Life Adventures Pt. 2

When I started 2014 with the goal of becoming more daring, building my courage, refusing to let fear stop me from taking chances, I never once imagined it to be about taking chances with my mind.
Yes, I knew it'd be a mental battle to stop fear from overcrowding my mind. Fear is always a mental battle with me. I am the girl of "what-ifs" and "supposes".

"What if I fail?"Suppose I never recover?""What if this hurts me so much I fall back into depression?""Suppose I give in again?" "What if I give up, will people care?" 

I never once imagined that I could be as daring as I was this year. But I'm starting to see that out of everything it isn't the physical battles that are where I need courage. It's in daring to be myself, daring to love myself, daring to support myself, daring to stand up without falling back onto someone else.
For the longest time, I refused to let people in, stuck on the mindset that it was selfish to ask for help...somehow I was meant to be independent all the time. It took a black, sinking hole of despair to finally ask for help. Ever since, it's been addicting to always have someone to vent to, always have someone to go running to, it's been great to have someone to support me when I'm about to crash. It was so nice that I've put off standing on my own.
Over the summer, I didn't have quite so many crashes...it's easy to be happy and strong in the sunshine, with the boost of confidence given by succeeding in my job. However, when it comes to fall and winter, enclosed indoors and little sunshine and warmth, with the struggles of money and schoolwork, one feels one's confidence swirling down the drain.

I could give in to my fearful mental state, break down, and live each day only by clutching on by my fingertips again. Or I could step away from my crutches, as wonderful and helpful as they are, and dare to support myself. I could be dare to push my mind to be stronger.
Instead of having wonderful people telling me how great I am and can be, I dare to tell myself, "You can do this." I dare to push my mind to face the scary shit and say, "Screw this mindset. I am smart enough. I am good enough. I am worthy."

It's about having the courage to look at myself and see all that I've accomplished.

There's a saying that says, "You are what you think."
So, when I feel like giving up or being lazy, my mind tells me that I'm a lazy person who gives up.
In reality, in spite of these wishes, I still work hard to accomplish what's before me.
So, really, just thinking something doesn't make you whatever that is.
It's also how you act on these thoughts.

I hate working so hard in school and constantly think about just giving up or not doing my best work.
Did you know? I have made President's List three times, Dean's List twice? Did you know that I won Best of Category for my photography in the Spring Exhibit at my old school? Did you know that I won the Award of Excellence? Did you know that at graduation I had a GPA of 3.97? Did you know that because I work hard in building friendships with my kiddos in LEGO club that I'll have kids throwing their arms around me as soon as they come in? Did you know that my kiddos refuse to make funny comics about me because I am, "too nice" to them?

Sometimes I think we take the idea of teaching ourselves not to gloat about our accomplishments too far. Worried of appearing arrogant, we shove aside our victories and forget to understand what they mean. Let's revel in these accomplishments. Let's understand that these things mean that we don't always fail, that we actually do good, that we actually don't always give up, that we do work hard, that we CAN overcome fear and succeed when we try!

My mind is being daring when it says, "Elementary Education is HARD. Harder than anything else you've done in school...but if you can write an A paper in three hours, you can do this test", "Putting yourself out there in a new situation is tough, but if you can jump out of a plane, you can do this", "If you can push yourself to hike up a mountain, you can face new things"...it's being daring enough to believe yourself when you say, "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for." 

Don't just take what your friends say for granted. Look around yourselves...our accomplishments are right there where we left them. Understand them, look at them closely, see what these mean. They mean we are stronger, better, smarter, more driven than we ever actually believe.

C'mon, dare to change your mental traps of fear. Stand on your two feet and dare to be. It's like Bastille says,

"Your albatross, let it go, let it go."

Adventures

I was determined to make this year a better year.

My year started out with the huge decision of deciding what would be my next step.

Should I find a full time job? Should I continue on in school?

If I do go back to school, what do I major in?

All these questions required answers, none of which were easy to make.

Having made the decision to go back to school to acquire a Bachelors in Elementary Education, 

I suddenly realized that I'll have spent the majority of my 20s pushing myself to the limit and killing myself

over school. It's not the life I wanted. I don't want to look back on my 20s and see that the only accomplishments I made were in school. I don't want to look back and grimace at my 20s.

I don't want my life to be just about school. I want to live.

2014...a brand new year, brimming with possibilities, and welcoming us with the fresh pages of ideas and activities and newness to fulfill. I didn't want to waste this year, this opportunity.

Adventures...it's what I wanted, and it's what I've been accomplishing.

I wanted to see new places, so I took up hiking. 3 mountains down, how many more to go??

I wanted to push myself, so I tried rock climbing & discovered the wonderful puzzle it is, both mentally and physically.

I wanted to fly, so I went skydiving.

It's only June and here I am filling my days to the overflow! I feel alive, I feel adventurous, I feel happy...I feel real. But what I've learned is that adventures don't come to you...you have to pursue them, you have to push for them, you have to *find* them. And adventures aren't easy -- nor should they be! Adventures are simply that, adventures, because they aren't easy! It isn't just the satisfaction you get from accomplishing something that makes it an adventure, it is the process, the hard work, the energy, the sweat that makes it the adventure. I'm pushing myself and I love it. Suddenly I'm seeing myself as a totally different person. It's 2014 and all about the adventures.

What adventures are you seeking?

Photography Journey: Part 4

Photography Journey: 2008-2014

2008:

2008: one of the first photos I ever took with my new camera. 

2008: Portraits were fun!

2008: Juji as a baby was a popular subject.


2009

2009: blurry is artsy!

2009: New Hampshire is just naturally beautiful!

2010:

2010: One of my first gigs: shooting my cousin's Senior Portraits!

2010: Another Senior Portrait session!

2011:

2011: Engagements were awesome fun to shoot!

2011: A lil bokeh, a heart...how cliche can I get? 

2012:

2012: Balloons! This was the year all about COLOR!

2012: Have I mentioned how much I *love* engagements?

2012: Piano & color, two of my fallbacks for school assignments!

2012: The portrait that won me Best of Category in the Spring Exhibit!

2013:

2013: Engagement Ring

2013: Freedom From Fear - a school project.

2013: Freedom of Worship - a school project.

2013: Books are magical

2014:

2014: Self-portrait

2014: Tea cups are my thing.

I kinda chuckle as I look back over the years and see how my photography was so horrible when I first started out. But then I also smile and feel a sense of accomplishment as I see how far I've come as well.
It's been one hell of a journey and I've grown! I love that. I love the looking back and seeing how
I've changed and how my photography has changed. I love seeing my techniques expand and

change as the years go by. It's only been 6 years (only??) but I'm excited to see where my 

photography takes me in the next 6 years. 

Photography Journey: Part 3.

My second semester was an improvement over the first, mostly because I was more in-depth in my photography classes, surrounded by other photographer-wanna-bes, and finally feeling like I was being initiated into that club I so wanted to be a part of. That second semester, I made friends, slowly and quietly found myself entering a small group within the photography classes where inside jokes were born and where we all worked hard alongside each other, the competition absent and instead a sense of encouragement for one another and acceptance. We didn't see each other as "the competition"...we were in it together, we were friends. It made school so much more bearable.

The classes weren't easier or the work load smaller, but working with others made it easier in a way.
And I threw myself into my photography classes. They only reassured me that I was where I was supposed to be. I loved every part of it (except perhaps those damn tool caddy assignments!).
The more I learned, the more I became part of that club. My first class in-studio was
extremely intimidating. The more advanced students knew wherever went, and how to set everything up, while I stood to the side, helpless and feeling very much the part of a newbie. But I also remember the semester where I, too, walked into that studio, the pro. As my friend Kate stated, "For once we're the pros and not the newbies..." Such a good feeling, let me tell you!

2012: we weren't competitors. We were friends.

School still wasn't without its share of tears. The studying was a killer. Late nights...the night I sat up until 3am, bawling over math because I had a test the next day...the headaches, migraines over studying....the notes galore, the photos I snapped...it all went into the days of school.

Along came my required Business class. I went into it still determined to have my own photography business one day. Then the class came and smacked me across the face. Who knew that to run one's own business, one has to devote 99% of her time to business and only 1% to photography in order to be successful? While some can be passionate about both photography and business and easily combine them, I just cannot. Business is NOT a passion and I decided there was no way I could start my own business. Perfect. I knew I loved photography but now I had no idea what I wanted to do, outside of perhaps work in a studio. The class made me question my priorities...did I love photography enough? I did, it turned out.

I entered 2 photographs into the Spring Exhibit at my school and one of my photos was chosen to hang in the exhibit. I was *thrilled*. Imagine my nervousness as I sat in the school cafeteria for the honor's night. One photo from the exhibit would be chosen as Best of Category. Would mine make 2nd place? I sat, surrounded by my family, barely noticing all the other awards being handed out for all the graphic design categories. Finally it was time. I heard my name. I heard the applause. I saw the blur of people and the floor and the walls as I got up and walked to the front. My photography teacher stood there, his hand outstretched and a grin on his face as he shook my hand and handed me the certificate.

For the first time in my life, I was proud of me. 

For my last semester, instead of taking just my last, four, required classes I decided to add a fifth class: photojournalism. Just as my first semester was hell, so was my last one in a way. Between the mixture of tough classes, confusing teachers, and mix-ups involving my classes and graduation, I found myself feeling very discouraged. On top of that, all the friends I'd made had graduated with their certificates in Photography the prior semester. I told a friend, "School can't let me leave without a fight." This past fall was difficult. I studied my butt off, feeling like it was never enough. Still feeling like a failure even though I hadn't acquired a grade lower than an A- in the past. My GPA was high, and yet I still felt like I had to fight to accomplish anything. The last 6 weeks of classes felt like they dragged on forever. And then finals came. And then. They were over. Time has sped by since then. And then, the other day the mailman dropped a white, thick envelope in the mail. I ripped it open and pulled out that little black book with the tiny piece of paper inside.

I did it. Two and half years of tears, fears, heartaches, headaches, constant tiredness, struggling, fighting, killing myself, feeling like a failure...and a tiny piece of paper saying it was all worth it. I'm not a failure. I accomplished something. I did this. I DID this. In spite of everything, in spite of the times where I felt like I couldn't, the times where I felt worthless and felt like giving up...there's a tiny piece of paper saying that I made it and that I did well. A friend asked me, "How do you feel to be DONE?" It feels...weird. It feels...great. But on one hand, it feels like...it's not done...it feels like just one step up a staircase. It just means I'm facing the next step. But I'm not worrying about that now. I'm taking delight in the fact that I'm done! I'm graduated! I've finished this chapter!

I did it.

I'm Not a Sad Story

I know these will all be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. We'll become somebody's Mom or Dad. But right now these moments are not stories. This is happening...I can see it. This one moment when you know you're not a sad story. You are alive, and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. 

- The Perks of Being a Wallflower 

I've had moments in my life where I feel sorry for myself, feeling lost and alone and wondering why I'm always a victim. Is it because I choose to be a victim? Is it because I was a victim and it's hard to shake that mentality off?

I've gone through a lot in my life. I'm not special or especially unique in that I'm alone in pain. I have baggage like everyone else, prying my fingers one by one off the handles.

I flip through the pages of my journals from over the years. The words: lost, alone, scared, exhausted, worthless, fear...sad stand out from the pages. If I get too close to the pages, all I can see is the struggles and I can fool myself into thinking that my life is a sad story.

If I step back from the pages, remove my magnifying glass perception and see the journals stacked, one on top of each other as tall as a tower, and examine them as a whole, I see a live story.

My story isn't sad. It holds sad moments, a lot of sad moments, but that's a page or two or a hundred in a complete story. If I step forward again, examining the separate pages of my journals, this time the word: full, joy, peace, forgiveness, love, brave, strength...happy also grace the pages.

I've stood in front of these books, filled with moments and I wonder at them. These moments are happening, they are live and real. When I touch these journals, I touch moments...the feeling of emotions flowing through me, the tears and the laughter, and I stand in wonder of my story.

This one moment when you realize you're not a sad story. You are alive. 

On and On

New England is famous for its autumns. Clear, blue skies...the brilliant foliage...cinnamon, pies, pumpkin spice lattes, and...apple picking. In spite of school and the stress of homework, I treasure autumn and it ranks high up there as one of my favorite seasons.

Summer is beautiful and wonderful in all of its goldenness, but there's something equally magical about fall. I look around me and see the difference in color of the sunshine, the way the dark comes earlier, the last vibrancy of colors clinging on before winter comes, and I smell the difference in the air.

I was driving toward my sister's place yesterday, Mat Kearney's "On and On" playing as I rolled down my windows. The breeze was cool, the sun still on green leaves, looking like summer, but the taste of fall in the air.

It's hard to imagine goodness, happiness, love...it's hard to know that I am not alone...when I'm at my blackest. It's hard to realize that there are patches of sunshine shining through the dark woods, until you're standing in them. It's hard to smile through fears.

Mat Kearney crooned,

On and on and on we pray, we can break into a brighter day. Nothing worth anything ever goes down easy.
On and on and on we go. I don't understand this windy road. Nothing worth anything ever goes down easy.

And he's right. Nothing worthy anything ever goes down easy. Winning the fight makes the prize that much more valuable.

Facing the fears make the confidence in the end worthwhile.

The smiles and laughter when you've grown through the tears suddenly feel so much more special.

As a photographer, when you look through the lens, you don't just look for the beauty. Your eye scans through the eyepiece, searching for the ugliness, in order to diminish it and exposing the true beauty.

You compose, you expose...you shoot to make beauty your focus. You work to make the perfect picture in the end. You don't just snap the button and have magic. You get magic it by working for it.
You use the ugliness to your advantage.

As I walked through an apple farm with my family today, falling in love with autumn all over again, noting the way the color of the light made everything feel...captivating...I noted that somehow it was worth it all. It is worth the working all week long, the constant studying, the stress, the tears, the fears of the work week to enjoy special, happy moments.

The hard work makes the moments of relaxing that much more restful. Wearing comfy clothes, laughing with little siblings, drinking apple soda...I soaked it all in. Memorizing details, capturing images in my mind as well as on my phone.  Nothing worth anything goes down easy, yet we struggle on and on. Because these moments are worth it all, in spite of the hardships.

Happy Autumn!

To Laugh

Do you know what I loved about my job at summer camp? Who I was.
Not to say I was someone other than me, that I had switched personalities or anything...on the contrary, I was simply me. The beauty about my job was that, it didn't matter what I wore, how how I looked...the kids still loved me. They still hung out with me, they didn't give me weird looks, they didn't expect me to look polished. All they wanted was my attention, for me to laugh at their jokes, to spin the jumprope for them, to hold hula hoop contests with them, to draw pictures with them, to talk to them, to connect with them, to be silly, to joke, to smile, to make silly faces, to laugh...

I was more me than I've ever been on any job. And the beautiful thing was, being around those children made me confident that who I am, as a person, is okay. In fact, it's more than okay...I'm great as me. These children boosted my confidence in ways that no one else could!

Tiny hands slipping into mine as they said quietly with ease, "I love you, Samantha." *heartmelt*

Strong, small arms gripped around my waist as they yell, "HUG TIME!"

Sneaky grins as they shout, "Heads up!" and throw frisbees at my head.

Bursts of giggles as they watch me demonstrate the hula dance moves we learned...very, very awkwardly.

So much patience as they taught me to hula hoop properly.

But best of all, shared laughter as we proved just how silly we could be, how silly *I* could be. The fake voices, the idiotic dances, silly songs, fish faces, and the confidence and self-esteem to pull it all off without once feeling self-conscious.

Because with my kiddos, it didn't matter. There was no feeling self-conscious with my kids. They saw me for who I was, whether or not I looked a wreck or looked awkwardly dorky. And they still loved me for it. They probably loved me all the more because of it. And instead of feeling incredibly self-conscious or embarrassed, I found myself laughing. Not really at myself or at anything in particular...just laughing because there was the love to laugh all around me.

At camp I found that life is surrounded by opportunities of laughter. When you feel like a dork, when someone does something silly, even when nothing is particularly funny but you feel a surge of happiness you just laugh.

Shyness, tears, loneliness, grumpiness...it's all taken away when you sit down next to a child and begin to talk, to share stories, to grin, make silly faces...all leading to laughter.
Those kiddos of mine showed me how wonderful it is to be me.

They taught me to laugh.

Silly Girl

My closest friends will tell you...

I am loud. I am passionate. I can be obnoxious. I am opinionated. And I am not afraid of sharing those opinions.
I can be bitchy and have my off days where I seem to make everyone angry at me.

My friends show me grace because they know I'm better than my bitchy moments. They hold me back when I'm tempted to say more than I should. They tell me when I'm crossing a line and when I really should rethink how I approach people.

But.

They also know, I take life seriously. My opinions? My loudness? My passions? Nothing is formed lightly. I think through things. Over and over and over. I am a perfectionist. I work hard and and try to perfect myself. When I see how I am wrong, I try to refocus. I may be bitchy at times but I never take serious matters lightly. While I may not always come right out and say exactly what it is I believe, I am an open book to anyone who asks me. I have nothing to hide when it comes to my beliefs, my faith, my morals. I realize that anything I write on this blog is out there for the public to see. And yes, it's made me re-think posts, it's made me hesitate. I go with my gut instinct. If I feel a hesitation, then I generally take the post back. I trust  my intuition. And if I feel I may be crossing a line, I run the posts across a best friend...several best friends sometimes.

I know some people come to my blog and see it merely as a silly girl's blog, a silly girl's pointless words, a silly girl acting all bitter toward men and promoting feminism, a silly girl shouting into the wind.

Maybe I am silly. Maybe I am shouting into the wind. But I am serious. I think hard about things, I try to understand things, and I write about things because writing is how I best express myself.
If I see something I strongly disagree with out there in the world then I do not belittle those concerns or fears. I think about them, I try to understand them, and then if I still feel strongly, I write about them.

I won't lie and say I don't care what people think about me. But the fact is...unless a person genuinely cares about me, and me about them, then I really don't care. The opinions of people who don't know me don't upset me.

I used to care, I used to form myself into a different girl for each friend, suiting my personality to each person. I wasn't myself. I am through with that and I will no longer hide when I feel strongly about something. People, if you feel something is right, then don't hide from it.

Silly, I may be, but I am not a girl. I am an adult. I am a woman. I am my own person, forming my own opinions. I am under the authority of no one but my God. I am me. Sam. I am not just a human being. I am a person. I am serious, loud, obnoxious, bitchy, concerned...and I'm done hiding it.

Women of Strength: Part 3

Women of strength in  movies is great and all, and I definitely find encouragement to be more kickass, to pursue my dreams, to live life to the fullest, to not take crap from others, to laugh off the criticism, and to never falter even when people frown. I am encouraged to stand up for what's right, even in standing up to what I believe are damaging blog posts.

We've already covered women of strength in movies...what about the strong women in real life?

I look around me and admire the women I see around me. While, yes, I have those people in my life that talk down to women, believe they're subjected to men, and should "submit" and be "controlled" by men...I also am surrounded by the encouraging, wonderful, beautiful, strong women who are forging a path, whether it be side by side with a husband or on their own. They are true to themselves, never demeaning themselves to a man's wishes. And it is so incredible to see how their lives are good, encouraging, and doing good in this world! Who are these women who have impacted our world?


Jael. Yes, I am using an example from the Bible. This woman seriously was awesome. Little is written about her but what was written is pretty cool. First of all, she is linked to a story involving another awesome woman: Deborah! Because Barak wouldn't carry out God's plans unless Deborah went him, God allowed a woman to "save the day", so to speak.  While being chased by Barak and his men, Sisera made his way to Jael's tent. There she enticed him in, gave him something to drink, and allowed him to fall asleep in her own tent. Once he was asleep, what did this woman do? She defeated him. She nailed a tent peg into his head. She conquered the enemy and God so wished it. Instead of delivering Sisera into the hand of Barak, God allowed a woman "take down" the enemy. It's amazing how "Christians" will criticize fictional women in movies for "taking down" the enemy, instead of allowing the "heroes" do the work. God allowed a woman to have the credit of taking down an enemy that was being pursued by a man. Funny how that worked out. Jael was brave and strong and defeated the enemy because she could. 

Harriet Tubman. What a woman. Raised as a slave, born to a like of submission and being controlled being owned by a man, Harriet managed to escape. Having experienced the torture of slavery, Harriet returned not once not twice to help other slaves escape but 19 times, helping hundreds of fellow slaves. As a child, she had been beaten by her masters and been injured in the head. Because of her injury, she suffered from seizures, black-outs, and headaches. In spite of that, and in spite of the fact that she faced torturous punishment, even death, as a result of helping slaves escape, she heard a calling and listened. Harriet listened to the calling for her life and it wasn't staying at home or being protected by a man. Instead this strong woman protected and saved others. She saved lives at the risk of her own. You cannot find a more encouraging and brave example of a woman.

Irena Sendler. This woman was yet another that stood strong in the face of pain and death in order to save lives. When the Warsaw ghetto was built during WWII, Irena managed to smuggle more than 2500 children out of the ghetto and relocated them with various families who hid and cared for them. Not only that, but Irena managed to keep track of each child, writing down their names and where she had them placed. She stored all their names in a jar, which she buried to find at a later time. Captured by the Nazis, Irena was tortured...her legs and arms were broken and she was beaten. In spite of this, she revealed nothing and the children she had managed to smuggle out were saved. After the war, Irena was able to help reunite the children with their families.
This woman did what it took to stop the enemy from killing the innocent. She did what needed to be done, even when tortured. She was a woman, strong and determined against the enemy. She didn't sit back and let men do the saving...she saw the opportunity to do good and did it.

Dorothea Lange. I don't think many people view Dorothea as a woman of strength but she truly was a heroine. As a photographer, Dorothea saw how damaging the Great Depression was and stepped into the streets to capture the real life among the homeless and jobless. Through her photography, the reality of the Great Depression was placed before the public and impacted society into creating a change.  This woman faced the heaviness of the Great Depression. Her photographs didn't depict happy circumstances. Instead, this woman stood strong, capturing reality as it was: hard, heart-breaking...starving families, jobless men and women, mothers desperate to feed their children...Dorothea didn't stay inside her studio, creating a living for herself. She went out into the world and faced the horrible truth that few wanted to see. She was strong in revealing the truth when the truth needed to be revealed.


Like the movie heroines I listed in my previous post, these real-life heroines faced the odds, danger, pain, even death to do what was right. They didn't sit at home, letting the burdens of the world fall to the men. They pursued what they felt they needed to do. They took down the enemy when it was in their power to do so, the chose to do what was right when it was hardest to do so. I see these women and I feel empowered, encouraged, and inspired. If these women can create a life for themselves, pursue their dreams, choose to do right even when it was hard, who is there to say I cannot do the same? Who can be against me, when I have a calling? God gave me gifts, He gave me strengths, He gave me intelligence and the power to learn. With these gifts, strengths, intelligence...with all of these powers, I have the opportunity to become a woman of strength.
I was not born to just sit around and let men save the day. I was not born to become merely a man's instrument. I was made for more. I was made to serve and worship God in everything! I have a calling and I am called to be a woman of strength. No man, no woman, no one is going to take that away from me. For who is against me, when He is for me?

To Breathe

"Sam! Sam! Sit down!" Tiny hands attached to one of

my kiddos grabs mine and pulls me to sit on the curb

next to her. 

"What?" I ask. 

"Watch this. I'm going to

breathe like a fish." She puckers up her lips and tries to

breathe as she squishes her cheeks in and out. She can't

hold it for long, bursting into giggles.

"You try."

I fail miserably.

"No, no, like this!" She places her sweaty palms on my

cheeks and squishes them.

"I'll teach you to breathe!" she says.

Breathing. Lately, I feel like I haven't had much room for breathing. My inner alarm clock wakes me promptly at 5:30 a.m., upon which, I wake up in a panic every morning, thinking I've slept past my real alarm...the one on my phone. I grab my phone, yanking it out of it's charge-mode and frantically press the button, head crashing back down onto my pillow when I see, "5:32 a.m." glaring white at me. It's useless to try to go back to sleep, as I have to get up in half an hour. 

6:00 a.m. brings on the rushing to get ready, the scramble to scoop up a pair of clean shorts, my staff t-shirt, socks...socks? WHERE THE HELL ARE MY SOCKS??? ...and then dashing into the shower. I am in the car by 7:20 a.m., heading to work. From 7:30-12:30, I am in charge of my kiddos, laughing, playing, running around, jump roping, counting, and on my feet for five hours. 

I rush home, stopping only long enough to grab something to eat, shower and change before heading to my second job at the library. From 1:30-5:30, I am swamped. The system is down, books are piling up to be checked in...the kids yelling, mothers looking for books, and a sewing class to help teach. 

I get out of work, stopping to grab paychecks from my 1st job and make a pit-stop at home to grab something to eat for dinner. I then head back out to do the errands I have no time to do during the day. 

I make it home, put things away, gather up my laundry and start a load. I tidy my room, check my work email, and finally collapse. 

I sit here, remembering my kiddo teaching me to breathe, realizing that it's those tiny, in-between moments when I do stop to breathe. When tiny hands pull me to sit down. A moment at work where I stop to say hi to a co-worker. A moment of driving in my car, listening to Two Steps From Hell. A moment of reading a letter that arrived in the mail. A moment of pausing in the middle of a work email to smell the newly cut grass smell drifting in the window. 

Short, brief moments during a crazy rushing day, where it feels like I breathe on autopilot. Each day has it's moments of craziness and moments where I feel like my head is completely heavy from tiredness. But my kiddos? They stop me. They pull me down, place their fingers on my cheeks and teach me to breathe. So I'd make a bad fish (seeing as our group name is the Sunfish, that's awkward!), but they make me laugh, they make my day, they melt my heart with their cute ways of showing me they like me. 

They teach me to breathe. 

To Smile

Smile. 

I am working as a camp counselor at a day camp. I am in charge of the younger children's group...the 5-7 year olds. 

As I stand watch over them at lunch time, I look across the pavilion, and the eyes of one of my kiddos catches mine. 

Their whole face lights up in the widest smile you can imagine. It is so infectious, that you can't help but smile back. It is so sweet and adoring that you just grin with delight. 

I stand, watching my kids playing, getting along. I smile as I see my youngest kiddo comforting her older friend over a scraped knee. 

I smile as I see the lil boys admiring the blood they acquire from a fall. 

I smile when I see a kiddo running toward me, arms out-stretched, ready to tackle me in a hug. 

I smile when I'm greeted each morning with a, "SAAAAAM! Guess WHAT??" The excitement, the enthusiasm, the delight, the joy I see every day in my kiddos. It is addicting, it is infectious. 

Even on the days that my kids are dropped off in tears because they don't want their moms to leave...minutes later, they see me and turn those frowns upside down. 

These kids teach me every day to greet life with a smile. To smile through the tears, to seize each moment with utter delight! To be so enthralled with life and the opportunities in front of me with such enthusiasm. To love life to the fullest. 

These kids teach me to smile. 

There Goes a Fighter

Life is about the mess-ups. The screw-ups. Falling down. The scars, emotional and physical. The pain, the hurt, the heartache.

It is these less than perfect moments that mold us into who we are. It is how we learn, it is what strengthens us, builds us up, causes us to become wiser and able to face what comes our way.


I've mentioned several times before that I am judged. But I am also accepted. I think, this year, the biggest step I've taken in my life and in helping me grow, is to accept who I am. I feel like eyes are on me, expecting me to be perfect, yet breaths are held, just waiting for me to fall and to fail.  People who disagree with my life choices, who are watching me, thinking that I WILL fail because they think I am not in alignment with God.

I see my friend Amy as she struggles with criticism and a lack of understanding as she embarks on a journey to a new country. People who watch her, expecting her, wanting her to fail.

I see my friend, a girl who chose a career over motherhood and how she is attacked for being ungodly...being watched by people who expect to see her fail because she's not following the supposed "will of God" for her life.

I see another friend who is seen as different and lives in sin for his life choices. I see the people around him, watching him, waiting for God to "strike him down".

I see a dear friend struggling with health issues and yet not letting that control her.

I see a kindred spirit pushing through physical restraints to accomplish her dreams.


What do I see in these friends? I see fighters. I see fear, judgment, pain, hurt, criticisms, scars, screw-ups, and heartache all faced with brave faces and strong wills yearning to overcome anything for lives meant to be lived. I see fighters fighting against the norm, fighting against the crowds boo-ing against them, all because they feel called to something. I see fighters living LIFE.

And I am inspired, I am filled with hope, I am encouraged by these people. I am drawn to them, I am in love with their bravery.

To you brave people in my life and to those of you out there who push through the hardships and to myself, I say,

Give em hell, turn their heads

Gonna live life til we're dead.

Give me scars, give me pain

Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me

There goes the fighter, there goes the fighter

Here comes the fighter

That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me,

This one's a fighter

Part 2: I Am Accepted

Part 2 is written by guest poster, Amy, on the topic of acceptance. 

Acceptance - it's something that we hear about all the time in this culture. And for the most part we think we do - sure - I accept that person who is different then me. But when it really comes down to it, do we really understand the true meaning of acceptance? Do we understand what it means to have someone close to us - like a best friend let's say, who is very different then us, and believes differently than us, who likes different things, who has a different personality, and be able to accept them for the person God made THEM to be. To accept them even when they drive us crazy or believe things that we don't. When they do things we don't agree with - do we know what it is not to judge them but to embrace that person and love that they ARE different from us?

I have a few girls who are my best friends - we are all totally different. And yet, somehow we stick together through it all. We can stick together because we love each other and accept each the other for who she is - not for who we think they SHOULD be. We don't try to change each other or judge the other when they believe differently or do something we don't agree with.

I want to talk specifically about one of my very best friends. You probably know her at least a little bit if you are reading this blog ;) But you probably don't really know her like I do - so I'll introduce you - her name is Sam. NOT Sammy (If looks could kill I'd be dead right now for the looks I've gotten for calling her this one ;)). Sam is an awesome person and friend - she has been there for me through a lot of stuff. We met when I was about 16-years-old and she had just graduated from high school. I was very legalistic and she and I believed very differently - about pretty much everything. Looking back neither of us were comfortable in our own skin, but we both were trying to pretend we were. I'm dead certain God was the One who made us friends because otherwise how could two people so different end up being such good friends? Sam was a godsend to a girl who barely had any friends, who didn't have her own real opinions on things yet. 

Like I said - Sam and I are very different - throughout the years we have grown up a lot and we believe a lot more alike now then we ever did, but most of our friendship I would say we have disagreed on beliefs. We even disagreed on movies (still do - I often like movie's she likes but she often hates movie's I love ;)). Yet somehow we can tell each other everything, and even when we were young we accepted each other - we'd disagree but underneath it all we always know that the other one will still love us. 

That doesn't mean we don't have hard times in our friendships or that we don't drive each other crazy. Honestly, sometimes she makes me want to pull my hair out. There was even a time when I didn't know if our friendship was going to make it - and honestly I felt like crying every day during that time. And yet looking back at even that time I realize that God brought us through that for a reason - I know He was teaching her stuff and He taught me a LOT about accepting and loving a friend - being a best friend - even when I wasn't sure some days. To make me realize to be best friends means that sometimes you have hard times - but you stick through it and accept the other person no matter how different then are. During that time she changed rather fast, I felt like I couldn't keep up - granted I changed a lot over the last several years, but my changes I felt were slower (maybe because I was living them?) - she changed faster and I have to re-learn things about her and her personality and beliefs that weren't there before - or that I hadn't been able to see before. Yet when we came out of that time of learning and changing we both still were there - Sam was still there. We had never abandoned each other. We were different, but we were still ourselves - in fact we now are more ourSELVES then we ever were before. Because of what we went through it made us stronger and closer. 

We now can encourage and accept each other when no one else seems too. We know the other won't judge us by the movies we watch, the songs we listen too, the words we use. If we are mad or hurt or upset and need to rant - we know we can go to each other because it doesn't matter what we say or do - the other person will still be there. We can be ourselves. When we are going through hell in our lives at the end the other person will be waiting. 

We are so different, but that's good - we sharpen each other. We have a blast with each other and it's ok we are different. 

We are so different but underneath it all we LOVE each other like crazy - I can't imagine life without her. And when you love someone it makes it easy to accept them because you get excited to see how the other person is changing and finding themselves. You get excited when they come to you with some new thing they love (even if you hate it personally like *cough cough* HP ;)). 

Learn to accept each other, because God made each of us differently. But He also made us to need each other. Knowing Sam has taught me so much. She taught me to branch out - to let go of legalism. To become my own person. To do what I wanted to do in life. Being her friend taught me to accept others for who they are and to love the gifts God has given them.

Do I always understand her or why she does certain things or believes certain things? No. But I accept her. I'm proud of her. I love her no matter what. And I know she does too (because if she didn't we'd be in trouble cause I'm really quirky and weird once you get to know me ;)). 

Love you Sam - I have no clue what I'd do without you and I'm glad God gave us the grace to stick through our friendship because my life would suck without you! 

Watch for Part 3: I Am Loved

Part 1: I Am Judged

I am judged.

Wherever I go, I run into people who place judgments on me. I run into people who believe it is their "duty" to bash a Bible over my head, who feel it's "right and good" to shame and guilt me...to place me inside a box and tape the lid over my head. I run into people who take it upon themselves to implicate that I am not a Christian.  That because I live my life differently, then I am in sin.

The other day, I had a friend message me to tell me I was shameful for pinning photos of girls in bikinis on my Pinterest. "Supporting girls who dress slutty like prostitutes gives people an impression of yourself."   
I am judged for photos. And for the way I dress.

I've been told it is dangerous to read certain books. I am judged for reading Harry Potter, Pride & Prejudice and Zombies, Narnia, Lord of the Rings.
I am judged for what I read.

I've been told music with any kind of beat is of the devil. And I have been told that listening to Katy Perry, Rihanna, Avril Lavigne, and other such "godless feminists" only encourages me in a life away from God.
I am judged for the music I listen to.

I've been told I will no longer be pure if I use "swears" such as "hell" and "shit" and "damn".
I am judged for words.

I've been told that to watch a movie with a PG-13 or higher rating means that I am filling my life with filth.
I am judged for what I watch.

I receive emails, letters, private messages from girls (and guys) telling me that I appear "too blunt", "as a feminist", "too out-spoken". As a woman, I am supposed to be soft-spoken, demure, quiet, and just keep my mouth shut.
I am judged for who I am.

I have been told I live a legalistic life...I've been told I'm much too liberal, that I am not living my life according to God's way. I have been told out-right I am in sin, I have been told underhandedly that I need to rethink my life.
I am judged for what I believe.

That is what life is...

I have gone through my life feeling like I don't fit in, that I SHOULD fit in. As a teen, I felt like my very nature was all wrong. I felt that I was too loud, too obnoxious, too opinionated...and that people didn't like it. So I gave in, I tried to fit myself into other people's boxes. I tried to be quiet, and keep my mouth shut, and reject what I truly believed. I tried because I was a people pleaser. But it never stuck. Always, my true personality would make it's way out...I am not a quiet person when it comes to stating my opinion, and I am very opinionated. And when I believe something, I believe it hard.

I am told I'm not spiritual enough. My spiritual walk is just that. Mine. It is special, it is unique, it is personal. It is mine. What I discuss with God, what He says to me...it is treasured. And I don't need to share everything with the world. I've had people tell me to read certain Bible verses, listen to certain sermons, certain songs, read certain books...all because they doubt my Christianity, doubt that I am strong in my faith.

It is hard. And it wears me down.  My sister told me, "Right now, I think you need to be loud, but it does have a downside. You attract the judgers as well as people who agree." 

"Friends"...those of you who judge me, I have something I want to share with you.

I love God with my whole heart. Just because I listen to certain music, read certain books, watch certain movies, say certain words, believe certain things...just because I am different from you, doesn't mean God loves me less. 

I want you to know, I am not easily swayed. When I believe something, it is because I considered it long and hard. God is very much present in my life decisions.

I want you to remember...I am human. Yes, I fail in my walk with God. Yes, I mess up. But I am only human. Words and actions and judgments still hurt. You have no right to try to change me. It is not your place. I know I can fail and judge others too. I am guilty of it myself. But I want to share with you the quote that I constantly remind myself.

"When I think of my own failings, it allows me to look at others with tolerance and acceptance and forgiveness." 

I am not asking you to agree with me on my lifestyle or the choices I make. I am asking, if you are trying to be a true friend, put forth tolerance and acceptance. And I will extend you the same courtesy. In fact, I will try to extend the same courtesy even though you don't extend the same to me.

I know I will always be judged. It's what happens when someone publicly says or does anything differently. I expect it. But today I want to encourage tolerance and acceptance. I want to encourage grace.

I am judged but it's not going to change me.  I am who God made me to be.  I am where He wants me to be.  I am working on the woman He created me to be.  And I have accepted that.  Can you?




Watch for Part 2: I Am Accepted

"Writers are desperate people..."

For each book I finish reading, I bring home two more. It's a vicious, never-ending circle. And I love it.

So much of my reading stacks these days are made up of children's and young adult novels. Why? Two reasons really...I read when I'm tired these days, and the last thing I want is a particularly deep book that needs my entire mind to focus on. (No, I save those books for when I'm most energized in my mind!) Instead I choose children's and young adult books because of my love for them. The simple yet meaningful or total fluff and fun! stories that you can get totally sucked into, no matter what age you are.

But most importantly, I have been immersing myself into the world of young adult novels because I am writing a young adult novel. Part of the whole process of writing this novel has me digging deep into the mind of young, teenage Sam as well as reading book after book of young adults struggling with some issue in their lives. The language, the culture, the thought-process...it's like research for a  fictional story. On top of all that I have also dug out my own journals from ages 16-20 and oh the flood of memories comes back! Experiencing those feelings all over again, understanding, sympathizing with, and cringing at my old self. I went through those same novel-like moments of struggling to discover who I am.

In the odd yet brief, free moments that I have when I'm not reading, I am writing. My novel is coming along so slowly because the words have to be right with this novel. The understanding and opinions and attitudes of my characters...the struggles...all of it has to be as real as possible. But a little bit every other day or so, several sentences are added and the more I get to know my characters, the more I relate to them.

Isn't that why we read in the first place? We relate and yet it's not real...merely a distraction from life.
I won't lie, I have thought several times of giving up on this novel because I feel like I relate too much with the characters, and because all this reading and digging back into my past has brought back hard memories as well as pleasant ones.  But there is a side to me, the teenage Sam who wants this novel to be written. A book about young people who struggle and grow and crave understanding. It is a novel that must be written. So, here I am, comfortably situated on the couch, pillows behind my back, Pandora playing, and a cup of tea nearby as I let the words slip from fingers to keys. I know it won't be a great novel and most likely will never be published, but it will be mine. It is already mine...words that are a part of me in a way that some people cannot understand. And even if no one ever reads it, I know there will be a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction once I've finished this novel, because I am a writer and sometimes there are words that just need to be written.

Isn't that why writers write, after all? It's not because we love it, although we do...there are days where we absolutely loathe writing. It's not because we are passionate about words, although we are...there are days where we passionately wish we'd never write another word. It's because we must. However, I find that people assume that because I'm a writer that I write everyday. Normally, this is true...these days I tend to write every day, either in the form of a letter or a blogpost or a journal entry. However, I can go weeks, even months without writing a single word for myself. This is especially true during a school semester. I get over-loaded with essays and papers and assignments for school writing that my desire for any other writing becomes burnt out. Do I believe a writer has to write everyday to be a writer? No, I don't. I think a writer writes when he or she simply needs to. If there is the desire to write and you follow up on that desire, you are a writer, in my book.

Tell me, why do you write? What do you write? Perhaps the words come out in a trickle or in a steady stream. Perhaps they appear once every blue moon or perhaps every day. I am not a strong writer in the sense that my writing is spectacular, nor do I fool myself to believe that many people read this blog or enjoy it. But I write because the words come. More often than not they come messily and in a confused ball that seems to just spew out of my mind.

So, yes, please, tell me, why do you write? Share something with me, ask about guest-posting on my blog! Share your blog! Share a novel, a poem, a journal entry...anything! I am intensely curious about other writers who write because they must.

Create a Life

I recently got into a discussion about single young women. And one girl said something that stuck out particularly to me.

"We need a life to share with someone else instead of waiting for a guy to come along with all the put-togetherness."

How true is this? I come from a conservative background where books like I Kissed Dating Goodbye and When God Writes Your Love Story and Boy Meets Girl, as well as the ideals of courtship were promoted. I had friends who preached the necessity of a girl living at home until she was married and the evils of working outside as a single girl.

To this day, in conservative circles, the idea that a girl should stay at home and assist her father and brothers in pursuing their dreams is heavily pushed upon every young woman. I reject these ideas because this implies that God has created robot women, each one exactly alike with the same exact talents and gifts to be used in the same exact way. I believe in a God that created individuals not just genders or gender roles.

That having been said, I believe in creating a life for myself, based on the calling God has for me. If a girl sits around doing nothing with her life while waiting for a man who may never show, then she has wasted a perfectly good life. If a girl was meant to wait for a man to begin her life, then why wasn't she born the day of her wedding? The fact is, a man doesn't need to put together a life for himself AND then create a life for the girl he loves in order for him to marry her.  A girl doesn't need a man to create a life for her. She has the tools and gifts to do so for herself right at her fingertips. If a man cannot fit into the life that a woman has built for herself according to the calling God has led her on, then he is not. worth. it. A woman needs a man whose life is compatible with her own. God didn't create us to place man, a husband, as the center of our lives. He didn't create us to place a man and his life above all else, above the gifts and calling God has given to us individually. And while some say that this can fit into the form of a housewife and homemaker and mother, it doesn't always. Some women aren't called to that life.

Waiting to build a life around a husband is a waste. It is creating an idol out of  a husband. We can have absolutely marvelous lives if we'd only stop sitting around, waiting for a man who could possibly never show up on our doorsteps. I am an individual, a woman called to do something with her life. And if a man wants to enter this life, he has to be compatible with it, just as my life needs to be compatible with his. And in this way, I am not wasting my life away nor am I obsessing over an idol of a man, a husband.

If we create a life for ourselves, this does not mean that all men will be scared away nor that there won't be any room for a husband. Yes, perhaps it won't work out with the lives of a lot of men, but as Amy March said, "You don't need scores of suitors. You only need one. If he's the right one." Create a life that you're called to create...a life you can share not give up.