Faith Like Potatoes

My parents and I just watched the movie Faith Like Potatoes. It’s a very good film; it’s independant. It’s a true story.

The premis is that there is this Scotch farmer in South Africa, Angus Buchan, with his wife and children who just is angry, desperate, always works, and he just feels hopeless. His wife convinces him gto go to church and he decides to give his life, farm, family, all to God. His faith is so pure and so vibrant. When a fire gets out of control, he prays for rain and God provides it. When a local woman gets struck by lightning and dies, God uses him to bring her back to life.

So when there’s this drought in the land for months and all the scientists are saying Continue reading

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Twitter Deprived.

     Because I am not allowed to use my phone during school, I’ve been extremely Twitter deprived. And I came up with a solution, however, I feel pathetic for admitting this. 

     I labeled a page in my notebook “tweets,” and I wrote what I would tweet, had I access to my phone.  I don’t want to upload a billion tweets on Twitter because some of them are long, and there’s waaay too many to do at once.  Plus, they can also be viewed as my copping out and just blogging bullet highlights of my day.  So here goes:

 

– I think it’s amazing that some girls can sit and slouch and still be skinny and have a good figure.

-Great, my old, antique necklace is leaving gross dirt or something on my tank top.

-The girl who drives me CRAZY in my second and third our class got a mullet.

-I feel really dumb. I was just the last one to finish the pop quiz in Intro to Stats. I know I got something wrong. I looked at one I had a difficult time on off of some one else’s sheet (the teacher had stacked the papers together near my desk) and I totally messed up the order of operation.

-Self conscious. 

-Ugh. Chemistry is next.

-Note to self: bring food to eat in 3rd hour, especially Wednesdays, since we don’t have lunch. Heck, I could bring a whole mean and eat it in there.

-I like the name “Gina Lynn,” but I don’t want to use “Lynn” or “Marie” as middle names for my future kids because that’s so common.

-Chemistry is thankfully better than it was yesterday. I like my teacher better today, I actually understand what we’re doing, and it’s… almost enjoyable. My teacher seems much more happy and comfortable actually teaching, as opposed to lecturing and going over rules and such.

– I just lost the game (again).

-I love hot dogs.

-I forgot how beautiful some girls are at public school. Especially in my AP English class.

-Crazy girl asked to borrow my notes. I feel so smart!

-I’m going to prove my chem teacher wrong by getting great grades and sitting in the back.

-Because everyone talked and no one paid attention during Channel One announcements, my AP English teacher made everyone write a one-page (at least), single-spaced “journal entry” on everything they learned from watching Channel One.                                                                     Owned.

-I’m on a “your face” rampage today.

-The first song we learned in Show Choir is “Hakuna Matata.”

-I had  half a year-old chocolate bar for lunch.

-I think we should have late start + abbreviated classes everyday, not just Wednesday.

-“I can’t read the words on this map! The words are too tiny!”
  “Well, I’m sorry the world is too big for your happiness and comfort.

-My water is smarter than your water. 

 

     In show choir, we all played the “ten fingers” game, where everyone puts up ten fingers, and one-by-one, around the circle, everyone says something they’ve never done. If anyone else in the circle has, they put one finger down. The goal is to get everyone else to have no fingers left.   One of the guys got down to negative eleven.

     So, the second day of school ended up really good. Even though I liked my hair better yesterday.  =]

 

Thing to smile about #5:  Driving past places that have their sprinklers going when it’s pouring down rain.

 

 

Weather Fit For The Occasion.

     At almost this same time last year, on a Monday, I was sitting on the porch of my boyfriend-at-the-time. I was sitting on the cold, cement steps, in an oversized hoodie. His arm was round me and my hair was simply and carelessly pulled back. I had on little make up because most of it had been cried away earlier that morning. It was raining and dreary – appropriate weather for the most recent, tragic happenings.

     The Friday before was a regular school day. I had survived my first hour class, Honors English, and had routinely sang through second-hour Chorale. Lunch was as boring and uninteresting as it usually was. I had, again, not brought anything to eat and had, again, half-intentionally, not brought money to buy food. My table consisted of a few girls and fewer guys, all of whom I currently or previously shared choir with, except for one girl, who I met during the musical of the last school year. Three guys and four girls at my table, usually.

     Two of the girls were inseparable – they still are. They were both energetic and loved everything Disney and musicals. The girl I had met in the last school musical had red hair and played the piano. One guy had moved to America from Mexico before his sophomore year. I had met him the year before. Another was a boy I had gone to homecoming of freshman year “with.” Both were in Chorale. One boy was a freshman (who had come into the high school from the same middle school as I had attended), a bass in my choir, and the quietest one at the table. None of us really went out of our way to talk to him, but it wasn’t as if we ignored him or shunned him in any way. For the preceding couple weeks, he had offered to share a part of his lunch or had offered me a dollar or two. That Friday was no exception. He offered me some of his meal, consisting of a bag of chips, a carton of milk, and a burrito. Not particularly being a fan of any of those, I declined gratefully.

     The rest of that day was normal and uneventful. Or, rather, I assume it was uneventful because I don’t particularly remember anything else happening that day, or even the next. On Sunday, the speaker at my church (which was half an hour away from my home) had commented on the death of two local boys that had died in  a car crash. He named them and, at the time, it didn’t cause any bells to ring or any lit light bulbs to appear above my head. When I got home, I checked my Myspace (as I did religiously). When I looked in the bulletin space, I saw bulletin after bulletin entitled “Tim, we will miss you” and “Tim and Josh” and, finally, “RIP Tim and Josh.”

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