Stars in the City

This past Sunday at church the gentleman teaching the Sunday School class I attended made a comment about how beautiful the stars are in the country, and then he said "They just don't have that in the city!"

I beg to differ.

I was raised in the suburbs. I love the suburbs. In fact, I will probably end up back there someday raising my own family. Someday most likely being a long time from now seeing as I am perpetually single, but that's not important right now. The point is I grew up in a suburb that also happened to be the highest point in Dallas County. Why, you ask, is that extremely random fact so important? Because since we were the highest point in the county we had all the radio and television towers in our town. At my last count I believe there were 14.

See all the red dots in the sky? Those are the towers.
Aren't they beautiful?
No?
Well, they are to me. They're like my own personal lighthouse, showing me the way home. Like my own personal set of constellations.

I know that people love to marvel at the beauty of a country sky. And here in Texas we are oh so proud of our Texas sky. And I agree, there is nothing like it. My grandparents used to have a farm out in the middle of Nowhere, Texas, and you can't find a more beautiful piece of sky that displays God's handiwork more perfectly. But here's the thing:
We were made in His image.
He created us to be creators.
So we created our own version of His magnificent stars.

City Lights.

Some people prefer one over the other, and that is valid and fair. But personally I think they are all beautiful and I think they all show the greatness of our God. Not only did He create this magnificent universe and all the stars that make up our sky, but he created a being in His image that strives to be like Him.

Who Are You to Think You can Succeed in Hollywood?

I am a daughter of the Most High King.

When we're little kids we dream of being princesses, astronauts, the President, and dragon slayers. Our parents, our teachers, the world all encourage us to dream. They say we can do whatever we want. The sky is the limit. And a million other poster worthy phrases. But somewhere along the way the message changes from "Dream Big! Reach for the Stars!" to "Think realistically. Be reasonable." So we change our dreams to more everyday things. We settle on things like teacher, mechanic, dentist, or mom. All of which are great dreams, if you are called to them!

Christ says to go out and make disciples of every nation. He calls us all to the life of a missionary. That doesn't mean we all move to Africa or South America; it means we live out the life of Christ where God has called us. If you're a mom, you minister to your kids, to their friends and their families, to the ladies on the PTA and your neighbors. If you're a mechanic, you minister to your customers, to your employees or your boss and co-workers. If you're still a student, you minister to your peers, your teachers; we are all called to minister to the people God has placed around us, no matter where that is.

If you can accept that, why can't you accept that God called someone to minister to actors, to singers? He has called us to speak truth into the lives of celebrities who influence the lives of so many, to be a public example who kids and teens can look up to. Why is it so outrageous that he dreams to be President someday? God has called him to lead our nation and influence the world. God has called us to minister to everyone, to help the less fortunate, to be His hands and feet. Well, God is omnipresent, which means His hands and feet need to be in Africa and South America, in our schools and doctors' offices, and in the media and the White House.

You may not see how that could be God's calling for me or him, or her, but that's not what matters. I can feel it, I can hear Him asking me to serve, and I have faith that "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." In 1 Samuel 17, a small boy everyone thought would fail took down a giant. Not because he had some secret power or hidden strength, but because the Lord was on his side. That kid went on to become king. I may not look like much now, or have the skill set to make it in the industry, but I have faith that He will equip me with all the tools I need to do His work.

 "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty"

     "I'm not sure how to say it..." When your grandfather is sick, those seven words say it all. Those seven words spell out death. I was doing okay, I'm pretty good at making logical arguments with myself. Every time I got close to crying I told myself, "He loved Jesus. He's in Heaven." "He didn't suffer long," "The cancer would have taken months and beaten him down, this is better." All true, and all kept me sane as I drove home in Dallas traffic. But one can only repeat those things to themselves so many times before your mind starts to wonder.
     "Now they're both gone. Daddy's an orphan. At least I'll remember him. I remember so little of Dadum (Mom's dad), I was only 9. LC's only 4..." And that's when I started crying. Grandma Elaine died in 1984, years before my parents married and long before they had any grandkids. I never got the chance to meet her, something I am painfully aware of whenever I use my middle name, and anytime someone pays me the compliment of saying I am so much like her (her brother calls me his little Elaine because I remind him of her, though I'm not so little anymore). LC is in this boat as well, sharing my namesake but never getting the chance to meet her...
     ...and now "Grandpa Charlie" as she called him, is gone too. When I realized that she would probably remember very little about our grandpa, my heart broke. I loved Dadum, and I remember him, but just bits and pieces, a lot of what I know about him, his character, his personality  comes from stories I've heard over the years from my family, and things you can figure out based on pictures and the way people talk about him. LC will have that too, we'll talk about grandpa, and our fathers will tell stories about him and grandma Elaine, but her memory base is just so small, she's only 4.
     My family is stoic, that's what my Mom calls them, really they just don't talk much about their feelings. I get it, every time I even think about it I cry. And I know we have lots of men in this family, and men don't cry, at least not in front of their kids, but I needed to cry. I needed to talk to someone, and everyone here is busy taking care of things, or taking care of someone. So thanks for listening, because I'm not stoic, I'm a freaking mess.

CG61

     Today was my first day back at Camp Gladiator (CG). Last month, I got all psyched about getting in shape and made a ONE YEAR commitment...I'm not sure what I was thinking. I haven't stuck with a work out routine for that long since...I don't even know, maybe junior year of high school? I skipped work out Monday, and I felt guilty all day, that's never really happened to me before. Why now?
     I think it's because I'm moving out next month. You see, up until now, I have always been completely financially dependent on my parents. Unlike many young people, I did not get a job while in high school. Once in college, I only worked a few summers before getting a part time job as a tutor senior year. And even when I was working, that money was extra, just for fun, to pay club dues or what not. But starting next month, I'm completely responsible for me. Mom won't be putting $500 dollars in my account each month so I can pay rent, no more charging gas on my parents' credit card, no more gym membership.
     Next month, I go from feeling slightly adult-ish as I drive into downtown Dallas to being an independent adult, living free of parent control and assistance. Part of that means paying for that one year commitment to CG, $65 each month taken directly out of my account, so no backing out. That's why I felt guilty, cause it was my money. I'm not about to stop going if I have to keep paying. So from now till next October, three days a week I'll be getting up at 5 AM to run, sweat, and die each week.
     Once I do that, the hard part becomes not eating everything in sight. I swear if I don't have a six pack by the end of this, I want a refund. Especially if they're gonna tell me I can't eat ice cream.

Let the Journey Begin

     I'm a Christian. I used to think that part of being a Christian was having your crap together. I used to think it meant you knew what you were supposed to do, why you're here. I know I'm still young, but I have been through a lot, and I've figured out recently that most Christians don't have a clue. We like to think we know what we're doing, but we're just as lost as everybody else. Until, that is, we learn to listen. Not with our ears, with our souls. It's a weird concept, I know, and it's freaking hard to do; personally I'm still not sure if I'm doing it right. But I'm trying, and I think that counts for something. 

    This summer I felt the draw of acting again, something I hadn't done since high school. I prayed and prayed and asked for advice, and God opened a door. I've started a program in Dallas called Actors, Models, and Talent for Christ, and I am scared out of my mind. This program trains you and teaches you skills in your field as well as how the industry works. So far, I love it and it's all exciting and uplifting. Yes I get a little nervous or some stage fright, and the idea of failing is scary, but that's not why I'm terrified. I'm afraid that I'll succeed. 

     What if I make it? What if I become this famous actress? What if along the way I lose sight of why I'm doing this? What if I let go of God's hand and start walking down a different path? What if I'm not strong enough? 

9/11

So as you all know tomorrow is 9/11; well, in honor of that I thought I would post this poem. I wrote it Freshman year for my English class, idk it was how I felt about it at the time.

U. S. A.

One decade ago when I was only nine,

A crazy man convinced others to die.

He put them on planes with one mission in mind,

To go up alive and see that no one survived.

The great peace sign in New York,

The weird shape in Virginia,

And a field in Pennsylvania,

Were lit up like torches,

And laid many to rest.

The Commander and Chief

Sent our boys over seas,

Fighting for freedom, for peace.

Thousands of brothers,

Sons,

 Fathers,

Flew across great waters

And came back to their families:

A wooden box with a flag.

Over the years of bloodshed and strife

We’ve had our share of losses and wins.

We have mourned the death of many,

And celebrated the deaths of few.

But today we celebrate and mourn

The death of that crazy man,

For the world has one less crazy,

But that man never knew Christ.

One decade ago when I was only nine,

Our country declared war.

One decade later, I’m proud to say

Our country just took the first step

Towards ending the pain,

The suffering,

The war.

Finals

     Well, it's that time of year, the dreaded yet celebrated Finals Week.  I kicked off the week with a game of Sardines at a local park with some friends.  It was a blast until we got kicked out by the cops and were forced to move our game to campus...Still fun tho, everything is more fun after midnight :) Saturday I enjoyed my last true day of freedom before I was in hell, well hell is now here, so what am I doing? Procrastinating!
     It is essential that I get amazing grades on all of my finals; if I don't my GPA will drop and I won't get into Med School, which means I won't get to be a doctor, which I'm not ok with. But of course I still plan on procrastinating some, not because I want to, but because I can't concentrate so I have nothing else to do.
     I was lucky enough to only have 1 final everyday for 4 days, so I can just study for one at a time, but I still have to take them all, and my future is literally riding on the next four days.  If I can't be a doctor, I honestly don't know what I will do with my life...maybe I'll be a hobo....