Wednesday, August 31, 2011


So, I'm sure some of you have heard about Sherwood Picture's latest movie Courageous, which hits theaters Sept. 30. I'm sooo excited about this one, not only because I have loved the other movies put on by this Church (Sherwood Pictures is Church-run), but because it looks really good in general. Here's the trailer for it:

Doesn't it look amazing?!?!

Due to being home-schooled, I had truly forgotten (to an extent) how truly anti-Christ even the people around me are. I had a crude awakening:

My mom and I had went to see a movie a few months back. It had been out for a while, so there were only about ten people there, us included. There were mostly young couples, although there were some friends there as well. It was then that we saw the trailer for Courageous. I thought that it looked good, and was quite surprised and happy over the fact that a Christian movie was among the five or so that they showed trailers for--granted, they made up for it with some of the other trailers, but still.
So, as I'm thinking these things, a guy behind us whispered to his girlfriend some very derogatory things about the makers of this movie, Christians in general, and even God Himself--things so bad I will not be posting them here.

What on earth is wrong with our world?!?! It really sickens me sometimes. . .Just the thought that people are honestly using words like that to describe anything--let alone God--infuriates me.

But, anyway, be sure to check this movie out--they really as much support as possible so that they can keep delivering amazing movies! Here are a few links you may want to check out:

Click here to view the website for Sherwood Baptist Church.

Click here to view website for Sherwood Pictures.

Click here to view the website for Courageous.


Tuesday, August 30, 2011


One of my favorite types of words is the oxymoron! What is an oxymoron? It is a contradiction. THe word oxymoron itself is a oxymoron. In Greek, oxy means sharp and moron means dull. Here are a few more funny oxymorons.
Non working mother
a little pregnant
awefully nice
a clean boy
a civil war (civil meaning nice)
a dull roar
easy labor
junk food
my worst favorite
no-good do-gooder
pure dust
somewhat legal
What oxymorons do you like?

Monday, August 29, 2011

What About You?

So. . .What about you?
What do you like in a book/movie? What are you honestly sick of?

What makes you keep turning the pages?

Do you want to be able to relate to the character, or do you want him/her to be what you wish you are, so that they can inspire you?

What is, in your mind, the perfect book?

Should action scenes be gruesome, or somewhat clean? Romance, yes or no? Detail, or to the point? 

This is one of those posts where I expect EVERYONE to comment, because I really want to know what other readers look for.

By the way, the tie that you guys gave me for the "Names" Poll only made my mind scramble around more. I'm adding two new names to the mix, so please go over and vote!~Elizabeth

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Emergency Post

Well, as a lot of you probably know, there is a huge hurricane (Irene) pushing it's way up the eastern coast. Tomorrow NYC is expected to be flooded with possibly over eight feet of rain. People are gathering in shelters. Faith is being lost as people think of all of their earthly possessions about to be destroyed as opposed to thinking about the fact that God works all things for the good of those who love Him. Satan is at work, telling people that they need things to be happy, telling them they may not survive the storm, telling them that God has abandoned them. And people believe those lies, even though God would never leave nor forsake His children. So, I'm posting this and leaving it in the Lord's hands to bring people to see it.

Matthew 8:19-20: “Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them." 

Please, take a few moments now to pray for these people--not only the residents of NYC, but also everyone that will be hit with the storm. Pray that not only, if it is His will, that God would protect them, but also pray that those who do get hurt--physically or emotionally--and robbed may be comforted by Him. Pray also that God may use this time of chaos to draw people closer to Him.  


Friday, August 26, 2011

Theme of the Week

The Winner this week: Petra!

“No,” Raven whispered as she shook her head at Doctor Brothers. “No, no, no!” Her voice escalated to a shout. “You're wrong.”

“Raven, I know that this is so sudden for you. We did our best to help her, but your mom is-”

“No! Stop lying,” Raven screamed as hot tears poured down her trembling cheeks. Dr. Brothers tried to speak again and to hand her some pamphlets on grief. She shoved them away and watched them flutter to the floor. Then she spun around and ran toward the exit. The doctor called after her, but she already was gone.

The hospital was located close to the ocean. Raven could hear the waves crashing on the rocks not far away. She kept running for the beach. She longed for the cold waves to wash over her and drown out her grief. She ran past a mother and daughter laughing as they strolled along the water's edge. Raven glared angrily through her tears at the little girl. How dare she have a mother when Raven could not? Why me? Why is it my mom who has to die? How am I supposed to live without her? Where are You, God, now? I don't see You reaching down and holding me or comforting me. Where are You? What am I supposed to do?

Her feet pounded faster on the hot sand. So much anger was building in her, she just wanted to pummel something. She tripped on a jagged stone in the sand and looked down. Blood oozed from a cut in her chocolate-brown skin. Raven dug at the rock until it came loose from the seaweed and gritty sand. She picked it up with both hands and flung it into the frothy waves.

“There!” She shrieked. “There, you stupid rock - go drown in the sea.” She dropped to her knees, spent from the energy of running and crying. “Aahhh,” Raven beat her fists into the sand. Her throat was scorched, but she kept on screaming.

When her voice gave out, she stopped. Her body still shook as she cried. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw a girl.

“Hi”, the girl said. “I'm Clara. I saw you crying and I wondered if I could help you.”

“I, um. My mom – she's g-gone. She's just gone...” Raven sobbed. Clara knelt beside her.

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Will you let me pray for you?” Raven nodded, so Clara continued. “Dear Father in heaven, this girl needs you now. Let her know that you love her and will stay by her side. Give her Your everlasting peace. Thank You for Your faithfulness to us. In Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

Raven looked over at the girl, Clara, and stopped crying. Her heart still ached, but peace began to take hold of her.

“Thanks,” She said.

“Hey, if I was lost inside, I hope that someone would be there for me. When I saw you kneeling in the sand I felt God whisper in my ear to go and give you a hand. I'm just glad I could help a little bit.”


Thursday, August 25, 2011

Big Twists!

OK, so I am not posting everyday. Unfortunately, I will not be able to post that often. I am going to try for at least once every week. The reason? Hey, a high school schedule is busy! Anyway, I am deciding to take a page out of Lizzie's book and ask your opinion on something for my book. I was talking to a few of my friends about how to make my book better. Here is a synopsis of my book and some of the Ideas.

Leslie Burke is a normal teenage girl. Well, except for the fact that she comes from a planet named T'reth and she has superpowers. Of course it is a secret until one day when she is attacked by the evil ruler of T'reth. She drags her best friend Ryan with her and they meet a boy named Matt who is just like Leslie. They go to the president, saving him from mind control and survive an  attack from Regus Black, the evil ruler.

So that is a far as I have gotten. Here are the ideas for a big twist.

Kill Ryan, Matt or Leslie
Have Leslie go crazy
Have Ryan/Matt attempt to commit suicide
Give Ryan Cancer
Make Leslie Regus' daughter
End the world is one giant explosion and move the scene to T'reth
Have Leslie lose her powers

So, I am not a big fan of most of these. Do you have any ideas? By the way, Leslie and Matt fall in love but Ryan likes Leslie too. If you are one of my friends who know what I am talking about, I already know your ideas!! Send me new ones!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


I'm very indecisive (This is where Leslie nods her head and brings up some time in the past when I couldn't make up my mind, such the time I brought six shirts on a three day trip.). So. . .I need your help with something. Some of you probably saw when I posted the first 250 words of my the book I'm attempting to write (It is very tiny), but I can't decide what the characters first name should be. Right now I'm in between Jemima or Jennetta, which one sounds better? Also, if Jennetta is chosen, should it be spelled with one "N", or two? I'm putting up a poll for this that will be up for the rest the week, so vote for whatever name you like better! But, before I leave you with your very difficult decision, I'm going to post a picture that I found that looks just like what I'm picturing for my main character. Here it is: 

Artist: Rachel Marks
Rachel's Website: 


Monday, August 22, 2011

The Hobbit

Ok, so I just got back from a family camping trip, so I'm not really going to have time to post something really long and spectacular. But, I do have time to post.


Ok, maybe I'm a bit too excited. . .Oh well.

But, as I said, I'm really excited about it, because the movie for it (I heard that it's actually going to be two movies) is being made as I type this. Not only am I excited about the movie, but apparently Orlando Bloom is going to be in it!

These are a two of the pictures (I know there's another one, but I can't seem to find it) from on-set that have been released to the public:


Theme of the Week

I am so sorry I am late! Lizzie is off somewhere and I totally forgot that I was supposed to post!
Well, here are the TOTW stories.

By Renee' Vouvier
In a tiny, secluded village near Lexington, Massachusetts, in 1775, there lived a young girl, Abigail, and her family. Abigail had just turned thirteen. She loved her little sister, Gracie, and her mother and father. The little log house, in which she lived, sat beside a river. Abigail loved her home. Her father was a farmer and minuteman. She knew that the British and families, like hers, would probably fight against each other. King George was attempting to take away all of the colonists' rights. Abigail's father and other minutemen were smuggling ammunition into their homes anytime they could. Then they would be ready if the hostile British attacked. Abigail slowly stirred the pot of rabbit stew. Beside her, her mother plopped spoonfuls of gooey dough onto the bottom of a pan. Soon the biscuits and the stew would be ready.

“Mother, would you like me to turn some butter?” Abigail asked.

“Yes, Abby. The cream is in the cellar.” Her mother answered. Compliantly, Abigail set the spoon down and proceeded to fetch some cream. Once she had some cream, she set to churning the butter. Before long, a bit of butter was turned. She salted it. Just then Abigail's father entered the house. He bent down and swooped Gracie off of the floor. Little Gracie giggled. She loved it when her father held her. Abigail scooped the butter into a dish. Quickly she walked over and stirred the bubbly, brown-broth stew. She took out four blue and white speckled, tin bowls. After ladling stew into each of the bowls, she carried them to the oak table. Her mother was bringing the crispy, beige biscuits to the table. Abigail hurried to fetch the tin cups, and her mother filled them with creamy milk. Abigail finished her stew and biscuit Then, she grabbed Gracie's little hand and helped her up the ladder to the loft as their mother called to them, “Goodnight girls.”

“Sleep tight, Abby and Gracie,” their father told them.

“Goodnight,” Abigail and Gracie replied together. When they reached their room, Abigail helped Gracie, who was tired, change into her nightgown. Then she changed into hers, too. She crawled into bed with Gracie. Gracie was fast asleep, but Abigail lay awake.

After a while, Abigail heard her parents go to bed. Soon, she drifted off to sleep. Not long after she fell asleep, a series of five loud knocks on the door awakened her. At first she thought maybe it was just her imagination. But then, she heard Paul Revere's zealous voice ring out, “Hurry, the Regulars are coming out!” Not a second later, she heard her father, now awake, slamming the window shut and loading his rifle. She could barely hear her mother's trembling voice whisper, “Be careful.” Then he was gone, out into the chilly night to encounter the unknown. Tiredly, Gracie woke up. Abigail reassured her that everything was okay, and Gracie quickly fell asleep. But once again, Abigail couldn't sleep. She was exhausted. After what seemed like hours, Abigail crept down the six-rungs of the ladder. She paused by her parent's bedroom, listening for her mother's even, heavy breathing, but her mother was not asleep. Quickly she tiptoed across the ice-cold floor towards the door. Then the floor creaked. Sure that her mother heard her, she carefully flung the door open, walked onto the dewy grass, and shut the door. Without a pause, she ran. In the hazy moonlight, she could see her father's footprints in the mud. She followed them. Silently she came upon a woodsy area, which was only a few yards long. She knew the place well. Often in the summer she picked berries there. But soon, she was out of the woods and into a more open field. She walked a little more until she reached a place where she could see the minutemen. Abigail hid behind a bush. She viewed about 700 solemn minutemen ready to defend their rights. She shivered because it was cold, and she was scared. Abigail heard Captain John Parker's order to the minutemen, “Do not fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!” She saw the British, sometimes called Red Coats, approach a couple minutes later. The burly British officer barked to the minutemen, “Disperse, ye rebels!”

No one moved. Seconds passed, but still no one moved. Suddenly a shot rang out. More shots were fired, and the British were compelled to moved on to Concord. Terrified, Abigail saw some men she knew dead. She knew she only had a minute to flee. She carefully advanced through the woods. And when she got to the clearing, she quickened her pace. But soon she had to slow down because she was nearing her house. Not wasting a second, she tiptoed inside to the ladder. She climbed up to her room unnoticed as the sun began to rise. It was morning. She began to realize that she had just witnessed the beginning of a war for freedom. No one knows who shot the first shot, but the whole world took note of it. Therefore, it has been called, “The Shot Heard 'Round the World.”
By Hannah
Having just finished shopping, she did not notice his approach until he was nearly upon her. Then, dropping her purse, she forgot everything in a mad run. Anything to get away from him. He had destroyed her life in the past, and only came to do it again. How could she have let him get so close to her?

“Jessica!” his voice rang out in the darkness, and she shuddered. For a moment she tried to plug her ears, but then she stumbled and had to use her hands for balance.

“Jessica,” he repeated, his voice terrifyingly close behind her, “You know it’s no use. I always win.”

“No, no,” she sobbed, knowing somehow that he was wrong, that there was something she could do.

“You will give yourself to me like you have every other time.” His head was a mere meter away from hers. “Why don’t you stop fighting and just give in to the inevitable? This doesn’t have to be so painful.”

Gasping for breath, she stopped running and bent over double. His hand touched her back and she flinched, but didn’t answer.

“Remember how good it feels?” his voice was soothing, calming, like his hand which was rubbing her back. It all felt familiar somehow.

“Derek?” she gasped, looking up at him.

His kind brown eyes smiled reassuringly into hers, and he held her hand warmly. “Didn’t I tell you,” he murmured tenderly, “that I would return?”

“But,” she answered confusedly, “wasn’t that a bad thing?”

He smiled and began to draw her closer to himself.

“Derek,” she struggled for him to release her, “I don’t understand.”

“Do you understand this?” he asked, and kissed her.

At the touch of his lips a warm feeling flowed through Jessica’s body. Why had she been doubting him? Of course Derek was the real hero, and she had been thinking nonsense before. She stepped close to him, relishing the feeling of his strong arms holding her close. He kissed her again and swooped her into his arms. How good it felt to just rest there and not fight anymore.

“That’s right, darling,” he murmured, caressing her face. Vaguely, she realized that she could not move her legs or arms, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to keep looking into his wonderful face looking into hers. Somewhere a voice seemed to be calling to her, chiding her, but she pushed it away and snuggled closer.

“I love you, Jessica.” He laid her down on a bit of grass. “I love you, Jessica.” He pulled a knife from his belt. “I love you, Jessica.” His voice was all around her, beating her, tormenting her with its mocking tones as he raised the knife to drive it into her heart.

“No.” The voice rang out, quiet but firm.

The monster she had called Derek looked up and his face grew white with fear and hatred. “She gave herself to me.”

“I have bought her.” Jessica could not see him, but his voice sounded familiar, like a song long forgotten.

“She returned to me!”

Tears filled Jessica’s eyes as she realized this was true.

“She is mine.”

“I. will. have her!” The knife began to descend.


“Jessica, wake up,” a voice cut into her dream. “The plane has landed and your boyfriend called to say that he is waiting.”

Bleary with sleep, Jessica grabbed her purse and stumbled out of the plane towards the baggage claim.

The young man waiting there turned and greeted her affectionately. Smoothing back her hair with his hand, he laughed, “Why, Jessica, aren’t you even going to say hi?”

“Sorry.” She smiled and gave herself a brisk shake. “I guess I’m still sleepy from the trip.” Raising on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “Hello, Derek.”

I remember laying there on the dusty earth, squinting into the Afghanistan sun, drawing in a shallow, ragged breath and thinking, I am going to die. At twenty-two years old, in an arid, dry land halfway across the globe from my family, I am going to die. It's not fair.

It is ironic, though, that when I was in absolute agony, fighting to stay conscious as my life was slipping away, that I was thinking of fair. Fair? In war? In the chaos of battle? And yet my mind was so clear through the pain that I cried out to God, Why can't this be fair? I didn't deserve to die. Yet, neither did the terrified old man who had taken blind aim at me as I had crouched behind his hut. He had a reason to shoot at me in defense. I was probably killing his family or his friends as I shot at the mass of opposition around the corner of the hut.

I grunted as I balled my fist into the gushing wound in my side. My radio was crackling static intermittently a few feet away from where my head was, but I didn't have the strength to reach for it. I could still here the hiccup of the machine guns over the hill, taste the grit between my teeth and on my tongue, feel the pain mixed with adrenaline course through my body. Yet my vision was blurring. The edges of the sky were growing dimmer, darker. Suddenly, the ground shook and a soldier I didn't know was running over to me and then bending down and undoing the straps on my helmet.

“Hang on there. Stay with me. Come on, you can do it. Keep breathing for me.” The man was yelling at me, forcing me to stay focused on the effort of breathing. The sky was growing darker and darker like a tunnel narrowing rapidly before me. The man was still shouting, but his voice was distant, like the annoying hum of a mosquito. I sucked in the dusty air, feeling weaker every second and just wanting to give in to the gaping, black hole that reached out for me.

But then I heard maniacal laughter floating to me from somewhere below me. Someone was laughing at my pain. Someone who was glad I was dying. No, no. I thought. No, I don't want to die. How dare someone laugh when I am dying? I struggled, pulling myself through the murky blackness of my brain. I saw the face of the soldier. His face was so close to mine. He was yelling at me, shouting something. I knew it was important, but I couldn't get at what he was saying. Then the world went totally black and I lost myself to the darkness.

I don't remember what happened after that. I don't remember anything for three whole days. When I did wake up, I was lying in a makeshift hospital. White sheets covered several beds with maimed and bruised soldiers in some form of repair occupying each one. I wondered, Do I look like that, too? There were sharp pains in my gut and my head was sore. I felt peaceful, safe, yet there were nurses and a doctor running back and forth, shouting to each other as they struggled to keep their charges alive. Yet I watched with curious eyes, keeping mute and still. I watched a soldier cough up a lot of blood. He struggled to breathe. Then he died. Just laid there and died. That could have been you, a voice whispered to me in my head.

I stayed like that for a while, just laying and thinking of the dead soldier on a bed just ten feet away, and finally a nurse turned to me. He said that I would get better, and that I would be sent home. But all I could think was, It isn't fair. I will live but the next man might not. I will go home, but the rest of my unit must stay. God, why can't it be fair?

-Petra Waterstraat

Thursday, August 18, 2011

From a YA to a YA Author

Hey, Lizzie here! I'm not sure if Les is planning on posting today or not, so I decided to post something I put on W.O.C..
I'm going to offer my help to authors writing for my age range. If you'd like some YA feedback on your book, feel free to email me either a small portion of your novel to your entire manuscript, and I will give you take on it. I also critique queries, pitches, and synopsis'. What I look for in books:
1. I want excitement and un-expected twists--I do not want to be able to predict the whole book from the first ten pages.
2. I want detail; you don't have to go droning on for five pages about the weather, but I do want to be able to view the picture you're painting.
3. I want quality--act like you're writing this book for someone close to you, not as if YA's shouldn't have as much quality any other age range.
4. Make it your own. Don't go copying something that's been written a billion times. Refresh me. Give me something new.
5. Make me fall in love with the characters, make me feel what they feel. Make me empathize with them, cry with them and laugh with them.
6. Endings shouldn't always be happy. I'm so sick of everything turning out amazing at the end--make it bittersweet.
7. Do not plan on charging a ton of money for your book. I am not--am not--going to pay ten dollars for a book when I can get five for the same price. Always make sure that you have an ebook available for less than five dollars.
8. Don't change your book a lot based on the opinions of another person--it's your book, you should be the author of it.
9. Have a well written prologue; they make the reader die to know the rest.
10. Whatever length it is, so be it. There are excellent short books out here, as well as some amazing long ones. I'm personally a fan of huge books, but I don't like it when the author tries to stretch out a 60,000 word manuscript into a 150,000 word manuscript and appear to be some sort of J. R. R. Tolkien.
11. Don't be cheesy. I hate cheesy romance, as well as all other forms of cheesiness. Seriously. It makes me put down the book and recommend to all of my friends that they shouldn't read it.
12. Don't be gruesome--yes, I love action, but that doesn't mean I need bloody scenes to be described in to much detail.

I hope this helped you!~Elizabeth

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Hmm. . .

Yikes. . .what should I post about today???

My mind is a bit of a mess right now, and I've been having trouble focusing on writing/reading. I'm also having a severe case of writers block. Advice, anyone? 

I know, I know--this post is really lame. But I just can't really come up with anything. . .

No, I'm not on top of things. Yes, I am about as exhausted as a thirteen year old could get. Hopefully I'll be back to myself next week, though.~Elizabeth

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Big Words

Leslie here from a hectic few weeks of camp and relatives. Back to charm and inform you on... anything I feel like!
I know, I know, big words are a bit of a tangent, but I love to use them. Here are a few of my personal favorites.
 Antidisestablishmentarianism is a political position that originated in 19th-century Britain in opposition to proposals for the disestablishment of the Church of England, that is, to remove the Anglican Church's status as the state church of England, Ireland and Wales.

Araskavedekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th.

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia is the fear of long words.

A person who believes in Antidisestablishmentarianism.

The longest word that uses only one vowel, strengths.
The longest word with NO vowels, (not counting 'y') rhythms!
The longest word we use normally, uncharacteristically.
What is the longest word in the English dictionary, smiles! Why? Because there is a mile between the s's! But what about beleaguered? There is a league in the middle of that word.

Well, I hope you liked my tangent. One final note, What is the real longest word? The one that comes after "- and now a word from our sponsors"! (Said by Jack Benny from Golden Radio)

Monday, August 15, 2011


Today, I'm going to be putting my first two hundred fifty words the book I'm attempting to write. It's a YA Fantasy, and it's current name is Tracking:

Four years, I thought to myself repeatedly as I walked back to my home in the enchanted woods of Palaire. I couldn't believe it had been so long since I had stepped foot in my house, or had even seen my family.

Take a deep breath, Jemima. Are you ready for this? I told myself I was, but I knew it was a lie.

Being nearly five in the morning, the stars and moon were the only thing to guide me through the rough forest. The cool moist dirt felt good on the soles of my feet, the grass was wet with the morning dew. The trees reaching over me stood hundreds of feet tall, their leaves turning to beautiful oranges, reds, and yellows. The fresh cool breeze came blowing in my face, and I smiled as it blew my hair back out of my eyes. I missed that; but there was no adventure here, and that is why I could never stay. I always wished I could’ve been born a few centuries in the past.

I longed for war, for excitement. Sure, I had gotten to fight and track a little while I was away, mostly investigation work. Nonetheless, my heart would not be stilled until I tasted a true battle.

I used to find it odd—elves and other creatures that had never been in a war or seen their country in battle all wanted to fight, to stand up for their home. Yet a decent amount of the people that did experience war looked back upon those times with bitter distaste, or at least sorrow. . .why was that? I knew for a fact that if I ever participated in a war, I would look back on it with pride that I did what I could for the ones I loved, not with sadness.

I needed to have a mission. Always.    

I would highly appreciate it if you offered me some critiques and advice on this, because I'm still not sure what I think of it.~Elizabeth

Friday, August 12, 2011


This is a poem that Petra Waterstraat wrote for W.O.P. (Thanks, Petra!!!), and I hope you enjoy it:

Dear Daddy, Abba,
Father, who made me
Hear me crying.

O, Shepherd, Spirit,
Diviner of life
Guide my searching.

Jesus, my Savior,
Giver of all grace,
Forgive me now.

Awesome Creator,
Miracle maker
See me smiling.

I did, however, want to end W.O.P. with a certain prayer--the perfect prayer. I present to you Matthew 6:9b-13:

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
   on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
   as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
   but deliver us from the evil one. 


Thursday, August 11, 2011


As anyone who has looked at my ginormous list of quotes would know, I love quoting A. W. Tozer, so I thought I would put one of his prayers on for W.O.P. (WeekOfPrayer). I've been having a lot of spiritual attacks lately, and this is a prayer that really helps me in those hard times. If you haven't read anything of his, you really should. This prayer can be found in the first page of the second chapter of Knowledge of the Holy:

Lord, how great is our dilemma! In Thy Presence silence best becomes us, but love inflames our hearts and constrains us to speak.
Were we  to hold our peace the stones would cry out; yet if we speak, what shall we say? Teach us to know that we cannot know, for the things of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God. Let faith support us where reason fails, and we shall think because we believe, not in order that we may believe.
In Jesus' name. Amen.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Morning & Evening

As a Lutheran, it seems right to put on Luther's morning and evening prayers, so. . .

Luther's Morning Prayer: 

In the name of the Father and of the † Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I thank You, my heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Your dear Son, that You have kept me this night from all harm and danger; and I pray that You would keep me this day also from sin and every evil, that all my doings and life may please You. For into Your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things. Let Your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me. Amen.

Luther's Evening Prayer:

In the name of the Father and of the † Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I thank You, my heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Your dear Son, that You have graciously kept me this day; and I pray that You would forgive me all my sins where I have done wrong, and graciously keep me this night. For into Your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things. Let Your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me. Amen.


Tuesday, August 9, 2011


I don't know what it is you're going through, but this is a prayer that I have often said many versions of in my mind, but I've never actually written it down. This has helped me in my greatest struggles, and I hope that it will help you also.

Oh, God, I am meek, but you're power is great. Help me, oh Lord, for Your strength is made perfect in weakness. The situation you have bestowed upon me is to great for me to bear. . .guide me with Your own hand, Yahweh, and show me that you didn't make me strong enough to bear these circumstances  alone. Gird me with your faithfulness, hope, love and compassion to help others in need, and give me the strength to face not only this day, but all of the days following. Amen. 


Hebrews 11:13-16, 32-39:
All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.  People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. . . . . . . .And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson and Jephthah, about David and Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies.Women received back their dead, raised to life again. There were others who were tortured, refusing to be released so that they might gain an even better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were put to death by stoning; they were sawed in two; they were killed by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated—the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and in holes in the ground.
 These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Monday, August 8, 2011


Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. 
Galatians 1:3-5

Yes, this is RWR's official Week of Prayer, and thanks for stopping by to view it. 

The theme for TOTW this week is Prayer--it can be practically anything; and essay, a story with a prayer in it, a stand-alone prayer, a personal story on prayer, a poem-style prayer, a psalm. . .anything.

I'm going to assume that everyone has heard the story of Cain and Abel (If not it can be found in Genesis chapter four), and this verse is after Cain killed him and left all of his family (wife excluded, who was either Cain's sister or niece) and had children of his own. 

And she (Eve) gave birth to a son and named him Seth, saying, “God has granted me another child in place of Abel, since Cain killed him.” Seth also had a son, and he named him Enosh.
   At that time people began to call on the name of the LORD. 
Genesis 4:25b-26

Now pay special attention to that last part. . .At that time people began to call on the name of the LORD.

The official start of prayer. Incredible.

Just think. . .There was a time when prayer didn't even exist. We are so, so blessed. . .and do we even realize it? Everyone (Jesus excluded) forgets to pray at some point in their life. We forget about the amazing connection we have with God. I love reading this passage, because it reminds that prayer didn't always exist, and it helps me not take it for granite. . .what about you? What helps remind you of His blessings to us? Not necessarily prayer, any blessing. . .what does God use to bring you back to Him?~Elizabeth 

Friday, August 5, 2011


Here's the winning story for The Theme of the Week. . .

Bright, blood-red light flashed in front of my eyes. The vein near my temple pulsed as I pressed my fingers into my head. Focus. Concentrate. For the average human, these were commonplace words. Words that symbolized the mental capability to think pointedly towards something. But focus could be so much more. Concentration could be so much deeper. Intense thought was not the limit. Thinking could go so far beyond the mind – into the heart, soul, very spirit.
     That is where I was on a dark, muggy night in a New York City parking-lot. I had been running all my life from governments, mostly. They wanted to use me for research. Experiments in warfare against each other. Russia, Germany, Great Britain, the U.S. - but they were not all. There were the street thugs. They wanted me because I was useful to them. I could help them grow powerful, escape the authority, and get away with larger crimes. As I squeezed my eyelids shut and focused my being on the evil I knew was nearby, I felt something. Not on the outside of my body, as if someone reached out and touched me, but on the inside. Like a pinprick in my stomach. There it was. It was male, and he was not afraid. He was circling, I could tell, around the back of the parking-lot. Behind the chain-link fence where the three trees were. I turned to face that direction. Now that I had found where he was, the focus became less intense, the concentration less honed in. I could do little more until he drew closer.
     Finally, I sensed him step towards me. That was all I needed. Dropping to my knees behind a minivan, I leaned forward to learn as much about him as I could. He was tall and lean, yet athletically built. He was still not afraid as he stepped closer, closer. I waited in the pitch black without a sound. And then his voice sliced through the night like a scalpel.
     “I know you are here, Lorinne. There is no need for you to hide from me. I will find you. Standing, sitting – whatever you may be doing now, will just cause you to be worn out. No one, not even you, can be still and quiet forever.” The man's laugh grated through my mind, but he could not make me break my focus. I knew I could do it. I knew I could kneel stone-still for hours and not grow tired. So I waited. I waited and did not shift or break my focus for even a second.
     As I knelt there on the cracked pavement I listened to the man's breathing as he paced up and down between the scattered rows of vacant cars left in the parking-lot. He would walk stealthily one way, then another. He would stop, listen, and circle around another car. He was coming nearer to where I knelt.
     Then I felt it - a sort of sagging, of sighing, in his mind. He was only four feet away. He was tired, had let down his guard, and he was not ready for me.
     So I struck.
     I do not like physical combat. I hate to use my strength of body to win a fight, but these thugs and government men do not fight me with their minds. They refuse to reason, to listen to me. So I had no option. I dove out of my hiding place and in front of the man's long legs as he took a step forward. He tumbled over me and landed heavily on the ground. I twisted out from under his legs, which were kicking dangerously close to my head. I was up on my feet in another instant, but so was the man. He swarthy face was twisted into an ugly grimace as he thrust his gnarled hands at my throat. I stumbled backwards and slammed into the back of the minivan. With nowhere for me to move, the man easily grabbed my throat and began to tighten his grip.
    Even as I stood there, struggling to suck air into my burning lungs, I was not desperately afraid. His flesh was touching my flesh, so now I could stun him with my mind. I gathered up my thoughts. With all the will power I had been given, I focused my energy at the man leering down at me as I was losing consciousness. Then, after an eternity, as I was being sucked into the murky depths of oblivion, the man's clutch on my throat gave way and he fell to the ground. Pure, beautiful oxygen rushed into my lungs. I gasped in rapid breaths - nearly hyperventilating in my attempt to breathe again. Finally I gained control of myself. I looked down at the man at my feet. He was holding his head in his hands. I smiled at him as I regained my strength.
     “Tell your people to let me be. You cannot touch my art. You will never have it,” then I walked away. 

By Petra Waterstraat

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Book Trailer

 I present to you the book trailer for Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children:

Very rarely does a book trailer peak my interest as much as this one--you would think it's a movie trailer! This is a book I hope to read and review soon, so look out for that.~Elizabeth

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Fall Apart

This is one of those songs that everyone should hear and be inspired by. 
When I really think about it, the moments where I've gotten closest to God have been when I just start stomping around my room going, "God, what are you doing to me?!?!"
*Trust me, I've asked that questions billions of times.*
And then He answers me, "I am molding you into My child."
"But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.  Then the word of the LORD came to me. He said, 'Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?' declares the LORD. 'Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel.'  Jeremiah 18:4-6
He is shaping me into my unique pot--who knows, maybe I'll be a cup, that someone may be refreshed out of me, perhaps a vase, so that God could use me to showcase His beauty, only He knows.
One of His other answers is, "Who are you to judge me, who made you?"
Or, to go to His word. . .“Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?
   Let him who accuses God answer him!” Job 40:2 
Pretty straight forward, huh?
One of these moments was when my parents decided to home school me--picture my situation; I was eight, so not very advanced as far as my Christian life was concerned, and was being "ripped" out of public school, from all of my "friends", but through that "loss" I gained so much. I gained discernment to chose my friends wisely, faith, that I may trust in the Lord. Hard situations, that I may emphasize with others. But most importantly, I gained Him. I was truly lost, and sometimes (almost always) God chooses His servants to be those that are lost, weary and broken; looking for something. . .Looking for a savior. And, whether we know it or not, the Savior. Because it is when we are truly emptied inside that God can show His works in us, allowing people to see that miracles still exist. He shall humble us before he exalts us.

About a year and a half after I became home schooled, I picked up my Bible and began reading at a winter weekend retreat at a Christian camp. I opened up to Genesis, starting with Jacob fleeing from Esau and going from there. I have continued on with that habit, studying avidly.
Now, I realized that what was once "the worst thing that ever happened to me" turned out to be the best.

 "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[a] have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:27

"Faith sees the invisible, believes the unbelievable, and receives the impossible."--Corrie Ten Boom
"Do you have an arm like God’s,
   and can your voice thunder like his?"  Job 40:9  

"At the timberline where the storms strike with the most fury, the sturdiest trees are found." Hudson Taylor


Tuesday, August 2, 2011


I'm assuming that a lot of our readers are Narnia fans, so I thought video may interest you. I don't know if any of you have seen the movie for Voyage of the Dawn Treader, but there's a song in it by Carrie Underwood. Scott Krippayne (singer/songwriter) entered his song Voyage (written especially for that movie) for that spot, but they turned him down. Voyage is an EXTREMELY good song, one of my all time favorites. Now press play, close your eyes, and let your imagination run wild.


Monday, August 1, 2011

Twilight--A Book Review

I know what you're thinking, "Come on, another one?!?!"
Yes, it is another one--but this time it is in the Christian perspective, and is going to be shown from all angles. 

Quote: "Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something." 

Summery: Bella leaves warm, sunny Arizona to go live with her dad (Charlie) in Forks, Washington, so that her mom (Renee) can travel with her minor-league husband to his baseball games. Bella's open to it, but. . .
She's entering the eleventh grade and doesn't know anyone.
She likes hot, dry, weather--not the cold and rain of Forks.
To be honest, she feels really awkward around her dad. But she doesn't lose hope. No, instead, she went to school, made friends. . .and saw something mysterious.
The Cullen Clan.  The five beautiful, pale "teenagers", the foster children of Carlisle, a doctor, and his wife that has the whole high school in wonder: Emmet and Rosalie, Jasper and Alice, and Edward.
Bella notices that Edward is the only one without a mate, and whether she wants to admit it or not, she wants to be the solution to that. She can't stop staring at him; she also can't get over his attributes: his extreme intelligence, strength and speed, but she doesn't know how she feels about the way he  loks at her. . .it's as if he's holding something back. She begins to dream about him, to have feelings for him.
Especially after he stops a car from crashing into her.
A normal girl would be enchanted over a handsome guy saving her life and leave it at that, no questions asked--but Bella wasn't ever normal. She noticed that when Edward was on the other side of the school parking lot only seconds before the crash, and the huge dent Edward's hand had left on the van that came centimeters away from killing her. With the help of Jacob, a  fifteen  year old, she figures out the truth.
Edward, and his family, are vampires. 
It turns out that the reason for his behavior around her was due to the fact that he is hungry. . .for her blood. Apparently the Cullens are "vegetarians",  they drink animal blood as opposed to sucking the life out of humans.
They start seeing each other, sometimes even sneaking out of school to do it.Then Edward meets Charlie, and asks him if he can take Bella to play baseball with his family. Charlie laughs do to Bella's poor athletic abilities, and allows her to go with him. Bella basically just sits and watches with amazement, filled with awe over their insane skills. Things went great. . .Until they showed up.
James, his mate Victoria, and their friend Laraunt step onto the field. Like the Cullens, they were vampires; unlike the Cullens, they weren't vegetarians. Soon enough they detected that Bella wasn't one of them, and though Victoria and Laraunt were willing to let it go, James was a tracker.
Laraunt warned the Cullens that night that James and Victoria would begin hunting down Bella immediately. Edward makes Bella get into a big fight with Charlie, saying the same things that Renee had said when she left all those years ago.
That got Charlie to let her go. 
Bella then  goes to Arizona with Jasper and Alice.

Don't worry, I won't give away the ending for all of you who are currently reading it/about to read it.

Violence/Romance: In the first half of the book, Bella gets stalked down a street by rapists, and gets saved by Edward at the last second. Just because the stalkers intentions did happen doesn't mean that part is completely clean. There's a lot of violence, especially in the second half of the book. Someone, I won't give it away, gets burned alive towards the end of the book. There's also a lot of romance, although this book probably has the least of it out of the whole series. There's many kissing scenes, and Bella is willing to give up everything, purity included, for Edward. Fortunately, Edward sets standards.

Spirituality: Both Bella and her parents come across as not being Christians. Them going to Church isn't mentioned. Bella seems to not care about religion one way or another. Charlie spends Sunday's fishing, and it is says that Renee tried church for a couple weeks, but, like everything else, got side tracked and moved onto something else. The only Cullen that seems to be a devout Christian is Carlisle. There are a handful of d--n's and d----t's in the book, and I'm pretty sure I can remember some H--l's and uses of the Lord's name in vain. I believe it must be mentioned that Stephenie Meyer is a mormon.

What I liked:  I must admit that SM is an excellent writer. Her descriptions are flawless, and she truly gets you to fall in love with the characters. I enjoyed Carlisle's references to Christianity, and I like Edward's integrity. Charlie comes across as a pretty good dad, not like the not-so-involved dads that pollute today's TV and books. Bella and many of the other characters genuinely care about those around them.

What I didn't like: Obviously SM's mormonism bothers me, and if I knew that before I read Twilight I wouldn't have ever picked it up. I'm not fond of Bella's. . .oh, how shall I say this?. . ."willingness", not only to give up her purity but also to become a vampire--she doesn't care that she would hardly be able to see her friends and family, not in the least. I suppose to some that may seem "incredibly romantic", but it's also selfish and irresponsible. To be honest, Twilight is a little cheesy and predictable. Bella calls her father Charlie half the time, and there were many meetings between Bella and Edward that Charlie didn't even know about.

Rating: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 

 I recommend not getting hooked on this series (This is the type of series that you have to read the next book as soon as you're done with the last one.), because the series gets more and more inappropriate the further you go.~Elizabeth