with you, and said, "I was thinking maybe the Greek word for 'adventure.'"

"What is it?" they asked.

"Peripeteia." {pair-ih-peh-TAY-uh}

"Yes," they said together.

I think it's perfect. As a story-writing, language-loving, Christ-following college sophomore, my life can only be one thing:

A peripeteia.

~Stephanie

P.S. And I'll put it with an upside down A just for you, Jay.

All In

My drive back to college a couple of weeks ago was really something.

I had a lot on my mind. God was working painfully powerful miracles all around me. Someone very important to me was having God-and-self revelations that were bigger and more inspiring than anything I'd ever expected or imagined.

I felt like I was drowning in a sea of overwhelming, electrifying love. But the problem was, I still felt like I was drowning. I wasn't able to breathe in the goodness of the love. I knew it was good, and that was exciting, but I still felt terrified and smothered.

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to open myself up to the incredible joy I could feel lapping at my senses, but I wasn't sure how to absorb it into my actual self.

Everything hurt, on the inside. I could feel the joy, the hope, the awe, the inspiration. It was a combination of ecstasy that I was almost completely unfamiliar with. {Or maybe it's such an awesome feeling that every time feels like your first.}

But there was a jagged, grating rawness in my soul. I didn't know what to do.

"In My Arms" by Dead By April {I posted the lyrics about a week ago} came on my iPod. I'd never cared for the song much before, but it struck a nerve with me that night. I imagined that God was giving me that message, saying those words to me.

But instead of feeling comforted or happy, it just tore me apart, in the deepest, most complete and profound way I've ever experienced.

I cried so hard. I can think of only a handful of times that I've cried like that. The lyrics felt raw and vicious, directed at me with powerful spite, evoking thoughts and feelings and memories that I'd compartmentalized very carefully.

All I could think about was arms that weren't God's. I've never enjoyed being close to people; until a year ago, the concept of wanting to be held was completely lost on me. In the car, that longing railroaded me in a heartbreaking and wholly unexpected way.

Listening to "In My Arms," I guess I just broke myself down. I let myself feel, all the way, 100%, without rationalizing or marginalizing or compartmentalizing {I tried to find words that didn't end in "-izing," but those are the three words that I really mean.}

I started praying out loud. It was so broken. It was sentence fragments, and promises, and scattered thoughts, and feelings, and begging, and swearing, and apologizing. I told God how I felt, what I wanted, but most of all that I truly loved and trusted Him and so genuinely wanted to do what was right.

I skipped the rest of "In My Arms" {it had been on repeat for like ten minutes} and the song "All In" by tobyMac came on. I gave a choked laugh through my tears. That phrase. All in.

And suddenly for the first time, maybe ever, I felt ready to be "all in" for God. Something about me had broken down and fallen away. I don't know if it felt like a massive wall around me, or an infintesimal compartment within my soul. The absence of whatever "it" was felt both huge and tiny, but very real either way.

All the sudden, I wasn't drowning anymore. I don't know what I did, or what God did, but suddenly I could breathe in the goodness of the love. I didn't feel smothered; I felt electrified. I felt this painfully real joy radiating through my being.

I was still crying, but I was laughing. I felt so good. I felt God. I felt real. I felt ready. I felt All In.

I'm so excited, you guys. I can't explain what's going on inside of me. I don't know how. I don't have the words. Watching God work in other people is amazing and inspiring and exciting, but feeling God work in my own heart is an experience I can't even begin to describe.

It's funny; when I began this post, my intention was just to post the lyrics to "All In." I did not foresee this massive gut-spilling. But for once, I'm not self-conscious about it. I'm comfortable with this. I'm happy.

Maybe for the first time in my whole life.

Why's it always circumstantial?
Never any real potential,
Obvious and so sequential,
It always ends the same.
Holding out with all that's in me.
Is it worth all this pretending?
A story with an ugly ending it's never worth the pain.
So right here and now I am all in. 

'Cuz I'm letting go of everything I am.
And I'm holding on to everything You are.
I'm letting go of everything I once was.
I'm all in.
I'm fallin' into Your arms again.

Can we just wait out the weather?
I could stay right here forever.
Got to get myself together;
Real life is on the way.
Call it my foregone conclusion;
I'll always welcome Your intrusion.
You're the master of my choosing.
I'm all Yours.

This time I'm so for real.
It's time I sealed the deal,
Shut down my lame appeals.
I'm letting go.
I'll throw caution to the sky.
Kiss all my fears goodbye.
This time it's do or die.
I'm letting go.

I'm letting go of everything I am
And I'm holding on to everything You are
I'm letting go of everything I once was
I'm all in.

~Stephanie

Krispy Kreme Dream

4/6/13

{PC = Sam}

PC and I were in an apartment. It might have been at the beach. I think we were the only ones there.

I think we had an argument or something, because I sort of stormed out. He followed me, asking what I wanted to do, kind of to pacify me.

“I want Krispy Kreme,” I said. My hair was in a side ponytail, like I wear it to dance at Campbell. I don’t know why I know that.

“Okay, we can do that,” he said.

So we started walking. We were in a very dark, dirty, industrialized part of town.

Sam started to walk a different direction from me.

“No,” I said. “It’s this way. I’m sure.”

“I mean, I think this is the better way,” he said.

“Like, I don’t,” I said unreservedly. “I know where Battleground is. It’s right there. The Krispy Kreme is like RIGHT THERE.” I pointed. We couldn’t see it, because of the tall, dark buildings, but I was sure it was just on the other side of them.

“I mean, maybe you can go that way, but—”

“I am.” And I started walking. Sam didn’t say anything else. He followed me, although he still thought his way was more direct.

When we reached Battleground and looked to the left, where I thought the Krispy Kreme would be, we did see the Krispy Kreme. However, it was a lot farther down the road than I’d thought. In all actuality, Sam’s way would have been about as close. However, he was also surprised. His route would not have put us nearly as close to Krispy Kreme as he'd thought either.

Neither of our routes had been as accurate as we’d both been certain they were. I think we both admitted that.

When we got to Krispy Kreme, I got a box of a dozen doughnuts, but I wanted to mix and match the contents. I was getting doughnuts for my whole family, and probably, like, Cassidy too, so I had to get something for everyone. It was stressful. I didn’t know what the best combination was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think this dream might really mean something. Maybe I’m not 100% right in thinking that Sam and I ARE NOT the right ones for each other; and maybe Sam’s not 100% right in thinking that he and I ARE DEFINITELY the right ones for each other. Maybe God doesn’t engineer life so that we have to choose the one right option out of a million close-but-no-cigar options. Maybe he can work with several options and he actually lets us pick from a small selection of ones that he’s approved.

Krispy Kreme symbolizes the ultimate “right” decision and/or happiness. Maybe both our paths will lead us there, we just have to decide which one we want to choose.

{Although, neither of our paths were actually the best. Hm. What does THAT mean? Where’s the middle option? Through those dark, scary buildings? There wasn’t even a ROAD there. Hm.}

Do I want to be with him? I have to decide. And maybe either way I decide can lead to a good future.

But I feel like I’m not just choosing for myself. My trip to Krispy Kreme and how I get there are my choices, kind of, but I’m bringing doughnuts back for everyone. I have to get the right ones for the people close to me.

It’s stressful. And I don’t know what they want me to do.

Thoughts on Dating vs. Courtship

One of my Facebook friends posted an article on why modern dating is wrong, and courtship is the way to go. I had a couple of spare minutes before I had to meet a friend, so I figured this riveting article would be a good use of those minutes, and not be so difficult to pry myself away from that it would make me late.

{Clearly British Literature has heightened my tolerance for run-on sentences.}

I read the article, and it surprised me by making me angry and rebellious. It also made me think, which did not surprise me.

In light of that article, it is now time for me, a nineteen-year-old girl who has only dated one guy, to speak with authority about relationships.

Ultimate stance: Listen to God, and things will go well for you.

I don’t necessarily have a problem with dating. I don’t necessarily have a problem with courtship. I see three main issues with both.

Problems with Dating
 1. People do it for the wrong reasons. If you’re dating just to have someone to hold your hand, kiss you, take pictures with you, and be wild with, then you’re doing it wrong. Dating IS fun, but it isn’t FOR fun. It’s to discover the person God has specially planned for you to find and love.

2. People jump straight into dating. Since coming to college, I’ve watched new friends meet people of the opposite sex and immediately begin “talking” to them. A month later, they’re dating. I think that’s shallow and impractical. I don’t approve of dating someone you aren’t already good friends with.

3. Dating makes it more difficult to stay physically and emotionally pure. Like, yes. The second a girl opens her heart to a guy and her hand to his, they are, by definition, going farther than “just friends.” If they break up, they will have to carry their actions with them into any future romantic relationships.

Problems with Courtship
1. People who practice courtship are almost always prudish, overbearing, holier-than-thou types. I don’t know if courtship comes from this type of attitude, or if this attitude comes from courtship. Either way, it’s a huge turn-off to the concept and the people involved.

2. People who practice courtship assume that all dating is always wrong. My question is, “If my significant other and I are genuinely listening to God and seeking to do the right thing, how can you tell us it’s evil and going to blow up in our faces?”

3. Courtship puts unhelpful and stressful pressure on the girl and guy in question. Think about it. A guy kinda likes this one girl. But before he can get to know her as more than a passing acquaintance, he has to go through all this terrifying red tape and gut-wrenching screening process. Then when he and the girl finally begin “courting” and legitimately get to know each other, he better hope to God he doesn’t discover anything about her that would cause him not to love her completely and forever. And ever. Like, holy crap. That’s terrifying.

Obviously, we’re human and therefore going to misinterpret God and make mistakes. Dating is tricky, and it does make it easier to misstep. However, I’ve watched a lot of Christian friends date, get engaged, and marry without any devastating regrets. {Everyone is going to have some regrets in their life, whether they're romantic ones or not.} Like many things, dating has to be handled wisely or it CAN turn into something wrong.

As I think about it, I think the same thing can be said about courtship, just in a different way. There’s nothing wrong, per se, with courtship. How can doing next to nothing be “wrong”? But when your adherence to this principle becomes so rigid and romanticized that you believe the state of your soul is purer, higher, better than others’, that is wrong. Courtship seems to lead to a judgmental attitude, which God does not appreciate.

In conclusion, I think dating, when handled correctly and with Godly hearts, is healthy, constructive, and practical. I think courtship is fine, but is not always healthy or practical and can lead to arrogance.

~Stephanie

All Things Work Together

You said, "I know that this will hurt, but if I don't break your heart, then things will just get worse."

I am God's newest and biggest fan. I've been running from what he was telling me for so, so long. I thought that if I was persistent enough, God would eventually get on board with MY plan. Unfortunately (or fortunately), God knows best, from the very beginning. Nothing ever occurs to God. He's not going to change his mind because I decide to defy him.

He tried to tell me, but I wrote it off, ignored it, explained it away, doubted it. It's all so clear now. It's brutal; it's tragic. In a way, it completely ruins everything. But it makes me smile. It makes me trust God.

It's the classic story, really. The I-Should-Have-Listened-to-God-From-the-Beginning story. You hear it a thousand times from a thousand different people in a thousand different situations, but you never believe it. You assume you're the exception. You figure maybe you're just hearing God wrong. Maybe what you're doing is really okay.

I'm not expecting this post to persuade you to listen to God. People have been directly and indirectly telling me to listen to God for months. I didn't listen to them, or God. I don't expect you to listen to me now. I just can't contain how shocked, impressed, and happy with God I am right now. I have to tell someone. So I might as well tell everyone.

My heart is breaking and healing all at once. Praise the God of the Paradox!

~Stephanie

Christmas Like A...

As children, the time between Christmases takes a whole lifetime to pass, and the magical season itself lasts for what seems like a year. Everything is sparkles and exclamation points, and the joy we conduct could power a Tanglewood light show. Christmas seems truly magical.

As we get older, the shopping, entertaining, and staying “merry” take more energy than we can muster, much less spare. The magic of Christmas is lost in the tangles of stress it produces. We tend to mourn the lost simplicity and cheer of childhood. I was sure stuck in a rut of confused depression for a few Christmases.

But then I started to understand things differently. As I’ve grown up and realized what a broken person I am, Christmas has started to mean more. It means even more now than it did when it was all sparkles and exclamation points.

God himself looked down through the mystical gauze of time and space and saw how helpless, hopeless I would be. He knew there was absolutely no way in heaven or earth that I could become righteous on my own. But for some reason, he loved me. He loved me with a fierce gentle love. He loved me so much that he would not leave me to suffer and fail. He loved me so much that he sent a piece of his own self to make things right.

As I’ve grown up, I’ve realized just how dangerously imperfect I am. I’ve realized what a phenomenally powerful, forgiving, loving Savior it would take to make me whole. God sending his son to stand between us and death is nothing short of a miracle. It’s even more magical than we realized as children.

Ironically, the gut-wrenching reality check of “Wow, I’m So Messed Up” made Christmas more special and magical for me. Feeling Christmas like a child was beautiful and perfect—while I was a child. But I think it’s important to grow in your celebration of Christmas. God will give us perceptions that match our spiritual maturity. I’ve loved learning to see Christmas like a teenager, and I’m fascinated and excited to see what “Christmas like an adult” will look like for me.

So this Christmas, don’t get too lost in the nostalgia. This Christmas, let God show you what he wants you to see. The magic of Christmas isn’t over when you turn twelve. God has beautiful epiphanies to reveal at every age; we just have to keep our hearts open.

~Stephanie

P.S. Thanks for following, James, whom I can't find a link for! XD

The Me I Want to Be

I want to be a girl who can say a lot just by the way she walks. I want to walk with even steps and straight shoulders, fully engaged in the world around me. I want to make eye contact with strangers, and leave them feeling different after they look away.

I want to shrug off my hesitant tendencies and be myself with abandon. I want to embrace, to embody the mantra, "Those who mind, don't matter." I will be myself because the world needs me, and one else can do it for me.

I want to be so comfortable with myself that I inspire others to be genuine as well. I want to be a piece of people, so that they feel more whole when I'm around. I want to bring out the extrovert in everyone. I want to be the presence that flows into a group of acquaintances and melds them into a group of friends.

I want to be so original that people are constantly wondering what I'm going to do next. I want to be dared and be daring. I want to be the one people turn to when they hear the phrase, "But who would do that?" I want to be the one who can pull it off.

I want to say what I mean when I mean to say it. I want the perfect word to connect from my mind to my mouth. I want to use the right number of words and the right amount of time. I want to be eloquent and articulate without throwing people off. I want people to understand me the first time.

I want to listen to everything around me. I don't just want to hear what you said, I want to understand and internalize it. I don't just want to hear the doorbell ring, I want to be the one who gets up to answer it. I don't want to ignore anything, by accident or on purpose. I want to notice the world and engage it.

I want power in my eyes and joy in my laugh. I want to have a healthy soul. I want to be intensely real, yet refreshingly pleasant. I want to be strong without making others feel weak. I want to be intelligent without making others feel stupid. I want to be popular without making others feel inadequate.

I want people to wonder what makes me different. I want to be able to say that I found myself, and that I found myself in something bigger than us. I want my fingers to leave traces of God in the air. I want to be a bold person for a bold God. I want to be real. I want to be radical. I want to be revitalized.

This is the Me I want to be.

~Stephanie

Jesus

Kinda like that.

~Stephanie

Ooh. So It's THAT Kind of Post.

I am actually going to write a post now. This is not a comic. This is not a picture I found on Facebook. This is not a fill-out. This is not a quick complaint that I didn't even proofread.

(**EDIT: It is a complaint. But I swear I proofread it...**)

*takes a deep breath*

I haven't written, really written, in so long. Do you know when the last time I wrote any scrap of fiction was? February 16th. The last time I put some effort or thought into a legit story of mine? NaNoWriMo back in November.

I go through phases like this every once in a while, and I always think I'm losing myself. I think my imagination has shriveled up and died and I'll never write again. I think I'm a totally different and terrible person and I'm not turning out the way I want.

At least I've learned to recognize it as a pattern, because the last few days, I've kinda felt like that XD Again.

Do I feel like myself? Not really. But I don't exactly feel like a fake either. I feel like a new person, and I'm not sure I like this person. But I'm well on my way to becoming this person forever.

I don't write anymore. It isn't because I'm uninspired. I have plenty of inspiration lying around. If I would just look it in the eye and say, "Okay, I'm ready to write," I could fill a notebook right now. So why don't I?

I think I'm scared.

I'm scared that it won't be any good, but what I'm most afraid of is not finishing. Anything. Ever. With the exception of the five Fire Fairy books and some short stories, that's true. I have never finished a story.

I think my defense mechanism is just not trying. If I don't try, I can't fail.

But I also can't succeed.

"...at the worst, if he fails at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat." ~ Theodore Roosevelt

I used to think that way. I used to scorn people who wouldn't take risk or were too lazy to try. I still scorn those people, but the problem is now I'm also one of them.

In addition to being apathetic about writing, I'm starting to become that way about college.

The deadline for my second choice school, where I got accepted, has passed and I didn't accept. All the other deadlines are passed too. Right now, I'm holding out for my #1 university where I've been Wait Listed. Unfortunately more students than usual accepted their acceptance and are going, which means it's more than likely I won't get in.

I sent in some examples of my writing to at least set me apart from my fellow Wait Listers, but I never got a confirmation. I asked them to please let me know when they received the message but they never replied and I haven't recent the stuff.

I need to write a highly enthusiastic and articulate letter telling them that I'm still waiting and I know that Wake Forest is the place for me. I was gonna do that Tuesday, but I didn't and I still haven't and now it's Wednesday. I have plans for most of tomorrow and all of Friday and I'm attempting to make plans for Saturday. On Monday I leave to go to the beach for a week.

I also need a job. I'm honestly not sure how to go about getting one. My big idea is to walk into a bunch of stores that I wouldn't hate working at and say, "Hi, I'd like to apply for a job." But I haven't done that yet, ergo I have no job. I'm hoping to put that brilliant plan into action tomorrow, but I might be lying to myself. I'll find out.

I really don't want to work with food, but beggars can't be choosers and right now I'm pretty much a beggar.

Prom is also kinda stressing me out. But at least it's just the material parts of it, not the people or the idea of prom.

I love my dress, so yay. But I haven't tried it on with the shoes and earrings and I have no clue what I'm doing with my hair. Theoretically I'm getting it done by a professional this year, since I haven't been that happy with how it's looked the past two years. However, I don't know what I want my hair to look like and I haven't made an appointment yet. So that's stressful.

And dance. I love dance. I **LOVE** dance. And I'm very attached to my class and my studio. It's a very huge part of who I am. I could very easily get sentimental about it. And tonight was the last class I'll ever attend. I'm going to miss the actual LAST CLASS, where all the seniors are like "AWWWWWWWW" and everyone is like, "AWWW WE'LL MISS YOU *SOB*" and where my incredible teacher Mrs. Lauren will probably cry.

For some reason I really, really, really, really want to be there for that. I realized that tonight. That it means a lot to me to be there. But I won't be. 'Cause senior beach trip. Which will also be awesome and sentimental and full of people I love. But like...

Dance.

*sigh*

In the middle of all this, I'm losing my will to be a Christian. I don't know if I said that right. It's like, I think I do believe in God, and I think Christianity has it right. But at the same time, I'm so, so...just...

Not into it.

I've graduated from "I'm having a spiritually 'off' day" to "I am a total hypocrite who doesn't belong in the house of God and is having trouble giving a sh't about that."

>.<

I think Christianity is right, but I don't want to be part of it right now. It's too much responsibility. I have to be a good examples, repent, surrender myself to God and for some reason I just CAN'T GO THERE RIGHT NOW. So I feel like it would be better to remove the label of "Christian" than to be a fake.

Although it's not like I can tell that to anyone. Except you guys. And Cassidy. And Aaron. And Sam. Although Sam will probably try to find a way to make this his fault. It isn't.

And I've noticed that he just comments on posts in which I mention him. So he may comment on this one. Although since I just pointed that out, he might intentionally not say something. Although since I just point THAT out...

........alllllllllllright, I'm completely off topic now and no one understands what I'm saying.

I just. I don't know. I'm a lunatic. An absolute raving lunatic.

D: WHAT?!

Ugh >.<

~Stephanie

The Author God

In the fourth section of Mere Christianity, “Beyond Personality,” C.S. Lewis uses an Author God metaphor to explain how God views time.

On page 167-168, the book says, “Suppose I am writing a novel. I write ‘Mary laid down her work; next moment came a knock at the door!’ For Mary who has to live in the imaginary time of my story there is no interval between putting down the work and hearing the knock. But I, who am Mary’s maker, do not live in the imaginary time at all. Between writing the first half of the sentence and the second, I might sit down for three hours and think steadily about Mary.”

Probably because I’m a writer, I’ve always found it easier to understand God when I think of him as an author. He created a wonderful premise for us on earth. He made the world and its laws and he created the “characters” Adam and Eve with their unique personalities.

The Author metaphor has the potential to unnerve people, because they feel that by comparing God to an author, we’re saying that he writes our story all himself, with little freewill for us. For instance, if we think of God as an Author, we might be led to believe he actually planned and scripted the Fall.

Obviously no human metaphor for God is going to be perfect, but as a writer, I think this one makes a lot of sense.

When writing, you do get to create the characters—in a sense. (It usually feels more like meeting someone than creating them though.) You decide their hair color, put them into a family, and—to some extent—get to form their personality. You probably even have an idea of how you want their “story” to go.

However, as your character matures and is shaped by others’ actions, there comes a point when you are not exactly calling your character’s shots anymore. You might know that Paige needs to trust Darren for the story to work, but Paige has decided to take a more stubborn route.

After God's Adam and Eve characters took their own stubborn route, God did some reorganizing of the Story of Man. He realized that his characters were choosing a sad, inefficient path, but he was still determined to give them the option for the best ending, which is through Jesus.

Some might think that as an author, couldn’t you just force the character to do the right thing? Probably. But then not only have you violated the character, but your world of words turns brittle and gray. A good author won’t do that, and God is the very best. Instead, you have to persuade and enlighten your characters through situations and other people so that they will have a of heart. God does this for us.

Like an Author, God’s style is all throughout his Story; his fingerprints are on every tree, every sunset, and every person’s heart. God loves us, his characters, so much that he allows us to be ourselves, make our own choices—and sometimes we choose wrong.

At times it may seem like our Author is putting cruel obstacles in our way for no good reason, like he’s ruining OUR story. But we have to remember that it isn’t just OUR story; it’s God’s.

God doesn’t send misery to punish us. His heart aches when bad things happen, just as an author finds it hard to watch a difficult situation unfold. However, both God and the author know the ending of their story. They’re excited about the ending! They want their characters to see it, believe in it, run towards it! The author knows that Paige got kidnapped so that she could meet Luke; she knows that Darren got lost because he needed to meet Paige.

Thankfully, our Author is one of infinite chances, and if we love him, we can trust that he’s working our story towards the best possible ending.

It's true; no metaphor for God will ever be perfect. But personally, I find the Author God metaphor especially beautiful, relatable, and comforting.

~Stephanie

Mainstream

"Mainstream."

A lot of Christian girl bloggers use the word like it means "the desire to be a prostitute."

I understand not wanting to be obsessed with "the things of this world," but just because something is "mainstream" does not automatically make it shallow, sexual and sinful. A lot of mainstream things are, but a lot of unpopular things are too--you just don't hear about them as much.

Then, of course, there's the eye-roll moment when the girl actually READS the books or WATCHES the movie or LISTENS to the music and suddenly--OMG IT IS THE BEST THING EVER.

{It was especially awkward when I read the Harry Potter books after years of swearing they were Satan's handiwork. Ohhh yeah. That was uncomfortable.}

I do a lot of judgmental, irrational things. However, I'm glad to say that shunning mainstream stuff on principle is no longer one of them. Frankly, I could not care less whether something is popular or not. What matters to me is not what everyone says, but what I personally think.

Pointy-toed shoes are ugly.

Hollister is overrated.

The Twilight books aren't that bad.

The Hunger Games books are really pretty good.

In my opinion, people should spend a lot less time condemning or affirming things on the basis of what the world says. I mean, I think the real point of "in-the-world-but-not-of-it" might be to form your own ideas based on personal preference and prayer. Your pastor's word is not God's, and the girl with the Abercrombie jeans is not Satan.

Everyone Loves Glee =/= Glee sucks.

Glee sucking is what makes Glee suck XD Ahahaha. Lawl.

*ahem* Sorry.

People need to stop judging and start experiencing. God doesn't want us to shun the world, and he doesn't want us to be sheltered, shell-shocked sissies.

Just something that's been on my mind.

~Stephanie

The Ellie Experience Part 1

<<<<<<< Batman is winning. Does that bother you? Vote :D

Thanks for following, Alice! {She's also going to write for the Miss Unlimited blog, which is, by the way, launching soon, guys!}

{This is a rant that got too long and had multiple profound-ish conclusions, so I had to break it in half.}

Remember the friend I told you that got engaged? To the guy she'd been dating for only two months? {And she's definitely not pregnant.} And I think getting married is a stupid thing for her to do?

Because they're only seventeen.

Because they're not finished growing up.

Because who knows if they will be the same people in five years.

Because the people they turn into might not be compatible.

Because this means Ellie will most likely not go to college.

Because they have nowhere to live.

Because Ellie is doing it under pressure.

Because Ellie can't stick to a decision to save her life, so why is marriage a good idea?

That friend?

Well, the other day, she texted me:

"Stephanie."

"Yes?"

And she was having doubts. I gave her more or less neutral advice, not telling her not to marry Brian, just helping her to think things through. When it became obvious that she was coming to the conclusion I had already come to, I started slowly voicing my more biased opinion on what she should do.

We talked for three hours.

And she firmly decided to break off the engagement.

She knew she wasn't mature enough. She realized that there's literally ONLY SO MUCH maturity someone can have at seventeen. She realized that if she and Brian were meant for each other, they still would be in two or three years.

She was certain of her decision, and she told me to please be there for her and keep her straight, because now she had to face Brian. And her {really stupid, irrational, unhelpful} parents.

I told her to remember all the reasons she now firmly believed in. I told her I was there for her. I told her to trust the rational part of her brain, even when the irrational part reared its head. I told her to call me if she needed me.

She talked to Brian. She talked to her dad. She prayed.

And decided actually NOT to break off the engagement.

{As a general rule, I do not approve of profanity. It's distracting and unnecessary and not especially classy. If you agree with me, you might want to skip the next sentence.}

WHAT THE FUCK?

I knew this would happen. I knew it, knew it, knew it. She sees reason, sets it in stone, asks me to hold her to it because she knows it's the right thing to do, then turns right around and embraces the old way of thinking because she's a compliant flake who believes whoever happens to be talking with her at the time.

"Gods bigger than the fears, Steph," she says.

God is bigger than EVERYTHING, Ellie, that doesn't mean you should do stupid things.

"The Bible says to let your yes be yes, and your no be no. God will bless sticking to a decision."

Let's not even get too into that one, because if Ellie has ever stuck to a decision in the eight years I've been friends with her, I must have missed it. She quit flute, guitar, dance, soccer, church, a boyfriend, a school, another school, cheerleading, volleyball, another boyfriend, an engagement, and then she quit BREAKING OFF an engagement.

Don't even pretend like you're doing the "Let Your Yes Be Yes" thing.

But even if she were, it's still not a valid point. Someone could decide that theft is just the right thing for them. God is not going to reward them for making a bad choice simply because they STUCK TO IT. That's not how it works.

~Stephanie

Trying Different

Wow, thanks for following, Adelle {who blogs with the lovely Gabrielle}, normal.is.overrated {who will write for Miss Unlimited}, and knockedaskew {another Miss Unlimited writer}! I'm not sure what to say about this influx of followers, but thanks, everyone! I'm determined NOT to get too wrapped up in numbers, but I'm not gonna lie, it makes blogging more fun when I know people are "listening."

~~~~~~~

Every year, you make New Year's Resolutions. Sometimes they're all new; sometimes they're the same old goals you set year after year and never reach.

Or maybe you stopped making "Resolutions." Maybe you don't like to feel like a failure when you don't live up to your own expectations. Come to think of it, who does? I don't.

Every year, we promise ourselves to try harder. We'll get up earlier or put in more hours or trash talk ourselves louder. "This is the year," you think. "I'm gonna try harder than ever. I'm gonna try my hardest."

And how does that work for us?

My NWRs last year were

- stop cracking my knuckles

- finish a story

- conquer my problem {masochistic erotica}

- finish my math book

- get in shape

- never go on Omegle again

I did one and a half of those things. I got in shape, and I'm officially a year clean from erotica.

{I say I achieved one and a half and not two because I don't think the erotica issue is something I can exactly "conquer". I think I'll always struggle with it, at least some. But I do think I did well. Staying clean for a year was one of--if not THE--biggest thing I've ever done. It took so much prayer, willpower, and determination. I don't think I failed at achieving the resolution; I think I failed at making it. I shouldn't have made it a goal to "conquer" my problem; I should have resolved to do my utmost to stay clean for a year.}

Anyway, I achieved 1.5 of 6 resolutions, and I had made all of them but the Omegle one in years past. I guess I just haven't tried hard enough yet. Right?

I'm starting to doubt that statement. Let's look at it logically. Take the resolutions that I DID achieve. Why did I succeed?

In years past, I've relied solely on myself to get in shape. "I'll take up jogging," I told myself. "I'll do two hundred crunches every night. I won't eat junk food."

This year, I did something different. I joined a workout class with my mom. {That looks unbelievably lame when I type it out, but I promise you, this class kicks your ass.} The trainer is personal and persistent. I wasn't alone in my quest for fitness anymore; I got accountability. I tried something new.

I also went a whole year without reading masochistic crap online. How did I do that? To be honest, I feel like I can't take any credit for that all. I tried for years to contain my twisted side and failed over and over. I doubt that I got a sudden burst of unprecedented strength when 2011 hit. I give all the credit away, to God mostly, but also to other people.

God's presence, strong and faithful, kept me sane in 2011. When I felt like I couldn't stand up against the temptations, God was there standing up for me. Through others' prayers, he aided me and gave me hope and strength all year long.

My mom knew about my problem, but I didn't make her understand until the beginning of last year. She thought it was something I could just quit, cold turkey, like throwing away a ratty pair of jeans. I made her understand that THIS DOES NOT WORK LIKE THAT. By being a better communicator, I gained a stronger ally in my journey.

I also started this blog. I think the biggest mental block towards recovery was the loneliness and shame. By keeping my struggle hidden, there was no way I could ever have deep fellowship. By keeping my problem secret, there was no way I could ever gain acceptance. Pandora has helped me realize that IT'S OKAY TO BE MESSED UP. By sharing my darkest secret, even with just this small part of the world, I've been able to accept myself a little better.

And that is making all the difference in the world.

So what did my two successful resolutions have in common? One thing is OTHER PEOPLE. We're all lazy and lack self-discipline sometimes. You need accountability this year. Get others involved in what you want to accomplish, for moral support and a kick in the butt when you need it.

{And don't forget to be an ally for other people, too. The best way to have strong friends is to be one. Ask what you can do to help others this year.}

The second thing is DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT. Let's face it: I would never have started jogging or doing two hundred crunches every night or cutting out junk food entirely. Some people can pull those things off, but I certainly could not.

{A part of me is indignantly screeching "YES, YOU COULD HAVE, EVENTUALLY." Well, Screeching Part of Me, that was taking way too long.}

This year, don't try HARDER, try DIFFERENT. Get down to the root of your problems, like I've begun to do with my masochism. By uncovering the burning loneliness and raw shame, I've been able to get farther than ever on the road to recovery.

This year, dig down deep and do something different. {Lawl, alliteration.}

With that in mind, here are my Twenty-Twelve New Year's Resolutions:

1. Finish a story.

2. Stay erotica clean for another year.

3. Stop cracking my knuckles.

4. Try my best in school.

Good luck, and thanks for listening to me. It's making a lot of difference.

~Stephanie

One...

Savior born.

Merry Christmas, guys :)

~Stephanie