The Most Imortant Thing I'll Ever Write

I heard the word of Christ when I was a child. I was a Veggie-Tales-watching-Sunday-School kid, but I rebelled inside against a God I thought to be cruel and neglectful. It wasn't until I lost every other source of hope I had that I finally turned to God and asked,
"If you're there, I need you,"
and He showed me immediately to Romans 5:1-5
"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand, and we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."
Words that stood out to me were "peace" and "rejoice". They were a foreign language to me, but I needed them, so I said,
"Okay, Lord, come in and see what you can do."
He did so much. My life has since thrown so much baggage at me, but He stays faithful, and through diving into His word, He has given me hoe and courage to pull through, and has turned me into the woman I am today. I can't imagine myself without Him. His is the love that will never leave.
Because Jesus has been my savior, and because He has been so faithful to me, I have been given a heart full to the brim with love, and He has asked me to share it. I want to give everyone I know the chance to get to know Him, and have decided to no longer live passively when it comes to sharing His salvation. I have realized that praying for people isn't enough; that I need to speak up! I believe in Heaven and Hell. I believe in a God that offers love and peace to everyone. Honestly, how badly would I have to hate someone not to share it?

The Older I Get

It's funny to me how when I lived at home, all I wanted to do was get away from my family and be on my own. Now, the longer ago that time becomes, the more all I wish to do is have more time to go home and be with them. I went home for Mother's Day yesterday and my family went to dinner and played games. I can honestly say it was a wonderful time. I don't know what it is, exactly, the way my Mom tells generic off-color jokes as though they are the most hysterical thing to exist on the planet, the familiarity of her bickering with my little sister, my stepdad's randomly interspersed advice, or the way my little brother just sits back and makes his own commentary on all of it as though he is a comedian observing a 1990's drama. We've always been a strange bunch. Stranger than strange. For the longest time when I was a kid, I believed, thanks to my Dad, that my sister and I came from what he called the MUBF - the Messed-Up Baby Factory, and that we were the end result of genetic engineering gone horribly wrong. Spaghetti night meant we ate naked. On Christmas, we sing "Check the balls on my big collie, fa-la-la-la-la..." We clean the kitchen floor by "ice skating" on it with soapy sponges tied to our feet. Whenever somebody burps, ze must never say "excuse me", but shout "OUCH!". Farts warrant a "Frapow!" Everyone has nicknamed me "meat-flinging-boob" for as long as I can remember, and acceptable dinner conversation includes, but is not limited to: making fun of redheads, the size of our dog's erection in comparison to a hot dog, cannibalism, and the fact that there are probably life forms in outer space. It was enough to drive a self-proclaimed intellectually superior teenager insane. Now, every time I go home, I don't want to leave. I'm starting to realize, too late, just how important family is. The further away I get from the place I belonged, the more I understand how crucial having a home is. Maybe this realization is what makes people eventually settle down and reproduce. That's a frightening thought. Being an adult is hard.