"Forsaken, alone, and dusty..."

Forsaken, alone, and dusty. It was beaten up and forgotten. It was in the back of the closet. Specifically, it was on the top shelf in the corner of the closet tilted sideways. The closet was under a set of stairs, a rarely visited place in the family household. It was so dark under those closed doors, one could not count their fingers in front of their face. In the dark, It would wait, waiting to be found and remembered. Sometimes though, It would gain a momentous excitement. When the doors cracked open, a little sliver of light would enter. It would prepare Itself and shine its gold reflective title. The Father or Mother would sometimes open the closet doors. On the seldom occasion, It then would be filled with anxiousness and excitement. The Man’s habit was to grab his coat quickly and then slam close the door. The Woman would reach in and grab a pair of shoes or grab a scarf and then close the doors. Every time this happened It would be saddened and often disappointed, but It never lost hope in Its owners. It would wait there until they were ready.

One time though, there was a rare occurrence. The Children came rushing down the stairs to the closet and swiftly opened the doors. Perhaps this was an opportunity. Again, It shines its golden-letters as bright as It could. The Children were looking for some lost toy or treasure. One was on her knees and other was climbing, peeking onto the upper shelves. The Child reaching up looked right at It. The Child noticed the golden lettering. Could this be the moment? Was It finally going to be brought out of the dark and carried to the light? Was It finally going to find Its place next to a bed or on a coffee table, rather than Its present dreary scenery? The Child store for moment and began to reach for It—but was interrupted by the other Child on her knees finding the old video game they had be on the hunt for so long. Just as quick as they came—they left. It was devastated. It thought truly that was the moment It would finally be embraced again. At this moment, It began to remember memories. It remembers being cherished, being studied, and even treasured. What had changed since then? Did It lose some quality it possessed in the past? Perhaps something changed in the life of its owners.


Several years had passed since that encounter with the Children. It was still on that top shelf, laying there without a purpose. Dust had covered It like snow settling on a dead tree.

The house grew cold. There was no more sound of Children running down the stairs. The only noises heard were the soft whimper of the Father and the loud sobbing of the Mother. Sometimes, There was the echoes of shouting or yelling inaudible words. It knew something was troubling the household.


One day the doors of the closet opened. The Father was standing there for a moment. His face was pale and his eyes were hovering over deep bags. His presence was resembling that of a dying flower, drooping and hunched over. His shadow casted a darkness over the floor and coats. He stood there for moment with no movement. He then collapsed to the carpet floor, desperately searching for something. He was making a combination of disconcerting sounds and grumbling loudly. He worked his way up from the floor to the shelves. When he reached the top shelf, he glided his hand across the wood plank until—he found It. He grabbed and held in front of his face, bending over and staring at It. After a long moment, his face changed from emotionless to one full of anger. He squeezed it tightly. The Father then looked slightly up and yelled “How could You let this happen! You let this happen. They are both gone and it is your fault! You could of sa—you could have saved them from that accident." His lost his breath and then said softly "Couldn’t you have?” His crying became only more bitter and he then continued “They were just Children! Why? Why? Why…” He then dropped It. On the impact of the floor, It opened, falling open to pages 1646-1647. On page 1647 were the highlighted words of John 14:1, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me.”

The Man noticed the yellow marker streak and read the words. He read them repeatedly. Soon his bitter face changed. His lips started to quiver and his hands started to shake. He gathered himself and rose up. He walked down the hallway and approached his wife in the living room. She was staring into nothing and felt nothing. She was completely still and her face was blank. The husband brought the book to her sight and she read the words aloud in a quiet broken voice “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me.” She smiled.


It was filled with joy. It was remembered and It was being cherished. Even during Its owner’s pain, there was still meaning in Its Words. There is always meaning in His Words.

Let us never forget to open the Word of God, especially in times of distress. When darkness surrounds us and doubt, depression, and anxiety creep in, we need words of hope. We do not, on the other hand, need the silence around us only to be filled by the crowding thoughts of anger and bitterness. No, we need the words of joy and healing. Christians often forget that.

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I Blame My Dad For My High Expectations

Dad, it's all your fault.

I always tell my dad that no matter who I date, he's always my number one guy. Sometimes I say it as more of a routine thing. However, the meaning behind it is all too real. For as long as I can remember my dad has been my one true love, and it's going to be hard to find someone who can top him.

My dad loves me when I am difficult. He knows how to keep the perfect distance on the days when I'm in a mood, how to hold me on the days that are tough, and how to stand by me on the days that are good.

He listens to me rant for hours over people, my days at school, or the episode of 'Grey's Anatomy' I watched that night and never once loses interest.

He picks on me about my hair, outfit, shoes, and everything else after spending hours to get ready only to end by telling me, “You look good." And I know he means it.

He holds the door for me, carries my bags for me, and always buys my food. He goes out of his way to make me smile when he sees that I'm upset. He calls me randomly during the day to see how I'm doing and how my day is going and drops everything to answer the phone when I call.

When it comes to other people, my dad has a heart of gold. He will do anything for anyone, even his worst enemy. He will smile at strangers and compliment people he barely knows. He will strike up a conversation with anyone, even if it means going way out of his way, and he will always put himself last.

My dad also knows when to give tough love. He knows how to make me respect him without having to ask for it or enforce it. He knows how to make me want to be a better person just to make him proud. He has molded me into who I am today without ever pushing me too hard. He knew the exact times I needed to be reminded who I was.

Dad, you have my respect, trust, but most of all my heart. You have impacted my life most of all, and for that, I can never repay you. Without you, I wouldn't know what I to look for when I finally begin to search for who I want to spend the rest of my life with, but it might take some time to find someone who measures up to you.

To my future husband, I'm sorry. You have some huge shoes to fill, and most of all, I hope you can cook.

Cover Image Credit: Logan Photography

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If God Didn’t Intend For Women To Be Equals, Why Did She Make Us So Incredible?

Yeah, I said She.


An article that absolutely infuriates me has gone viral. As a feminist, as a writer, and simply as a woman, it drives me up a wall to see another woman proclaiming that God's plan for women was to "submit to their husbands."

I don't know where to start with all the issues I found in reading the piece, so I'll start with what a feminist is. It's a subjective term and its connotation varies from person to person.

But to me, feminism is being empowered and expressive individuals with open minds and open hearts. They are activists for change and equality. They have concerns about the environment and global warming. They acknowledge issues within sexism and racism and then try to figure out how to solve them. They see that the world isn't perfect.

Feminists are the reason we can vote. They're the reason birth control is an option for us. They're why we're allowed to wear pants. They're why we have careers. The female pioneers paved the way for anything we're allowed to do, and they are why we celebrate the power of women every March.

But instead, the woman who wrote "I'm A Christian And I'm Not A Feminist, Because God Did Not Intend For Women To Be Equals," used our month of pride for clout. And took justification from The Bible to do it.

The Bible is not an instruction manual. It was written over many, many years by hordes of sexist men whose existence we have minimal proof of. And over the last thousand years, it's been translated and reinterpreted more times than anyone could ever keep track of. That's not to say it doesn't have some good lessons, but lessons are all they are.

Thinking your worth and capabilities were planned for you thousands of years in advance is ignorant. Religion and The Bible and God are as subjective as feminism. Everything is open-ended. One person's view of who or what God is not going to be the same as the last.

Commonly, God is seen as a man at the center of the universe who holds all existence in his hands. He is the reason why anyone does anything. He is the rule maker. And He is judging us and waiting for our every mistake.

But as a proud feminist, I've chosen to have my own idea of this holy being. I wasn't brought up in church, but I decided to believe in something much greater than myself or anything I've ever seen just because I wanted to. I want to believe that faith has to come from somewhere, and I didn't want a book making the rules for me.

Just by watching life move through time, I happen to believe God is the good in all of us. Not one being, but he beginning and the end of everything. The push and the pull. The conscious and subconscious. And considering that God is the creator, I've concluded God must be a woman because women are the creators.

And in my experience, women have proved themselves to be much stronger and more capable than any man.

As for what She creates, I think She makes no mistakes. I think She tests our patience and beliefs by giving us what we don't expect. There's intent and love in everything She gives us. I think every woman was made to be relentless, imperfect, fearless, and even a little rebellious.

And if we're saying Adam and Eve were the start of it all, then God proved that right off the bat. God saved the best for last, and then made her a badass. Yes, the first woman came into this world as a rule breaker. She questioned authority. And since the beginning of time, authority has been a snake. The world is our forbidden fruit to bite.

The sole purpose of a woman isn't to submit to anyone. A woman can do whatever she damn well pleases, just as any man. A woman's worth isn't tied to what kind of wife or mother she is and how closely she follows the rules. I was raised by the most incredible mom and wife. She did happen to stay at home with me and be the traditional woman. But while she was home, she taught me how great it is to be a woman. She made sure I knew I could be whoever I wanted and would pay no consequences for that.

My parents didn't raise me in a church. And I never saw that as a flaw or lack of judgment. My southern home was like a church; full of faith and love. But on Sundays, we would sleep in and have a big breakfast at noon because we had too much fun staying up late Saturday night dancing around our living room to music. Whitney Houston, Dolly Parton, Shania Twain, and Madonna led the choir — singing about independence and the power of being empowered as women.

As a feminist, I will not judge those who haven't accepted all the honors of being female. I can just tell everyone how wonderful it is to stand for something. I can set an example so that more women will go forward.

And despite what anyone thinks of feminism, there's nothing exclusive about it. Feminists don't think they're any better than men, they just want the chance to prove their capabilities. It's so much bigger than thinking men suck. The truth is, we should have men at our side, not in front of or behind us. And not for romantic partnerships, but as allies. The best men are feminists too. We can make this walk alone, but there's power in numbers and in diversity.

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