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Quote by Shaila Touchton

“The world says, "You're running out of time," but You say, "My timing is perfect, and My plans are worth waiting for" (Ecclesiastes 3:1, Romans 8:28). I trust in Your timing. The world says, "You're not enough," but You say, "My strength is made perfect in your weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9). I rely on Your strength. The world says, "Give up," but You say, "I will never leave you nor forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5). I trust in Your presence. The world says, "It's too late," but You say, "Today is the day of salvation" (2 Corinthians 6:2). I thank You for new beginnings. The world says, "You're not worthy," but You say, "You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood" (1 Peter 2:9). I thank You for making me worthy. The world says, "You're alone," but You say, "I am with you always, to the end of the age" (Matthew 28:20). I trust in Your presence. The world says, "You're not good enough," but You say, "You are accepted in the Beloved" (Ephesians 1:6). I thank You for acceptance. The world says, "Focus on the problem," but You say, "Focus on Me, and I will give you peace" (Philippians 4:6-7). I fix my eyes on You. The world says, "You're stuck," but You say, "I will lead you and guide you" (Isaiah 58:11). I trust in Your guidance. The world says, "It's too hard," but You say, "My yoke is easy, and My burden is light" (Matthew 11:30). I rest in Your sufficiency. The world says, "You're a failure," but You say, "I will make you a mighty nation" (Genesis 12:2). I trust in Your plans for success. The world says, "Don't trust God," but You say, "Trust in Me, and I will do exceedingly abundantly" (Ephesians 3:20). I trust in Your goodness. The world says, "You're not important," but You say, "You are valuable to Me" (Matthew 10:31). I thank You for valuing me. The world says, "Life is meaningless," but You say, "I have come that they may have life in abundance" (John 10:10). I thank You for purpose and meaning. The world says, "You're just a sinner," but You say, "You are a saint, a holy one" (1 Corinthians 1:2). I thank You for making me holy. I come to You, acknowledging Your power to heal and restore. I align my heart and mind with Your truth.”

Quote by Shaila Touchton

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Shaila Touchton

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“I don’t think I like that boy.” He growled, glaring for effect, just in case I hadn’t figured out his oh-so-subtle interpersonal cues. “He’s a sweet kid,” I insisted, folding the gray blazer over my arm. “He’s a teenage boy,” Cal said, his dark eyes narrowed. “They’re all sexual deviants under the surface. I should know. I was a teenage boy once.” “Thousands of years ago,” I countered. “Times may change, but testosterone does not.”

“We were friends and have become estranged. But this was right, and we do not want to conceal and obscure it from ourselves as if we had reason to feel ashamed. We are two ships each of which has its goal and course; our paths may cross and we may celebrate a feast together, as we did - and then the good ships rested so quietly in one harbor and one sunshine that it may have looked as if they had reached their goal and as if they had one goal. But then the mighty force of our tasks drove us apart again into different seas and sunny zones, and perhaps we shall never see each other again; perhaps we shall meet again but fail to recognize each other: our exposure to different seas and suns has changed us.”

“Oh, by the way," Coop announces as he weaves his DeathBot ship through a barrage of space debris on his laptop screen. "In case you didn't know. It's national 'That's What She Said' Day." I give him a thumbs-up. "I like it." We're camping out in Sean's backyard tonight. It's another one of our traditions. One night, every summer, we buy a ton of junk food and energy drinks and set up Sean's six-person tent in the far corner of his yard. We've got an extension cord running from the garage so that we can rough it in style, with computers and a TV and DVD player. There's a citronella candle burning in the middle of the tent to ward off mosquitoes and to mask the thick stink of mildew. Everyone's brought sleeping bags and pillows, but we aren't planning on logging too many Zs. Sean enters the tent carrying his Xbox. "I don't think there are enough sockets for all of these." I waggle my eyebrows at Coop. "That's what she said." Coop busts up. Sean stands there, looking confused. "I don't get it." "That's what she says," Coop says, sending him and me into hysterics. Sean sighs and puts the Xbox down. "I can see this is going to be a long night." "That's what she said," me and Coop howl in chorus. "Are you guys done yet?" Coop is practically in tears. "That's what she said." "Okay. I'll just keep my mouth shut," Sean grumbles. "That's what she said." I can barely talk I'm laughing so hard. "Enough. No more. My cheeks hurt," Coop says, rubbing his face. I point at him. "That's what she said." And with that, the three of us fall over in fits. "Oh, man, now look what you made me do." Coop motions to his computer. "That was my last DeathBot ship." "That's what she said," Sean blurts out, laughing at his nonsensical joke. Coop and I stare at him, and then silmultaniously, we hit Sean in the face with our pillows.”

“You can remember how it was, because you weren't really any different. You could believe the things that people told you, too. Their words were gospel, and you trusted them. You believed because you were sixteen…or seventeen…or eighteen. You believed because your dreams had started running up against the Line like it was a brick wall that didn't have a single crack. And you believed—most of all—because you had to. You needed to believe that someone could get out of this town, same way you needed to believe that that someone just might be you. And you held onto that belief. You had to. You held on, and it saw you through the Run, saw you crowned the winner. And it saw you down the black road to a cleared patch of dirt in a cornfield, a spot where Jerry Ricks's Smith & Wesson took all your dreams away.”

“I wish kids at school would quit calling me a porno dork-face, though. There wasn't any sex involved! I got knocked out, I panicked and called the cops. Okay, somewhere along the line everybody's clothes fell off, but that's not exactly a federal crime. Is it? I hope you don't work for the FBI. (You don't, do you?) - Email Excerpt (Page: 21) From: Douglas Bracken To: Dr. Rita I. Milton Sent: Friday, November 08 - 5:05 PM Subject: Pressing Concerns”