Along the Riverbank

Sometimes I have this odd, terrible fear of being forgotten. I think a lot of the time seasons of change do that to us. We are afraid that as we step into something new we will have trouble connecting and when we turn back to look at where we've come from, people will respond with a questioning look and ask, "Who are you again?" It reminds me of the classic Christmas movie It's a Wonderful Life (I know, I'm a little out of season as we're heading into summer). In this movie, George Bailey wakes up one day as the result of a wish that he'd never been born. Whenever he tries to talk to people, nobody recognizes him. Not his friends. Not his own family. He is simply forgotten. It makes me panic a little bit just thinking about it. Can you imagine? Everyone simply forgetting you. I think what makes it so scary is that we all feel this way at least a little bit sometimes. A friend doesn't call or a family member hasn't checked in for awhile. ...

I stood completely still, frozen with indecision. Should I go left or right? Finding myself all alone, I couldn't see over the walls all around me and had no clue which path would lead me to safety. If I had only stayed with the others it would be simple, but in my curiosity I couldn't help but wander. It seemed as though I would never find my way out. Stuck in a labyrinth of dirt and corn, the fear that the others had left me behind and forgotten me started to consume me. It was only a moment before a friend found me and I once again reunited with our group. My panic was only for a small moment, yet the same fear I experienced in that corn maze is one I again wrestled with only a short while later. One of our weekly chapel services for school rolled around, and our speaker talked about the name of God, the Hebrew word comprised of the letters Yod He Vav He, which we commonly see as YHWH. It was considered so holy that no one was even supposed to utter it and a differ...

      Last week I began my senior year...wait, what?! Yes, senior year. I really do find it hard to believe. One more year of high school left, and as I reflect on the past three years I realize how much I've changed.       High school is all about growing.  It's about making mistakes and learning from them, taking risks and sometimes failing or getting hurt. It's about discovering what makes you passionate. It's about learning about who you are and, more importantly, who God is.      I can't count the things God has revealed to me through circumstances, prayer, and people over the past three years. I hardly have all the answers, but I started to make a list. A list of things I would tell the frightened, innocent, and overwhelmed me as I walked through the doors of high school on my first day.      Some are silly, others are serious, all are things I've found to be true in my life experiences. Maybe you'll take my ad...

As a child, I was frightened by many things - the dark, loud noises, and spiders just to name a few...(okay, okay, I admit it, that last one still gets me...). But there was one thing, one treacherous thing, which instilled in me a stronger fear than anything else. One thing which made my insides tremble. One thing that I dreaded the thought of more than anything else: the deep end. Oh, I loved to swim. But as soon as my toes could no longer touch the bottom, I would start to panic. There was something about the security of knowing that I could stand up on my own. As I've grown older, I'm no longer scared of the deep end. However, I've discovered that in my spiritual walk, I'm a lot like the 6-year-old me in a swimming pool. I tend to shy away from the deep end. Where I can't touch. Where I am helpless if my own strength fails. Yet, the more I learn about Christ, the more I realize He calls His followers to the deep. He calls us...

My favorite place in the world…it echoes with innocent laughter. Children run and dance and play at all hours, radiating joy into every object – the trees, the rocks, the little roadside shops and crooked homes. Dust fills the air and lightly coats everything. My eyes sting of dust and sediment, but mostly they sting with tears of compassion. In every direction is crushed hope, stolen innocence. It is the happiest place in the world. It is the saddest place in the world. If there was an emotion directly a mix of absolute bliss and agonizing, crippling pain, I would use it here. But there isn't. And I can’t describe it. And so I shall not attempt to convey the essence of my favorite place in the world. I will simply tell you where it is, so you can go and see and experience and fall in love, just like me. And this is your warning: It will become your favorite place, too. Africa.

          I'll be honest, life has been a bit chaotic lately. I really don't know where to begin...but maybe the best place to begin isn't with words. Maybe C.S. Lewis was right when he said "Life is too deep for words, so don't try to describe it  just live it."       Maybe the best place to begin is my life in mosaic, a piece-by-piece collection of the most precious moments in the past month.       Our "25 Days of Christmas," where we do one activity a day up until Christmas: Christmas Bingo Serving at our Church's "Christmas Bash" Reading the classic "Santa's Stuck" (if you've never read it, it's a must) Putting together our 20 piece Santa Puzzle; it used to take quite awhile, but as we've grown so have our puzzle skills  Choosing a Christmas ornament Family trip to Silver Dollar City Our yearly trip to Winter Park, Colorado:      ...