What is it you want, Mary? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary. 

Learning that “happily ever after” is a choice, not an expected outcome.

I'm from strawberry shortcake.
I'm from sweet tea and homemade peach ice cream.
I'm from Southern Living recipes and casseroles.


I'm from acres of green and miles of long dirt roads.
I'm from cowgirl boots and horses,
lakeside barbeques and magnolia trees,
pink roses and hydrangea bushes.


I'm from loving my husband.
I'm from wondering if I've met him yet.
I'm from being terrified to admit my mistakes.
and feeling I have nothing to give him.


I'm from the John Piper quote, “the really wonderful moments in life are not those of self-realization, but of self-forgetfulness.”
I'm from never being selfless enough to know what self-forgetfulness is.


I'm from loneliness.
I'm from “My grace is sufficient.”
I'm from wondering if that's true.


I'm from Daddy,
his 6'5'' shadow, Levi bluejeans and servant's heart.
I'm from provision and protection.
I'm from being convinced I could never love any man more.


I'm from a beauty queen.
I'm from secretly wishing I was half as beautiful,
inside or out.


I'm from an open front door.


I'm from Annabelle.
I'm from her legalism and her love of people.
I'm from fighting over hairbrushes to singing Taylor Swift.
I'm from her forgiveness.


I'm from Daniel.
I'm from his humility.
I'm from envying his love of life.
I'm from wanting him to be proud of me,
and not feeling like I deserve it.


I'm from Nathan.
I'm from feeling like I love him more than he can imagine
but wishing I knew how to love him more.
I'm from screaming matches and Buford football games.
I'm from all his undeserved grace.


I'm from Joseph;
from adoring his quirkiness and his love of mechanics.
I'm from hating that he's grown up so fast,
and wishing I was there in high school.


I'm from feeling like a failure as a big sister.


I'm from an NFL giant.

I'm from "here she comes, Miss America!"

I'm from twirling and piggy back rides.

I'm from a wooden hospital chair and empty eyes.

I'm from being forgotten.

I'm from reading that grace does not depend on suffering to exist, 

but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors.

I'm from "Jesus loves me, this I know."

I'm from an insatiable imagination.
I'm from constant daydreaming.


I'm from wishing I lived a life of integrity.
I'm from a paralyzing fear of what that would look like.


I'm from thinking cursing is perfectly acceptable,
but stopping, because “it isn't lady like.”


I'm from wondering if I've ever done anything to be proud of.


I'm from a floral couch and an kind, oblivious counselor.
I'm from telling her what she wanted to hear,
and sugar-coated pity parties.


I'm from St. Augustine, CS Lewis and Dr. Seuss.
I'm from Johnny Cash, The Beatles and Taylor Swift.


I'm from a rope swing and daisies,
"bouquets of sharpened pencils" and notebook paper.


I'm from "oh to grace, what a debtor."

Sister, let me be your servant.

21.

I'm in the process of writing a "to do" list for the next year.

Here's what I have so far.

To live a life of integrity.

To make straight A's.

To get into graduate school.

To run a half marathon.

To journal daily.

To join a small group in Athens.

To live loved.

To make an interior decorating board.

To plan a wedding.

To always have flowers.

To listen first, then speak.

To learn to cook and bake.

To read through the Bible in a year.

To run for Miss UGA.

To join an intramurals sports team.

To love people.

To learn to do a cartwheel.

To try 365 recipes – a new one every day.

To dwell on whatever is “true, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy.”

To give.

To love mercy.

To cherish honesty.

To not let my “left hand know what [my] right hand is doing.”

To act justly.

To forgive.

To pray.

To support a child overseas.

To drink a glass of wine every day.

To read three C.S. Lewis books.

To make a photo portfolio.

To whiten teeth.

To smile at strangers.

To host a little black dress cocktail party.

To write a letters.

To speak French fluently.

To take a yoga class.

To never have less than half a tank of gas.

To always be manicured.

To give flowers.

To fly in a plane.

To go overseas.

This pretty cool guy once told me his life was going to be “a big adventure.”

I hope I can keep up.

I decided to keep a journal this summer, to officially document the adventures of living with six sixth graders.

These are some of my favorite entries.

15 June 2010

During our nightly devotion, Kiley asked if God was like an earthworm, because neither one has a definite gender. 

Jesus, give me peace.

16 June 2010

Walked out of the dining hall this morning to see Nicole hanging off the top of the 12 foot tether ball pole.

After she slid down, she gave me a disgusted look. I always ruin all the fun.

Later that day

Walking back from night activity tonight, saw the twins holding hands.

In awe of their love for one another. Resolved to love Daniel, Nathan, Anna and Joseph more fully.

17 June 2010

This morning I come exhausted and joyful, worried and carefree, blessed and forgotten, shunned and accepted.

Jesus loves me, this I know.

18 June 2010

Dear Justin Bieber,

Thank you for making my camper's dream of her future wedding so vivid. Also, the dance parties you inspire are beyond memorable.

Love,

Baby

21 June 2010

Jesus, I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art.

22 June 2010

I miss eating what I crave, I miss feeling pretty, I miss loving those I want to love, I miss air conditioning, I miss my phone, I miss feeling appreciated. 

I need affirmation. I feel like I made a mistake coming here.

23 June 2010

It still hurts.

Why? It was over five months ago.

Jesus, he's Yours.

25 June 2010

Dear Cabin 4,

Thank you for rejoicing over the small things-- Jai Ho, Justin Bieber and silly bands. Thank you for loving each other.

Thank you for deaf ears. They may keep you from hearing me call your name thirteen times, but it's taught me patience.

Love,

Mary Kaylin

26 June 2010

It is well with my soul.

27 June 2010

Phil and Marsha instructed us to journal about something Jesus has taught us this summer, and all I can think of are cheesy, romantic quotes. I'm sure You understand. You created boys.

Love is everything it's cracked up be... it really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.

Erica Long

I didn't come here to tell you I can't live without you. I can. I just don't want to.

Rumor Has It

Relationships are for people who are waiting for something better to come along.

Hitch

30 June 2010

Today, camp celebrates “the Fourth of July.” I don't feel like I have nearly enough energy. I'll really miss being at home on Sunday.

2 July 2010

Keep me confident and humble.

Confident, because I belong to Jesus, humble, because I know the enormity of my sin.

3 July 2010

This term, I was assigned a “junior table” in the dining hall. In camp staff language, that translates as “shit.”

Lunch was interesting.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucy balancing a big bowl of green beans in her left hand. Just as I was about to deliver my perfunctory “maybe you should set that down” counselor response, the bowl teetered. In a moment of panic, sweet little Lucy stood up, and the bowl toppled into my lap. I closed my eyes as the dark green juice streamed down my leg, soaking my socks.

The bowl made such a loud noise, the surrounding tables grew quiet. I opened my eyes to see Lucy's wide blue eyes, filled with tears, staring at the beans in my lap.

In feigned calmness and poise, I scooped them back into the bowl and raised my hand for serve staff assistance.

“Hi. I think we're going to need more green beans.” I picked up one of the beans and popped it in my mouth. “They were delicious.”

I winked at Lucy, and she beamed back, relieved.

In some unexplainable way, it felt like a small victory. I conquered yet another dining hall fiasco.

4 July 2010

Give me the grace to love intentionally.

5 July 2010

I daydream. Sometimes I'm afraid it robs me of today. I'm always imagining the next day, the next week, the next twenty years. It's an obsession. If I'm particularly unhappy with current reality, I launch myself into an alternative reality.

Today, I'm a twenty-five, MBA graduate working on the thirty-fifth floor of a shiny skyscraper. 

I live in a ritzy, Buckhead neighborhood with my handsome husband who, in his spare time, washes the dishes and goes on walks with our rottweiler, Piper. 

We host china-and-linen dinner parties, Frank Sinatra singing in the background. My dress, a Lily Pulitzer prize, is perfectly complimented by grandmother's pearls and Ferragamo, patent-leather heels. 

After cooking a fabulous, Betty Crocker, southern meal, Southern Living appears on my front porch, camera crew in tow. Surprise, they're here to write a feature story on my two-story, antebellum home. Thankfully, years of immaculate housekeeping insured every pillow was fluffed, every banister polished, every towel folded neatly.

Once the guests are gone, hubby and I curl up in our RL pajamas on the leather couch in our spacious living room in front of a stone fireplace. We roast marshmallows and assemble s'mores, which, thanks to my strenuous work out regimen, steer clear of my thighs.

Set me free from small dreams.

6 July 2010

Today is packing day.

I'll miss my girls so much.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine.

9 July 2010

Love mercy.

12 June 2010

New term resolution:

To dwell on the beauty of camp, the sovereignty of the cross, and the gruesome reality of the crucification.

13 July 2010

Beginning to realize my sense of worth comes from the approval and adoration of others. I wish my heart was ignited by something far more “lovely, admirable, excellent [or] praiseworthy.” I am a lover of people and their ability to make much of me.

15 July 2010

“Look and listen: carefully. Pay close attention to everything I am going to show you. That's why you have been brought here.”

Ezekiel 40:4, The Message

I'm so lonely.

“No one told me grief felt so much like fear.”

CS Lewis

Well, I decided to blog about camp life once I realized the sheer futility of falling asleep with so many unspoken words in my head.

“Life is good.”

There are a lot of those pastel t-shirts floating around camp, almost always on someone with a cheery disposition. Just today, I saw one on a little camper from Cabin A, chocolate ice cream smeared cheek to cheek, skipping from one activity to the next. The infectious, toothless grin confirmed she hadn't a care in her whole, eight-year-old world.

She has no grasp on the amount of tragedy and pain in this world: the orphans suffering in El Salvador, the men and women fighting for her American freedom, the lonely woman at the local gas station. She doesn't understand the crucification or sacrifice. She's content with her double scoop in a waffle cone.

I find myself feigning the same innocence.

I'm satisfied playing make believe in my imaginary world. The people in it are merely puppets for my own selfishness, expected to react to my many mood swings and unjustified commands.

It's like believing in Santa Clause, being told he doesn't exist, and stubbornly refusing to believe it, because it just doesn't suit your second grade fantasy. Suffering may exist in the world, but it doesn't fit into my egocentric universe. Instead of mimicking Peter, I hear myself saying, “Lord, send them.” Send them to the unpopular, the unattractive, the self-righteous, the poor, the hurting, the greedy, the cheaters, the liars. Let me stay, surrounded by the lovely people in my world, under the alibi of “Christian fellowship.”

Sometimes I think if I truly understood the majesty of Jesus or the horror of his crucification, no amount of Christian fellowship would satisfy or subdue my need to love.

I run to those who contribute to my self-satisfying world: those who make much of me, those who affirm, provide, protect, love, cherish and adore me. I simultaneously ignore those who hurt, ignore, insult, or make little of me.

Life is wonderful from my tiny world.

Things that never cross a man's mind.