I'm a grown up. Or something.

I turned 21 on the 27th of March.

A bunch of people sang to me in Third Lobby at midnight. Could we please talk about how "Happy Birthday" being sung to you is possibly the most awkward thing that can happen one time per year? How do you even respond to that? I never know whether to smile or look down or look at people or sing along (the most awkward option).

My sweet sweet roommate made me breakfast in bed, including a candle in a pancake and a new Tinkerbell mug.

My parents made me pizza casserole, potato casserole, spinach salad with banana peppers and feta, and brownies and ice cream for my birthday lunch. (It's all of my favorite food. Don't even worry that it doesn't go together.) Virginia came over and it was wonderful.

That night, Jungle went with Rivendell to the Voyles' house for dinner. It was a great time of fellowship. Anna Clare made birthday cupcakes with cookie dough in them, and we sat by a fire and made s'mores.

Definitely a good birthday.

So. Much. To. Do.

Read for Science.

Read for Youth Ministry.

Plan small group.

Work out.

Don't break down.

Find Ugandan games that can be played at Move for Uganda.

Find a band willing to play at Move for Uganda.

Do laundry from spring break.

Write my Philosophy of Youth Ministry.

Edit my resume.

Drink more coffee.

Did I mention don't break down?

Send emails.

Write thank you notes for spring break.

Write my Scotland support letter.

Have dinner with Allie. (PS, she's going to Vienna with World Harvest for the summer!)

This doesn't all need to be finished today. Thankfully.

Clearly, I should not be spending time blogging.

The Little Things, Number Six.

39. My iPhone. Lovin' the [best and most expensive] early birthday present [ever].

40. Spring Break. Time for sleeping, baking, and reading.

41. Baby sister and little brother. Love them.

42. Great car rides full of conversation.

43. Staying up far too late playing catch up with best friends from high school.

44. Panera's asiago cheese bagels.

45. A Praying Life. Read it. As soon as possible.

46. People who love, encourage, and speak truth into my life from afar.

47. Learning to "enjoy it."

48. My girls are wonderful. It's such a blessing to walk with them as they grow.

49. I'm a bad packer. There is beauty to be found in the clothes and bags strewn about my room... [right.]

Thankful.

I am so thankful for friends who love me.

Friends who pray when I ask, and friends who pray when I don't ask. Friends who listen, friends who give advice. Friends who tell me I look awesome in my jeans. Friends who will make me tea in the middle of the night. Friends who come calling my name, just to see how I am. Literally. I have been blessed beyond reason with the people God has placed in my life. Love. Them.

Ok, really.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm in middle school again. No, this does not have to do with me spending a ridiculous amount of time with middle school girls, nor does it have to do with me thinking the Biebster is presh. This has to do with how I feel.

I'm an INFJ. (Please take the Myers-Briggs. It's great.) This means I'm an Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judger. In other words, I need my alone time and I base a lot off of what I think and feel. I have a tendency to let my feelings overtake what I know to be true. I used to do this all the time when I was in middle school and early high school. I didn't know how to deal with what was going on in my head and in my heart, so I ended up feeling anxious all. the. time. (No, no really. I went to counseling as a 12 year old for this.) As I got older, I learned how to better handle what was going on and have been pretty steady since then.

Every once in a while, this anxiety creeps back in. I manage to pray and read and talk it out, and it goes away. Not this time. It's stuck around a bit too long for my liking. Therefore, I feel like I am 12 once again, and I just want to crawl under a rock. Thank the Lord for grace, and the knowledge that God is in control and loves me through my anxiety.

Thoughts from Breathing Deep.

Yoga.

Homework.

Yogi Breathe Deep Tea.

Celebration of a new relationship on the hall.

Fog rolling in through my open windows.

Rain drizzling through the fog.

Jónsi Go Live.

"We are called to be radically different, but not radically separate." Dr. Peter Slade.

I came home yesterday and played catch up on the day with Anna Clare. She asked how church was, and my response was, "It was good. The sermon was good. It was on 1 Corinthians 13:4. You know. Grace. Love. The usual."

As soon as those words escaped my mouth, I stopped. "The usual. The USUAL?! Really?" This conversation continued, and we discussed "the usual." I am blessed to live in a community where I hear the Gospel every. single. say. I hear it in class. I hear it in chapel. I hear it from my friends. I read it in my Bible. I get it every day. The Gospel has become "the usual." It is not "the usual." It is the most amazing sacrifice ever made, the most amazing gift ever given.

My understanding of grace and love are greater this semester than last, greater today than yesterday. I hope that this continues. That my understanding grows, and that I don't view hearing these things as "the usual."

Just some thoughts.

Currently.

Reading:

Watching:

Listening to: