There are a variety of opinions regarding the war in Iraq. For some, it is a tiresome subject that is to be avoided at all costs. For others, it is the protein of their conversation. The war in Iraq is always discussed in terms of morality and immorality, good versus evil, winning and losing, and cost and benefit. Everyone has an opinion and no one is truly right or wrong when the war is argued in these terms. Although these issues are viable, they are superficial aspects of a more basic huma...

As an English major, I find that I enjoy writing a good story as much as I enjoy reading one. It is through this mode that I have come to understand God just a little better. Writing a story with several different characters has given me a chance to explore myself. You see, every character I've written has had a bit of my own personality within him or her. Some of the characters are good and some of them are bad, but they all are related to me in some way. Some portray my wild side and the ne...

Last year, around this time, I wrote about turning twenty. I made mention of my twentieth year being a rollercoaster, an adventure, a heartbreak. It's amazing how accurate that piece was. I remember writing the piece quite vividly. As I sat there re-reading what I had written, I thought to myself, "heartache"? Why in the world would I write something like that? I have no desire for heartache. And yet I couldn't shake the feeling that life was about to get seriously hard. So I left it in. In w...

After my foster dad had asked me if I wanted to be officially a part of their family, I was ecstatic. As a ten year-old, I had spent the better part of two years belonging to no one. I was finally going to be a part of something greater than myself. I was finally going to be home. That was what I thought, anyway. As it turned out, home was going to be another three years in coming. The issue was very simple. My birth mother had discovered where I was living. This made things difficult for my...

From that day on, I was encouraged to be a different person. I had always been quiet, reserved. I had always enjoyed being by myself. I suppose part of me wanted to have brothers and sisters; playmates. But I was quite content in being by myself. Moving homes is quite an ordeal to begin with, but switching families really adds to the dilemma. In all the eight years of my life, I had never had a dad or siblings. I didn't know what to do with them, frankly. My foster-mom was a stern lady. She ...

As a twenty-year-old, I look back on my life in a quiet, contemplative mood. I am sitting in a cafe, enjoying a bit of coffee. I am alone. I prefer it that way most of the time. Sure, I like a pleasant companion every now and then to talk to, but recently I've found that I'm much more productive in my own thoughts. My life, in many people's minds, is a short one as of yet. I would agree on some level, that indeed, twenty years isn't all that much compared to, say, forty. I would encourage th...