I Can’t Let You Throw Yourself Away: of Sporks, Body Image, and Boyfriends

Hello, dearest friends!

Goodness gracious, it has been a whirlwind lately! What with school starting and some other fun projects (story for a later time, but I’m working on writing a historic novel), I’ve barely had time to catch my breath…but I guess six online classes will do that to you! 😉

Last weekend, I finally had time to take a break from discussion boards and quizzes, and my family went to see Toy Story 4 at our local historic movie theater. They get movies in a little later than most theaters, but it’s well worth the wait, in my opinion. The old Hollywood atmosphere is to die for, and free popcorn refills are just the icing on the moving-picture cake. 😉

Toy Story has always been a huge favorite for me, partially because one of my siblings is named Andy, and his life timeline lined up pretty closely with Andy in the movies. He went to college the same year Toy Story Andy did, and I distinctly remember my mom and I watching Toy Story 3 and bawling our eyes out in the scene where he give his toys away. Honestly, though, I think that the movie helped me process my emotions at the time. As a little sister who was super close to her brothers, having both of them move to different states—suddenly making me a virtual only child—was kind of crazy at first.

Needless to say, I had a high mental bar set when I went in to see Toy Story 4, and although there were definitely aspects I didn’t think were perfect, one character in particular had me thinking long after I went home…

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…Forky.

Continue reading “I Can’t Let You Throw Yourself Away: of Sporks, Body Image, and Boyfriends”

How Colonial Williamsburg Changed My Life: the Tale of a Redhead Patriot

Eighteen years ago, I sat on the bench you see here for the first time, as an nine month-old baby.

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Earlier this summer, I sat on it again as a new high school graduate.

You know, we humans are funny. We go about our busy lives and never stop to think about how God is connecting a bigger picture for us, and how relatively little things can impact us in enormous, positive ways.

This bench, and the place it is located, did that for me. My name is Grace, and this is the story of how Colonial Williamsburg changed my life.

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When Things Fall Apart: a Guide to Walking Away Gracefully

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Dearest readers,

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last posted! I’ve been away from the internet for about two months now due to a summer camp job, and today I’d like to talk about some things I learned through this job.

Up until this week, I had been on top of the world with this job. I was getting to serve children with chronic medical conditions, I was making friends (which meant a lot after my crazy moving process over the last year), and I really felt like I was making an impact.

This summer, I have seen countless beautiful and pure things that felt like gifts straight from God. I watched a six year-old girl with no mobility below her shoulders catch two fish while operating a fishing pole with her mouth. I watched two eight year-olds perform on stage for their peers in an act that they self-named “The Wheelchair Sisters”–their physical variance suddenly becoming a sisterly bond and something to be celebrated rather than something to be ashamed of. I watched eight diabetic tweenage girls artfully arrange their glucose meters in a heart shape for an Instagram picture and debate which filter to use. I got to hold the hand of a nine year-old girl with cerebral palsy while she belted out “a Million Dreams” on stage with more emotion and feeling than I can put into words. Perhaps best of all, I had eight little girls gathered around me before bedtime one night while I told them a fairytale story, and I saw eight pairs of bright eyes drawn into the beauty of pure, sweet imagination, completely forgetting their medical conditions for a few precious minutes while they giggled uncontrollably.

Well, this week, I had to quit that job.

Continue reading “When Things Fall Apart: a Guide to Walking Away Gracefully”

To the One Trying to Do the Right Thing

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Do the right thing.

We hear it in different forms our entire lives. From childhood on, this message seems to be at the core of everything we’re taught. For Christians like myself, it’s often said more to the tune of “do the right thing because it’s what God would want you to do.” Personally, I fully believe that this is correct, and should be at the heart of our Christian beliefs. After all, if we profess our faith but don’t show it in our everyday lives by doing this proverbial “right thing”, then we’re hypocrites, plain and simple. 

However, I also believe that in our society, the concept of “doing the right thing” is highly romanticized, especially through literature, plays, movies, and the like.

In The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian, we all cheer when Peter decides to fight a duel to the death with Miraz for the throne. In Newsies, we all rally behind Jack Kelly when he gives the bribe back to Pulitzer and joins the strike again. In the Little House on the Prairie books, we all admire Laura for vowing to become a teacher in order to make enough money to send Mary to a college for the blind. In The Princess Bride, we all root for Westley when he puts his life on the line time after time in the name of true love (or, “twu wuv”, if you’re the Impressive Clergyman). In fact, you can find a “do the right thing” moment in pretty much every book and movie.

Although I love all of these stories dearly, I think that because of them, we tend to go out into our lives imagining that there will be people applauding us when we do the right thing, and that our instrumental movie score will build up to a triumphant crescendo while sparkles float down around us.

As someone who recently had to do the right thing, I can tell you that unfortunately, this ain’t the case.

To put it simply, doing the right thing is hard. Really hard.

Continue reading “To the One Trying to Do the Right Thing”

Why Is Grace So Happy All the Time?–A Tale of Miraculous, Non-Accidental Joy

Hey all!

I hope you’re all having a wonderful week! I can’t believe the semester is almost over! I just got through with my last round of exams before finals, so a little bit of breathing is in order. 😉 In other news, this former Florida girl is thrilled out of her mind with all of the spring flowers popping up here in NC! Did y’all know that dogwood trees are a thing?! They’re everywhere right now and I’m ridiculously happy about it. 😉

Speaking of happiness, today I’d like to share with you a little anecdote from my biology class that happened just this week, and what I learned from it. I hope y’all enjoy, and by the way, make sure to follow us over on Instagram @_herheritage_ if you haven’t already! 🙂

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Yes, these are my actual DNA transcription notes from class, haha!

Recently, my biology teacher started class with a casual discussion about the differences between generations, and she mentioned that Gen Z’ers (who make up most of the class) seem to have been born with the world in their pocket and yet they don’t appreciate it.

“I tend to think that your generation isn’t really amazed by anything anymore because you were born with all of these technological advances and discoveries already around you,” she said. 

“Well, not all of you,” she added, motioning towards me.

Continue reading “Why Is Grace So Happy All the Time?–A Tale of Miraculous, Non-Accidental Joy”

The Dump Doll and What She Taught Me

Hey all!

I hope you’re having a great week! Are y’all ready for spring yet? Our yard actually has a lot of daffodils growing, which is totally mind-blowing to me! 🙂

Today we’re going to start off with a little story, so settle in! 😉

In January of last year, my parents and I took on the task of moving my grandmother from her house two hours north of us into the house next door to ours. Of course, a few months later we started all over again and moved both households to North Carolina, and we definitely learned a lot from this first move. 😉 I don’t know if you’ve ever moved someone, or yourself, but it is a huge task. As such, we were running several times a day a few miles over from her house to what we fondly call “the dump.”

On one of these trips, I wasn’t there, and my mom tried to text me this picture.

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I’m assuming you have questions about this picture. Rightly so. 😉

Continue reading “The Dump Doll and What She Taught Me”