This I Believe

I believe everyone has worth. Whether you believe it or not, you are beautiful and should always remain confident. I have always struggled with this. I let the way people talk to me or things they think about me define who I am.

I have never been one to think highly of myself. I never thought I was good at anything. One night at dinner, I went through all the school subjects with my mom, and I gave her an excuse as to why I could never do anything with my life. I have always struggled in math.  I haven’t ever been a really strong writer. The things in biology class gross me out completely, and I view history as a bunch of boring facts to memorize. I had convinced myself I would have to live with my parents for the rest of my life. I thought I was a screw-up.  I had no purpose.

Not knowing I had these feeling, people would poke at me with their sharp words. They were kidding, I know, but it still bothered me. After you are told something for a period of time, you start to believe it. I tried to fill this void, this emptiness in my life, with anything I could. I was searching in all the wrong areas. This summer was the turning point of my outlook on life. I went to a summer camp called Snowbird Wilderness Outfitters. Not only was this camp tons of fun with all of the outdoor recreations we had, but the learning experience was amazing. I do not find it a coincidence that one of the topics we talked about that week was exactly what I needed to hear.

After attending this camp, I now believe that everyone has a purpose. God made me just the way he wanted. I have things I may want to change, but I have been gifted with different talents than other people. One of the major things people do now that lower their self esteem is comparing themselves with other people. You should not compare yourself to the people of Hollywood or even your friends! You will always be disappointed because you were not made like them. You were made to be you, and there is nothing and no one that can change that. The words people say and the things they think are not what define you. Different does not necessarily have a negative connotation. No two people are exactly alike. We should be confidents in what we are.

Learning this has changed the way I view things- even people. I realize now God has a plan for me way bigger than I can even begin to fathom. I just have to be patient and wait. He will reveal it to me when the time is right. I am confident. I will not degrade something He has made in His perfect image.

Sausage Balls

Ingredients:

• 2 cups of bisquick
• 8 oz of sharp cheddar cheese
• 1 lb of sausage

Preparation:

In a large flying pan, fry a pound of sausage, but do not allow it to brown or get crisp.

My mom always gets the process for breakfast going on Christmas Eve after we eat our dinner.  Our celebration begins by us eating soups and sandwiches.  My grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, and cousins come to our house and celebrate with us.  After we clean up the dishes, we go to our Christmas Eve church service. Since my grandmother on my moms side passed, it has been hard on my aunt during the holidays.  She has an empty nest at home and can sometimes feel lonely now that her mom isn't right next door.

"We're going to be late! Hurry up drying the dishes," calls my mom from her bedroom. It is not uncommon for my family to be late.  It's actually somewhat expected. 

Half of us pile in my moms vehicle while the other in my dad's.  I crawl in my brothers car with him.  By that point, I've already had a little too much "family togetherness."  When we arrive at church, we have a small candle light service, and then head back home.

It wouldn't be Christmas Eve in the Burch household without the movie "A Christmas Story" playing all night long.  Everyone relaxes and watches the television except the three women; my mom, grandma, and aunt.

Grate the eight ounces of sharp cheddar cheese. Then add it to the sausage and two cups of bisquick.  Mix the ingredients thoroughly with your hands in a large bowl. Form the mixture into small, one inch balls.

My mom likes to make sure she has everything laid out and organized for Christmas morning.  Things can sometimes get crazy, so she tries to make things as easy as possible to decrease the stress.

"Makayla?" calls my mom from the kitchen. "Come help us finish the Sausage Balls for tomorrow morning!"

I helped roll out the sausage into one inch balls.  We placed them on a cookie sheet and then put them in the freezer to be cooked for tomorrows breakfast.  The rest of the night is very relaxed. Everyone watches movies and enjoys each others company as we, my brother and I, open one present before we head off to bed.  The gift is always a new pair of pajamas that we both change into. 

The next morning, my brother and I wake up.  The rest of my family slowly drags into the living room.  My older sister and her husband show up after Kenzlee, their daughter, opens her Santa presents.  My grandpa with Alzheimer's complains several times that he is hungry.

Bake on a cookie sheet at three hundred fifty degrees for ten minutes, or until balls turn light brown.

We all enjoy being with each other on Christmas morning.  The whole family may argue, but we love each other.  It's hard for my mom and her sister to go through any Holiday without their mom, but especially Christmas.  Cooking for the holidays brings us all close together.  It is a bonding experience for both sides of the family.  I love how the simplest things, like helping roll sausage into balls, can make my mom so happy.  Cooking together on Christmas is a tradition my family will always have.

Never Fully Content

                When I first read “The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World,” I thought it was very strange.  The more I began to think about it I realized that it portrays how we as humans act.  We are never truly content with what we have.  The women in the story brought this to my attention.

                In the beginning of the story, a very large man washed up to shore.  The women in the village began to clean him off and make him clothing.  They began to imagine the abilities the handsomest drowned man must have had such as calling fish out of water.  The women’s imagination and growing attachment to the man, later identified as Esteban, made him seem as though he was greater than just a simple drowned man.

                The women of the village began to care more and more for Esteban and decided they wanted to be the ones to bury him.  They asked the nearby villages if Esteban belonged to them before they did so.  When they found that he belonged to none of the others, they were ecstatic.  The women were very excited to be able to bury him.

                Through this whole process of caring for the handsomest drowned man, you can see the women of the village become more and more unhappy with their men.  They are no longer content with their husbands because they began to compare to Esteban, “They secretly compared him to their own men, thinking that for all their lives theirs were incapable of doing what he could do in one night, and they ended up dismissing them deep in their hearts as the weakest, meanest and most useless creatures on earth.”  This story shows how we are never satisfied.  We’re always comparing what we have to others.  Even a dead, drowned man even triggered jealousy and discontent with their lives.  

Another Creepy Short Story

            Most of us have read some of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories.  One of my personal favorites is The Black Cat.  In this story the narrator, who remains quite mysterious to us throughout the story, starts by telling us he is going to die tomorrow.  He states that he is not mad, but he merely hopes someone will be able to explain his story with logic.  At first, when I began to read it, I thought he was sane, but as I continued and finished the story I began to think he was indeed mad. 

            The narrator begins his story like an average human being.  He loves animals and married a woman who likes them too.  The narrator’s favorite one of all is the black cat.  The narrator is keen to the animal is such a way that when he does end up killing it you are left shocked.  He compares his rage to alcoholism.  It has been said that Poe may have died from alcohol poisoning in a ditch, and he did suffer from severe drinking problems.  I think this may be a connection to the author and the narrator. 

            The narrator finds another cat and this time it has one spot of white fur.  It is very fond of the wife.  Again, the narrator is filled with his alcoholic like rages, and tries to kill the cat.  The wife being attached to the cat attempts to stop him, but instead she ends up with an axe in her head.  It is hard to see how the narrator could, in anyway, be sane.  When the cops come he finds out where the cat is.  He hid it in the remaining wall from the house fire when he was trying to conceal his wife’s body.

            You find out now that the narrator knows he will die tomorrow because he committed a crime.  I love how Poe leaves you asking questions in the beginning of the story.  By the end, you can figure most of it out, and you can make connections with his personal life. 

My Photo Story