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.