THE SINGLE GIRL’S STICK FIGURE FAMILY BUMPER STICKERS

There are a lot of things I’ve seen people stick on their cars. Antlers. Pink handlebar moustaches. Menorahs.

But the stick figure family bumper sticker has infected more cars than the Toyota recall of yesteryear.

stick figure

So what do you do if you are a single girl sans stick companions to slap on your car’s rear window?

 

For the single girl who has everything she will ever need:

girl and nutella 2

me myself i 2

me and jesus 2

girl netflix 2 copy

 

 

For the single and searching girl:

single and searching 2

 

 

For the single girl who has given up all hope:

cat lady 2

You’re welcome, ladies. You’re welcome.

-m

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Where feet may fail

G:

I’ve been listening to that latest Hillsong song a lot. You know the one. The one that goes on somewhere between 8-12 minutes. And everyone that’s singing is Australian.

OK, it’s the one about oceans and feet failing and being called to step out upon the waters into the great unknown.

I’m a good hour and a half drive from the Atlantic right now, but I feel like you have me ready to jump onto some mighty waves before the ocean reaches optimal summer temperature.

And I’m nervous.

And I’m not ready.

So instead I worry. I worry about taking the wrong step, hopping onto the wrong wave, feet failing. Sinking. Sinking into the great unknown. Where there are probably sharks.

But just like the song says, You are there in the unknown:

You call me out upon the waters

The great unknown

Where feet may fail

And there I find you in the mystery

In oceans deep my faith will stand

My faith is like my arm muscles. They don’t become strong unless I put them to use. My faith isn’t going to get stronger if I’m sitting in the safety of the boat. My faith becomes stronger when I actually listen to the call to get out of the boat and step onto the waters.

You didn’t let Peter drown. I know you won’t let me either.

Your grace abounds in deepest waters

Your sovereign hand will be my guide

Where feet may fail and fear surround me

You’ve never failed

And you won’t stop now

Help me choose not to waste a single hour of my life worrying about the mystery of my life, because it’s not a mystery to you.

My great unknown is your great known.

So lead me. Call me out from the boat and onto the waters. Wherever that may be. Whatever the temperature. (Preferably with Flipper not Jaws.)

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever you would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

Your child,

m

AN OPEN LETTER TO PEETA MELLARK

(Because Catching Fire just came out on DVD)

Like food poisoning, my love for you came on suddenly and without forewarning.

There I was sitting in a crowded theatre of tween girls and I found myself squealing in decibels I’ve only believed to be in a gerbil’s register.

My mind quickly replayed Catching Fire staring me, in a side braid and cargo pants:

(I’m practicing my archery skills in the backyard on some soda cans I’ve lined up on a fence. I  shoot. Miss. Hit a stray cat that happens to be walking by. It shrieks, dies. My depth perception and prescription are clearly far worse than Katniss’. YOU appear.)

 YOU: It’s almost time to go. The lady with the hair the color of cotton candy is here. Her dress is made out of butterflies.

(You stare out into the woods to avoid eye contact. I notice you are carrying a bag of freshly baked cookies.)

ME AS KATNISS: I love a man that brings me baked goods.

(You continue to avoid eye contact. I clear my throat, put down my bow, walk over to you.)

ME AS KATNISS: We’re going to have to continue to act like we’re in love.

(You turn, look at me. I can see in your eyes that you weren’t pretending the first time and are hurt that you thought I was.)

ME AS KATNISS: But I won’t be acting anymore.

PEETA: But what about that other guy who is actually significantly taller than me and used to date Miley Cyrus?

ME AT KATNISS: I want to be the hummus to your Peeta.

(You give me a cookie. I eat it. You look at me. I look at you. My insides melt like a popsicle in the Sahara. Then we run away and start an underground bakery in another district.)

You should know—surely you must know—I would never, ever, date anyone shorter than me.

But yet here you are, 5’6 and I’m 5’10 and we’ll make it work.

As long as you keep bringing me baked goods WE’LL MAKE IT WORK.

cookies me volunteer

Until the next movie comes out and/or I finally read the third book to figure out what finally happens to you,

m

PS. I may or may not have a torrid relationship history with fictional characters.