This is the story of a girl going into the woods and losing her path back. Two things came to my mind when I read this story. One is the realization that we all have to step out into the real world and the other is when people say they have done too many things wrong for God to accept them.
Millicent almost seems afraid to go far enough on her own without losing sight of where she came from. This makes me think of college and what it is going to feel like when we leave to go to College wherever that may be. We are going to have to learn to step out or our comfort zone and take on the world. I do not know anything other than Mount Juliet Christian Academy and it is going to be weird attending a different school and getting familiar with the world around me. However, I feel that by this time next year, I will be ready to take on the world.
The other part of this story made me think of when people say that they have messed up too many times or gone in the wrong direction with their life for God to be able to accept them or allow them into His Kingdom. They are wrong. God forgives everyone who repents and it is our responsibility to carry out what we asked forgiveness for. If we are truly sorry for what we have done, then we will try our best to make sure that we do not continue to make the same mistake over and over. God is a loving and gracious God, but we must also do our part is showing God that we truly care about the decisions that we make each and every day.
T.J. Roberts
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
My Raging Battle
I slowly walk up, trying to choose this time which I will decide. I know my favorite and part of me wants to stick to this conservative choice. But my more adventerous side urges me to be bold, daring, and to choose a different option. The battle rages inside of me as I try to sift through all of my different options that are set in front of me. What if the new isn't as good as the old? I mean, I really like the old: it is my favorite. One side begins to dominate over the other in my mind. Finally, after a few brief moments of agonizing debate in my mind, I make up my mind. I boldly approach and then say firmly, with resolution and certainty, "One grande low-fat peppermint mocha frappuccino, please".
-Ashley Reed
-Ashley Reed
Monday, February 15, 2010
Faking It
Sometimes in life I lose myself. I forget who I am and who I want to be, and I fall in step with someone else. It’s hard to come back once you’ve lost yourself like I have. It’s like taking an individual, one-of-a kind being and forcing it into a mold, re-shaping it against its will . . . filling the world with cookie-cutter people who are all alike. Once the cookie-cutter has shaped you, it’s a hard thing to undo.
Aren’t we all letting society shape us into what it wants us to be? Everyday we let the new trends and styles take a little away from us and add on the “correct” pieces. It’s like we are all machines being upgraded to fit the new standard. I don’t want to be a copy of what is popular. I don’t want to act and look like everyone else out there. I don’t want to be the “rip-off” of someone else.
What happened to individuality? What happened to true passion and belief? Or am I wrong? Has there never really been individuality? Has it always been these groups of the same people hoarding together? Is this kind of mentality part of human nature? I don’t know, I’m asking questions that no one knows the answer too. I wish we really were ourselves. I wish we could all stop faking.
-Kaitlynn
Friday, February 5, 2010
Perfectly in the Middle
Nobody says it better than Taylor Swift does in her song called A Place in the World: “I don’t know what I want, So don’t ask me, cause I’m still trying to figure it out. Don't know what's down this road, I’m just walking. Trying to see through the rain coming down. Even though I’m not the only one, that feels the way I do.” That’s where most of us our in our lives right now. We are perfectly in the middle of everything. We’re not quite old enough to be on our own, but not quite young enough to need parental supervision 24/7. We have to think more like adults every day even though we are all still children at heart. We have to make decisions each day that could possibly affect the rest of your life. We as teenagers have so much pressure on us and so many things to do and think, and it all seems to happen so fast. Sometimes I feel like my head is exploding, and I wish I could just take a break from everything, but we can’t.
I remember when I was a little kid thought 2011 seems so far away and now it’s only next year. It’s crazy to think that I’ll be a senior next year, and I’m very scared about it. I don’t even know for sure what college I want to go to or anything, but I only have a year and a half left of high school! I just wish I could skip the in between of childhood and adulthood; I don’t like being here in the middle. I don’t want to be blinded anymore, I want to find my place in this world.
-Tori
I remember when I was a little kid thought 2011 seems so far away and now it’s only next year. It’s crazy to think that I’ll be a senior next year, and I’m very scared about it. I don’t even know for sure what college I want to go to or anything, but I only have a year and a half left of high school! I just wish I could skip the in between of childhood and adulthood; I don’t like being here in the middle. I don’t want to be blinded anymore, I want to find my place in this world.
-Tori
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Visit. (based on "Spring and All")
Today is May 30th. I decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood. I was fifteen minutes into my walk when I saw this man coming towards me. He was tall, a little overweight and looking straight at me. As I walked by him, he stopped walking and faced me. I, however, looked at him for a second, then continued. Two steps later, I stopped. I have no idea what my face looked like. Probably scared. Shocked. Angry.
It was my father.
I had thought of this moment on some occasions. Would I be angry that he was alive and that he left us? All those tears I shed for nothing? Or would I be happy that he was alive? Would I go up to him and hug him and say, "Why did you leave?" and hold no anger towards him?
"Hola, mi hijita. Soy to padre."
I ran to him and hugged him tightly, tears streaming down my face.
"Oh,papi! You're alive!"
"Si, hija. But only for just awhile."
I looked up at him and smiled. I took his hand and we walked.
"Papi, things are really difficult here, without you."
"Yes. I know. But it was meant to be like this."
"Mami gave me your bracelet; the gold one. And I lost it. I'm really sorry." I began to cry really hard. "I didn't even know it was gone until New Years Eve, and I don't remember anything that I did that week so I have no idea where it's at. I'm so sorry."
My father gave me a hug.
"Don't cry, hija. It's just a bracelet. You don't need to cry over the material things. It's what's in your heart that matters."
"I know. But still, I lost it, and I was really depressed for two days. Then I woke up and realized that it was gone and I was calm."
"Yes, I know. I was the one that made you feel peace."
"You did? How? You've been alive."
My father didn't reply. We slowly walked. He asked me questions, and I asked him questions. We were soon approaching the house.
"Tell your mother I love her very much, will you?"
"Why can't you tell her?"
"Because I have to leave," he said solemnly.
"WHY?!"
"Because I was only given a certain amount of time to be back on Earth."
"What?"
"Hija, I am dead. I'm not alive. And I must go now."
I gave him a hug and wept loudly. I felt my heart ripping into shreds.
"Please don't go,papi. I need you."
"I know. But my place is not here on Earth."
I looked up to him and whispered, "Te amo."
He looked back at me, tears welling in his eyes. He smiled. "Te amo, tambien."
I could see him slowly fading.
"Feliz cumpleanos, papi."
-Hannah G.
It was my father.
I had thought of this moment on some occasions. Would I be angry that he was alive and that he left us? All those tears I shed for nothing? Or would I be happy that he was alive? Would I go up to him and hug him and say, "Why did you leave?" and hold no anger towards him?
"Hola, mi hijita. Soy to padre."
I ran to him and hugged him tightly, tears streaming down my face.
"Oh,papi! You're alive!"
"Si, hija. But only for just awhile."
I looked up at him and smiled. I took his hand and we walked.
"Papi, things are really difficult here, without you."
"Yes. I know. But it was meant to be like this."
"Mami gave me your bracelet; the gold one. And I lost it. I'm really sorry." I began to cry really hard. "I didn't even know it was gone until New Years Eve, and I don't remember anything that I did that week so I have no idea where it's at. I'm so sorry."
My father gave me a hug.
"Don't cry, hija. It's just a bracelet. You don't need to cry over the material things. It's what's in your heart that matters."
"I know. But still, I lost it, and I was really depressed for two days. Then I woke up and realized that it was gone and I was calm."
"Yes, I know. I was the one that made you feel peace."
"You did? How? You've been alive."
My father didn't reply. We slowly walked. He asked me questions, and I asked him questions. We were soon approaching the house.
"Tell your mother I love her very much, will you?"
"Why can't you tell her?"
"Because I have to leave," he said solemnly.
"WHY?!"
"Because I was only given a certain amount of time to be back on Earth."
"What?"
"Hija, I am dead. I'm not alive. And I must go now."
I gave him a hug and wept loudly. I felt my heart ripping into shreds.
"Please don't go,papi. I need you."
"I know. But my place is not here on Earth."
I looked up to him and whispered, "Te amo."
He looked back at me, tears welling in his eyes. He smiled. "Te amo, tambien."
I could see him slowly fading.
"Feliz cumpleanos, papi."
-Hannah G.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Alone
At one point in our lives we feel alone. We feel we have not been treated fairly as others do, we do not see things as others do, and we are completely different than everybody else around us. This state of mind causes a terrible feeling of depression, a feeling of worthlessness. The question then arises in our heads, what is the point of waking up today? Is today not going to be different than any other day? Will i not be treated the same, or feel the same about everything? The author Edgar Allan Poe of the poem "Alone", suffers from this mindset. As well as Poe, many other people today share the same feeling with him. Whether it be in school, or work, or anywhere else, people everywhere feel this way about their lives. Some people try to hide this feeling, yet there is no hiding it; it is shown through their acts and words.
In my opinion good or bad is based on your judgment of the situation. You can either look at it good, or you can look at it bad. The cure to depression is the positive mindset of the world around you. Thinking of good things, instead of the bad things, keeps your mind free of the thoughts of being alone, or left out. Being depressed, I believe, is something that you can help. It is not a sickness that you can't do anything about, it is a way you feel about things. They way you look at things will determine what kind of day you will have, or how school will go, or how work will go. If you look at all the things bad, you are blinded and unable to see all the things that are good in your life. It is truly harder to find the good in things rather than the bad, this is just the nature of people, but having a positive view of the world around you will change your day and the way you look at things. Finding the good things in every situation will keep you from feeling alone, or left out.
- Cody
In my opinion good or bad is based on your judgment of the situation. You can either look at it good, or you can look at it bad. The cure to depression is the positive mindset of the world around you. Thinking of good things, instead of the bad things, keeps your mind free of the thoughts of being alone, or left out. Being depressed, I believe, is something that you can help. It is not a sickness that you can't do anything about, it is a way you feel about things. They way you look at things will determine what kind of day you will have, or how school will go, or how work will go. If you look at all the things bad, you are blinded and unable to see all the things that are good in your life. It is truly harder to find the good in things rather than the bad, this is just the nature of people, but having a positive view of the world around you will change your day and the way you look at things. Finding the good things in every situation will keep you from feeling alone, or left out.
- Cody
Monday, January 25, 2010
My First Cat
Back in the days when goldfish were the only form of pet I knew, I was content to spend my days staring into a fishbowl, coming back every hour on the hour to feed the fish, lest it go hungry. I don’t remember the day that I realized there were bigger and better things in this world… the day that I discovered cats. But once I got the idea in my head, I didn’t let my parents forget it for one minute. One morning in particular, I woke up determined it would be the day I would get my new pet. For a complete ten minutes on the way to church, I whined and begged and pleaded from the backseat for a cat.
“Please, Daddy, PLEASE. You don’t understand. I neeeeeeeeeed a cat. PLEASE, Daddy. We HAVE to get a cat. But I am your ONLY kid. I am your little girl. I want a cat. I NEED IT DADDY!”
Though he tried to remain firm and in charge, I could feel him giving in as I wrapped myself tighter and tighter around his little finger. Exasperated, he said, “Fine. If you want a cat that bad, pray for it. If God wants you to have a cat, you will get a cat.” Excitedly, I assumed this meant that if I prayed for a cat in Sunday school then we would go to the pet store the next day. Well that didn’t exactly happen, but I sure wasn’t expecting what came next.
Over the next week, the cat continued to come back. Every day, I would pet him, brush him with my baby doll brushes, and give him milk in a bowl and any extra food my four year old hands could come across. And every night I would pray that he would be there again when I woke up. I also would consistently ask my dad if we could keep him, to which he always replied, “Maybe if he stays a couple more days. We don’t know who he belongs to, but he’s not ours.”
After several more days, I was thoroughly convinced that the cat was not leaving. And much to my father’s dismay, I could tell he was too. So one morning, for the millionth time I asked if we could keep the cat, and for the first time my dad said, “Yes.” I named him Colby, after the cute boy who sat across from me at snack time.
-Katy
“Please, Daddy, PLEASE. You don’t understand. I neeeeeeeeeed a cat. PLEASE, Daddy. We HAVE to get a cat. But I am your ONLY kid. I am your little girl. I want a cat. I NEED IT DADDY!”
Though he tried to remain firm and in charge, I could feel him giving in as I wrapped myself tighter and tighter around his little finger. Exasperated, he said, “Fine. If you want a cat that bad, pray for it. If God wants you to have a cat, you will get a cat.” Excitedly, I assumed this meant that if I prayed for a cat in Sunday school then we would go to the pet store the next day. Well that didn’t exactly happen, but I sure wasn’t expecting what came next.
One bright sunny morning just three days later, I walked outside, ready to leave for Mrs. Brenda’s daycare. I opened the car door and out from under it crawled a limping, but otherwise healthy, white, thick haired cat. It was beautiful and I could not believe my eyes. I’d never been so close to a real live cat before, just seen them on Aristocats and heard the stories my friends had told me. I bent down and extended my hand towards it and bravely it let me pet it for a long time. When my dad came out and saw the cat, he looked a little surprised, but then again not really. I always thought him and God might have also had a talk in Sunday school.
Over the next week, the cat continued to come back. Every day, I would pet him, brush him with my baby doll brushes, and give him milk in a bowl and any extra food my four year old hands could come across. And every night I would pray that he would be there again when I woke up. I also would consistently ask my dad if we could keep him, to which he always replied, “Maybe if he stays a couple more days. We don’t know who he belongs to, but he’s not ours.”
After several more days, I was thoroughly convinced that the cat was not leaving. And much to my father’s dismay, I could tell he was too. So one morning, for the millionth time I asked if we could keep the cat, and for the first time my dad said, “Yes.” I named him Colby, after the cute boy who sat across from me at snack time.
-Katy
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