Letters Between Sundays

recent posts

about

  • A Chapter In Progress

    Heres a little update about my life recently.

    I dont have a boyfriend, I am however waiting for Gods timing, trying to stay patient and not take over control. I have no idea what my career plan is, I graduate in seven months with a degree that I didn’t even want. Again, I am waiting for Gods perfect timing, he has a plan for my life and I am trying to wait patiently. After I graduate, theres really nothing keeping me here so why not move. Should I move? Been thinking a lot lately about my future. Im not close with God right now, I have been off and on with reading my bible and talking to him in my day to day life. I know why, but im trying to fix it. Im currently on pause for righting my book, starting school has been stressful and trying to find the motivation to write is difficult. Right now my baking business is on limbo, I haven’t been getting orders like I usually do and thats very discouraging and Im wondering if its even what God wants me to do. My mommy is my best friend right now, I have came to the conclusion that the only person that has my back (besides God) is my mom. She has been there for everything detail in my life, and she has been right about everything. And I mean everything. Im thinking about looking for a different church, my church is great, I love the older folk and how much wisdom and guidance I get but I feel like I dont belong.

    This season of my life is confusing, ill be 22 with a bachelors degree, not knowing what to do next. I know God will aways provide, but I cant help think that maybe I dont deserve it. I know me thinking this way doubts Gods ability, this self guilt I have for ¨being behind in life,¨ or not have a ¨ ten year plan,¨ or not being married at the ¨ right age.¨ I am really confused and lost in this moment of my life. I dont know what Im doing and if im doing anything right, I know I need to draw back to God, and I will eventually. I know he has a plan, but its my fault if we stop on the path, in order´ for me to chase a butterfly. Gods waiting patiently for me to come back, I just need to stop chasing a dream that will lead me to the edge of the world.

    I need to have faith in the Lord, he will guide me on the best pathway of my life. Right now, im sitting at work, wondering what tomorrow will bring. Or I think a better saying would be ¨ What opportunities will I have to praise God tomorrow.

    – Gods plan.

  • A Walking Target

    • This blog contains SA and personal experience

    Women have been getting sexualized since eve ate the apple.

    When were little girls, strange men in grocery stores would stare, saying to our mother ¨ oh she’s going to be driving the boys crazy when she gets older.¨ or ¨ Keep an eye out for this one! shes too pretty!¨ Writing this makes me feel like a liberal because some older folks wont find any harm in this, and to tell you the truth, there shouldn’t be. But men have made us their prey. Yes its not all men, but how do you know which ones?

    When I was little, my Nana would tell me that I needed to go put on clothing that covers my body when Im around guys in the family, meaning, my moms boyfriend, my uncles, my brother and my cousins. This has taught me from a young age that what im wearing is a problem.

    I was exposed to sex at a very young age. I went to a public school, so on the bus this boy ( whos name is still know) showed me how we are suppose to have sex and what it is. I was nine years old.

    There was this girl, lets call her Shelby, she would show me these sex games and would usually be sexual towards me. I was pretty young, to the point of not knowing what was happening.

    When being exposed at a very young age you have a different look on being sexualized and how to use sex at your advantage. My first boyfriend was when I was thirteen years old. Obviously we did stuff, since it was happening to me at a very young age, I just thought this is how people show there love to you.

    I seen how men looked at me, I was a growing teen and a flaunted my body, for what reason? that is all that I knew. Maybe is was for attention, maybe is was to feel loved, I think deep down I was confused and needed to be loved.

    High school hit and I lost a lot of weight, and my boobs got bigger and my butt also grew. This is when I started to feel uncomfortable with men staring at me. There was a incident with a student freshmen year, he was a senior it was during school. Was it my fault? was it because of my clothes? It was after my first class of the day..swimming. I blamed myself.

    No matter where women go, we will always have to be on the look out. And what i have experienced, its not just guys. Its women too.

    I started cheer in high school and we would always do these sleep overs, my mom never let me sleep over at someone’s house before. After that night I understood why. Was it my pajamas that made her do that to me? That night I called my mom to come pick me up, I never told her why.

    Before coming to Christ, I knew a couple of things about be sexualized. I didn’t receive loved or attention if I was putting out. If someone wants to do something to me, let them because thats how they show there love, use your body to manipulate people and get what you want. I was broken and how of my mind when it came to sex. I was sleeping with random strangers, masturbating constantly, depressed all the time with all the hurt that I went threw. I thought I was a freak, how did I let all those things happen to me, what did I do? Why do men stare, why do men grab, why do men make dirty jokes or little comments about your body. Why do women think they can SA another girl and shrug it off like there was just ¨experimenting?¨ I was answering these question with the same answer. Because I was doing something wrong. But thats not true.

    After giving my life to Christ, I know that none of that is my fault or theres. Its sin. After Adam and Eve ate the apple, sin was brought into the world and its lives in everyone. I had to learn that real love and protection, security come from God, not my body.

    Today I went and got my nails done. The place I go to is run by a family owned company and theres Chinese, so they dont speak good english. A man did my nails today, and here is how it went. The whole time hes winking at me, licking his lips, and making faces at me. I smile and try not to make eye contact, I dont want to be rude. He asked for my name and I told him, he started to say it very sexual, and then he asked for my age. I told him Im twenty-one years old. While licking his lips and making tongue gestures he says ¨ Oh you might be to young but that okay.¨ I pretended like I couldn’t understand him, waiting to get up as soon as I can. Underneath the counter he presses his leg against mine. I was frozen like a statue, I honestly had no words. Luckily my mom came over to check on me to see how long I still had, I was thankful she did because he started to caress my arms and hands with oil, and my mom said no.

    The point of this blog isn’t to tell my story and to get pity, but its for me to acknowledge that it can happen anywhere and everyone with anyone, and I always have to keep my guard up. I love being a women, but sometimes it has its down falls. Stay safe out there girlies xoxo

  • Quicksand

    My feelings are like quicksand. Once I feel, I start to sink fast — pulled under to the point of suffocation.

    The part I hate most about being a girl is emotions. Talking about them. Feeling them. Having to understand other people’s emotions. I’m not the type of girl who sits around and talks about how hurt I am. To me, that feels weak and immature. I was taught to shove everything down and forget about it.

    “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” As a fat girl in middle school, those words hurt so much they made me consider suicide. And the thing is, no one cared. I talked to the principal, the school counselor, and teachers, but the bullying kept happening. So, I learned to build thick skin. At home, fights would break out, words would be thrown, feelings would get hurt — but no one talked about it. You just had to deal with it and move on.

    My whole life, my feelings weren’t validated. To be even more specific, they weren’t validated by females. Ironically, they were the ones who did most of the abusing and bullying.

    In high school, my friendships with girls were toxic, manipulative, and draining. But I had boyfriends and guy friends who actually saw me. Yes, some of them were addicts or just chasing something from me, but at least they saw me. They liked me for who I was. They didn’t try to change me. They validated my feelings.

    Back then, I coped by popping pills, drinking, smoking, self-harming, and putting myself in danger 24/7. I felt so much that when everything came out, I thought I was losing my mind. There’s something about a high — adrenaline or marijuana — that can make everything feel “okay.” It lifted the weight off my shoulders, even if just for a moment.

    Sometimes, as a disciple of the Lord, I still struggle not to go back to that, because it made me feel like I didn’t have to feel. But when the high ended, the chaos always returned.

    I don’t do those things anymore. Now, I face my pain and emotions sober, with God by my side. I’d rather have that than the emptiness I used to chase. Coming into the church and learning emotional skills has helped me heal. I’m still learning and growing, and I’m okay with that. I have a hard time talking about what hurts me, but I try not to get discouraged.

    It’s reasons like today that make me avoid getting emotionally attached to people. I start to sink again, into quicksand. I remember all the times I got shot down, nitpicked, ignored. The moments no one noticed my hurt, when no one opened up besides me, when I was the only one trying. Insecurity creeps in, whispering that it’d be easier to fall back into old habits. Why bother talking if my words just disappear into the air?

    Am I weird? Am I too much? Being called “weird” isn’t an insult. It means I’m different. How can I apologize for being a bright blue crayon in a box of grey crayons? Why can’t “weird” be something beautiful?

    I’m loud, extroverted, funny, sarcastic, energetic, and full of creative ideas. Do I really need to dull myself down? I love too hard. I’m always either too much or not enough. I’m told to be more responsible, but also to watch how my personality affects others.

    Quicksand.

    Who am I supposed to be, if being myself isn’t an option?

    So, I’ll keep my mouth shut and sit in the quicksand. Quiet and alone. The only bright blue crayon.

  • Home Sick

    You’d think I wouldn’t be homesick, knowing how my family is. But I guess once you get older, you see everything differently. You stop looking at the world through childlike glasses and start seeing it through adult lenses. Suddenly, you appreciate your mom, you actually want to hang out with your brother, and you find yourself wanting to help close relatives instead of hiding from them. Growing up is weird like that. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being five again—playing dress up, hosting tea parties with my Nana, and having no idea what was waiting ahead. Can you be homesick for a specific time in your life? I think I am.

    My mom and I didn’t have the greatest relationship growing up. Honestly, from ages thirteen to nineteen, we barely liked each other. I was defiant—sneaking around, lying, stealing cigarettes, even experimenting with drugs. Behind closed doors, it was chaos. Yet, in public, I was “Perfect Paris.” At home, though? It was daily fights, screaming matches, and my mom constantly invading my privacy (which, looking back, I get now—I was sneaky when it came to boys). Our relationship was toxic, suffocating, and controlling. We loved each other, sure, but we didn’t like each other. We were glued to the hip in all the worst ways—imagine a dysfunctional duo that probably belonged on Dr. Phil. That was us.

    College, in an odd way, saved us. We needed that space. More importantly, when I gave my life to God and put Him above everything—including my mom—things shifted. I started treating her with the love and respect God calls us to show others, and slowly, our relationship began to heal. It wasn’t easy learning to put God before my mom, but it created something beautiful between us.

    Funny enough, a TV show has also shaped how I see her now. I started watching Gilmore Girls and didn’t think I’d like it—but here I am, already on season five in a month. The mother-daughter bond between Lorelai and Rory hit me hard. They’re best friends, telling each other everything. Watching them made me gentler, more compassionate, and more grateful for my mom. It showed me what our relationship could look like when love, respect, and friendship come first.

    And here’s what I’ve realized: I’m the velcro kid. I used to think it was my brother, but no—it’s me. I call my mom ten to twenty times a day, I always want to go home (and usually do), everything makes me think of her, and I’d rather hang out with her than most of my friends. Nothing against my friends, but my mom is my best friend. Sometimes I even wonder about my future—getting married, moving away—and in every version of my life, my mom is still right there. And honestly? I’m okay with that.

    Because homesickness isn’t about missing a place. It’s about missing people. I miss my mom and my little sister Abijoy. I miss my childhood bond with my brother. I miss coming home from school and telling my mom every detail of my day, Nana living next door and letting me spend the night at her house, family game nights where we’d play euchre until 2 a.m., yelling and laughing the whole time. I miss my mom doing my hair and picking out my clothes. I’m homesick for my childhood.

    Mom and I have been through a lot together. But if we never walked through the hard times, we wouldn’t appreciate the good ones. I’m okay with being homesick. I’m okay with not being a “true adult” yet and still wanting my mom. I’m a proud Mama’s Girl.

  • The After Life

    ¨ It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed.” – 1 Corinthians 15:52

    Today is September 23rd, and it’s been all over the internet this past week that today was going to be judgment day. People claim they know when He is coming and can’t wait so that we Christians will leave and they can make the earth a “better” place. This makes me feel so sad for those who don’t believe. Don’t they understand that on the day of judgment, they will be standing in front of God? What are they going to say to Him—that they still don’t believe? The amount of nasty and vulgar things I’ve seen online about God breaks my heart.

    For those reading this who don’t believe, I will be praying over you. I pray that your heart becomes soft to the Word of God. I pray that you can hear God calling you and that you go to Him. I pray that you understand that God loves you and is waiting for you. What can it hurt?

    “However, no one knows the day or hour when these things will happen, not even the angels in heaven or the Son himself. Only the Father knows.” – Matthew 24:36

    I remember when I was a little girl, I would cry to my mother and Nana at night because I didn’t want to die. Almost every night, as bedtime approached, I would overthink and panic about the afterlife. I remember praying over my family for what probably felt like hours, crying because I was scared. I would think about what happens when we die. I always imagined it as a vast pool of nothing, pitch-black space with only thoughts and nothing else. Even now, I still feel a little panicked thinking about the afterlife.

    Growing up, we weren’t disciples of God; we just believed that He existed. I was taught that everyone goes to heaven and that there’s a thing called reincarnation, where when we die, we could either stay in heaven or come back to earth as an animal of our choosing. As a kid, this sounded pretty cool, and I believed in it with my whole heart.

    When I began studying the Bible, my mentors started talking about heaven and how to get there. Then they hit me with the reality: “You know not everyone goes to heaven, right?” I instantly freaked out and began crying, probably because my Nana had just passed away, and I thought I would get a chance to see her again. It was hard for me to wrap my head around this for a long time and to change my belief in reincarnation.

    My mother told me that when Papa died, he turned into a yellow butterfly. I believed it because every single time our whole family was together, we would see a yellow butterfly. This summer, on our family vacation to the Outer Banks, we saw a yellow butterfly the entire time. Do I believe it was my grandfather? Not exactly. But I do believe that God sends us messages, and this could have been one from Papa. The same goes for Nana—when she passed, people thought she turned into a cardinal. Those who knew her and noticed the cardinal might believe it was her spirit.

    As I spend more time with Christ, reading the Word and committing my life to Him, I’m learning to live by the Bible—believing everything in it and not believing anything that isn’t from God.

    “You can enter God’s Kingdom only through the narrow gate. The highway to hell is broad, and its gate is wide for the many who choose that way.” – Matthew 7:13

    When I think about heaven, I always wonder what it will look like and what will be there. The Bible talks about how our treasures are stored in heaven and that we all have mansions. This is beautiful, but I wonder: Will there be seasons, snow to sled on, leaves to jump in, animals, rivers, and streams? What about the parts of creation we didn’t get to experience on Earth, like the rainforests or oceans? Where do all the animals go? Personally, I think treasures in heaven could include His creations. I love the animals and all the fun things God has created. I even wonder if there’s a racetrack up there so I can have my Challenger.

    I don’t think asking these questions is bad. The most important thing is that I will be praising the Lord for eternal life. What is your treasure?

    “Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal.” – Matthew 6:20

  • M.I.A

    How can this be a daily blog if I’ve been M.I.A. the last two weeks? Well, I can tell you—I’ve been making a lot of excuses for why I haven’t been writing.

    What does M.I.A. stand for? It means Missing in Action. But was I really missing, or was I just making excuses?

    When I decided to stop writing my daily blogs, I told myself it was for God. I’ve been going through some things, and I know that fasting can help you hear Him more clearly, draw closer to Him, and ultimately help change your heart and mind. So, I told myself I would fast from my blog.

    In the Bible, fasting is often about food, but if you have health issues or take medication that requires food, you can fast from other things. Ultimately, you can fast from anything you enjoy, anything that comes before God, or anything that brings you discomfort. For me, giving up TV wasn’t a big deal—I could live without it. But fasting from one of my hobbies, something I’ve poured time into—like this blog—that was tough. It’s not that blogging is bad, but fasting means showing God you’re willing to lay down anything and everything to grow closer to Him.

    But as the days went on, I wasn’t spending time in prayer or in my Bible during this “fast.” I started to wonder: why am I even doing this? Then it hit me—I’ve been struggling with a lot: my thoughts, my eating, people-pleasing, self-hatred, and most of all, depression. And instead of being honest with myself, I used “fasting” as a way to cover up the fact that I wasn’t keeping up with my writing. That way, I didn’t have to feel guilty.

    I didn’t realize this until last week, and when I did, I felt awful. But it also made me think: do I have too much on my plate right now? Am I expecting more from myself than I can realistically handle? It was a lot to process.

    I realized I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself, setting deadlines I couldn’t keep up with on top of life. So from now on, with this blog, I’m choosing peace. I’ll decide each day whether I’m going to write or not. Who knows—maybe it’ll be last minute, like this post. – goodnight

  • The Soundtrack of My Season

    Here is a list of songs, ive been listening to lately. My life in music.

    • Gratitude – Brandon Lake
    • Funeral – Lukas Graham
    • Good Old Days – Macklemore Ft. Kesha
    • If you want love – NF
    • Hold on – Chord Overstreet
    • Little do you know – Alex & Sierra
    • Mercy – Shawn Mendes
    • Unsteady – X Ambassadors
    • The Prodigal – Josiah Queen
    • Leave a Light On – Tom Walker
    • Water Fountain – Alec Benjamin
    • Let Her Go – A Thousand Years
    • What An Awesome God – Phil Wickham
    • Gone, Gone, Gone – Phillip Phillips
    • Jar Of Hearts – Christina Perri
    • House Of The Lord – Phil Wickham
    • Counting Stars – OneRepublic
    • I will Wait – Mumford & Sons
    • This Is How I Think The Lord – Solomon Powell
    • My Promise Land – Josiah Queen
    • 21 Guns – Green Day

  • Out Of Control

    Am I in the driver seat or is God?

    “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.” – Proverbs 3:5

    Do you know the feeling of not having control? The panic sets in, the anxiety builds, and you start scrambling for another way to grab control back — sometimes in faster, more destructive ways. Whether it hurts you or others, it feels like the only way to regain authority over your own life.

    I was diagnosed with OCD when I was five years old. My mother took me to a pediatric psychologist after noticing I sorted my toys rather than playing with them. I would line them up by color, shape, or type, and I did the same with my brother’s toys. By nine, I had Bratz and Monster High dolls. I never played pretend with them — I sorted their clothes and shoes, created outfits in a strict order, dressed them, and put them away.

    As a teenager, my OCD shifted into food rituals. I would sort my food, or color-code the days of the week with certain meals. As I grew older, it became more repetitive behaviors: turning the door handle a certain number of times, flicking the lights on and off, or believing if I didn’t cover my mouth while sleeping, I would die in my sleep. The intrusive thoughts grew worse with age.

    On the outside, people saw me as perfect: blonde hair, blue eyes, a 3.8 GPA, a university student, active in clubs and sports, running an online bakery, never in “trouble.” But inside, I was falling apart. OCD often looks like control — like everything has to be done a certain way or something bad will happen. But really, it’s anxiety disguised as control. What was I trying to control?

    In many ways, my mother planned my life for me. I don’t hold anger toward her — I believe she thought she was doing what was best. But it often felt like someone else was doing the thinking, and I just had to act the part. I had to look, perform, and be perfect. And since I wasn’t perfect inside, I grasped at control through destructive habits — self-harm and disordered eating.

    Self-harm doesn’t always mean cutting. It can look like sleeping too long, picking at your skin, biting your lips, neglecting food, avoiding showers, or mentally blocking yourself from healthy choices. All of it is a form of control — or at least the illusion of it.

    “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” – Jeremiah 29:11

    I think most people struggle with control in some way. It’s human nature. But when I came into the church, I had to learn what it really meant to let go of control and surrender it to God. At first, it sounded crazy — and honestly, it still does some days. But I’ve seen the fruit of it.

    Surrendering isn’t just about school or work. It’s about everything: how we think, how we act, how we see ourselves, our insecurities, relationships, money, time, even food. Some areas are harder than others. This year, giving my eating habits over to God was one of the most freeing things I’ve ever done. I also had to surrender school, jobs, living situations, friendships, and relationships. Only then did I realize how much I was trying to control on my own. And when I was in control, everything fell apart. But when I gave it to God, things worked out in ways I could never plan.

    “We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.” – Proverbs 16:9

    Of course, I still wrestle with this daily. This past month, I felt myself slipping back. My roommate situation, not getting into the nursing program, my stalker resurfacing, being single, not having a clear plan for the future — I panicked. I started applying for new jobs even though I already had one, looking at other schools, making five-year plans, over-exercising, and letting old habits creep back in. I tried to take control instead of asking God what He wanted me to do with my time.

    Eventually, I had to stop running and talk to Him. I confessed that I was spiraling. I felt guilty, like a bad disciple, and the enemy whispered that I didn’t belong here. But when I finally sat still, prayed, and listened, God reminded me of the truth: He is in control, not me. My role is to keep trusting Him, stay vulnerable with my sisters, and invite Him into every decision.

    Now, instead of clinging to destructive habits, I focus on what I do have control over: how I treat myself, how I treat others, what I eat for breakfast, and what I wear for the day. The little choices. When I give God the big things, and focus on the small things within my reach, I feel peace.

    I am His daughter, and He will always provide. He can’t work in my life unless I hand Him the tools.

    “Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust Him, and He will help you.” – Psalm 37:5

  • Work hard get money?

    Lazy people are soon poor; hard workers get rich. – Proverbs 10:4

    Since I was a little kid, I knew what hard work was and why we do it. I saw my mother and nana work hard their whole lives. My mom was a single mom raising two kids on her own, working and taking care of a home. Nana lived next door, and she was the most independent woman I’ve ever known. I would come over, and at the age of 68 she was cutting her own grass, pulling weeds, and putting down mulch in her backyard. Nana was a worker—she had to be. She grew up in Detroit as a foster kid, worked hard all her life, and raised her daughter to be the same way. My mom then raised me that way too. Do you see the pattern? It’s all women who do all the work.

    Growing up, my brother and I had very different childhoods. He was the baby of the family and didn’t have to do much. He was defiant, talked back, and usually got what he wanted. We both had chores, but he didn’t really have to do his. I, on the other hand, was taught that the women did everything while the man sat around and did nothing. It was normal in our family. I did the dishes, helped Mom with dinner, cleaned up after, took the trash out, and did both inside and outside work. On top of helping my mom, I also had to help Nana next door. When I was little, I didn’t have a choice. As I got older, I had a little more say, but the work never really went away.

    My first job was when I was twelve. I worked a newspaper route for the Daily Telegram. My brother Payton also got a route, but after a month of me doing his work, he quit—and my mom made me keep doing his route anyway. I hated it. I didn’t even want to do my own route, but as the girl, I had to take it on.

    My second job was landscaping around our neighborhood. That job was better since I got paid in cash and only worked a few hours a week during the summers.

    At that point in my life, I was already juggling sports, clubs, social events, and helping my mom and Nana. I became stressed and a nervous wreck if I ever had a moment where I wasn’t doing something. I thrived on being busy, stressed, and working.

    “Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

    I’ve been working nonstop for the past nine years. I haven’t gone a single year without having a job or a side hustle. I’ve never truly been at rest.

    When I first came into the church, this weighed heavy on me. Everyone had jobs and seemed to love working and making money. But then we started a book club, and the book we read was called The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. It talked about how sometimes we need to slow down, be still, and find rest in God. I’ll be honest—I didn’t even read the first chapter. But now, I think I need to, because I’m struggling with whether I should be working right now or not.

    My whole life, I’ve thought about my future: how to get there, how much money I’ll need. I’ve always dreamed of a big house in the country with a little farm and a lot of kids. And I know you need money for that. But what I never factored in is that my husband would also have a job and provide for me. That thought used to make my skin crawl, because my mom taught me never to rely on a man. But now? I’ve given my life to One. Jesus. I rely on Him for everything. When I think about my money situation, I realize He’s never failed to provide.

    So, would I be okay if I didn’t work? Would God provide? I think He would. I think with the jobs I have now, I’m doing good things, but I still wonder if this is truly the work He wants me to be doing.

    “Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and He will give you everything you need.” – Matthew 6:33

    As an independent woman, reading the Bible and learning that men are meant to provide, protect, and love me like how christ loves the church, I was shocked. I didn’t know how to act knowing I don’t have to carry it all. It both frightens and reassures me.

    I’ll admit—I’m tired of working. That doesn’t mean I’m lazy. I have my online bakery, and I’m writing a book, which will both, in time, become ways to provide income. But right now, I’m realizing that maybe God is calling me to rest, to slow down, and to trust Him more.

    There are a lot of questions I still need to ask myself. But if God is putting this on my heart, then maybe the real question isn’t should I work or not? Maybe the real question is: will I trust Him enough to listen?

  • Questions in life right now

    Do You Have the Answers to My Questions?

    Recently, I have been thinking about a lot of questions—some good, some bad, and some just plain stupid. I know I’m a girl, but I’m also a disciple of God, and when trying to form answers for these questions, these two sides of me bump heads. As a Christian, I feel like we are always being pulled in two different directions—not in everything, but in certain parts of our lives. For me, it’s boys.

    A lot of these questions aren’t about the boy I like. They’re more about the brothers in the church—how I treat them, view them, talk to them, and so on.

    I wouldn’t say I’m “one of the boys,” because I’m not. I LOVE being a girl. We get to wear cute outfits, cute shoes, paint our fingernails, do our makeup, and just be girls!! I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Even though we go through a week of torment every month, we still get some great moments in that week. For example, calories don’t count when you’re on your period. Also, you can lounge and be comfy, and we can be as emotional as we want to be. It’s great!

    Being a girl has its ups and downs, but I think God knew what He was doing. He’s definitely a girl dad.

    The one thing I do struggle with is opening up to the girls in the church. It’s something I’m working on, and that’s okay. But I was having a conversation with a particular brother tonight, and we were talking about how it’s easier for us to open up to the opposite gender. We even considered ourselves best friends at one point because of how close we got—sharing personal details about what we were going through and how we felt.

    Not to mention, with the other brothers, we banter back and forth, talk in person, play fight, and I feel like I can be myself around them. Last weekend I literally did a push-up contest with one of them… I failed. But I’ve had people talk to me about this—how I need to set boundaries with the brothers and be more like this with the sisters.

    My past self would have been stubborn and prideful, thinking, “This is stupid,” or “I don’t see anything wrong here.” But now I can see why this can be concerning.

    So here are the questions I wrestle with:

    • Am I leading some of the brothers on?
    • Am I protecting their hearts?
    • What does this say about me as a person of Christ?

    This past week, I’ve been doing a lot of growing in my relationship with the sisters—working on not being reactive and trying to get in touch with my emotions. Those are good things. But what I’m not adding to the equation is stopping everything with the brothers.

    I think to myself, “The sisters wouldn’t get it,” or “Every time I want to open up with them it’s awkward. The guys are just different.”

    But if the sisters are good listeners, if they talk to me, answer my questions, and are there for me, then why do I still go to the brothers?

    Is it for attention or validation? Is it because they just listen and let me hear what I want to hear?

    I’ve really been thinking about these questions. I thought about the whole attention thing because of my past, but I feel secure in God now. I don’t feel like I’m seeking validation from men—I feel like I’ve learned to get that from Him. I think with the brothers, I simply look at them as brothers, so I treat them like family.

    There’s one brother I’ve recently gotten closer with. I realized we had a lot in common growing up—stress, school, parents, and trying to be #1. It’s nice to know that someone understands and has gone through the same things. I’m also close with his mom; I see her as a mother figure. She gives really good advice and support.

    Last week, I made plans to hangout with one of the brothers and some other people, I wasn’t thinking anything of it. Today, he told me it’s just going to be the two of us.

    Now, if you’re reading this and you’re from the world, you’d think this is fine. But as a disciple, there are a lot of questions you need to consider:

    • Is it wise to be alone with a brother?
    • If the brother likes me, am I protecting his heart?
    • How do I act around him when we’re alone versus in a group setting?
    • How should I think about this situation?
    • Should I get advice?
    • Should I cancel?
    • Should I talk to him about boundaries?

    There’s a lot to ask yourself in this type of situation. And honestly, I know the answers to a lot of these. I just don’t want to listen to myself, because I want to do what my flesh wants and not what’s godly.

    By writing this blog, I’ve already started to come up with the conclusion to this problem—so thank you.

    At the end of the day, there are always going to be questions. For me, this area is with guys. For you, it might be something completely different. But being wise, looking ahead, and getting advice is worth it in the end. Because if you’re like me, you’ll do something stupid and either ruin something or make things complicated. I’ve done this a lot.

    But here’s what I’m learning: it’s not wrong to have questions. It’s about where you go for the answers. I don’t want to just trust my feelings or my flesh. I want to trust God, protect hearts—including my own—and grow into the woman He’s calling me to be.