Faith, Hope, and Love

One thing I love to do is sing. I used to sing at church a lot  growing up, and even helped lead our churches' children's and youth choirs at some point in life too. I was part of a choir in high school and in college. I sang all the time. And then I started teaching and my voice became a big like sandpaper. I have that "sexy, smoky" voice all the time--which would be cool IF it didn't hinder my singing voice or occasionally make me sound like a young boy going through puberty.  I've never been bold  about my singing, but it was something I took pride in and it's been sad to feel like I've lost that. Recently I decided to join the Singers at my church as a way to give my voice some exercise and help it gain back some of its former glory. That has yet to happen... but oddly enough, my voice tends to sustain itself during the times I help lead in worship. That's been pretty awesome.  But all that is besides the point. Or at least not w

Today I went to my first book conference and... I'm hooked. I want to go to more! I definitely plan to return to this one each year (as scheduling allows) and maybe even bring some kids back, too! It truly was a reader's heaven. When I first heard of the conference and read through the line-up, I only recognized three names: Laurie Halse Anderson, Shannon Hale and Ann Brashares. And then there was 25 other authors I had never heard of. Or thought I had never heard of. Many of them are pretty big names in YA lit right now, and I had seen their books on shelves or read one of their books before. It was fun to sit through panels and feel like you were just hanging out with these awesome authors--many of whom are equally awesome people. Because it's the Teen Book Conference, there were a lot of teens present. And it was great to listen to the questions they would ask. While the most famous question of the day was, "How do you deal with writer's block?" (th

When I look in the mirror, what do I see? To what do I attribute my identity? To get ready for my upcoming mission trip to India, we've been asked to "tell our story," and I'm struggling a lot with that. While I know  that being a Christian allows me to walk in grace, to leave behind shame and guilt and to see myself in all the beauty that God seems me (Easter was/is a good reminder of all that)... I don't always feel  that way and struggle to really embrace His truth about who I am. Instead, I think of all the labels I wear--daughter, sister, teacher, writer, friend, ex-girlfriend, Miss (versus Mrs.)--and I see a lot of failure. Failure as a daughter when I think of my years of rebellion and disobedience, when I don't call enough, or feel known by my parents (or even really know them). Failure as a sister because of all the years we lost being the closest friends we could be, and how I often take my siblings for granted. Failure as a teacher when I

Three days and all of history was change. Three days and all of life  was changed. On Friday, the crowd gathered to watch as He was walked to a hill, battered and bruised, and nailed to a cross. Saturday was silent; full of pain and confusion for those who loved Him, uncertainty and regret for those who had wanted to trust Him, empty triumph for those who hated Him. And then there was Sunday... oh, glorious Sunday.  Sunday led to an empty tomb, a risen Savior, to the defeat of Death.  How thankful we all should be for these three days.  Without Friday, no blood would have been shed to cleanse our sins and be the true sacrifice. Without Saturday, no chance for us to wait--to lie between despair and joy. Which might seem cruel, but the wait makes Sunday that much more victorious. Because without Sunday, there would have been no resurrection. No victory over death. No chance for a new life, an eternal  life.  As Christians, we tend to make a big deal about Christmas a