Completely Conservative

This was a paper i did in highschool about why i am a conservative republican!

Approximately three years ago, my father turned on Talk Radio (95.7 FM) in the car and instead of rolling my eyes or inserting my head phones, I actually paid full attention. Ever since then, I have grown more and more conservative (or in my mind- wise) with my political views. But I realize that to have a balanced view point, I must research both sides of every issue before I base my opinions. My research shows that I see eye to eye with the views of the conservative political party and disagree heavily with the liberal and democratic parties. Three particular subjects that confirm my conservative side are the issues of gun control,  illegal immigration, and taxes.

            Guns have been a part of our American culture from the very origins of our country. The first gun control laws can be found as far back as the early Colonial period which came less than a year after the ratification of the second Amendment in the Bill of Rights.  This made guns a controversial issue for the first time and thus began the fight for gun freedom.  Liberal and democratic anti-firearm groups argue that by denying citizens the right to all types of assault weapons, the country will have less violence. In my opinion, this is their way of controlling the American people. Gun control laws will not stop criminals from acquiring guns by any means; it will obliterate the independence and self reliance of everyday American citizens until people feel that they can do nothing without government approval- not even protect their families from harm. Conservatives can prove with many examples that gun control laws neither prevent nor reduce crime, but actually increase it. For example, in 1976, Washington D.C. enacted a ban on guns. By 1991, less than twenty years later, D.C.’s homicide rates had tripled. When people feel that their safety is being threatened, they become more willing to take matters into their own hands, and ignore the government laws. Today, 49% of households possess a gun. This statistic merely shows the percentage of households that already own a gun; there are more out there who may not have anything against owning a gun, but have not done so themselves. A few years ago, my family was awaken in the middle of the night by a SWAT team that informed us that one of our neighbors was having a domestic dispute and the husband had a gun so we needed to hide in the basement. I feared for my life that night. I was more afraid that only the husband had a gun. Because only he had a gun, he controlled the entire situation until the SWAT team came to disarm him. Therefore, I believe that those who want a gun for purposes other than protection or recreation will attain a gun without approval from the government. Those of us who follow the law will be the ones punished by gun control laws, and this is one reason I am conservative.

            America is known as “the melting pot” for our variety of cultures and races all creating a wonderfully diverse country. However, when people come into our country illegally, and take advantage of our freedoms and benefits, I cannot be supportive. Today there are an estimated five to six million undocumented Mexicans in the American workforce. These jobs are now unavailable to the hard working American families who pay taxes. If it is a crime to break into someone’s home, or steal someone’s personal identity, then why do illegal immigrants escape punishment from sneaking into our country and stealing the right to be identified as legal American citizens? So it is very upsetting to me that only about 34% of Americans think illegal immigrants are taking jobs away from our legal citizens. This statistic shows that people are not being informed on how much illegal immigration is hurting our economy. When Obama ran for president, he appealed to the democrats and leftists by promising comprehensive immigration reform. He did not want to rid America of our illegal immigrants; he just wanted to legalize them so that they would not have to leave. Many people supported his views on this issue. I do not respect a president willing to reward people for breaking into our country. This is another reason why I am a conservative party member; conservatives believe that illegal immigrants should be banished from our country. Jobs are hard to come by these days. I was recently hired at Subway, but it took over a year of waiting. I can now slightly relate to the fear of not having a job because of this, and I do not want to see American families struggling with job loss when there are illegal immigrants stealing our jobs. This is another reason I am a conservative.

            Lastly, my views on taxes help identify me as a conservative. In general, 60% of Americans believe that income taxes they themselves pay are fair. However, we need to think about what about the other 40%, such as the top 1% wealthy people who must pay 37% of America’s taxes think. They do not find it fair that their prosperity causes them to pay more taxes for the country. When taxes are cut, everyone is better off. More people invest in the stock market, buy more, and hire more employees for business. If both the wealthy, middle and lower class benefit from tax cuts, why does the wealthy class benefit the least? This is a question that a lot of democrats ignore. I believe that the people making the most money and who provide jobs for America should be rewarded the same tax cuts as the poor. High taxes take away the initiative for Americans to work to their best abilities. Conservatives believe in the least amount of government involvement as possible. We do not want to control every aspect of life because we believe in freedom and free market. The democrats and liberals more often than not have the completely opposite views. They want to tax the rich in order to help the poor. In the long run however, they are killing the competitive spirit of America. I want to be successful in my future, but I do not want to pay an arm and a leg in taxes. I want to see the government being fair with taxes. This is why I side with the conservative party.

            I do not believe in a black and white America. There are always certain issues that are based on circumstances and other factors. But when it comes to standing up for what I believe is right, there is no backing down. I am proud to say that I am a complete conservative, and these three issues of gun control, illegal immigration, and taxes helps determine my ideology.

           

           

undercover!!!

Undercover

            I took out my red crayon and scribbled a dashed line from the sanctuary to the women’s bathroom; from there I carefully made a zig-zagging line down the main hallway and then finally, pressing my red crayon forcefully on the wrinkly paper, planted a giant X on the kitchen (aka destination). “Alright you think you can handle this?” I questioned my sidekick who was also my childhood best friend. Chelsea nodded seriously. We knew this procedure well from many attempts and previously failed missions. We could smell victory in the air. It was very close. Why was this so important? Because communion only comes around at the Stillwater SDA church every six months, and time was in short supply. After the service was over on these special days, there would always be a supply of grape juice and the most delicious communion bread you can imagine brought to the kitchen. According to our church’s beliefs, any blessed communion bread left uneaten should be immediately burned. Now of course, being only eight years of age, Chelsea and I could not grasp the idea that stealing the left-over blessed bread would be disrespectful. We just rationalized that if the starving children in Africa our mothers always told us about were not being benefited by destroying this food, than it was even more of a disgrace to allow this food to be wasted. So Chelsea and I were determined more than ever to taste those delicious squares of holy goodness as soon as possible. Chelsea looked at the map I had drawn up for our mission and I could tell she felt confidence in my plans. “All we have to do,” I explained, “is to avoid the pastor, our parents, and worst of all, The Kid Police.” The very idea of this made us shudder. The Kid Police was an obnoxious group of hand selected snitches (oh, excuse me) I mean kids, whose sole purpose at church evolved into telling their parents and teachers which kids were misbehaving. They would proudly wear their bright fire-truck red plastic badges on their chests and patrol the hallways like they were getting paid. Want to know the best part? Chelsea and I were both members of The Kid Police.  It’s true—we were corrupt. As long as we wore our badges, we were positive that we would be able to successfully maneuver through the hallways undetected and capture our prize! We started on our journey. We left the main sanctuary and easily made it to the bathroom. Check that off the map. The next part was the tricky part. There was a long hallway from the bathroom to the kitchen lined with coat racks, drinking fountains, pamphlet holders, and various other attractions. People streamed through the hallway like shoppers on Black Friday. Chelsea and I zig-zagged through the hallway as best we could. I finally made it to the kitchen door. I turned around to share this moment of victory with my friend, but Chelsea was stuck behind a family taking a group picture. “Ughhh…” I groaned. I knew at any moment, the women in the kitchen would be starting the ovens. Chelsea finally got past the family road block and met up with me. We smiled mischievously to each other and pushed open the kitchen door. The smell of burning bread filled the air. We slumped our heads and started to turn around. “Girls, don’t leave! I made some extra bread for you before the service! Don’t worry, it hasn’t been blessed” came from the voice of the pastor’s wife. “Wow!” we both brought our hands to our faces. “Yes,” she continued, bringing over a full bag of communion bread, “I just wanted to reward you girls for your good work.” Chelsea and I exchanged looks of confusion, but she then explained, “You girls are the most responsible Kid Police members. I just wanted to reward you both.” Suddenly the two of us weren’t hungry anymore.

Pain is beauty

Most women know as a shopper’s rule, but hate to admit, that whatever piece of clothing you pick out at a department store, you will like it the most in that store. There is something about the way the store smells, the department lights making everything look new and shiny and that “high” of holding an article of clothing that is marked down 50% with an additional 25% from that, and that coupon you cut out of the saver’s section in the newspaper. Basically, if you don’t love it in the store, you will never wear it. Well I would like to contribute a similar rule to the Savvy Shopper’s list of Do’s and Don’ts. Here it is: whatever you want to buy, no matter what, will feel the most comfortable in the environment of dressing rooms and price tags. That itchy wool sweater, yea it might be bearable now, but as soon as you get home you will realize it has given you a rash the size of Texas on your neck. Or those new white dress pants; you won’t be able to hold in that quivering belly any easier in front of the mirror in your own bed room. I am convinced of this rule because of a pair of devilish-looking black high-heeled boots.

I had no idea that right after walking into Forever 21 at the Greene, cupid would strike me in the wallet as soon as I laid my eyes on those beauties. I was memorized by their death drop 4 inch heels, and the classy pointed toe. I imagined strutting my 6 foot 1’ self down the hallways at school. Best dressed for a day? That was fine with me. I picked up one of the boots, and held it in a stream of light like a scene from the Lion King. If these boots could talk, they said “try me on and then buy me…. and do it fast…..it will be the best decision of your life.” I didn’t think to disobey this order for a second. I slipped them on with ease and then stood up. My first thought was, “woaaaaa, you all look so tiny down there.” As I adjusted to my new level of elevation, I swayed a little. Was there seriously a breeze in the middle of the store? No, that was just my puny calf muscles saying they hated me. I took a step. Another step. After about ten steps I ended up only about a few feet away from my starting place. So I wasn’t making huge strides, but it’s not like I was going to run a marathon in them, I convinced myself. Kelli came around the corner holding a hideous pink zip-up jacket that looked like she stole it from The Fresh Prince of Bellaire. I was greeted with a look of disgust equal to my feelings about her jacket. “Hannah! You are going to kill yourself in those!” she squeaked as she ran over and held onto my arm. “Kelli, I know how to walk!” I retaliated. It would have been very convincing if I had said those words as I cat walked in a circle around her with my hands on my hips. But all I could manage to do was shakily take a step retreating from her and throw my hands up in the air striking a pose. I prayed for a distraction so that I could hug a very sturdy looking pillar nearby. “Well, I think you should practice wearing them around the store before you buy them” she said; I could tell she was not convinced by my pathetic little display. I spent the next five minutes following Kelli around the store smiling confidently while in her gaze, and grasping onto any available solid fixture when her back was turned. By the time we were ready to purchase our items, I was growing beautiful blisters on my feet and a back problem. But for some reason, I swallowed my good sense, I’m not proud to say, and forked over $30 of hard-earned money for these hardly desirable health problems. This is the true confession of an impulse shopper. I wish I could tell you that as soon as I got home, the shoes molded to my feet and evolved Dr.Scholls squishy inserts. But that would be a lie, and I don’t want to lie to you. I want to instead inform you that the belief women have adapted over the years, because of society’s sick expectations, that pain is beauty. Pain is not beauty. Pain is pain. Pain is also watching my pride shatter all over the Dayton Mall floors, or was that my body that shattered? Actually it was both. Don’t believe the lies… you will look more beautiful in those ugly worn out lawn-mower shoes than you will in a pair of dangerous heels any day. Those other shoes are just for looking at.

           

Scrunchies!

I found this short article that i wrote for a creative writing assignment in highschool! it brings back good memories!

Scrunchies

            I ripped open the box like a kid about to devour a bag of skittles. And like skittles, what was inside this box that I kept in safe keeping underneath my bed was very colorful and tempting. I looked down at my leotard and calculated about five different colors that could potentially match: blue, black, green, yellow, and silver. I dug into the box some more and finally withdrew the perfect hair scrunchie to match my leotard! I could see an almost glow of light haloing the scrunchie as I admired it. Then I suddenly heard a screeching voice in the background. The halo of light and that heavenly atmosphere was instantly flipped off as I turned around to see my best friend, Kelli Schwenkel, standing there with an absurd expression on her face. “What are you doing?” she griped at me. I felt like this was a dumb question so my mind wandered to more important matters…like which color hair scrunchie would match her leotard the best. “Ewwwwwww! What in the world are you doing Hannah!?” she said. Another dumb question. “Kelli, I’m just getting ready for gymnastics. What’s the deal?” I honestly had no idea what was going to come out of her mouth next, but then again, I never do. “Like oh my gosh Hannah, no one wears hair scrunchies anymore! This is the 21^st century and you are definitely not with the times.” This little jab instantly annoyed me. How dare she make fun of them!? I had proudly collected over thirty multi-colored, beautifully designed hair scrunchies throughout my gymnastics career and I wasn’t about to let a rookie tell me what to wear to practice. Kelli tormented me for the next fifteen minutes about how I was stuck in the 80’s (ummm…excuse me, I wasn’t even alive in the 80’s), and that I needed to invest in some “normal” hair ties. The following scene is not suitable for a general audience, but I will say that after a few insults and minutes of physical combat, I was able to keep my precious box without losing any scrunchies. “Hannah…” she finally said in a sweet voice as a last attempt at rationalizing with me, “name one other freshman in our entire school that wears them.” I pondered this challenge for a few minutes, praying to God that ten girls would instantly appear in my mind. But no, nothing came to me. After a few minutes of silence, Kelli smiled victoriously. “I’ll give you an example,” she said, “Mrs. Whitman is the only other last remaining scrunchie wearer!” Oh my heavens, she was completely right I realized. “That’s not true,” I said lying to her face. Kelli rolled her eyes, she could see straight through me. I stared back down at the box in my hands. It was time to let go of this generation gap. Now when I say let go, I do not mean give up. The scrunchie box still resides under my bed behind a stack of summer reading books and old blankets. I frequently visit this old box just for memory’s sake. I still mentally debate which one would best showcase my leotard for the day. I test them for elasticity and put them in the washing machine ever year so that I won’t feel like I’m neglecting them. Maybe someday scrunchies will come back in style. I am keeping my fingers crossed. And when that day comes I will laugh and proudly pull out that special box. I will especially love to see how Kelli will react when she sees that I never donated them to Goodwill like I said I did. But for now, she doesn’t need to find out.

So of course

So of course, I know everything...

            I have never actually said the previous statement out loud in all seriousness, so don't quote me. But have I ever acted like I knew everything? Talked to others condescendingly in a way that made me appear dominant and victorious? Yes. Do I ever roll my eyes at my professors? Oh, take me away, I’m guilty! Do I walk with shoulders back, chest out, and take long strides? Ok, well blame that one on my history as a competitive gymnast.

The point is, I am guilty of trying to appear smarter, more confident, more attractive and uninterested in others in order to cover up my lack of self worth and security.

I shudder at how many times I have put down my younger sister when I needed an emotional punching bag. Having a bad day at school translated into, "wow Abby, you are so retarded." or "Abby, stop complaining about your homework, you know you're just in the stupid math class." Of course, I knew all along that Abby is smart, funny, athletic and creative. But, unfortunately I cared more about protecting my ego's fragile shell that threatened collapsing than hurting my sister.

            God please forgive me for always trying to find my worth in worldly things and feeding off other people's struggles. You have told me that I am the strongest when I am weak. Then why do I find myself stronger when I make others weak? God take away my selfishness. Make me new.

            Here's the thing, I am finally learning how special I am. Not as an athlete with a box of medals and ribbons; not as an accomplished student or by how many guys' numbers are in my phone... I am learning my specialness and value as a human being by looking to the cross and realizing the value of Jesus. I have known this truth my entire life. But like most human beings, I have to learn even the simplest truths on my own.

             I finished off my high school years with a newly discovered extrovert personality. I was relieved to finally be able to talk out loud in classes and make new friends just for fun. Life was becoming more visible to me and my future began looking bright as i started learning who I was.

Then I went to college.....

            Everything terrified me. People did not scare me, but becoming close to them did. I feared the chance people could see my insecurities, lack of experience, and naive view of the world. I knew I had so much to learn, but I didn’t want others to know that. As stress of work, school, gymnastics grew and I worked on constantly expanding my social network, I became more and more aware of my own inability to manage life flying solo. When someone let me down, or said something hurtful about me behind my back or to my face, the fragile ego shell that I thought had been packed away with old stuffed animals and cassette tapes came back. Suddenly, I felt fear again. I felt insignificance and small to the world.

            I packed my schedule so that I would not have an excuse for not talking to God. I mean, it's not like I was watching re-runs of Alias or CSI in my room. I packed my schedule with what I thought was worthy of my time like net working and making money and studying. But God was so far away and eventually I lost sight completely of my value as a human being.

            I would lay in my bed at night and feel empty. I cried into my pillow and asked myself what else I could do so I wasn’t always blaming myself for borrowing my parents’ money or eating food that could be used on someone more valuable. I felt as though I had nothing to offer, no way of helping anyone. The devil attacked me from every angle. He used everything he knew that was subtle enough for me to let slide by...and it worked.

            But praise God for HIS constant victory over my soul!!! He did not let me face the devil alone. While I was being beaten down, the Lord jumped in and shielded my fragile body. One night I remember in particular, because I was sick with the stomach flu. I was not able to practice gymnastics, go to class or even socialize. All of my usual distractions were unreachable now. I laid in bed all day, not even with the will to eat. I thought to myself, I tried hard. I tried long. If I  don’t wake up, that would solve it all. I don’t want to hurt myself, but I just give up. If I could just consciously tell my heart to stop beating, and my lungs to stop taking in oxygen, that would have been a relief. No more trying, only to face failure.

            That's when I cried out to God again. I said God i just don’t see why i should live anymore. I have plenty of things "going for me" but i don’t care anymore. I just don’t see why you would want me. I  have nothing valuable to say. I’m dead inside God. That’s when the Lord rested his healing hand on me. He spoke to me softly and said in a way that I could understand, "Hannah, you don’t need to be anything in this world. You don’t even need to say anything worth quoting in a book someday. You just need to be my child and let me love you. Just be mine and you will find value."

            That was a changing point in my life. The next semester at southern, God opened my eyes to His love and glory that was there all along. I began caring less and less of what others thought of me and more about how God thought of how I was living my life. My brother KC sent me an amazing book that showed me how living the Christian life should look. I was sick of my own lukewarm existence. It was time to poop or get off the pot in other words. God is so great! God gave me His son Jesus so that I could live forever with him in Heaven!

             God designed the very color of my eyes, the inflection of my voice, how my laugh would sound and my heart’s desires. The Lord sculpted the lakes and oceans with His hands. He hung the stars in the sky and shaped the clouds. All of His work is good and beautiful. And He did it all just so that I could see his glory and bask in His awesomeness!

            So if God is so amazing, and He gave His only Son just for me… I feel pretty valuable. And my value doesn’t change. It’s not like there is a set limit seats in Heaven. I don’t need to compare my value to someone else’s value. God created us so that He can love us! So, my worth and reason for life was right there the whole time.

            Thank you Jesus for giving my life value through your life. You are so amazing and so good all the time. Thank you for loving me and protecting me when I was in the valley. Continue to  hold me in Your arms as we travel through this journey until You come to take me home with you. God, thank you for giving me confidence that does not come from putting others down. Thank you for giving me boldness so that I can share my love for you with everyone I meet! Keep me on my toes God. I know I will slip back into old ways, but thank you for never letting go and I KNOW you will help me get back on the right track as long as I continue praying to you. Thank you God. Your love saved my life.

The first time i saw Jesus

The first time I saw Jesus

          I remember as a kid, driving with my mom in the car in the midst of a heavy rain storm. I would be rambling on, talking at rapid speed about school, boys, my glue stick that dried out before my art project was finished and anything else that came to my mind. My mother, that wonderfully patient woman, would simply smile and nod at my chatter. She knew that concentrating on the road and keeping us safe was more important than contributing to our one-way conversation. She continued driving, and I continued talking.

          Then in mid sentence, I suddenly yelled out “MOMMY, LOOK IT’S JESUS!!!” I craned my neck over to get a better view of outside the car window. I tried to free myself from my booster seat, but it was to no avail. My mother told me calmly, “Hannah, relax. Jesus isn’t going anywhere! Mommy is going to crash the car if you do not stay in your booster.” “BUT MOMMY I WANT TO SEE JESUS!” I pointed out the window to a cluster of dark clouds. There had just been an awful thunderstorm that caused thick black clouds to blanket the horizon. But there was a spot in the sky that had streaks of sunlight boldly piercing through the darkness. I stared at the streams of golden rays in complete awe.

          I imagined Jesus standing on the clouds, surrounded by his heavenly host. He could not see my through the thick layer of clouds so he had to poke holes in them just to be able to see me. I was delighted! Of course, I had no idea that what I was witnessing was a regular scientific occurrence called Crepuscular Rays of Sunlight. If you had tried to explain that to me as a 6 year old, I would have completely zoned out. But now that I am older, and more capable of understanding the scientific explanation to “Jesus in the clouds” I do not think it really would matter to me. Technically isn’t God everywhere at all times? He is omnipresent and all powerful. That has never changed. I would rather just be reminded of God’s presence in my life, and His everlasting love.

          Every time I see those Crepuscular Rays of Sunlight, I smile and remember to thank Jesus for my life. I remember that He really is everywhere at all times, it is just during the dark thunderstorms of our lives, when He is even more evident to us. During the sunny days of our lives, where the thunderstorms are far from thought, we do not think twice about the sun shine that warms our faces and sustains our bodies. But during the rough times, where divorce and brokenness and poverty plagues our lives, we finally look up to the Lord in desperation, for we know he alone can uphold us.

          In John 1:5, it  says “And the light shines on in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.” If we remember that no darkness is stronger than His light, we won’t be scared of the storm.

To my Daddy

Ok, this is an article i wrote for Comp 102 during "Smart Start" at Southern... the thesis was for us to write a persuasive paper on any topic of our choice. I wrote about dads....and since I have the best dad out there any girl can have, it was easy to write about. I showed my Dad this paper and im pretty sure i could see a proud smile beneath that big black, fluffy mustache of his!  :)   i love you daddy

A young girl of only ten stands nervously next to the balance beam in her very first regional’s meet. She can close her eyes and imagine every move, lift, and skill that awaits her as soon as the judges salute her to begin. Instead of being filled with excitement and confidence however, she is filled with a gaping sense of insecurity. Next to her mother is  an empty chair where her father should be seated. She falls while immediately mounting her first skill, not because she lacks the practice and training, but because she does not have the emotional support of the most important male figure in her life.

According to the highly regarded psychosexual analysis thinker Sigmund Freud, a young girl under the right circumstances can develop The Electra Complex is-- a psychoanalytic term used to describe a girl’s romantic feelings toward her father and anger towards her mother. Many people do not relate to this theory on a personal level whatsoever, but the basic principles of The Electra Complex remain today as a universal belief. A strong father-daughter relationship is extremely vital to the nurturing of a female’s self esteem and how she views of the world. As a result of uninvolved, emotionally abusive, and unprepared fathers, their daughters often  develop a low self-esteem with men, unhealthy relationships and eventually an unhappy marriage. 

As the primary male role model in a girl’s life, a father has an extreme amount of influence on his daughter. Little girls gain their first reflection of themselves as females from their fathers. During their early years, a girl develops either a high sense of self-respect or a low sense of self-respect based on the attention he gives her. Fathers can unintentionally destroy their daughters sense of total self worth when they place other people or events above their daughters. They do not always realize that when they skip a recital or a performance, they contribute to a girl’s biggest fear, that her father’s business meeting, football game, or poker night is more important than her. When she reaches adolescence, she subconsciously has a strong need to seek acceptance from other males to compensate for her father’s absence. She will work extremely hard to gain any amount of attention from males. For women with these backgrounds, even negative attention is better than none at all. She may appeal to a male’s sexual demands if it makes her feel wanted. The girl may feel like she is unable to say no because there is a lack of healthy boundaries.. She spirals downward after every unloving, and uncaring relationship, unable to stop the cycle. When a woman however, is taught to respect herself as a valuable person at a young age from her father, she will already have a strong enough character to avoid men who will only take advantage of her.

Some expecting fathers fear the chance of having a baby girl. They fear that they will not be able to relate to their daughters. Yet with a son, they can easily share experiences of growing up, sports and football games, or talks about girls. On the other hand, a girl requires a different set of needs than a boy. She will wants the same amount of attention. When a father concentrates more of his time on his son than his daughter, she may question her value as a female.

Throughout many years of history, society has neglected the rights of women concerning suffrage, salary, and political standing. A young girl that experiences this, combined with  insecurities of not being able to relate to her brother’s relationship with her father may believe that she should abandon her femininity altogether. Sometimes, a women’s healthy self image can be traced back to the time her father told her she looked beautiful at church, or the times he would kiss her before bedtime and say, “goodnight princess”. A strong father-daughter relationship encourages a girl to grow into a strong, beautiful woman,  proud to be feminine.

Many women are not fortunate enough to have a caring, involved father. I feel very blessed and rare to have my father. My sisters and I are a part of a minority of women with a father that took the time to give us advice about anything and everything in our lives. He took us to gymnastics practice when he could have been doing yard work or relaxing in his pull-out chair. He gave us strict rules on how to find a Godly man, and avoid the worldly, shallow men. With his love, attention, and guidance, I can confidently say that I feel just as valued as a single woman as I would if I was in a romantic relationship. Because of this, I have the desire, not a need, for male companionship. I have seen first-hand, what qualities a real man of God should have, and I will not settle for anything less than what my father would want for me.

The most important father of all however, is the one that makes no mistakes or flaws. Our Heavenly Father is the only man in every woman’s life that will never let her down or disappoint. He should fulfill our needs so that a male companion does not fill a missing gap in our hearts, but instead connects with ours. The more time women spend with the Lord, the easier it will be for them to recognize a Godly man.

Should a father feel entirely responsible for the hurt, broken heart, and sting of a break-up for his daughter? The answer is of course not. As individuals living in a free country, women take upon all the responsibilities of their actions. Nevertheless, fathers should never take their jobs as care takers and providers for their daughters lightly. When a father is uninvolved, emotionally abusive or unprepared, his daughters may over time  develop a low self-esteem of themselves and with  men. In order to prohibit these unfortunate results of a poor father-daughter relationship, a woman should concentrate on the superior father—Jesus Christ.  

Southern Accent Devotional.....Don't Listen to Them

     The alarm clock  taunts me for the fifth time in twenty minutes. I shudder as I poke a toe out of my blankets to test the air. Its sharp coldness makes me retreat my toes before the shivers travel up my legs. After a few minutes of self talk, I venture out of my bed and triumphantly march toward the direction of the light switch. Instead of my hands finding the light however, my big toe violently discovers the edge of my desk.

       That is when I knew they were starting to attack me. I can hardly push them away. They tell me to give up on school, and who cares if I missed just one pre-calculus class, or slept in another hour? I ask them nicely to stop, but the sound of my own groaning from a smashed toe is still unable to calm them. Don’t worry, I don’t need to tell the Dean about them; regardless of their dangerous nature, I still own and control them.

         Emotions, mine especially,  if untrained are powerful enough to convince a wife to divorce her husband, a depressed teenager isolate in a lonely bedroom, or even something as simple as convincing a college student like me that school is not worth the struggle of my morning routine. Coming from someone who is predominantly right-brained, meaning my actions are more influenced by emotions than reason, I understand the danger in letting emotions take control. I have learned so many valuable lessons during my freshman year here at Southern Adventist University. I understand now more than ever, that emotions act the same as pain. If you can survive them and move on, your body will forget the pain.

         God gave us the most amazing tool for us to fight the battle over our crazy emotions—connection to Him through His son Jesus Christ. Imagine the kind of emotions Jesus was feeling during his last hours praying in the garden of Gethsemane. Even Jesus was not free from fear and uncertainty. He prays earnestly, “Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour” (John 12:27). Jesus could have let his fear take over his body; he could have easily fled. But he knew, that no matter what pain, physical and emotional he went through, the Lord would be at his side, feeling the same hurt. Every lash and cut that Jesus endured, God felt the same pain.

         That is so amazing about our God! He never lets those who love him suffer anything alone. When Jesus sweat drops of blood, the Lord felt his pain with him. If you are suffering from the loss of a loved one, a recent break up, or failed test score and the whole world seems to be covered in a dark haze, remember that you are not alone. Remember that the pain of emotions are temporary, but the love of Jesus is forever.

Under Construction

Thanks soooo much Christen for being such an awesome roommate/friend/sister/person in general  :)  you can make me get excited about everything. God is definately shining his light through you and i can feel the warmth. Thanks for encouraging me to start a blog spot!

I can't wait to get started, however i will not have much time to write until after the end of the school year.

Write to you soon!