I met Cinderella when my parents took me and my baby sister to London. I was sure I was going to see The Queen of England. We went with another homeschool family, and their mother read me the story of Cinderella on the ride in the train. I was enchanted, though now I’m not sure…
It’s scary because I’m not perfect. I still have so much life to live and so many lessons to learn! But (what if?) God is putting stories on my heart and whispering, “Please write – or draw – this for Me.” And so I try…try to write stories and draw pictures that capture a tiny bit of that “irresistible” vision of womanhood.
Does this help me walk in purity? It’s a question I try to remember to ask before I read that book or watch that film … or, even, have that conversation. But sometimes I forget. Or I choose not to ask the question because I don’t want to answer the question … not honestly! The…
I love reading. Books are beautiful – the covers, the pages, the words. The smell of the paper and the ink, too. And then there’s the story!
But what’s a girl to read? The choice of books is vast. And although it’s tempting to judge a book by it’s cover and read a book that displays a gorgeous picture or an intriguing title, that’s not always wise—not for a girl who loves Jesus.
“Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life…”
The title was … interesting.
Girls Gone Wise in a World Gone Wild? I wrinkled my nose at the computer screen. It wasn’t a bad title for a book, but … I wasn’t sure Girls Gone Wise was going to be “my” kind of book.
I was wrong.
“There is a measure of Girl-Gone-Wildness in all of us …”
Once upon a time, I greeted every new morning with a bright rendition of a song I learned way back when I was tiny: “Good morning, good morning, good morning, it’s time to rise and shine!”
Not only was it time to rise and shine, but I was ready to rise and shine. Not now. Now my first words are usually, “Oh … I’m sorry, but I’m tired, Lord.”
by Elisabeth Allen May I be honest? “The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth” is that—take a deep breath—the pain of singleness is real…deep…persistent. I hate to admit it, but when I was in my teens, I whined about singleness. I wanted to marry “my childhood sweetheart.” I didn’t, actually, have such…