Sour to Sweet Outlook

Like a small dot lost in the void or a cotton ball floating on aimlessly, I am a small seed. I have acted like a tree for quite sometime now. I pretended that I had a trunk and branches and green leaves. Yet when alone at home in my room tightly tucked into bed with the light off, I knew all along that I was seed. I was startled by this knowledge and burrowed it deep inside so that no one knew that I am still growing, I am still a work in progress. Often I get caught up in who I am supposed to be and who others expect me to be and I end up falling flat on my face. As I lay there with the lights off thinking about my seed-like state, I begin to have self doubt, pity, and delve into the world of depression. My thoughts turn into a battle between who I am and who I am supposed to be. Why aren’t you 30 years old with everything together yet? How can you be so alone? How can you not have a friend base yet? What is your mission on this planet? How can you not be an amazing Christian yet? No one relates to you. Be a better person; be a better friend; be a better leader; be a better daughter; be a better girlfriend. 

The seconds turn to minutes that turn to hours that turn to days and weeks and months of this self doubt attitude. I find myself evaluating conversations to see if people like me rather than finding an interest in them. Again, I remind myself that I am only a seed. I am growing, if only little by little. As I shake off this feeling of inadequacey, I look to the people and events and life going on around me that is yet to be lived and I forget. I forget who I am supposed ot be or who other people expect me to be or who I expect myself to be. I have begun to just be me.

Who am I? I am a child of God who is loved by my Father who art in heaven. I am an aspiring writer. I am a lover of indie music and a avid reader of novels. I am a girlfriend of the kindest man I’ve ever known. I am an estranged daughter and a hiker and a youth leader and a babysitter and a receptionist. I am a passionate 19 year old who fell in love with a harsh world. I have a favorite coffee drink and catch phrases and TV shows and movies that I have loved so much they feel like my own. I am healing from a lifetime of emotional abuse. I am a warrior princess who is more warrior right now. I am the beloved, I am an encourager, I am an advice giver, I am a friendly acquantence. I have the gift of mercy and I am still figuring out what that means. I love philosophy and teaching and children under 5.

Who am I?

I am seed that without my realizing it, has started ever so slightly, to grow into a small stalk.

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.

First Kiss Blues

So she goes to the ball right? And she sees like this super hot prince dude, named.. I don’t know Prince Charming or something. And he takes her by the hand and sweeps her off her feet and she’s all happy because no one ever notices the maid girl. She gets to laughing and having fun, and suddenly he kisses her. She’s so stoked. The bell chimes, once, twice, twelve times, and suddenly she pulls away. She’s late! She runs home and as her charriot turns into a pumpkin, her gown into rags, and her horses back into her mice friend, she thinks of her remaining shoe and shrugs. The next morning she wakes up to her step mother screaming for her to clean up the rug. Thinking back to the night before seems like a dream, and she can barely remember the quick kiss. She tries to think why she kissed him, if she should of, what was she thinking. All is forgotten, and she can’t understand why she thought the girl who wears rags could kiss the man who owns riches. She cries for lack of understanding, then goes back to her old identity, feeling lost in the old place. She feels like that lost and forgotten shoe on the stairs: forever will it be a half instead of a whole.


Most days, in many ways, occasionally on Sundays:

I close my eyes and dream of someone other than who I see in the mirror,

wanting more than anything to be some other face,

wishing to not be this person in the corner in a crowded place.

I cry, all the while hating myself for the weakness,

I used to be so strong before the consuming storm of distress.

I struggle as the storm rages on, the ocean I float in pulling me under

Gasping for air, I lose Up and swim to Down, a terrible blunder

A large part of me, the rusty frame I have grown accostomed to,

Aspires to drown, to just end it all and to count it as loss, say adieu

The ‘new’ me, the one I’m told to be, drills me to fight on.

The meaning of the antebellum within my core is gone.

Will I always fight, or will I finally become who I want to be?

I fear I have gone deaf, and I can no longer see.

Content in loneliness, knowing who I am when it gets dark,

Who stares in the eyes of the beast, laughs at the menace of a shark.

Feeling all this contempt for me, I feel my old skin begin to fade

And finally I realize, there are so many people to be other than Jaid.


What does it mean to change? It is not a temporary, spontaneous decision made on a whim. It is not a simple character trait that needs worked on. From now on, I want to wake up and become another person. A quiet, self sufficient girl who’s no longer afraid of rape or loneliness or disapointing people. Who no longer cares what people believe about them, because she knows who she is and that is sufficient. I don’t want to be angry, or sensitive or quickly angered. I want to be someone else. I once thought changing my name is necissary, but I read this quote today and it impacted me greatly.

“But don’t forget who you really are. And I’m not talking about your so-called real name. All names are made up by someone else, even the one your parents gave you. You know who you really are. When you’re alone at night, looking up at the stars, or maybe lying in your bed in total darkness, you know that nameless person inside you.”

I want to be the nameless person inside of me, whoever that might be.