Ellen Page and the Words I’ll Never Say

In our society it is extremely easy to “fall” for celebrities. My favorite film is called Juno. It was filmed in 2007 and it is the single best movie ever written. While it is amazingly written, the acting behind the writing make it so beautiful. Ellen Page stole my heart from the first time I saw that movie. She (in the film as well as in real life-let’s face it, she’s awesome) was unique, unconventionally beautiful, and hilariously quirky. In a phrase, she was what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I have always been her biggest fan, no matter what those other fans say. However at the February LGBT announcement of her coming out, I was saddened. My celebrity crush had come out as gay. As a christian, I am not sure how to respond. In love? In judgement? Both? I still struggle with that.

However, I do have a response. The secular world will have interviews and speak of the psychology of shame and being true to yourself and talk in what seems like educated answers, but really it is just the “wisdom of the foolish.” Christians, we have got to hold to what the Word says and not what our sinful identities scream to say. It is not empowering or freeing to hold to your genetics. We have freedom in Christ to choose him! He is better. He is better. He is better. Even when we don’t want to believe it, he is still better for us. Not just in homosexual tendencies either. Alcoholism runs in gene pools; it is genetic and runs in families. It is not liberating and anyone who claimed that it was would be a laughing stock in both the secular and christian community. You, your struggles or your passions, are not your identity. You do not have to cave into being something just because you feel like that is “yourself.” You are more.

The temporary liberation that is felt is due to your heart which is deceitful. Of course sin feels gratifying; otherwise it would not be sin! We would not do it if it did not feel good! Why would we? We know it is bad. We know that lying to our parents to get out of trouble is bad but it feels good to pull one over on our parents. Right? Even if you do not want to admit it, it does feel gratifying to get away with something.

My response to Ellen Page, if I were ever able to meet her, is this: Wow. I am such a huge fan. I love, love, love your work and your interviews inspire me to embrace my quirky nature and “be myself.” Thank you for using the gifts God has given you. I love you. Can I share Jesus with you?

Ellen Page is my celebrity crush. I will more than likely never get the chance to say these things to her. However, I have a co-worker who is openly gay and openly Christian. I could only dream of being brave enough to say those things to her.

We are not perfect, Christians. But we do have a response. We do have a worldview. We do have a standpoint, a valid standpoint no less.

Go forth in love and in truth.

Word Vomit: Perfectionism

I am ill with the need to be perfect.

The 2 AM calls to action just leads me to self loathing and more procrastination.

I am always thinking about how I can be better instead of just embracing the fact that I am 18 and that is such an exciting time to figure out what I want, what I love, and how I want to enjoy life.

The ease with which I slip into perfection contradicts every single one of my ideals.

I desperately want to be a good writer. I was reading an article today about how the “good” writers don’t give up and work their butt off to be good writers. This terrifies me. I am the typical writer who writes when inspiration strikes rather than when the work bell rings.

Instead of this leading me to despair, I have decided that I want this. I want it and I need it, and I am going to have to get working in order to get it.

When I was growing up, the emphasis and definition of suscess often revolved around college and career and 8-5. I always felt as if I had to perform or entertain or have the best story to hold their attention and ultimately have their love. It was not until recently that I have realized that most of my failures and issues are a result of this performance driven attitude toward life. I want to be perfect and have the perfect body type, therefore I starved myself. I wanted their attention and craved their comments; I was starving for affection and apples.

I wanted to be admired for my intellect, wisdom, and unique nature. Even though I was I didn’t consider it enough. I spiral into depression every time I am called into question. The absolute need is unhealthy at best and crippling at worst. The mental disorders I am going through often embarress me and I hide them. The worst is when I hide them from myself.

Self deception. I have it all figured out. I am eighteen and living on my own and have gotten over these disorders and have overcome my insecurities. The most dangerous lies of all are these. I have not gotten over them but rather suppressed them. It is at the heart of these issues that I find my biggest sin: pride.

The snake that envelops my heart as fallen away, yet it is within my heart that the Father is revealing the deepest sins.



How easy it is to have nostalgia for a place I have yet to visit and an experience I have not experienced.

I watch shows where the sounds and scenery of Ireland lulls me to a yearning.

I have witnessed the feeling of awe at the crowds bustling in Times Square and long to be a part of that atmosphere on the daily.

I see the huge mountains of Colorado and the mysteriousness of the Grand Canyon and want to find myself there.

When will I have the oportunity to go abroad? To see the history and beauty and dampness of London?

I am yearning here in my small little kitchen inside of the state of Oklahoma and I am forgetful of all I love.

The weather isn’t so bad.The heat is stifling in the summer time and the winter is sporadic and unkind. Us Oklahomans long for the joy of spring time that seems to never come and when it finally does suddenly it is gone. The fall appears to hold promises that are too soon swept away into winter. There are things to do in the metro that I am discovering. And our sunrises are glorious due to the flatness of the land.

Yet it is always, always there, this itching in my feet to travel and explore and experience a new and exciting place.

Please, take me away.

What does it mean to be a woman?

In the 1950s, the emphasis was on being a caring wife, a wonderful mother, and a dutiful homemaker. The perfect woman was not one quick to argue, but a woman of acknowledge the wisdom in her husband’s commands. A woman worth looking up to was not one of much education, but of much poise and a clean home.

What was not commonly spoke of was the depression that these housewives experienced. With reformed twenty first centruy thinking, we are all too aware of the imperfections of the 1950s ideal of a woman and impossibility of family life. While this can be an advancement in society and we may pride ourselves in it, there is a degree to which we are not finished. As the saying goes, we have come so far, but we  have so far to go.

In today’s society, it is expected of a woman to be balanced, educated, and passionate. The external embodiment of these is the action of being a mother and wife, of having a career, and following a dream. When looking at ourselves, we women always want more of something. We want to be better mothers, better wives, better workers, and better artists.

The problem of perfectionism has not gone away. The problem of perfectionism is just found in other muses. The need to be perfect used to be about the home and about the children and about being the perfect wife. Now we want to be an amazing friend, a spiritually wise person, and a passionate follower of our dream. The reality we often face is crushing, just like the 1950s woman.

There is no such thing as the balanced woman. We, as women, will have to handle our perfectionist spirit. Let us learn to water only the gardens that we care to invest in.

These are all the things I wish to do/be/become before I die:

Woman of God (I am)









Go to my tumblr page and there is so much more!

I am praying that I become content with the women I am and slowly add to my repertoire. I am okay with, write now, being the woman I am as I work on one thing at a time.

Predicament of a Monster

Oh how I loved thee.

Your hook for a hand made me bleed.

You said “Follow Me,”

And I went to the darkest forest;

I am still here and my leader is nowhere to be found.

With a black hole as a heart you dragged me in

Shredding me to pieces, yet I remained.

I know that it is me who sits here,

But I also know that it is not who I used to be.

The men who took all of me and decided

I was now soiled and used,

The men who woke me from a coma

Only to bashed my heart and head in,

The men who whispered sweet nothings

Who in a turn of events yelled all my secrets

This one is for you:

I am the monster and you are Frankenstein.

All I am is a corpse resurrected again and again.

This is who you created, and I am nothing to you now.

Let me count the ways.

The Path Choosing

Susan, they said.

You must, you must, they insisted.

Susan, oh little Susan, you do not know what must be done;

Listen to us, sweet Susan, they implored.

All of the little flowers in the garden insisted that I follow their way

They must know best after all right?

Yet my name is not Susan.

My name is Jill.

Also, I am not a flower.

Right, right, right they said.

We are right, so you must be wrong if you do not choose our way.

I choose left.

I was not wrong; neither were they.

We both chose our paths.

Universal Concerts

The moments when we see strangers vulnerable are the best.

Looking across a coffee house and seeing a grown man singing out to One Republic are the ones where I most believe in humanity and I am the most understanding.

We all have impromptu concerts in our cars, in public, and, sometimes in a coffee shop. And understanding that we are not alone in these solo concerts is a wonderful feeling of unity.

The World is Your Oyster

The time has come

I must speak of this one thing:

I wish ever so dearly for red high heels,

Life is meant to be lived away from the harbor

Nostalgia comes in the form of typewriters and sealing wax

I hate both cauliflower as well as cabbages

I am appalled by the contrast of rags and the riches of Kings

I am not denying the possibility of a sea gone a broil

Or the account of little pigs with wings.

Yet it is none of these things which I wish to say

I only wish to comment once more

Of my undeniable favorite parts of the day:

Early in the morning, around 6 and late, late at night, around 12.

It is in the surrounding hours that I seem to work best.

I could do without the meaningless 8-5,

Filled with scanning and phone calls and time wasted.

There is life to be lived out there, my friend,

And it is up to us to take it.

A Word of Encouragement From an Acquaintance

“Jaid, I just wanted to write you a note to encourage you a bit cause the Lord laid you on my heart. When you came in I felt like the Lord just wanted to say how proud He is of you for fervently waiting. I don’t know much about you but I feel like you have an amazing gift of kindness and hospitality. The verse that came to mind was Psalm 62:5: “For God alone, oh my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is in Him alone.”

I also saw a picture of you wearing Mickey Mouse ears which I think just represented your child like faith and that the Lord wants to start speaking to you more (hence the oversized ears). I don’t know you hardly at all but I have so much love in my heart for you sweet girl. Keep loving people passionately and keep waiting The Lord rejoices over you! Zeph. 3:17 I love praying more than anything so please call me if you need prayer and I will joyfully intercede!”