Freckles: By Natasha Bedingfield

Here are lyrics from a song that is hitting the spot in my heart that needs to be comforted.

You're Not ALone
by Meredith Andrews

I searched for love when the night came and it closed in I was alone, but you found me where I was hiding and now I'll never be the same it was the sweetest voice that called my name saying
You're not alone for I am here, let me wipe away your every fear my love I've never left your side I have seen you through the darkest night And I'm the one whose loved you all your life All of your life
You cry yourself to sleep 'Cause the hurt is real and the pain cuts deep All hope seems lost with heartache your closest friend And everyone else long gone You've had to face the music on your own but there is a sweeter song that calls you home, saying
You're not alone for I am here let me wipe away your every fear my love I've never left your side I have seen you through the darkest night and I'm the one whose loved you you're whole life all of your life.
Faitful and true forever my love will carry you
You're not alone for I am here let me wipe away your every fear my love I've never left your side I have seen you through the darkest night your darkest night and I'm the one whose loved you all your life all of your life.

So much has gone on.
So much has happened.
So much has been dealt with.
So much to look forward to.

Was it all worth it?
Was my journey worth the heart ache?
Will the pain ever fully leave?

I am finally at a place that I am just tasting my dream.
I am heading that way!

Let my enduring keep going.
Let my heart learn its song.
Let my life be lead before.


I was listening to music the other day and heard this song.......It is what my heart is singing....

No
by Jason Aldean
Lookin' back at the dead ends and the detours
All I could do was long for a straighter line
Yeah, I was lost, I had no way of knowin'
Where the twists and turns were goin'
But sometimes, just gotta let the road wind

Could it have been easier?
Yeah, a little smoother, right, maybe so
But lying here with you
Would I change one thing 'bout that road?
No

I believe things happen for a reason
Even though you might not see it at the time
'Cause now I know, every plan that came unraveled
Every crooked path I traveled in my life
Led me here, to your side

Could it have been easier?
Yeah, a little smoother, right, maybe so
But lying here with you
Would I change one thing 'bout that road?
No

Yeah, I finally found you

Could it have been easier?
Yeah, a little smoother, right, maybe so
But lying here with you
Would I change one thing 'bout that road?

Oh, it could have been easier
Yeah, a little smoother, right, maybe so
But lying here with you
Would I change one thing 'bout that road?
No

I have not journaled in a long time. I have written in my online blog but not my journal. My journal is where the epitome of my whole being is expressed. It is sometimes even hard for me to express myself in that little book. My journal is the cry of my heart. My heart has not called or cried out since May 16, 2010. It feels like a lifetime since then. I am back to some of the same struggles. I have been so busy that I have been neglecting so much in my life. My anxieties, worries, and struggles have been suffocating me. I can’t breathe, sleep, or not be sick. I am miserable. But then I realize, I have not been giving my worries and cares over to the One who can comfort me. Life seems so hard and like there are no solutions or directions. I know there are, in time they will be shared but for now….I need to learn how to have faith. I need to learn to trust.

Faith and trust ~Two very simple words that are huge continents in my life that I cannot seem to explore. I almost wonder if there is something innately wrong with me. Why does faith seem impossible to believe? How come I cannot trust? It is not that I do not want those things, it just seems that I am too stubborn, stupid, and independent. I do not want to do it by myself anymore. I need help. I need to remember God cares about everything, especially little details such as where I should live when I graduate and providing me with a teaching job.

I am thoroughly exhausted with work, life, myself and not trusting. I need a vacation from myself. I need to let God be God and Shasta be Shasta. It is a constant struggle, but I pray I am learning to trust.

I need to learn to relax and let God.  I need to turn to him and depend on Him alone.  It is not my cup of tea, but I cannot do it anymore.  I can't do it alone.  I need help, I am not meant to be alone........I am choosing that path because I am stubborn and stupid.  God alone can heal my lonely heart but I wont turn to Him caz I wont trust Him.  How stupid can I be?

This is what I am feeling.  I found a song that reflects my mood right now. 

Beautiful Disater

By Jon McLaughlin

She loves her mama's lemonade
And hates the sound that goodbye's make
She prays one day she'll find someone to need her

She swears that there's no difference
Between the lies and compliments
It's all the same if everybody leaves her

And every magazine tells her she's not good enough
The pictures that she sees make her cry

She would change everything, everything, just ask her
Caught in the in-between a beautiful disaster
She just needs someone to take her home

She's given boys what they want
And tries to act nonchalant
Afraid they'll see that she's lost her direction

She never stays the same for long
Assuming that she'll get it wrong
Perfect only in her imperfection

She's not a drama queen
She doesn't want to feel this way
Only 17 but tired

She would change everything, for happy ever after
Caught in the in-between a beautiful disaster
She just needs someone to take her home

She's just the way she is but no one's told her that's okay

She would change everything, everything, just ask her
Caught in the in-between a beautiful disaster
She just needs someone to take her home

She would change everything, for happy ever after
Caught in the in-between a beautiful disaster
She just needs someone to take her home
She just needs someone to take her home

A Father's Love -- Bucky Covington

This song is my daddy to T!

Cookies

Cookie

By Shasta Hofer

6/10/2010

Growing up, I sometimes felt my house was a cookie factory.  Cookies were the currency of love, bribery, even fun.  I can make lots of different types, but without fail it was always the chocolate chip cookie I would make.  That recipe is so ingrained into my being that I can mix it in the dark by touch.  I loved and still love this recipe because you can vary it so much.  Each person that makes it can make the cookie taste different.  Even the individual cookies come out of the oven looking different.  Rarely are they the same.  Chocolate chip cookies were not made to be exactly the same.  Maybe that is why I love to make them.  It may also be because of who I make the cookies for.  A lot of cookies require cookie cutters.  Cookie Cutters are amazing things.  They come in all shapes and sizes.  Cookie cutters are made to make each cookie look the same - A repeat of the last one.  Picture perfect.  The same.  No individuality. 

            But that is not how believers are to behave.  Believers are not made to be cookie cutters.  God created us all different.  We all have different purposes.  But then why do we look like perfect sugar cookies? 

            When society is looked at there are many forms of cookie cutters.  There are the Suzy homemakers; the Merry Martha merchants; Crushed Chris Loafers; Monsterous Consuming Muchers; the Work to late ignore your family work-aholics;  the legalistic Bertha Baptists; the Sunday Morning picture perfect family; and the I will do my own thing people.  We are encouraged to be our own people, be an individualist.  Don’t conform to what society wants! 

But people do.  They do no follow their own paths.  They walk another’s path - One that is already forged.  Striking out on your own is hard.  There is much pain and intensity.  But it is what we are called to do.  In his book, None but the Hungry Heart, Miles J. Stanford writes

God has a unique plan concerning each one of us.  The secret of realizing our personal calling is not to look at others, but simply to walk in close fellowship with the Father” (5-13 Free, to Serve). 

We are not meant to be the same.  But life is filled with so many directions, guides, standards, and patterns it is not hard to see why people often find something to mimic and copy.  During the same devotional, Miles J. Stanford also wrote

You may say, ‘show me pattern man.’ We all like to copy; but there is no gain in copying.  You have to learn the Lord for yourself.  All you learn for yourself will remain, and nothing else.  Everyone has his own history.

People have their own paths and their own lessons.  Copying only allows us to live someone else’s life.  Life is an amazing journey we have been blessed with.  We need to live our own lives, not others.

It is plain enough that every believer is called of God to something definite.  The real difficulty is to ascertain the specialty, and this I do not think can be discovered but in nearness to the Lord, and when you are interested in His interests.  We first learn that He is interested in us, and then we gradually become interested in His interests.  It is then you apprehend your mission in life.  – J.B.S.

Do you want to be another sugar cookie in life?  Or do you want to be a chocolate chip cookie?  Live your life the way God meant it to be!

This is a poem I found somewhere. It is by an unknown author.

Life is a gift...Accept it!
Life is an adventure...Dare it!
Life is a mystery...Unfold it!
Life is a struggle...Face it!
Life is a puzzle...Solve it!
Life is an opportunity...Take it!
Life is good...Achieve it!

My Journey of Faith - Shasta's Song

I have been doing lot of thinking and praying lately. I believe it is time to share some of the journey I have been on the last couple of years.
Life has many twists and turns, ups and downs. Those little ventures do not come without some form of joy or hurt. Sometimes baggage even piles up without the knowledge of the hauler. Baggage when unnoticed often causes severe emotional issues.
I want to say that I have had a terrible life – was abused, neglected, or unnoticed. But that was not the case. There was a lot of trauma. Trauma from a burn that covered a third of body at the age of five; trauma from constantly moving and cutting ties; not knowing where I belong or where I am from; trauma from a job that kept my family unstable in many ways. No, my life was not filled with drama, just trauma that impacted me in a way that I would have never dreamed.
After Bible School, so many things happened. Not a lot of events that were earth shattering, I just started questioning. With great knowledge, came lots of questions. Things in life just seemed to not be compatible. I was not satisfied. Christ was supposed to be sufficient and enough, but He did not seem like it. How could a loving God create a world of such hypocrisy? Why would He allow innocent people to suffer? What was the purpose of suffering? Why was it wrong to question? Why did I seem invisible? I had wounds that ran deeper than the Grand Canyon festering and I did not even know it. Those wounds were ugly and nasty. I was being eaten from the inside out and was unaware of it. Oh, I did notice it a tiny bit at a time. Church became a chore, but I still upheld my responsibilities and kept up appearances – did not want to upset anyone with the ugliness that was starting to surface. The world started looking a better and better as each day passed. They could live their lives anyway they wanted and would just bear the consequences of their decisions and keep going on with life. There were no judgment and quiet murmurs from people who “understood grace.” They lived without being condemned by people who should be their community. But they were condemned, at least I knew where I was heading if I died.
I moved from Wisconsin to Missouri to focus on going to school. The irony of the whole thing was – I went to a Christian to work on a degree that represents a gift from God. At first I tried to keep up the good little Christian girl attitude, went to a couple of bible studies, prayer groups, etc. But it still felt lack luster. I hated it! I do not enjoy fakeness and that was what I was participating in. I was a hypocrite. Not only was the ugliness and festering wounds in my heart getting worse, I abhorred myself even more for being fake.
Through all those things, I started getting angry at God. I became bitter and even quit walking with God. Why would I want to have anything to do with a God that seemed so cruel and unjust? Why would I talk with a God that allowed me to suffer so emotionally? Why would I want to be near people that seemed so beautiful but I was a dreaded, detestable, malicious, repulsive monster? I hated myself and hated God. Death seemed easier to handle than real life, at least the pain and suffering would end. But I was not suicidal, there was so much more I wanted to do and accomplish in life. Ending it seemed like a pansy way of handling things. I just stopped caring, I checked out of life. I no longer participate. I barely managed to go through the barest necessary motions of living.
I dreaded school, I hated life, and I could not stomach anything that had to do with God. Any thought of God, Christianity, or faith made me want to vomit. I was crumbling; those festering wounds had finally killed me from the inside out. I was angry all the time, sarcastic, biting, and no longer joyful. The whole world could have gone and flown a kite for all I cared. I just wanted out somehow! So, I turned to food. Bingeing became a way of life. Food can stuff back down emotion, right? Wrong! I hated myself, I gained so much weight. But I still kept stuffing. I got to a point where I could eat like a defensive linebacker; probably could have out eaten him. That was not working. So, I turned to shopping. I had to get clothing that fit properly, right? That helped only for a little bit. I would feel pretty for only a few minutes in my new outfit, before I started hating myself. I would get the bill and not like myself. Then I would binge to bury my emotions. Shopping brought little gratification. A vivacious cycle had already started. Binge, shop, receive bill, binge, shop, and on and on it went. Next, I turned to work. I had acquired debt from my vicious cycle. I should be responsible and pay it off. But then I worked and worked. Work became my life. It was easier to be at work where I did not have to think about my ugliness or the things I was trying to avoid. Yet, somehow I still managed not to budge in my debt or baggage. Work just became overwhelming and started wearing me down worse than my wounds. Sleep became the obvious concession. I would stay in bed. It was as if my pillow and the dark, solemn nether lands had me in their strong vise. Classes would skip by; work became a second thought; becoming presentable for the day was something that existed only in another lifetime. Even sleep turned sour. Soundless replays of nightmares, the inability to feel rested, and the inability to even sleep haunted me.
I was not connecting with anyone. Friends said they loved; my parents say what was going on but were helpless. People were not allowed to mention God or prayer around me. It irritated me. It felt as if I was covered with South American Army Ants that were taking me piece by piece any time they were mentioned. I wanted nothing to do with Him. I tried cutting people out of life while still trying to live my life. I felt as if Albatross was warmer, friendlier, and less isolated than I had become.
When I was finally past my crashing point, I contacted a counselor. I knew something had to give with my life and it was not going to be me. A few days later, I was dragged out of my bed by a secretary to talk with a Dean on campus. Quitting was not an option. I was so close to achieving my dream. Becoming a teacher and getting a college degree was within my grasp, yet quickly disintegrating before my eyes. Those first few weeks of counseling were painful and dreaded. I did not want to talk. I was not willing to go into the deep, dark regions of my heart. I have always avoided them, why would I start now?
But I was starting to have anxiety attacks. They were quiet attacks, with a lack of fanfare, but traumatizing at the same time. Flashbacks and memories that were buried for a lifetime came crashing down smothering me. I did not know what to do with them. How do you deal with the flashback of doctors scrapping dead skin off your chest at five? Or the memory of seeing partial limbs and exposed muscles of adults in the same physical therapy as you were? Or the screams of grown men, that had infected burns? Hospitals terrified me and left me shaken to the core. The smell of antiseptic sent me spiraling. But there were other things. What about the fact I felt worthless and abandoned because my dad left for Desert Storm that week? Maybe if I had been special enough or important enough my daddy would have chosen me? Uncle Sam’s claim on my father’s life had no understanding in a child’s heart. All she knew is she needed her daddy but he left. The only way of dealing with these is to work through them. Allow the memories to come back. That is when my anger started pouring out. I hated God! He allowed this! What does He have in mind for my life? Had I not suffered enough!?!?! Why am I repeating this? Does not living through it once count for anything? Why was there a need to grieve? Where were all these tears coming from? When will I stop crying? I had already cried five oceans, but there were still more tears. I felt as if I had lost out a lot during my childhood – like it was ripped away from me before I even had a chance to enjoy it. One the day I was burned, reality slammed into me. I was never the same. I felt I had to be strong. Other around would be taken care of before I would consider myself. Seeing pain and agony in an adult’s eyes as they were caring for your burn was more than I could bear at an early age. With every fiber of my being, I learned to control my tears, pain, and fright. I could not impose more on them. I had to be strong. I had to be an adult.
It still took time to deal with all this. I wanted to avoid it. But when it is smacking you in the face, there is only so much ignoring you can do. I started to learn to see myself in a different light. I started to laugh again. They were pitiful laughs by “Shasta Laugh Standards,” but it was a start. I started attempting to spend time with my friends. But God was still a painful topic. He allowed everything. He had a plan and purpose for it. He did not bother to ask me if I was willing to be dragged on the path He was set me. He obviously did not love like He said. In my heart of hearts, I knew He did love me, He kept me alive. He provided for me in many ways. But I still felt abandoned by everyone and everything in my life.
My biggest desire in life was to be loved and cherished. But I felt worthless and unlovable. How could anyone love me? I have a nasty scar on my chest with an even nastier scar left on my heart. My worst fears were to be unloved and abandoned. Those have happened. I felt abandoned in many ways and most were unintentional. I was supposed to trust people? Are you kidding me? Why? They leave you. They hurt you. Didn’t they see I was a dreaded, detestable, malicious, repulsive monster? I felt like I was constantly exposed. Nothing was hidden. But people did not see that. They saw past all that. They saw who God created me to be.
People prayed for me. This I knew for sure – without the prayers of people praying for me, petitioning God on my behalf – I would be nowhere. When I had come to terms with my anger, I was just hurt. Hurt does not go away easily. It lingers like a bad smell or taste. I still wanted nothing to do with God. But I was slowly warming up to Him. I knew I needed Him but I did not want Him interfering with me on a constant, daily basis.
At the end of the semester last spring, I got MONO again. Joy of joys. The summer I had planned working to try and finally pay off my debt did not happen. But my cycle of stuffing had started diminishing slowly. I found other ways of handling my emotions and anxieties. My daddy flew out to Missouri and drove me back to Arizona. My dad was there for me when I needed. He really did care. Then he drove me to all the places I mentioned moving to after college. That act alone started soothing an aching heart. My heart had begun to heal. I spent the summer baking, cooking, wandering around town, and laying by the pool. Nothing to it. But it was something my soul needed – an escape. I needed to get away from the life I was living and I did. I still was not talking with God. Sunday morning worship was painful. It reminded me of what I was trying to abandon. I was reading through a book titled, “Your Scars are Beautiful.” My scar has given me so many lessons, fears, and triumphs in my lifetime, but it was still something I touched with a ten foot pole. My best friend sent me a book called “When God Write Your Love Story.” I read it. Why not? All I did was bake and swim. But my heart was definitely warming up. I did not glean an ounce of a romantic relationship advice from the book. What I learned was that God loved me truly and He loved me deeply. He went through hell just to make sure that I could one day live with Him in Heaven. What we experience here on this earth, is only to shape and mold our character. Nobody likes diamonds that have not been cleaned and shaped. Same thing with gold – it must be purified. I was being cleaned.
The heart has a delicate nature. It takes time for hurts and aches to surface; time to work through and unpack baggage. And time to heal. My journey is far from over and will not end. Time is a four letter word that is the most needed. I want to say that I have amazing faith and will no longer deal with anything but I know I will. I can say that I finally came to my absolute end. I could no longer keep fighting and wrestling with God. I just did not have it in me anymore. I had to give in. I had to give up. I had to go to God. Even that was rocky at first. Once you have been hurt, you are leery of dealing with the same person. They may hurt you again. You may not want to deal with them. Past experience may sometimes dictate knee jerk reactions to common situations. I have had to work through those. Life happens. It is rough and painful, yet at the same time beautiful. There is no way to know what will happen or where you will be taken. But I know this. My life has a purpose and plan. I may not know what it is, but God does. And at this point in my life – that is all that matters. Faith takes years to grow. And it does not grow in the calm peace of a greenhouse, but in the rough patches in life. It is ever constant, yet changing. That in itself is amazing. It grows and can change. It does not have to stay stagnant.
Life has a way of impacting people differently, even if they go through the same experience as you. Each person has their own journey and their own path. No one’s is the same. God has different purposes for all of us. If He wanted us to be the same, then He would have made cookie cutters. Our scars or baggage are meant to be shared. They are lessons we have learned and grown through. We may not understand the reasons for them, but that is not ours to understand. God knows exactly what He is doing. But it takes faith to trust that He will finish what He started in our life.
I wish I could say that I came out of my depression ready to kick life in the butt, but I cannot. I learned that time is one of our most precious commodities. Faith does not need to be a huge mountain to be affected. And I am more loved and cherished than I realized. The entire time I thought I was abandoned I was being carried through the storm. And the storms will always be there. But I have a God that will take care of me. The desert I wandered in so long was lonely and thirsty. It was not a pleasant place to be, but I needed it. Baggage should not pile up and wounds should never be allowed to fester to the point of killing a person. But that is what happened in my life. It was easier to ignore and not deal with issues. But God in His time saw to it that I unpack my bags and learn how to communicate with others. All it took was one tiny, baby step at a time. Sometimes you need to learn to crawl before you can walk. And just as a baby falls down then they are learning to walk, so will you fall down as you learn to walk with God. I certainly have. But you get right back up and keep walking. God is always there guiding you.

I’m Singing by Kari Jobe

Only one name lasts forever
Only one fame stands alone
Only one King has an anthem
That goes on and on and on

And I'm Singing to the God who brings redemption to the nations
Kings and oceans bow to Him in praise
And I'm Singing to the God who wrote the book on our salvation
To the One who covers me in grace
I'm Singing

Only one word in the beginning
Only one truth will prevail
Only one love brings you freedom
Only one Man took the nails

And I'm Singing to the God who brings redemption to the nations
Kings and oceans bow to Him in praise
And I'm Singing to the God who wrote the book on our salvation
To the One who covers me in grace
I'm Singing

Praise, Praise to the Savior
Praise, to the Lamb Of God
Praise, in all of His splendor
Praise, for saving my life

And I'm Singing to the God who brings redemption to the nations
Kings and oceans bow to Him in praise
And I'm Singing to the God who wrote the book on our salvation
To the One who covers me in grace

And I'm Singing to the God who brings redemption to the nations
Kings and oceans bow to Him in praise
And I'm Singing to the God who wrote the book on our salvation
To the One who covers me in grace
To the One who covers me in grace
I'm Singing
I'm Singing
I'm Singing
I'm Singing

So blogs have been blocked by my school. This means unless I go off campus I cannot read the ones I follow or post!

New Blog!

So I decided since I loved the blogger set up, I would open a new blog for my photography.  I may take down my photo website.  I am not sure yet. But here is the link -

daisiesbyshasta.blogspot.com

Enjoy!

The Cross

The Cross
by Me

The cross has so many memories, so many burdens, so many dreams, yet it is seen everywhere. It is a symbol of hope, a symbol of death, a symbol of glory. The cross was a form of punishment for criminals. It was dreaded. It was horrible. But people everywhere have a cross. It is on the pulpit at church, women have jewelry containing it, walls are even adorned with them.

Is the cross just a symbol taken for granted? Is there any real meaning?

It is just rough wood. The cross was torturous, not happy, full of pain. But the cross brings peace to the troubled, joy to the heartbroken, and hope to the hopeless. How does a form of punishment become such a well-known symbol?

It is universal for hope, peace, and care. Many songs are sang about its redeeming power. The cross is just wood. Wood from a tree that was cut down. Wood that will be burned when its intended use is no longer needed.

But you tell me that the cross is important? It is necessary? It brings hope? Are you CRAZY!?!?!

It is ordinary. It is natural. It is normal. It is not the cross that is important. It was the act. It was Christ's act on the cross! It was Christ taking on my burdens, my sins! Not the cross! The cross was the instrument used to carry out the deed. But it is the cross that is seen everywhere. There is no way to describe or picture Christ carrying the sin of the world. The cross is the symbol that shares that. The old rugged, ordinary, natural, wooden cross is where my Christ hung so that I maybe free.

I don't wish...
by Me

I don't wish life was easy anymore,
just that I had the grace to carry on.

I don't wish I knew all the answers,
just that I had the wisdom to handle the decisions.

I don't wish to have a ton of friends,
just a few close, loyal ones.

I don't wish for a ton of money,
just that my bills are paid.

I don't wish for a complicated life with all the trappings,
just a simple one with the necessities.

I don't wish for much but I should.
Maybe I should wish for things.
I don't think that would be wrong.
Why shouldn't I have hopes and dreams?

I wish for peace, in spite of the storm.

I wish for hope in the face of great odds.

I wish for strength when given heavy burdens.

I wish for endurance when I can no longer keep going.

Most importantly, I wish for love.
Love that is forever.
Love that is unconditional.
Love that is respectful, patient, and kind.

I wish for love from a partner who sticks with you through thick and thin.
Love that is not endless.

I wish for a family to love and nurture.

I wish to grow old with my best friend - the love of my life.

I wish to be settled yet travel.

I wish I knew how to be expressive.

I wish I could see my dreams come true.

I was cleaning out my notebook and found this. This is from a year- year and a half ago. It was something I wrote during class.

It is easier not to say anything...

Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.

Nobody wants to hear me.
Nobody really cares.
Nobody sees that I am dying inside.
Nobody gives a second thought when I flip out about a minor paper cut.
Nobody thinks I'm important.
Nobody wants to hear what I have to say.

So much jumbled up inside.
So much I can't even understand.
So much I need help with.
So much to say but
Nobody wants to hear what I have to say.

I want to speak and be heard.
I want to have value.
I want to have a voice.
I want somebody to hear what I have to say.
But
Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say!

Ponderings

Do I really only turn to you when times are tough?
Do I never praise and worship you?

Though my actions do not always demonstrate
I do love you, Lord!
I do long for the day that I won't stumble anymore.
I do want your best in my life.
I just don't know how.

Lead me to your Pastures,
Lead me to the Rock that is stronger than I,
Lead me to the Calm in the storm,
Lead me to the Hope that exists beyond all turmoil,
Lead me to the Love that is self-sacrificing,
So that I may rest in your Care,
Cling to your Strength,
Blossom under your Love,
Grow under your Grace,
Cherish your Dreams.

Urban Dictionary

This is the definition of Shasta by Urban Dictionary.com

"A beautiful mountain, a gorgeous lake, a precious little daisy. An all american beautiful girl can be described as a shasta. It is also the name of an indian tribe. Shasta means having Natural Beauty. Someone who is majestic.

Look at her...she is gorgeous. She doesn't have to wear any makeup at all...she is a true shasta."

The first one was a cheap soda!

My new dorm room.

This is a bigger and much quieter dorm room then where I have lived the last 2 and a half years. A nice blessing. I have my own bathroom that I share with my roommate and one suitemate.

My desk

Our desks

My side

The other side with a comfy chair

My closet..........hats on top, shoes on the bottom........scarves halfway

The doorway

The bathroom

Good-Bye, Hello

The word "good-bye" is one of the most depressing words in the English language. It means the end, it's over, no more, gone. It is often said at a parting. Life is so full of good-byes. I have seen more then my fair share. Beloved family members pass on, the inevitable move in which you leave places and people you love, an era in life changes, a friend moves on in their life and you never see them again, your family up roots yet again and you have a new zip code.

Good-bye is an easy way to hang onto the past. If it is never said, then maybe the effects of leaving are not as traumatic. If I never acknowledge the person leaving, then they have never really left. Good-byes are hard. They are constantly happening.

I hate good-byes.
I hate them.
I have no control of them.
They ripe out your heart.
Good-byes hurt.
They kill your sense of security.
Good-byes turn your world upside down.
I hate how you feel as if you know nothing about anything in the world when they happen.
Good-byes happen.

Sometimes I think that is all life is - an ending. One good-bye after another. A ceaseless cycle of heart ache and break. But then there is always a "hello." As often as something ends, something else begins. God never gives you a good-bye without a hello. Even death is not a final good-bye, it is hello to paradise and being present with God.

Hello. As much as your heart is breaking from a good-bye, hello is just as scary as saying good-bye. There is no telling what will happen or who you will meet. "Hello" is the same act of trust as "good-bye" is.

I wish there were no good-byes and no hellos. But without those life would be boring and be the same thing. Life is full of adventure. It is full of lessons. It does not always mean it is easy. There are some hello and good-byes that will always stink and hurt. But God has promised us that "He will never forsake and abandon us. Give us more than we can bare. And give us the grace needed to get through life."

I do not like good-bye or hello. They seem so formal and heart breaking. "Hey" is so nonchalant. There has to be a way to say those that soothe the soul when the events are happening. I guess this is the part where learning to trust God comes into play. If you trust Him for your salvation, why can you not trust Him for your hello and good-byes. He has plans for each one of us. He knows what circumstances we need for His purpose. Maybe all those millions of good-byes were for a purpose. Maybe they have a use other than the heart ache they have always brought.

Where one adventure ends, another always begins.

Good-bye old! Hello new!

Musings of my heart

I need to not neglect You, Lord.
Your word has always been faithful to give me
a peace and calm that only You can give.

You make me still because I do not stop.
You make me quiet because I do not listen.
You break me open because I hide.
You love me because You are Lord.
You carry me because You are strong.
You give me hope because You are God.

Miss M

I like to play with my camera. These are photos from the beginning of last semester. She was so much fun to photograph and the camera loved her!

My semester of artwork

This semester I took a General Education art class as a pre-requisite for an art methods class. This is most of my work from the semester.