Pages From My Journal

            Writing didn’t just happen. My skills had to grow. I had to practice things over and over before I got them right. But before any of this, there was a starting place. That starting place was the vertical, half lined/half blank paper in the picture above.             That piece of paper was a common homeschool tool my mom used as incentive for me. If I did the work I needed to get done, we could write a story and I could illustrate. My mom taught me the beginning, middle, and end of a story. She would write each sentence on a piece of paper and leave the top blank for me to color. As I got older, I wrote the stories myself and got graded on spelling, grammar, and neatness. At that point in my life I was more excited about coloring, but that is where my stories began. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I began to pick up the writing again. I had done a lot of working in my life to get me to the point where I felt like I had a story to tell. So I buckled down and w

            I finished my week of staff training at camp and I had a great time. I learned a lot. Not only about doing my job, its importance in the ministry, and getting along with the other staff members, but I had the time to simply sit by myself and seek God.             I am on the kitchen crew so most of my work happens right before, during, and right after meals. This leaves a good block of time in between for my break. I chose to sit on the porch outside the dining hall, read my Bible, and pray. For two hours almost every single day, I had this time to have a one on one conversation with God. I’m used to noise—I had none. I’m used to short pieces of time—I didn’t have that. I’m used to fighting distractions—they were absent.             I’m at camp to minister to kids, but I also will be learning and growing in my own relationship with God.             I recently finished Beth Moore’s Paul study, and in it, she says that the verse, “Be still and know that I am God,”