Whenever I wear brown and yellow, I can’t help but think I look like the cover of a Curious George book. Maybe it is just one of my many quirks, just like I feel uncomfortable any time that I wear too obnoxious of purple color for fear that I might resemble Barney. Or like a pumpkin any time I wear orange. Actually, there aren’t a lot of colors that don’t trigger thoughts of childhood cartoons or something else overly ridiculous.

I am always surprised anytime someone tells me that they read my blog. You really keep reading my blog, even though nothing I write is over profound? You really keep reading, even though it is really just a random stream of my thoughts that probably reveal less new insights in the world and maybe more make you think about how I need counseling or to be locked up in a padded room? Thank you for reading, thank you for sticking around even though my life feels more like a mess than insightful. I appreciate the grace you’re showing me in this moment, even if you didn’t realize you were.

This week is my birthday week. My last few days being a teenager. I wish I felt more than I did, but I don’t feel much about it at all. I don’t have any birthday plans, so the sixteenth will probably come and go just like any other day in the year. I know birthdays are about celebrating life, but it is hard to celebrate when you feel alone. I don’t mean to sound like such a downer, because I don’t mean to sound depressing. After all, it isn’t even raining. I’m sure there has got to be some sort of connection between rain and depression. I am excited more to be twenty than to have a birthday. I always though I’d be taller when I was twenty. Ha. I guess that just goes to show life turns out differently than planned. That sort of seems to be a theme in my life lately, huh?

The Panera worker man looked at me funny when I ripped apart my bread to put in my soup. Is that weird? He asked me if I wanted another piece of bread. I hope he knows I wasn’t hating on his little bread loaf, I just think it tastes like happiness when soaked in chicken broth from the chicken noodle soup.

There are ants in the kitchen of the place I’m staying. EVERY where. I think that every time I let myself become discouraged, it is like an infestation of ants. Every time I listen to the whisper of the world telling me that I am not good enough or outgoing enough, it is like an infestation of ants. I am not sure what it requires to get rid of an infestation of ants, but it does involve a clean life. It does involve some sort of action, maybe that action is putting down ant traps, maybe it will involve a clean sweep of the kitchen (or your life), but it does not involve opening and closing the garage can lid and fridge door really quickly. I cannot let myself fall into the pattern of defeat by listening to untruths. I must pick myself up daily, go to the Word, go to God and be reminded that it is not about what I bring to the Table, but it is about coming to the Table.


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