Maybe it’s simply because I love annotating and post-it notes, and highlighters and journals and gel pens.
Maybe not.
God gave his word to US to devour and share and hide in our hearts. How incredibly blessed we are with this gift?!
We need to SOAK IT UP.
We need to make it personal.
“A bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.”
Charles Spurgeon
Our Bibles can’t stay on our nightstands collecting dust. I realized how important making our Bibles personal when I left my Bible at church on Sunday. I could have borrowed a Bible or used one of numerous others lying around my room and house, but there is something about the bible we use on a consistent basis that helps us dive into the Word with a profound eagerness. In my bible I’ve written prayers, scrawled in the margins, asked questions and made comments. It’s practically a journal.
I’m resolving, TODAY, that I’m gonna be in the word more, because frankly, I haven’t been too appreciative lately of the fact that God gave it to ME to use! I look to everything else except what’s right in front of me, readily available. Aside from giving himself to me Jesus has given me the truest form of wisdom to be found.
“…he rewards those who earnestly seek him.”
Hebrews 11: 6
Will you resolve to seek Him as well?
-Kayla-
I appreciate your feedback! Comment below and tell me what you think (:
Today marks four years since a devastating earthquake demolished Haiti, a country already deep in poverty and full of economic woes. In the summer of 2012, this country taught me four lessons I will never forget.
Love
Today I realized that actions speak louder than words. The language barrier must be broken down by finding new ways to communicate.
If I speak in tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love I gain nothing.
1st Corinthians 13:1-3
Journal entry from July 25, 2012.
Thankfulness
Every time I think of Windy, he reminds me to be thankful and value every single second of every minute, every hour, every morning, every evening, every night, seven days a week of every single month of the year.
I took away many things from Windy, but the most important thing I learned is to value life. To value every second of every day. I was convicted strongly when I thought of all the HOURS I’ve spent worrying and not doing. Even during this time of sickness he [Windy] refused to be anxious.
Journal entry from July 26, 2o12.
Faith & Trust
My friend, lets me tell you something, when you already say God has control, your bad situation gets worse or even you saw you are in front of death; you must say you are good in Jesus’ name. And God will say you have faith say you have faith in him. So my friend, I am very good in Jesus Christ.
Windy’s favorite bible verse was Exodus 14: 14 “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.Windy was a ddisciple, servant,pastor, teacher, friend, brother, son,student, Kirk Franklin fan, father to the fatherless, pastor, EMT, founder of the Jehovah Nissi school in Cite Soleil, dreamer.
I’ve tried. Tea is bearable. I’m not biased. Sometimes I boil water in my room and brew a strong cup of tea. Typically, I only feel so inclined when I’m sick. Only then do I believe in the power of extra vitamin c, additional supplements, cold medicine. You name it. My conclusion that if I believe the stuff actually works then I’ll overcome whatever bug it is that has inhibited my body.
Coffee is where it’s at. Like others, my college budget doesn’t allow for a four dollar latte from Starbucks every day. That kind of reckless spending is hardly economical. That’s fine with me. I can do with another leisure: my Keurig coffee maker. One of the best birthday presents throughout my twenty years. Most people don’t need the extra calories pumped into most drinks elsewhere. And yet, on the rare occasion I treat myself—often out with a friend—I still laugh when they order a regular cup of Joe. I mean, for all I care, we could have just enjoyed a cup of coffee in my dorm. That’s just how my brain works. I’m practical and frugal.
There is an analogy between the coffee and my writing. My writing, the writing I share with social media anyways, is a compilation of thoughts similar to discussions I’ve had over coffee. The range of topics is broad. Occasionally, I meet with a friend to say “farewell for now. Enjoy your adventures globetrotting. Other times I find myself in deep theological discussions. Often, the theme is hardly complex. Small talk at best. “How is school?” “How is work?” “How is your relationship with that special guy of yours?” Coffee Shop Talk. The atmosphere in most coffee shops I’ve run into are welcoming. Mostly laid back—well, except for maybe those that are within a 3 mile radius any mall. Hardly formal. Definitely energetic.
This ideology is what gave me the inspiration to start my blog. I wanted a platform where I could be wrong. Make mistakes. Leave behind my grammar Nazi tendencies. And hopefully, make an impact. Be it big or small. This is my exhortation. If you are able to carry a conversation over a cup of hot liquid, I do not doubt your ability to write. One must not write to be known, but understood.
“I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.”
Flannery O’Connar
I don’t mean to bore you. Rather, I desire to inspire you to begin your own adventure. In all honesty, life in words is may seem dull at first. But then, you look back on that first page you wrote. Your thoughts will probably vary. You may laugh, you may cry, you may feel inspired. I never write to grab the attention of a highly esteemed audience. Elite wordsmiths. That group is small. Ordinary people do extraordinary things. They are the ones who take risks. This group doesn’t let the burden of conformity shape their voice. I raise my mug of coffee—your choice of drink is entirely up to you—to the underdogs, the creators of mistakes, the adventurers, the risk-takers, the beginners, the aspiring wordsmiths, the coffee drinkers and tea drinkers. May you take note of the people and experiences who become a part of your writing adventure.
A little bit of fiction, to kick off 31 days of writing. My 500 Words is a challenge created by Jeff Goins. It’s intended to inspire daily writing habits among writers in all stages.
Chapter 1: The Girl With The Purple Pen
**About Me**
It’s a nickname unheard of among most college students. I accepted it. It was in no way offensive. In fact, I take it as a compliment. I am indeed the girl with the purple pen. Like most names, there is a story behind it. My favorite color is purple. My real name is Brittney. However, most people call me Brit. Naturally, I feel inclined to pen my thoughts with this seemingly majestic ink. Few students in my field have such a strange fetish. However, nothing motivates me quite so much as the flow of fresh ink across a Moleskine journal–another leisure I sometimes indulge myself in.
I’m a communications major. Journalism and Media Production, to be more specific, is my area of expertise. A dying art. Pursued by few.The internet has already occupied the jobs of more than a few journalists. Even fewer who pursue it are successful. I’m considering a minor in professional writing. You know, something I can do outside of my 8am-5pm job. A hobby that could possible help with the student loans I will inherit once I’m on my feet. My goal is to pay them off before I presumably get married, have children, all that jazz.
In the summer of 2012, I found myself in Port-au-Prince Haiti. A location desired by few high school students. It was there, I knew I wanted to write. I shared my experiences via a blog and was told “hey, you’re not half bad at this.” My travels were really a turning point. Kake, Alaska, Tijuana, Mexico, and Port-Au-Prince Haiti make for some pretty exciting adventures. They aren’t your typical vacationing spots. But I wasn’t there on vacation. All three times I was there for relief work. This purpose opened my eyes to instance I like to call “beauty in the broken” experiences.
In Haiti, I first became aware of beauty in the broken. Life in death. Joy in the most depressing of places. Sweet music in streets filled with political riots. Hope in a land wrecked with economic strife, uncertainty, and violence. I’ve found that most people don’t understand to the full extent what I’m trying to say, where I’m going with all of this. Third world countries open your eyes to things which we are otherwise blind to in filthy rich America. Believe it or not, being well off has it’s downsides.
Anyhow, in Mexico and Haiti, I kept a consistent journal. Not your typical entries i.e. “This morning I woke up and had Cheerios for breakfast.” Not that there is anything wrong with this information. In fact, it’s where I started out. I’d like to think I’ve made progress since then, but I some days are less exciting than others, and that’s OK. Many new writers are discouraged by this. I’ve been trying to emphasize to my friends and family that it’s not about what you write, it’s just important you write at all. Even those who right for a living didn’t wake up one day knowing they were going to write a bestseller.
I’ve been writing for quite a while. I tried my hand in the field as early as elementary school with the typical “dear diary” entries. Didn’t we all? Some of us develop a habit, of it, others don’t.
**About The Roommates**
They’re an odd bunch, but not too Crazy. Emily is up there with the STEM people. In other words, her major is math related and there are times when I wonder if she’s related to Einstein. She’s not so math oriented that I can’t hold a conversation without her going on about how much she loves functions. She’s human, and for that I’m grateful. I’m not quite sure how I got paired up with her. The math, the thinking, I just don’t get it. We have a deal. I’ll help her with words if she’ll help me with my poor technology skills. Thus far, the arrangement has worked out pretty well.
Lizzy is down to earth. She’s part of the Communications College like me. We have a couple prerequisites together this quarter. You might say she’s my study buddy. We may not see eye to eye on everything, but our one common thread is this: we all love what we do and we want to do it well. That’s good enough for me. I’m not gonna lie, I’d heard enough horror stories about bad roommates, that I’d nearly given myself a complex waiting to hear back after submitting my housing application. So, I was relieved to hear that in spite of my awkward tendencies, I’d been placed with people who won’t judge me.
Welcome to my crazy life. I hope you enjoy the ride.
To get there is a question of will, not of debate nor of reasoning, but a surrender of will, an absolute and irrevocable surrender on that point. My Utmost for His Highest. I am determined to be absolutely for Him and for Him alone.
I strongly believe that we underestimate the power of our own abilities. And God’s. At least not the full extent of it.
“For where two or three gather in my name, there I am with them.”
Matthew 18:20
For whatever reason, when we hear of any major crisis. We feel numb and helpless. Helplessness doesn’t move a person to action. I want to challenge you to do what you can with what you have. If you live in America, you’re rich. Now, I’m not one to use statistics for the purpose of burdening you with guilt. So I’m not going to go there. Just know that you’re richer than most of the world. So if you just found out you didn’t receive the pay raise, let it go, and have faith that your needs will be provided for. Guilt does not move a person to action either. Guilt cries out,” You filthy, rich, spoiled brat. You should be ashamed of yourself.” I’ve been down that road. It took me nowhere.
I believe that every individual whether you’re a “broke college student” or a person making six figures every year, you’d be surprised with how any amount has the potential to contribute to life saving relief and relational efforts. From the time I was in elementary school, I always gave each of my teachers a small Christmas present. I continued it on all the way through High School. I believe I was a sophomore in High School, when I stopped competing with other classmates on who would buy Mrs. Clark the biggest chocolate bar. My mom had the brilliant idea of giving five chickens through Samaritan’s Purse in my teachers’ names. In our American minds this sounds rather lame. Because my teachers’ didn’t get anything out of it. However, I found that each year, they were rather touched. They felt they were part of something bigger. When we give, or partake in an effort that on the outside bigger then ourselves, something inside of us comes alive. It’s the flicker of compassion in our hearts sparking to a bright flame.
So where am I going with all of this?
In case you were unaware, and I hope this is not the case, on October 15th of this year, a devastating 7. 1 earthquake devastated the Philippines. It was heart breaking and tragic. BUT, it brought people together, to fight something that appears to be so much bigger than themselves. This week, a category-five super-typhoon, struck the Philippines. It is currently the worst hurricane ever recorded in recent history (and possibly ever). Keep in mind that the earthquake already displaced almost 300,000 residents all across the country.
You have the power to give back, and fight something, bigger and stronger. Donate to Help Bohol as they partner with Montana on a Mission. Damage from the earthquake has already been assessed. Funds are being adequately distributed.
Keep in mind that finances aren’t the only way to support a cause. You can share this link without having to give yourself. Serving comes in the form of time, talent, and treasure. Which will you choose?
“You may choose to look the other way but you can never again say you did not know.”
I can’t sleep tonight. My heart is aching. Breaking. Tonight my heart is with my brothers and sisters in the Philippines and those I know who have served there. Last night their world literally crumbled beneath their feet when a 7.2 earthquake hit Bohol and Cebu.
When I hear of news like this, I feel helpless. Simply because I cannot be there in physical form. But God sent His son, SO THAT we could intervene. He wants us to come to Jesus with our prayers and concerns. For we cannot handle these trials on our own. My lack of faith astounding. For God tells me if it were just as large as a mustard seed I could move mountains!
God is changing me. Humbling me. Reminding me how blessed I am to have a roof over my head and four walls enclosing me. Everyday when I cone home from being educated at school I am welcomed with parents and brothers and sisters who love me. I have never known starvation or poverty. I’ve seen these things with my own eyes, but it is hard for someone so blessed with material items to follow the narrow path. I have so much to lose by following Jesus. But if I really give Jesus my all, I make an eternal investment. I previously did not take this passage in the Bible very seriously. Then I started thinking. Just because I’ve given him my life doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve given him my all.
I have a powerful God who loves and protects me. Always. Even when I stumble and sin against him. I am reminded and grateful for all these things as all around the world many are struggling. Significantly.
But God is constant. He is the anchor to which I cling to and the one I must trust.
For we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf.
Hebrews 6:19-20
Lord, heal those who are broken, strengthen the weak, and call those of us who are able to you. Thank-you for loving us always. Thank-you for being the only One we can always count on; through every storm, up every mountain and down every valley.
I’m not super competitive. I played soccer for about eight years and stopped after my Freshman year of High School. I was kind of bored with my rec team; I wasn’t really progressing so I decided to opt out. Because really, I only had one other option if I didn’t want a select or a school team: find another rec team. It was fun while it last. I mean, you’re talking to a girl who couldn’t run the mile in under ten minutes during P.E. class. (I have since then improved and run a 6 minute mile with my sister impromptu).
I enjoy bragging about my brother and sister. (OK well, ALL of my siblings). They are fourteen. The two of them started doing cross-country. They’re amazing. At their first meet, my sister came in first for her school and fifth OVERALL. for girls. My brother was around seventh for his school and I forgot his overall placement. There were a lot more boys than girls– I noticed this almost immediately. Anyways, they run just to run. I only ran when I played soccer, because for me, the goal was more tangible. More than just getting a PR. The ball was within sight. Props to these kids they went uphill, downhill and around in circles. The away school didn’t catch the lay of the land until their first meet. They had no idea what they were up against. Except that this could easily be their biggest competition. But they knew very little about the individual runners.
In life, I’ve found that some goals we absolutely must pursue are not always clear. In order to reach it we are taken down a trail which leads into a thick cloud of fog. We must run without knowing exactly where we are going. I call this the Trail of Trust. Let me be clear, this is different from the Walk of Recklessness. We are not aimlessly wasting ourselves on tangible things which are calling out from the sides of the path, tempting us to stray from the Trail of Trust. The Walk of Recklessness is tempting. Why? Because it’s EASY. The path is wide and we can see more clearly where we are headed. The Walk of Recklessness is a means to an end. Eternal goals are different. God is infinite. His plans are boundless. They are beautiful. Far more detailed and intricate than anything else we could ever dream up. It’s the real deal. Satan loves it when we settle. He loves it when we settle for less.
Those who walk down the Trial of Trust are like Irene, from George MacDonald’s children’s book, The Princess and the Goblin. In the story, Irene’s godmother presents her with a gift. “A ring with a thread tied to it, leading to a little ball of thread.” Irene’s fairy godmother goes on to explain that she will keep the ball of thread and Irene, the ring. Irene is confused. But I can’t see the thread. Her fairy godmother answers “No. The thread is too fine for you to see it. You can only feel it.” The story goes on to tell the story of how when Irene finds the goblins at her house, she feels for the thread. Although she cannot see, she can feel the thread and it leads her to safety. That is faith. Faith and trust go hand in hand. Like chocolate and peanut butter.
Be careful when running. The Trail of Trust is not easy, but it’s worth the plunge, it will be rocky, steep, slippery, and narrow. You may not know where you are going or even how to get there. Take hold of that thread. It acts as your compass. There is only one catch about the thread. If you only pretend to believe in it, it will not aid you. You’ve gotta go all in. Do or die. Don’t let recklessness distract you. Don’t get caught up in what everyone else is doing. That will destroy you. Trust in
There are periods of time in our lives where we must take a leap of faith and run. We must trust in Christ’s presence and keep on. With faith we can move mountains. With faith we possess the ability to go places! Our final destination may not be where we expected, but it’s certainly where we are supposed to be.
~Blessings~
Don’t be afraid of the fog! It’s where we learn valuable lessons in some of life’s most unclear circumstances.
Meet Kay. Kay turned 86 in May. For over twenty years, Kay has been serving the homeless men and women of Downtown Seattle. Mission: serve the soul, not just the stomach.
Kay’s ministry is titled The Lord’s Table. The location is at 6th and Columbia, directly underneath the freeway. On the second Thursday of every month, my church: Northshore Baptist Church in Kirkland serves with Kay. Our branch of the ministry is called Isaiah 58. Sixth and Columbia is home to many big hearts of the people who flock from the Union Gospel Mission, Pioneer Square, and all (literal) corners of Seattle for a warm meal of hearty Spanish rice.
In sixth grade, my friend and I were both looking for a ministry to become involved in. We stumbled upon Isaiah 58 after asking our youth pastor’s where we could serve locally. We’ve missed a few months here and there, but we both agree that it seems just yesterday, Kay was 80. I suppose it’s because her stamina and passion hasn’t wavered from year to year.
Kay thrives off of this verse:
Isaiah 58: 6-7
Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward.
A cup of coffee is capable of going a long way. Or tea. Or water. Or Kool Aid. Jesus constantly reminds us that the issue isn’t a matter of liquids. It’s a matter of the heart. The Lord of the universe can dwell in your heart if you allow Him to. He is the only free gift on earth that you don’t need to work towards. There is no checklist to acceptance.
Seattle wants Jesus. They crave Him. They flock to 6th and Columbia because Jesus is evident in Kay. She treats them like her equal. She doesn’t turn anyone away. She knows many patrons by name. More importantly, she bleeds the gospel.
Over the years I’ve encountered many fun characters. Seattle is a colorful place. I remember the man who could pop both eyes out of his sockets, the woman who asked me if I could give her pet mouse, Phoebe, a chocolate cookie. The regular who walked through our line and always asked for “Bill’s Famous Tea.” I remember gazing up through a space in the freeway where the two lanes came apart and feeling as if I were in the movie The Dark Night. I remember when in junior high, Brianna and I collected donations from the youth group to buy Christmas gifts. I remember the British security guard with an Australian accent. Did I mention he dressed in a way that made him look as if he were the captain of a fine vessel? We’ve seen some interesting characters walk through those food lines.
I tease Brianna endlessly for passing out too many desserts. To say Kay is frugal would be an understatement. “Just ONE cookie Brianna” and “Oh those will last until Monday,” is common phraseology around her. Her influence (among others) has made me think twice about waste. I’ve poured perfectly filtered drinking water down the drain with my only pretense being that it had been sitting out too long. Thrown away food because I’m too full. Ditched socks because of one hole in one toe. Once monthly, for almost seven years I’ve served with Brianna. Last month I served with her ONE. LAST. TIME. (Indefinitely).
New volunteers have made their appearances! Over the years as the youth has been a part of this great opportunity and we’ve begun spreading the word through social media, a large variety of people show up each month. It’s always exciting to see volunteers come and go. But to see those who stay? Ahhhh, now that is quite a joy to see.
While Kay may never be replaced, the organization is looking for a new leader to take over all responsibility. The vocation has become an immense responsibility for just one person. We trust in God’s provision. Always.
I’ve written a lot. I adore writing. I’ve written about practically anything and everything. However, I dislike I talking about myself. It is the one topic I avoid at all costs. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve filled journal on top of journal filled with life. But wait, sharing this knowledge? That’s a totally different story. God has been convicting me of something lately (as He always is); God turns our messy lives into messages. I can make Him famous by sharing my story. We all have stories. They started the day we took our very first breath. Our lives are a book written by God. Each day is a page. Every decade a chapter. We were created to be read. We were written to put God on the Bestseller list!
God formed Man out of dirt from the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life. The Man came alive–a living soul!
Genesis 2: 7
If that’s not crazy, astonishing and thrilling, I don’t know what is.
Apparently, I am really good at putting on a poker face. I don’t try to look like I have it all together. In fact, oftentimes I feel like screaming “I’m not strong, but He is! Every waking minute Jesus is holding me!” It is because of His strength that I am capable of being strong in my weaknesses.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the LIFE of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.
2 Corinthians 4: 7-10
Before I begin sharing my story, I want to exhort you to share yours. Your story may not sound exciting to you, but you never know whose life you can touch without sharing it! If it means anything, your story matters to me. If God, the one who created us to be full of purpose, shouldn’t we have faith that He is using it for something epic?
I’m going to share with you mine . I would start with day one, but I’m 6,791 days old.
Eleven years ago, at the age of seven. I had my first epileptic seizure. I conked out on the floor of the Olive Garden Restaurant on 196th St. in Lynnwood, WA. Here’s the catch: I was perfectly healthy, and nobody knew it was a seizure. We didn’t even call an ambulance. I took a sip of water and finished eating dinner with my family. I felt fine after gracefully smashing my head on their then-brick floor. (OK, I make that sound much more exciting than it actually was). Nothing showed up on my post-fall MRI. Not even a minor concussion! Clearly, angels do exist.
My mom scheduled an emergency appointment of course. She figured the whole thing was just a fluke. It wasn’t. You may be thinking “wow, that is unfortunate.” Well, you are wrong. That day changed my life forever. OK, now you’re thinking “well duh.” It was a good life changing experience. I’m still not sure exactly how it has changed my life for the better, but everything takes some figuring out. Can I get an amen?
In the beginning I saw three different doctors. These three doctors proposed three different diagnoses:
– Most likely Vasodepressor Syncope
-Colloid on 3rd ventricle
-Small chance the episode was a seizure
I went through so many tests it’s CRAZY. EEG’s, MRI’s, blood tests, the tilt-table test, cat scans. The whole bit. I even wore a heart monitor for about one month. God was there. Holding my hand. He was upside down with me when I was strapped on that table.
My mom, being the awesome woman that as she is, finally pull out her handy dandy Taber’s Medical Dictionary from the bookshelf, performed her own research and she basically said, “Let’s take the focus off the heart and look at what is going on in her brain.”
Since my diagnosis of absence seizures has been confirmed, life has been a whirlwind. I’ve been tossed hither and thither. Since that time I’ve tried two alternative treatments to medication: 1) The Modified Atkins Diet and 2) a Vegas Nerve Stimulator. Concerning the MAD, let me just say this. After six months of eating fifteen and 10 carbohydrates per day, I obtained a whole new appreciation for bread and an extreme dislike for milk and peanuts which I practically thrived off of.
The Vegas Nerve Stimulator brings me to where I am today! Contrary to popular belief, the Vegas Nerve Stimulator is NOT brain surgery. Think of it more as a pacemaker for the brain. Well, I remember the day of my implant. I was supposed to have a history exam that day and all I could remember was that April 9th. The date of my surgery was ironically a date in history I needed to memorize. What a strange coincidence! Fast forward to today, 9/13/ 2013. Today I am recovering from the surgery I underwent yesterday to have the device removed. Why, you ask? I was given two choices: 1) replace the battery or 2) remove the battery. As of today I am fifty-one days seizure free! It’s these little victories we must embrace.
VNS Implant. April 9th, 2009. This is my non-poker-face. Seattle Children’s Hospital.
A few days ago I received my OUTPATIENT NOTE in the mail. One sentence written by my physician stuck out to me: “She has been approximately 40 days seizure free. It is not clear to us the reason for the increased efficacy…” To doctors, these instances are just medical mysteries. I read this and thought to myself, Clearly, Jesus is at work in my life right now. I realize that while he is always at work in my life, I tend to only recognize this truth when I am having either a really bad day or an extraordinarily good day. Something about that needs to change. Whether or not I’m having a particular high or low day, I need to start off each day saying these words:
This is the day which the Lord has made;Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118: 24 (NASB)
God is consistent. That being said, I shouldn’t “shelve” God. I ALWAYS need Him. I should never take Him down when I think I need Him and marginalize Him when I am under the impression that I can do things myself. So how is your storybook going to look? On the cover of my current journal, I wrote “The story of how Jesus wrecked my life and put me back together again.” He knows exactly what is wrong in our lives and puts us back together the way he sees fit! So why do we worry? We’re still human. God recognizes that. We are extremely blessed because He looks at us the way He looks at His Son. Incredible!
Your story matters. How will you use it to change the world?
Coffee Shop Talk 