In the past month, terrorists have shot teenagers jumping to the beat of a rock concert in Paris, killed customers in a bar, slaughtered families in Syria...the list goes on. As more violence occurs each day, the world’s immediate reaction is to capture the murderer and punish him. That very act, however, is shrouded in controversy. Is it moral to punish people with death? Does the methods of execution matter? From the time of the Israelites, executions have come in many forms--the Roman crucifixions, the guillotines, Nazi gas chambers, and today’s lethal injections or electric chairs.

I pulled into the drive and found a spot to park my car. I took the key out of the ignition and put it in my purse. I looked at my hands, palms up. They were shaking and sweating like crazy. I clenched them into fists to steady them and gritted my teeth.
"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "It'll be better this way."

I stand on the plateau and look down. On the left hand I see the twisted and mangled bodies of those who fell. Poor souls. They trusted in their own strength. On the right hand I see those who continue to climb. Some occasionally slip back and some fall even as far as the deepest part of the valley, but all lift holy hands to the heavens in a petition for grace before pressing forward. I have made it across the Jordan River and now I am at the home gates. God is good. God is faithful. I do not deserve to be in this place. I can reach out and touch the Light of heaven from where I stand.

July 4th, 2009
Dear Journal,
Today was a good day. The Grays invited Mom and I to go to a fireworks display with them. I sat with Josh and Kelly. When the fireworks started Josh tried to hold my hand so I slapped his hand. He said he was just being friendly so I told him that I didn't like that kind of "friendly" and that if he wasn't careful I would have to stop being around him. So he went back to his old way of being friendly, which I like much better. Kelly just glared at him and told him to leave me alone. She's pretty mad at him for the way he treated Courtney.

When tears I cry I cry for me,
In selfish pride my tears flow.
I know this doesn't have to be;
It doesn't and this I know.

But when He cried His bitter tears
He wept with grief, not shame.
He payed for sins of all the years,
And still we mocked His name.

Our Lord and Savior took the blow,
He sacrificed His life, in love.
We murmur as we reap and sow,
While He looks pitying from above.

"The end is the eternal beginning for some, and for others it is yet the eternal ending."
My grandad used to say that to my Daddy back when I was a little kid, and then he would take out his Bible and read from it. My daddy always got mad and left, dragging me along to the truck. Momma always cried when he did that, and looked back at grandad as if to say she was sorry for the mean things daddy said. So that's why we didn't visit Grandad and Gramma very often.

A bitter wind blows its warning breath,
thunder rolls in angry protest,
I taste the dread; the tempest that is to come.
It feels like a meeting,
a date if you will, with the doomed sky.
Clouds suddenly are torn asunder,
grey visages weeping,
keeping unsteady time with their tears.
Lightning strikes and all is hushed;
for a moment, time stands still.
The clouds begin weeping again,
a silent lament to the inevitable,
waiting for the sun to once again
dry their tears.

Red yellow orange brown and gray;
These are not the colors of May.
Leaves and pine needles on trees so tall,
Yes, these are colors of the melting fall.
Some will say it looks dreary and dead.
They wish for cheerier seasons ahead.
This season of colors so serious and warm
Holds promise of tranquility after the storm.
A symbol of death in beauty falling down;
In piles gathered making a crown.
Death to self given for life from above:
So much less than we give for His love.
Beauty for ashes and joy on the 'morrow;

Matthew 5:14-16
Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.
Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

The bells are tolling,
but I do not hear their sound.
I am caught up in something
so much more profound.

I see women weeping
with men of solemn face,
but I do not feel as they do,
wrapped in arms of grace.

A whispered silence falls,
like the heads of those that bow,
but oh, if they could only see
the rejoicing around me now!

They would hear a mighty chorus
and the dazzling colors see.
Then they too would rejoice,
for death is only the beginning of eternity.