by | Guest Posts, Life Application
From Sundi Jo: This is a guest post by Emily Wenstrom. Emily is a professional writer working in marketing and public relations. She blogs about creativity in art and career at Creative Juicer. She also recently launched wordhaus, a short story zine built for the digital age, now seeking submissions. Follow her on Twitter at @emilywenstrom. Want to submit your guest post? Click here for the details.
I hate the Olympics.
Growing up, I was a swimmer. It was a big part of my identity–three different teams took up significant parts of my mornings, evenings, weekends and summers.
photo credit: kwinz1 (creative commons)
Then in 2000, I was watching the amazing Amanda Beard at the summer Olympics, and it hit me: she was only a couple older than me. She’d already won medals in the last Olympics, at 14 years old. She was up there on the world stage, and I was at home on my couch.
Ever since, the Olympics, a messy mix of emotions. I still get that sense of wonder and awe. But I also can’t quite let go of that sense that I don’t cut it.
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by | Life Application
From Sundi Jo: This is a guest post by Maria Keckler. She is a writer, speaker and the editor and publisher of Stories from the Vine. She blogs about leading through living, writing, and publishing a phenomenal story at http://mariakeckler.com. Follow her on Twitter. @MariaKeckler. Want to submit your guest post? Click here for the details.
What race have you been called to run?
photo credit: rennet stowe (creative commons)
I was fifteen when Mom uprooted our family from our home in Mexico City to give us a new start, three years after Dad passed away. I was terrified. I was starting ninth grade and didn’t speak English. Losing my friends and home didn’t occupy my mind—only the reality that unless I learned English, my dream of one day becoming a teacher and writer would die forever.
Urgency became my middle name. I started a race against time, and I could not afford to lose any. It was all up to me — or so I thought.
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by | Life Application
I’m not a big fan of change. I like to be in control. Unless things change because I change them, it takes me out of my comfort zone. I get it honestly. My mom struggles with the same thing. We like things a certain way and when life gets shuffled around, we can get a little cranky.
photo credit: brianc (creative commons)
Mom loves peanut butter, but not just any type of peanut butter. It has to be Jif Creamy Peanut Butter. Since I was a little girl I don’t remember any other type being in our pantry. You know the Visa slogan, “Don’t leave home without it.” That applies to my mom and her Jif peanut butter. If she’s going on a trip, it’s on her must-have list. After all, choosy mom’s choose Jif, right?
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by | Life Application
I have a friend who has a dream. It’s a big dream. A great dream. It excites me for her and the lives that could be touched by it. She believes God has blessed her with the vision of making that dream happen.
photo credit: robert gourley
But there’s one problem.
She’s only dreaming it. What I mean by that is she’s not taking steps to make it happen. It’s a dream that’s been a dream for years. My concern is it will never move past that.
I understand God doesn’t make things happen overnight. There’s a time for everything. He puts dreams in our hearts long before they come true. But with that said, there’s something he requires of us.
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by | Life Application
I remember serving his first drink at six years old. Seagram’s 7 and water was his trademark. I got the glass from the cupboard, lifted the ½ gallon whiskey bottle onto the counter and slowly poured it into the cup. Then I topped it off with some water, just like he liked it.
You see, if I made his drinks for him, he would love me. My own thinking. Maybe I wouldn’t have to compete with the alcohol. Maybe he could have us both. That wasn’t the case.
Today I’m guest posting over at Stories From the Vine. Click here to read the rest of the post.
by | Faith Lived Out, Life Application
A month ago I quit school. Well, I actually quit in my head. I woke up and told myself, There’s no way I can get caught up with this Algebra class. I’m just going to go in and withdrawal and be done with it. The whole hospital thing had done me in. My mind was set. I was done with school.
An hour later I walked out registered for the Fall semester and had 13 days to pass my final Algebra class. There were two tests I had to make up – the last chapter and the final exam. I honestly had no idea how I was going to survive those next two weeks or what I was going to do, but God reminded me he had brought me this far, we weren’t giving up now.
I sought out a tutor. I studied. I fought. I studied. I quit. Then I took the first test.
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