Sorry I'm Late, Rick Riordan

Dear Rick Riordan,

(I sincerely hope you never read this)

I'm sorry that I'm late.

The thing is... Your timing sucks.

Your books became popular just as I stepped out of the age group they were geared towards.  You know how it is, 15 year olds are desperate to separate themselves from the so immature 13/14 year olds and be accepted into the ranks of maturity-abounds 16/17 year olds.  Harry Potter was the "cool" book series (and I loved it, duh) and Percy Jackson was "childish".

But I'm older now, and the critics be darned, I'm reading your books!

I'm 9 years late, but I hope you'll forgive me :)

Now I rant.

What the crap movie makers??  In my ignorance, I liked the movies!  In my naivety, I thought the book lovers were blowing things way out of proportion! "Movies made from books always disappoint," I said. "It can't really be that bad," I said.

BUT IT IS THAT BAD!!  Oh, the injustice that such a talented author has drawn such a short straw that it can hardly be called a straw!  The movies are great, but they are so loosely based on your books they shouldn't even share their name!!!  I honestly really enjoyed the movies, but now that I've read The Lightning Thief and The Sea of Monsters, I feel torn in my loyalties.  It's like loving two people with the same name... They are completely separate individuals and you love them for that, but you constantly have to differentiate between them when you talk about them (brother Steve, other Steve) and everybody ends up confused.

Sigh... This is where I stop ranting.

To sum up:  Your books are awesome, I look forward to reading the rest (and conveniently catching up right as the finale to Heroes happens, that worked out nicely).  The movies based on your books are also awesome, though horrible adaptations of your stories.  And I'm sorry I'm so late to your party.

Best wishes :)

Grace is...

(An excerpt from the last day of Beth Moore's Children of the Day study on 1 & 2 Thessalonians)

Like those original readers, we are saved by grace, chosen by grace, called by grace, and gifted by grace. Maybe a few word pictures could sketch illustrations for an encyclopedia of grace.

Grace is an inflated raft that can submerge to the floor of the sea to save you.

Grace is the silver thread that stitches up the shreds of mangled souls.

Grace calls the waitress to the table and sits her down to wash her feet.

Grace sees underneath the manhole on a street of self-destruction.

Grace is the air to draw a breath in the belly of a whale.

Grace is the courage to stand in the shamed wake of a frightful failing.

Grace is the only fire hot enough to burn down a living hell.

Grace waits with healing in His wings when we're too mad to pray.

Grace is the gravity that pulls us from depravity.

Grace races us to the Throne when we make haste to repent -- and it always outruns us.

Grace is the doorpost dripping red when the angel of death grips the knob.

Grace is the stamp that says "Ransomed" on a life that screams "Ruined".

Grace sets a table before me in the presence of my enemy, even when my enemy is me.

Grace is the cloak that covers the naked and the palm that drops the rock.

Grace is divine power burgeoning in the absence of all strength.

Grace proves God true and every self-made man a liar -- for the sake of his own soul.

Grace is the power to do what we cannot do, for the name of Christ to go where it has not been.

Grace is a room of a thousand mirrors, all reflecting the face of Christ.

Grace is no simple greeting -- it is a gift held out in nail-pierced hands.