A Curious Girl: A startling discovery... :-)

My carpet is red. And needs hoovering (vacuuming!).

The bedroom tidying is going pleasingly. The trick is to throw away as much stuff as possible. And I found my library card! Woohoo!

It's also kinda ironic that I like to encourage people and yet when I need encouragement, I have no idea how to get it. I'd like some encouragement. About getting a job. About following God - am I doing it right? About being shy (although obviously I'm not totally rubbish when it comes to saying what God wants me to say - see this entry - Thank you God!). About my career - my future - living with parents who don't know Jesus...

The trouble is, they just don't know how much they don't know Jesus. And I've had this feeling lately that they don't really know me - sure they know my habits, they know my talents, they have a vague idea on my interests, they know my tastes, and yet... They shut me up when I bring up God. And when I tried to tell Mum that He is the most important person in my life, she took it to mean that I love my family at Church more than I love her. No, I do love Mum very, very much. She'll always be special to me. But following God is my number 1 priority. And yet she said that she thought the best way of 'praying' was to do what you think Jesus would have done. To her, Jesus seems to be just another great figure in history to admire, along with Martin Luther King and Ghandi. It's not that she doesn't believe so much as she doesn't understand, I think. And Clive... he seems to have rejected following God as too difficult since the wonderful Catholic Church told him he shouldn't have Communion as he got married again. I don't think he's ever really known Jesus either. It's just another theory for him to consider. It's hard to get by when I can't ask them for help even in the most basic difficulties of faith. The advice to rejoice in my sufferings is comforting, but that doesn't stop me wanting to show them Jesus. But I can only show it by my actions, as they will not hear the words.

I used to be very self-concious about who read my poetry, too, but now I don't really mind, and yet Mum still thinks I'm self-conscious, thus she doesn't actually seem to care about what I write. She thinks I still plagiarise in my stories, as I did when I was eleven.

I just checked, and last entry was my 200th! Wow! Hundred entries ago I changed my layout. Actually, I'd quite like to change it again.

PS. Someone gave their life to Jesus during the Youth Service! Wow! God really did move that night.

Random word for today:

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