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Reminders of His faithfulness: Favor and Grace

I still remember the banging on my door and the moment I opened it. My dear friend Hannah standing there panting and out of breath, attempting to explain through some sort of charades that she too had been hired as a Camp in the City counselor second half. We woke up half of fourth floor east with our screams of excitement. We didn't really know each other well at that time, but knew very soon in the future we would learn to rely on each other in ways we had never before.

We talked every now and then throughout the year, about what we thought camp would look like this summer. We laughed about the fact that they wanted us to be lifeguards. We got to know each other over coffee and the mutual bond of Christ.

I remember the first time in training I had to go to the bottom of the almost 15 foot pool and retrieve the brick. It was frightening, but I didn't ever imagine I would have to do it again. Not until Hannah and I were partners. We sat there treading water, looking directly at each other. Hannah whispered: Ready, one, two, three. We shoved our head and body under water and suddenly I felt trapped. The bottom was too far down. I surfaced myself panicking as I reached the air. Hannah comes up a few seconds later. She asked what happened. I cant. 

I had never been at the end of myself before. I had never been afraid of anything. She looked at me intently and said "you can do this, Mary Helen." We tried a few more times, with the same results. I felt more and more trapped by the water with every try. Eventually she told me to sit on the edge and relax. And again reminded me "Mary Helen, you can do this." I sat on the edge of the pool as the words sank into who I was. The truth was I could do it. I could get to the bottom and rescue my victim. So what was my problem?

You see, I didn't believe in my God that I was equipped for everything He was preparing for me to do. I doubted my God. I resolved to get to the bottom, because my God was greater. I swam to the middle of the deep end, took a few deep breaths. With every link I went down in the pool, I said one truth to myself.

My God is greater.
Another link.
My God is stronger.
Another link.
My God is higher than any other. 

All of the sudden I felt ground underneath my feet. I looked around me. I was at the bottom of the pool. I pushed off in excitement and resurfaced victorious. Swimming frantically across the pool, I came up to Hannah and said I'm ready. She left the girls she was talking to and we went back into the middle of the deep end. Again she whispered: Ready, one, two, three. We lunged deep into the pool. She delved in first as I headed after her to save my practice victim. I was almost to the bottom when the panic began to set in again, I started to feel trapped. But I looked down and saw Hannah, and remembered her words "Mary Helen, you can do this." I continued down to the bottom, grabbed Hannah and we resurfaced. I had successfully completed my first submerged deep water rescue. Hannah qualified me again. You did it, Mary Helen. 

I still remember that night that everything in my world felt as if it was falling apart. I remember my frantic walk over to Latt-Web. The wind slowly picking up and everything around me getting hazier with every step. I ran up the stairs and walked down the long hallway terrified at what the days ahead would look like. The hall seemed to get longer as I continued down it. I become more frantic with every room I passed. 311, 313, 315, 317, 319, 321. I finally reached 327 and flung the door open unable to move my body anymore. The first thing I saw was Hannah. She gazed up from her computer, her inquiring look begging me to speak.

I couldn't. No words came out in that moment. Nobody understood. No one but Hannah. That fact brought me to uncontrollable sobs the moment she saw me. She ran over and just grabbed me. My body, unable to stand fell to the floor. I soon felt other hands and bodies around me as the seconds passed. But no one knew why I was there, no one but Hannah. She lifted my head and looked directly into my eyes. Mary Helen, you are courageous, she declared. It was my first glimpse in a long time of true Christ-like community. I felt safe in those moments.

Somedays I see Hannah, and am so amazed by how much the Lord shines through her life. I see it in the way she interacts with her pledges, the way she cares for her friends, and the desire to put Christ at the center of the things she does. My favorite days are those where I can sit next to Hannah and stare at the christmas lights on her ceiling and talk about our God. My favorite moments are when I hear a soft voice behind me calling "Smiles" and turn around and see K-So. Hannah Terry will always be one of my favorite people, because she understands, she cares, and she encourages. And she's not afraid to do so.

Reminds of His faithfulness: The hero.

Hayley and I always joked about being super-heroes. She was always more serious about it than me, but I went along anyways. When I tell others about Hayley, I always talk about the way she loves. How for her it is a passionate pursuit of people that mirrors for others what Christ has done for us. Sometimes you hop in Hayley's car and end up doing things you never imagined yourself doing. Some call her NT's chauffeur, but I call her NT's hero. 

The Lord calls people to different things, to different people. For Hayley, He has called her for this time to us in Nenamoosha. Because for her, Nenamoosha isn't about being in a tribe, it's about an opportunity to show others the sacrificial perfect love of Christ.

For about three weeks this fall, Hayley Nelson was for the most part, in charge of NT. I remember the way she described our pledges back then, before we even knew who they were. She told us that like a women who is pregnant has never seen her child, she loves our pledges even though we have never seen them. Maybe that was weird to some, but for me it was a perfect picture of our tribe, as a family.

Hayley has no fear, as all good heroes. She's not afraid to tell people who they are, to encourage them, and push them out of their comfort zone. Because she did that with me, which ended up with me on my knee's before my tribe praying for my little, praying for Lynley.

Hayley believes in those around her. She sees their potential, no matter where they are. Her passion for film spurs her to show us who we are, reminding us that there is beauty in what we do. She may not know what she's going to do with her life, but I know what she's going to do. She's going to love  passionately showing others through her words and actions that Jesus Christ is the only hope we have in life and that He has saved us from our sin, restoring us into a personal relationship with our Heavenly Father.

Hayley is strong, which makes her able to withstand challenging circumstances. She is bold, which makes her a good leader. Hayley is encouraging, speaking truth into those around her.

Hayley truly is as her name is.
Hayley Nelson is a hero.

Most days I really don't understand Jonah. Why in the world he didn't just go to Nineveh when God clearly told him too, I will never comprehend. It's not hard buddy. Just do what you're told.

But then there are days like today where I feel exactly like Jonah. I want to pack up all my stuff, grab all the people I love most in life, and run from God.

He holds me so gently and whispers soft in my ear that He is sovereign. But I take my gaze off of my Savior and I see so much around me I just want to hold onto. I want to stay. I blubber through tears begging to stay.

Please Jesus. Oh please.

I don't want what's best. I want easy and comfort. I'm fine just where I am. I want my friends and my family. I want to speak english. I want here.

He pulls me in closer until we are eye to eye. His face up against mine. The tears begin to roll off my face onto His. His voice so calm, so confident.

I am your God. And you will be my people.

I begin to shake my head. Please let it not be true. It just can't be true.

I shut my eyes. Maybe if I don't see Him, this will all go away. Then I can stay.

His voice beckons.

Sweet child. My beloved.

I can't ignore the truth anymore. I can't hide. I slowly open my eyes, my vision blurred through tears. I glimpse His face, and fall into His arms.

My bones feel like jello and I lose all strength. My body sags into his as He wraps Himself around me.

I can't.

He quiets me. Softly consoling me. He speaks.

But I can.

And that was it. Therein was truth. I couldn't run anymore. I got my answer. I have my charge.

Let it stir. Let is sit at the root of who you are for a little bit. Dream about it. Hope about it. Sing about it. Eventually it will flow out of you, in perfect timing. Let life keep moving. Let days pass without solidification. Let it happen.

For you have a beautiful life.

Don't talk too long, for it might get lost in words. Build your life on the source of it. Seek after The Fountain. Believe in restoration.

Adventure is out there. Believe it will come, for determination and pure faith will only lead you right into it's midst.

Quiet Days

I'm not one for quiet days. Ever since I've been in college, I never look forward to them. They normally come upon me with dread. I never understood why I was so against these days, because back in high school I lived for days like these.

Coming to college ripped my security blanket out from under my feet. I was 8 hours away from my family and the only home I had ever know. I had to make a fresh start, find friends, and even attend a new church. Now people had told me before I left what an adjustment it would be to college life. But I guess I always thought I was strong enough, I though my faith was unshakable.

But there's one question that goes through every college freshman's mind the moment their parents leave after moving them in the dorm.

You walk back upstairs holding back tears with a head full of dreams. You pull out your new dorm key and stare at it admiring the fact that you are now an official college student. You walk in your room, and take a deep breath soaking up all that freedom. You hop on your bed and run your hand over the soft clean bed sheets. You lift your head up, look straight ahead, and then ask yourself,

"What do I do now?"

It's one of those questions that I asked myself subconsciously and never really dealt with it. So I began to get involved with everything I could and spent a lot of time with others. For me, I felt like I was expected to always be doing something and that busy was a norm I should strive after. Activities and friendships became my idol as I hid behind being "busy", whatever that meant. But I began a long journey that day running from myself. I discovered that not everyone grew up in Memorial, America.

Establishing yourself is hard. For me, I feel like I got one quick glimpse of myself the moment I left home and I didn't like what I saw. So I ran.

Which brings me to my quiet days. On those days where life seemed to slow down and I have less to do, the question again whispers in my heart "What do I do now?" I sit again on my bed and wonder what in the world I'm doing. I stand in front of the mirror and see a person looking back at me I barely recognize. I look at my faith and relationship with the Lord and see how shaky my faith has become. I don't even know who I am.

Quiet days are hard because they make me face myself. They make me answer the question. And the truth about myself is that I haven't taken ownership of my life. I need to grow up. I need to be mature. I'm not a kid anymore. I never thought my faith was contingent on my parent's, and I still don't think it truly is. But the accountability of having parents that desire the best for me and want me to be holy in all I do, is something I lost when I moved to college. It's still there in a way, but now a days months go by before I get to see my parents again. I'm not day in and day out doing life with them. It's just not possible when they live two states away.

But the thing about having parents, is that there comes a time in every person's life where they must begin to take responsibility for who they are. And for me, that time has come. So now, I will welcome quiet days. For their reminder of who I am, of who I need to be, and after whom I need to be seeking. I will gladly sit outside, take an extra long walk, and write. Because it's time to face myself. It's time to shine.

Oh thank you Lord for quiet days.

Most days I hate detours. And since this drive totaled around 9 hours, backtracking didn't seem to lift my spirits. But none the less, our car took a detour through now one of my favorite cities, Tyler, Texas.

When I got my call in November from the Camp in the City director at Pine Cove, I was less than ecstatic. I wanted to be a counselor at an overnight youth camp, not a day camp for inner city kids. Since I was in elementary school, I had been a camp kid. I loved going to camp each summer. For me, many of the significant moments in my relationship with the Lord had been at some camp. I accepted the Lord when I was at camp in 6th grade and got baptized in the Nueces River when I was in 9th grade. But I accepted the job as a counselor for Camp in the City for that summer and never thought twice about it until May.

I came back from lifeguard training and orientation that June still not sold that city camp was the place for me. I still didn't see how this camp was where I really needed to be. But I still went back to Pine Cove that July and began to work as a counselor second half. And man, if I could only put into words what the Lord did in my life there, I could fill up a room of books.

We continue farther down our detour as I gaze out the window on that rainy afternoon. And then all of the sudden I see it, a green street sign that says: TYLER city limits, population 96,900. My heart begins to race as I try to figure out what parts of the city we'll pass through. We head on through north Tyler and sights around become more familiar. We pass the caldwell zoo, the family dollar, and the old antique shop. I see the sonic with the sand volleyball court and playground and suddenly the conversation I had with Jasmine Kim about her parent's restaurant, China Cafe, comes to mind. I'm on the edge of my seat as I plaster my face to the window like a kid on Christmas morning. I take careful note of the street signs as we head deeper into the heart of the city.

The car comes to a stop and I look at the intersection ahead. I prepare my heart and my head as the car pulls closer to a  street that has so many memories. We turn right on Broadway and I see the yellow brick church building. I see the park with the dolphin statues, and the red roofed shopping center with the old testament store. My heart is filled and the tears begin to well in my eyes.

Suddenly I am back here.

Faith Owens is back in my arms weeping while Jasmine Kim is tugging at my shirt softly calling "Smiles" desiring my attention so she can show me her latest sketch. I turn my head towards the back and Brianna Rowland looks up at me and gives the only smile I will see out of her for the day. I hear shouts and see Breona Butler giving the other kids lectures about her magic stick. I feel a kick on the back of my seat and Reyna pops up from the tent her and her best friend Emily made to say hi. Memories swell my head and I can not contain the tears in my eyes anymore. The Lord whispers in my heart, "Remember, my child, all that I have done." I take a deep breath in and soak up my surroundings. My heart remembers.

Reminders are so very sweet, although they don't last forever. Eventually we turned off Broadway and continued on our journey. I only got to be back in the place I spent my summer for a brief few minutes. My days now do not consist of bus rides with the Cumberland kids. They don't consist of JAM time, or FOB, or joke Thursdays. My days now consist of balance sheets, fixing copy machines , grading papers, tutoring, and photo booths. But you see the thing is, my God is still faithful while I'm signing a pledge's book and studying french, and writing prospective students letters. He still in those moments is using faithless broken me. He still claims me as His child. He still is reminding me that He is faithful.

Some days I wish I could hold Faith in my arms again or walk back onto the bus hearing kids scream "Smiles" hoping to get my attention first. But the thing about life is that is comes and goes in seasons. All are so different, we as humans tend to get hung up on one and forget where we are currently. Or sometimes, like me, we let the present pass us by like it doesn't matter. There is a time for everything. There is a season for every activity under the sun, I just hope I stop long enough to enjoy it.

I hate reminders of how broken I am. I hate that I'm so sinful. I hate that I have reasons for my shame. I desire so much to be whole.

I am claimed. The Lord has looked down on this broken child of His and said "you are mine". But I'm not home yet. My body is still in this flesh. I have to momently fight my selfish desires. Oh how much I want to give up. How frustrated I am with myself. But yet in my moments of missing the mark, His love never fails. At the end of the day, He still sings songs over me. He quiets me with His voice. He still holds me. He still holds His dirty, unclean, unholy daughter. He reassures me that I am His. He promises that I won't have to live in my flesh forever.

How magnificent that our Father still loves His children that continually go against Him. That run away again and again, and He just patiently pursues us. In our moments of disobedient He looks at us and says, "that is my child whom I love." I deserve eternal death for what I've done. I am so unholy. I am reminded of just how much I need my Savior, my precious precious Savior. My Father, my Healer, who speaks for sinful Mary Helen on my behalf. Who took my shame and my sin, and put it on the cross and said "It is finished". Who fought the battle for me before I even existed.

It amazes me how this terribly unclean, nasty heart can be wiped clean and made anew. How daily His mercies are new for me. How in this flesh, I can say with confidence "I am redeemed".

Camp Journals

Well another week almost done. I say that like I've done so many. Having 6 girls under my constant watch and care for five days is exhausting yet so refreshing. It is really hard at times, but also so full of joy. To look into their eyes and see so much of our great God is refining.

So much war goes on in my soul. it's really scary to think about. Because normally, I don't feel it that much. And there is hundreds of thousands of times more warfare than I actually see. So much in my life that Satan wants to destroy. Which when I first think about it, I am so discouraged. Why am I struggling so much for my worship to be pure? Why isn't this easier? I desire pure worship so bad, but so much of me gets in the way. I'm sure Satan likes it this way, seeing me struggle in my shame and sin while being in the middle of such a ministry as this.

This is how I am encourage though. There must be something so big and powerful that the Lord is doing, that Satan is trying to thwart it in anyway He can, using areas of my life of which I am so ashamed and insecure. So I take this reminder of my shame and insecurity and remember that God is working in magnificent ways that I can not even fathom. Just as Moses' staff was his reminder of his sin, so I use my staff to lead those around me and to lead my campers. No longer do I continue to walk in what Christ has set me free from. How rude is that? To refuse the Lord's grace? For his grace is fully sufficient in my terrible weakness.

Turns out we're all so weak and insecure. Sometimes I wonder what people would think of me if they truly knew just how insecure and weak I am. I feel like they already know that, and that I need to prove it to them that I am not who they think I am. You see, the truth is, I am so humanly sinful, so full of flesh and sin that somedays I can barely function. Many days this week were so hard. I would wake up in the morning and feel like just laying there so I didn't have to face who I was. Even though I knew the sun was about to rise and it was time to sing the Lord's song, I really just wanted to sit in my bed and sing it from there. But the thing is, you've got to get out of bed. No one is any good singing the Lord's song in bed, when He has called you to this day. It doesn't' matter where your bed is, just as long as you rise from it singing His song all the way until you put your head back down at night. I feel like that is what it truly means to follow Christ, to wake up each morning glorifying the Lord and to walk in that all day long until you put your head on your pillow and the day is done. The Lord gives us just enough strength to live through each day.

I always get a good laugh around 6:25 in the morning as our four fifteen passenger vans truck out of the forge apartment and set out towards north Tyler. It's a sight to see really, packing us all in there like sardines. But then again, there is this serious tug on my heart that finds such beauty in those moments.

I wake up, and it's a new day dawning. I lift my head out of the pillow and I know it's time. One song comes to mind, bless the Lord O my soul. It's time to sing His song again. I fumble down from my top bunk bed as gracefully as possible, and sleepily walk over to my suitcase. I grab some clothes in the darkness of my room and hope that they match to some extent. I look outside and the darkness encompasses our apartment. I know the sun is on it's way up. I grab a granola bar off the top of my drawer and head to the kitchen to fill up my water bottle. I look around our living room as I turn on the faucet and see some of my coworkers already talking to the Lord about today. Excitement fills my heart as I am encouraged by the example set before me. I grab my backpack and head out the door.

We all stand out there together in front of our vans, still a little groggy from our early morning rise. At 6:15 sharp we all physically put our hand on a van. This is it, it's all starting. My heart continues to sing, Bless the Lord O my soul. We begin to load up as the usual apple cinnamon granola bars and breakfast burritos are making their way around the vans. As the vans begin to pull out, I feel this sense of community. I feel apart of something vast. I feel like we are an army heading out to conquer the great enemy. I glimpse back as we head down the hill and I see the other three vans behind us, full of my brothers and sisters, all heading towards the same goal. It's a moment of appreciation really, of something that I probably wouldn't see if I didn't stop and look around me. It's something I would miss if I wasn't careful.

I being to think about the day ahead of me, of the battle I'm going to have to fight against my flesh. I feel discouraged because of my sin and my struggle towards holiness. I begin to form a goal in my mind for the day. Let me be singing when the evening comes, Bless the Lord O my soul. As I watch the sun rise over the city, I begin to hope that as I watch the sun set that evening, the song on my lips will still be Bless the Lord O my soul. I am becoming more aware of my brokenness, and my challenge for the day seems to be less attainable on my own strength. But I hear a whisper in my ear. I ignore it at first, not really believing it's there. But softly the voice speaks again, do not be afraid. I am reminded of the Lord's faithfulness as we approach our destination. The vans pull to a stop and I take a deep breath in. I say it one more time in my head for reminder, Bless the Lord O my soul. I step out of the van onto the concrete and I'm finally there. It's go time. Let the battle begin.

I think one of the greatest lessons in life one can learn is selflessness.

I don't say this because I've learned it yet. But the idea that my life is in no way about me has come to the forefront of my thoughts.

It all started with the pursuit of excellence and a thousand tiny baby dragonflies.

Realizing that you can work harder in your life than you ever have and never get the thanks you deserve for it can discourage you.

For me, it was to the point that I wanted to take my eyes off what I was doing. I wanted to fix my gaze on something else.

But then you have to know you're actions are held to a high standard. It's the pursuit of excellence.

It doesn't matter if no one notices it, your actions must strive towards excellence.

We serve a God who deserves everything we have. He doesn't deserve our half efforts or human way of thinking. He doesn't want our logic or high thoughts. He just wants our lives. He wants our heart.

That's it.

It is not about me.

So no matter how uncomfortable I am, how tired I am, how annoyed I am, it doesn't matter.

Because it's not about me.

It's Jesus. It's about Jesus. It's for Jesus. It's in Jesus. It's through Jesus.

I am just the clay. I am solely a mouthpiece.

So help me in my selfishness. Keep me accountable in learning this lesson. Bring me back when I go astray for I am so human and I am merely flesh.

What if I told you that there was just life, and there was just Jesus.

What if I told you there weren't any answers, there was just Jesus.

What if I told you I tried to figure out life, but there was just Jesus.

Because you see, I've thought a lot about this, and I've tried to put it into words.

But you see that's just it.

The more you think about it, the more your head spins

and the more your head spins, the farther you get away from definite answers,

and the farther you get away from definite answers, you begin to lose hope,

and when you begin to lose hope, you've forgotten about Jesus.

So you see, it's just Jesus.

Let's not talk. Let's not write.

Just Jesus.

Somedays I wish I could perfectly articulate all that I experience in my world.

Somedays I wish I didn't have to wait for inspiration, that it instead was available to use at my leisure.

Somedays I wish I could just close my eyes and the scene before me would stop for just a little while longer.

Somedays I wish life was just that simple, that the way I saw the world really did matter.

Somedays I wish I was fearless.

Most nights I lie awake thinking that smiles and laughter is all that is good in life.

I start to put my hope in people and in circumstances.

I begin to believe in the power of what I can do.

But I'm so very wrong.

Yes, there is still beauty in the world, because we're still here.

Every smile, every sound of laughter, it all points to Christ. We were made in His image.


We're His children.

So shouldn't the children of God be beautiful?

There is beauty in us because of Christ. We were made for Him and that is reflected in who we are.

So all those nights, I sit in my bed dreaming of a better tomorrow, I'm really hoping for Christ. I'm dreaming of the day when my sanctification is complete, and I am with Him forever.

David tells us in the Psalms to delight ourselves in the Lord and He will give us the desires of our hearts. I once believed that if I turn to God, He would give me everything I wanted. But who am I to ask God for something I'm not even sure is right for me? Who am I to demand that God give me something because I, in my human mind and spirit, believe it is best for me? Everything is about God, whether we acknowledge it or not. Every person on this earth, every tree rustling in the wind, every creature under the sun, and anything else in all creation is screaming for Christ. He is the only thing that completes us. He's not the only thing that truly completes us, He is the only thing. There is no competition for Christ. There is only Christ.

Jesus is everywhere. I wish people saw that more. I wish I saw that more.

I wish I would spend less of my days worried about security and more of them worrying about loving Christ more.

I wish I would throw myself completely into my relationship with Him.

I wish I would let Jesus complete me.

I wish I could feel Him like I did again.

I wish somewhere in the middle of my dreaming and wishing there would just be peace, and Christ.

Throwback Thursday

Because we all need a little laugh every now and then.

Because I absolutely love love pictures, and the older the better.

Because I picked these two girls up from school on Tuesday and Amanda(top left) is now 11 and will be entering middle school in the fall.

Because memory lane can be so very amusing.

So here's to these two girls and their little sister Caroline for giving me the privilege of watching you all grow up, for humbling me through changing each and everyone of your diapers, for introducing me to Dora, and for finally agreeing to take the underwear off your head before I put you into bed.

For the year ended April 30, 2012

Let's remember those moments we all forgot about.

Let us reminisce about those first couple awkward weeks of school. 

                                    Let us be thankful for those crazy late nights.

           For they gave way to friends that slowly became family.

                    But let us not become sad just yet.

                 For soon enough we'll all be back together again.

   But before we go, we have a few people we'd like to remember.

                       To those that were always there for you.

To those that encouraged us along the way.

                      And who always put a smile on your face.

                                    To them we say thank you.

          For all those times you gave us the strength to carry on.

For befriending the awkward freshman on that first day of class.

For making us hot tea when all we wanted to do was fall apart and cry.

       For being patient with us, and serving selflessly.

                                        And for believing in us.

For you truly made this year memorable. 

And let MC become that home that I always knew it would.

Lately I've been thinking about one year ago. Where I was and what I was doing. 

Every morning I got to school by 8:30 if not earlier. Most days I would stop in and say hi to Ms. Bottoms and work on newspaper related things in her room while talking photography with her. If I had an AP Bio test or quiz that day I was usually outside Mrs. Straits room begging one of the extremely smart kids in my class to explain to me what cytokinesis or cellular respiration was. At 8:41 the bell rang for first period to end and the very narrow halls of Memorial High school became overcrowded as we all scrambled to make the most of our 5 minute intermedium between classes.

Most days biology was interesting, but other days I just stared at the clock and waited for the bell to save me. I then would continue on to third period where Mr. McCardle would inform me of the newest newspaper disaster. The printer moved the deadline up a day, another ad cancelled on us, our photographers had again refused to turn in any pictures or do any work for that matter. We read books in third period. We talked about stories and people and read poems. We took stands on matters and learned to believe in ourselves. And if it was Monday, we got to share any college news we had. I still remember the Monday that I announced I received a scholarship to attend Mississippi College in the fall.

4th period was calculus, which meant Mr. Harter, which meant at least a five minute debrief with the collective guys in our class about "the game" last night. I never knew which "game" they were talking about. But nonetheless, if someone was throwing, kicking, or hitting some type of ball, they talked about it. 

Then I had A lunch, which, at the beginning of the year, was a real bummer. But it turned out to be a pretty sweet deal. I got to know four awesome girls. A completely motley crew, but still some of my favorite people. 

Newspaper was always, as I said before, a disaster. But a beautiful one at that. That class was a place where I learned how to step up and get things done. I learned how to make decisions and take charge. I saw that hard work really does pay off in the end. I found photography there. I saw the Lord's purpose there. I witnessed the Lord's faithfulness there.

Mr. Walton always made 6th period a little more interesting. He once did an impersonation of a guy on a roller coaster that almost made the kid next to me pee his pants. The man was a die hard LSU fan, so I wasn't crazy about him from the beginning.

There's been something about life lately that's got me stopped. As each day passes, more and more of my life is here in Mississippi. I've spend a total of about four weeks in Houston this past year. All those people that I saw growing up day in and day out, I don't see anymore. 

But that's just it. I don't want those people to leave my life. I want to see their faces again. I want to talk about life like we used to. I'm sick of always being apart from people, but at this stage in life, I feel like I'm always away from somebody. I'm excited about being home for a little bit and then going off to camp this summer, but it's killing me that I have to leave MC for four months. 

I refuse to pack up my room, because it means that this year is actually ending. I know it's just the beginning for me here, but there's just something about this year that I don't want to end. I don't want things to change. I don't want to have to start over again next fall. I don't want to spend my summer away from people.

But there's something about this summer that the Lord keeps whispering in my ear. It must happen. Not that it has to, but that it must. There are some things that need to happen this summer for me to be the person I need to be this fall. There are lessons that I need to learn. There are people I need to meet. There are instances where I need to grow.

And then in due time, it will be late August and we'll all be back together. We'll be moving new freshman into the dorm. A new wave of girls will rush NT, and life will go on. Life always goes on.

And I'm learning that that's ok. Change is good. Newness is good. But most of all, our God is so good and so much greater than this little life I lead. 

Meet me at the foot of the cross.

Cause that's where I'll be.

I know I've got to be there.

It's the only place where there's peace. It's the only place I can wait patiently.

If you see me weeping, don't worry. It only means I'm beginning to grasp just how good our God is.

Some days it scares me. But He tells me it's ok. He is over all things.

But my heart is in the Lord. My hope is solely in Him.

He stills my spirit. He sings songs of joy over me. He restores me.

I'm not looking for security. Where I am, I have all the security I'll ever need.

I'm not asking for popularity, because I know that fades with time.

It's not about those things. It's not really about anything but Christ.

But join me, please. Let's bow at the feet of our Savior together.

I just want to let you know that's where I am. That's where I'll be.

What if it all didn't matter.

What if we did it.

What if we walked out.

What if everything melted away and it was just us.

You ask me how I'm different. Truth is I'm not really different, I'm just me.

I focus on the little things. Every smile, every good moment means everything in my book.

I focus on the Lord because He is the source of my joy. His faithfulness reminds me that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.

But it's true, I'm not perfect. As much as I would like to be or think I am, my heart is broken. And I am broken.

I view the world differently. I capture those moments that we forget about, those simple moments of beauty.

Because sometimes we need to see beauty, we need to see what God sees, and God sees beauty in us, in all of us.

So what if it didn't matter.

What if we walked away.

What if it all melted away, and we could just be us.

Well then none of it would matter, and that's the scariest part.

I don't think I can accurately describe what my heart went through this past week.

I don't think I can fully articulate to you what it is like to prayer walk through a mosque.

I don't think I can convey to you the grasp satan had over my soul.

I don't think I can show you how broken my heart is.

Paris is a dark city, and by dark I really mean full of life. And by full of life I mean the life that this world has to offer. I've never been in such a place of emptiness. After only 24 hours there, I was begging the Lord to take me back to America, back to MC, back to a place where I could feel the Lord again.

Because I couldn't feel the Lord in Paris, only Satan. I could only see Satan's work in Paris. After talking to a man on the street that told me there was no use for me being here and sharing about Christ everything spiritually for me shut down. Before I left and as I prayer walked I asked the Lord to break my heart for what breaks His. He answered that prayer. I felt the Lord's heart in such a new way. I got just a glimpse of the hurt and compassion he has over the people in Paris. And that hurt pierced through my heart and left me breathless. I became so spiritually weak that I could barely walk. All I wanted to do was cry. I wanted to run around the city of Paris, shaking people and letting them know that there is someone above all this world and who is in control and who loves them unconditionally. I was angry and so very frustrated. I wanted more than anything to return to MC and be back in a place where Christianity is the norm, but I didn't want anyone to know how discouraged I was. I didn't want to come back with stories like this.

I felt so useless. What in the world could I do in just a mere seven days. As I had already been told, I was wasting my time. No one was ever going to listen to me. I was so wounded. Everywhere I would walk, I would see people everywhere. People that God loves with all His heart and people that He is pursuing. And they just walked past me and went about their life, seeking fulfillment in empty places. What in the world can I do?

Most nights now I just ask the Lord to hold me, to hold my heart. I beg for him to tell me again that his plan is perfect, that He is just. Mostly, He just sits there with me. We sit in silence because words are not necessary. So we just sit there through the night, His arms around me, and we cry together, our hearts aching for the lost.

So if you ask me about my trip to Paris I'm going to tell you that it was good, because it was. To understand Christ's heart more was the most good I've had in a while.

I woke up the other morning and one phrase kept repeating in my head "There is purpose in Paris." And as I kept going throughout my day, the phrase would not leave my head. It sounded cheesy and I didn't really get why I began to focus on it so much. Purpose is something I had prayed for. It was something I desired. But mostly I wanted a specific laid out purpose, not just some silly little rhyme.

The purpose of our lives is to glorify Christ. Simple as that. So as I began to pray over Paris and the way the Lord was moving in my life, I asked the Lord for purpose. I desired to know why. What was the big plan, Lord? I've been struggling for a while now with restlessness. I didn't understand why the Lord was stirring something in my heart and I had no idea what it was. It scared me and I wanted answers. My answer came from the Lord with two simple words.

Seek me.

Ok really God, that's your big answer. I'm confused and wanting to know why things are happening the way they are and what you want me to do with my life and you just tell me to seek You. But after I got over myself, I realized that's it. That's all we ever need to do. Hold on so tight to the Lord and follow hard after Him. That's all we can ever do. He will lead us. I truly believe that. I have no idea what the Lord plans to do with silly old Mary Helen, but I know He's going to do something. He knows what I'm going to do and where I'm going to be and I trust that He will reveal that in His timing. But I have to be ready to receive that. I have to draw near to Him. I have to rest in Him and park myself at the foot of the cross.

Sometimes the future scares me. I'm scared that I won't leave a legacy. I'm scared I'll miss what God wants me to do. I'm scared I won't ever get married. But then I think about the cross. I think about how Christ suffered hell for me and how He loves me unconditionally. I think about how my God is big and He has saved me. I think about how He has given me purpose. And I remember that He will guide my steps every day.

So as I head out this friday to Paris, the Lord is reminding me to seek Him. I don't know what the week will look like there but I do know that God is moving in that city, and I couldn't be more excited to be apart of it.

Unending joy.

Oh Jesus,

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

Praise Your name. Let us shout it unto the heavens for what you have done.

You restore.

You heal.

You are faithful.

You renew us.

You protect us.

You are good.

Jesus,

Jesus,

Jesus.

Let me forever sit at your feet. Oh Lord, don't let me move from here.

Continue to heal me, to restore me. Continue making me whole in You.

Oh Jesus, sweet Jesus. I need You. I always need You.

How sweet is Your presence, O Lord.

You turned my weeping into dancing, You set my feet on level ground.

I will praise You Lord. I want to glorify You with my life.

Take me Lord. Oh please use me.

But keep me here. Face down at your feet. Let me live my life in fear and reverence of You.

You are worthy, Lord.

Pause.

Until this past weekend, my life has been in super-sonic speed. It was absolutely crazy, but it was the good kind of crazy. The kind that makes you want to get up in the morning and go because you love what you do. It was good, but it was crazy.

I crashed thursday night. My body literally would not do anything but sleep. I had not gotten more than 5 hours of sleep in a good two weeks. My own fault, but nonetheless it happened. So my body was revolting and rightfully so.

So I slept. And I slept.

And I slept.

You can talk to my roommate and she will gladly confirm the amount of hours I slept in these past few days. I have been happily averaging 11-12 hours a night and 3 of the past 4 days have included a minimum 4 hour nap. So I am recovering from my burn out and I am now resurfacing from under my rock.

But all that to say, the Lord had been whispering in my ear to stop and be still for a while now. But I didn't. I was stubborn and I said I would do it later. So finally the Lord forced me, and it was so good. Sleeping is a beautiful thing. And I think being in college we often forget the power of a good nights sleep. But seriously, to be still and to be rested has been such a blessing lately. To sit in the Lord's presence and be completely there is compelling.

Almost two weeks ago now, I went to lead a Dnow in Tylertown and the theme of the weekend was Pause. Funny, God. Really funny. The one thing I talked about the most and hoped and prayed my girls would get that weekend was really what I need to get into my head. I needed to pause. I needed to stop, but I wouldn't. But man, when I did, I understood why God says be still and know that I am God.

Because He is, and that's all we need to know.

I like the dorms like this. I like to sit on my bed and think about life. I picture myself in the arms of Jesus these nights. Just me and him in the quietness of the moments.

I love being in the dorm on Wednesday nights. Wednesday night, as we all know, is church night. At MC that is the time when most students during the week are, for the majority, all off campus at one time. And I know that sounds a little sacrilegious, but I feel like everything is at peace on wednesday night. MC slows down for that little period of time. I feel like I can actually think and get real with the Lord.

Lately I've been faced with a lot of hurt. And by a lot I mean very minuscule, practically nothing compared to the hurt that I continually cause God everyday. I've been thinking a lot about brokenness, mostly in my life but also in the lives of those who I am around. I wonder how in the world are we as Christians to deal with so much brokenness?

The more and more I look at my life, I realize that I can't fix it. I am way more human than I would like to be. I have this high-low roller coaster relationship with God that I continually promise Him I'm going to get better at but I never do. I run away from Him and then come back begging for mercy. I try resolution after resolution. But at the end of the day I'm just broken.

I know the good news. I am saved. I am redeemed. I am made whole again. But then I mess up. And Satan starts to attack me and make me believe that I will never be made whole.

I then look at others. I see people I know know the Lord hurt other people, hurt me, or mess up badly.

I guess I'm just looking and I don't get it. God is here but there is still so much brokenness. There's still slavery. There is still murder. There is still so much hurt. God, where are you?

But as I sit in these moments, letting the presence of Jesus envelop me, I am reminded that He is here in the midst of brokenness, that He comes in spite of our brokenness, and I am slowly being made whole in Him.

Most nights I just ask Jesus to tell me who I am. I lay there and simply listen as he whispers in my ear over and over again "You are fearless." I like the dorms like this, they feel truly safe. I think me and Jesus should meet like this every wednesday night. Just me and Him. I'll sit in His arms and He can remind me who I am.

Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good wednesday night to me.