Carpe Diem

I have been in a bit of a whirlwind as of late.  Sometimes I forget that I am Miss Whatcom County.
Even in the midst of all the responsibilities, I still have to stop and remind myself that I am off to compete in at the Miss Washington pageant in July.  It is so crazy to me that just a few months ago, when I was told that I should consider running in the Miss Whatcom pageant, I burst out into laughter. 

Yes, I admit it.  Pageant was the last thing on my mind.  I must be perfectly honest.  I had some heavy stereotypes and assumptions made.  For some reason, I felt compelled to research.  Maybe it was because one of my closest friends at the time encouraged me to do so.
After reading online about it, I realized that it seemed much different then I had thought.  It was not a beauty pageant.  This was a pageant of service, intelligence, community involvement, passion, and driven young women.  It was a scholarship for school.

I applied.  I went to the interview, and I became part of the 2011 Miss Whatcom County class.  I began extensive training in interview.  Wow, was that an incredible process.  Confidence, composure, the ability to speak about any topic with poise.  Current events, my...my.   Politics and current events where usually something that I tip-toed around.  Now here I was immersed in the newspaper, and tv, and reading all the headlines every day.  I loved it. Having an opinion, and knowing how to voice it.

Community service, I loved it.  Getting involved in my community as much as possible.  Finding my platform, Helping Abused and Needy Children; and investing myself into it.  Finishing paperwork, resume, platform paperwork and essays.  Make a Difference Day, Martin Luther King Jr Day of Service, Food Bank, Brigid Collins, Children's Miracle Network, and other volunteer projects that I had never even heard about beforehand.

Poise, confidence.  This was all quite the whirlwind as I said before.  Yet the one thing that kept me grounded when I felt like I was started to drown, was remembering who I was.  Remembering who I am, where I have come from, and why I am here.  No crazy could overcome that. 

It wasn't until about two weeks before pageant where everything inside me switched.  I wanted to win.
I realized all that I could do with the title, the doors it would open, and the ways that God could use me as His bearer of love.  I realized how much I had learned and how much I could learn as Miss Whatcom.  And suddenly, I was filled with a desire.  I cannot explain it fully.  It wasn't like I became obsessed.  I just knew that I was going to give it every single ounce of strength and effort I had, and leave the rest in the hands of Destiny.  And so, pageant week this became my mantra.

"Focused.  Carpe Diem."  

God is good.  Everything happens for a reason.  Even the difficult things.  He is the only reason I am smiling today.  Now I am going to take the joy that once seemed impossible, and share it.
"Carpe Diem!"

It's All About the Journey...

I believe life is a journey, an experience.
Where we learn to to feel.  We can choose to embrace or reject.

Each and every single day seems to bring the unexpected moment for me this last year.

I am excited to share that journy.

I talked about you for like an hour the other day, with a complete stranger.
I don't know whether to smile or cry from that.
It was weird.

Little Yellow Flowers

I see your picture and it hurts my chest.
I check my phone.
3:03
Mind games, they mess with me.
Should I be somewhere? I should text someone?
I don't like winter at all. At all.
In fact, I think I despise it.
Everything is dead.

For the first time, I am okay with it.
It suits my mood. 
It is so cold though. It is like everything I love just left.
My favorite thing. Wild flowers.
They are so simple. So happy.
They fill me with joy.
That is what I am like.
Just the little things is all.

I like to wear flowers in my hair.
Every day.
In the morning I wander outside in the sunshine.
Find the perfect little piece of joy.
I can't do that now.
Those little flowers.
Didn't even say goodbye.
They just up and left.

At least I know they will come back.
I just have to wait.
That is the only comfort.
Spring will come again.
Not everything is that way.
Soon there will come a day.
Little yellow flowers in my hair.

Never Look Back

The road was dark in front of her.
Her headlights caught occasional glimpses of shining wetness.
Rivers streamed across her windshield as the wipers struggled to keep up.
She was tired.
The crazy life that she was running was beginning to etch its depths upon her.
The evening was deep, one of those nights where the silence seems to fill every space.

She loved driving at night.
The calm serenity that it brought her was like a momentary paradise.
The sound of the pouring rain almost drowned out the soft murmers of the radio.
But not enough.
She knew it before even the first measure of the song poured softly from her speakers.
Her hand, seemingly without permission, reached to the dash and welcomed the music to overcome the rain.

It filled her.
Immediately, the night became so much more dark and empty.
The rain seemed to be pouring into her very skin and running through her vains.
The song. Brushed against her heart and sank into arms, oh how they ached.
She thought she hated this song, but her ears drank in every word and tone.
She never hated it.

The rain poured, ringing loudly in her ears.
Pools flooded her eyes, she couldnt see the road.
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, tracing her sorrows.
Like pieces of her broken heart that lay hidden, momentarily displayed.
Unable to compose herself, she pulled off the road.
Finally, she let go. The tears fell, finally able to free themselves.

She missed him.
Every single part of her.
She wiped the tears from her cheek, and ran her fingers down the window.
The cold glass.
She leaned the side of her head against it.
Maybe she could numb her breaking heart.

Driving home, the rain and her tears played a duet.
Stepping out of her car, she stood in the down pour in her driveway.
Looking up, she let the rain soak through her skin, washing away her tears.
She whispered something into the sky, the moon sitting misty behind the clouds.
After changing into her favorite shirt, she slipped between her covers shivering.
Her wet hair upon her pillow, she whispered, "Never look back".

Authentic Beauty

I believe that each and every day of my life is part of a journey.
I find it true that every experience and moment is a thread.
Like a stream that flows over rocks, through forests, winding to waterfalls.

I am sitting here now at this moment, entirely spent and yet, I cannot rest.
I always write when this feeling overtakes me.
Today, I want to write a little about my journey.
The journey that my life has taken.

I have been broken.
I have been shattered and emptied.
There have been paths in my life that have went places that I never imagined possible.
Crossroads that smashed my heart to pieces.
But through these moments. That seem so hopeless.
I found an amazing truth in my life.

Beauty that is broken, is beauty that is true.
When one becomes truly broken, and finds oneself in a seemingly hopeless place.
Once you have experienced being shattered into the earth.
You become authentic.
Beauty that is broken is authentic beauty. True. Real.

I have felt pain so deep.
I have felt so hopeless.
Yet, it is in this moment when we feel utterly hopeless, that we are presented with a choice that otherwise we would never have.
We can choose to fear. To give up.
Or we can choose to cling to Hope.

Perfect love casts out fear. (1 John)
Love. It is strong it is beautiful. It is forgiving.
Love is a choice.
True love is not based on what we will get in return.
It is given whether or not we will be loved back.
True love. It is a choice to accept, cherish, care, and be.
No matter what.

Authentic Beauty.
Brokenness. Hopelessness. Moments of Fear.
These all lead to a beauty that can be so authentic and true.
We must choose to not be hardened by these experiences.
They can shape us into beautiful people.
People who can truly love. Truly care.
Because we have truly been in moments so shattered.

I cling to one Hope.
He is my Perfect Love that casts out fear.
So I slowly pick up my shattered pieces and love.
I am learning to Love. Authentically.

Place of Missing

I have been in a place of missing.
Missing things. I try not to dwell on the past, because I don't want to become wistful and discontent.
However, some things in my past are so lovely, I feel they deserve the thought.
I don't know if it is the holiday season, or that I am finally slowed down enough to pause and think, but these days I find myself missing many things.

• I miss standing in a freezing ballet studio selecting music for class, when a little 4 year old comes and gives me a drawing she colored just for me. Or the 3 yr old who brings me a pencil with a puffy-feathered top.
• Seeing the 9 yr old girl who I know has a broken home, open like a flower, little by little through the months while I teach her to dance.
• Taking off my point shoes to find missing toenails and blood. Accomplishment.
• Going to bed and being able to feel every single muscle in my body. Every night.
• Not having a care in the world, besides thinking of the next adventure to embark on with my siblings and neighbors.
• Making perfume out of flowers with my next door neighbor.
• Being able to run fast, and beat all the boys at Awana.
• My little "brother" Micheal from Ethiopia.
• Waking up early and running outside barefoot to play in the swing set with my siblings in the early sun.
• All the holiday parties that my mom would plan for my friends with arts and crafts and yummy goodies.
• Mick, my cat.
• My best friend growing up, my older brother.
• Sunday school.
• Being able to do 32 fouette turns on pointe without effort. I had no idea.
• The ballerina that I was.
• I miss seeing the extreme joy in little girls faces when I autographed their programs and talked to them.
• Adventuring through the slough with my brother.
• Running cross-country
• I miss my great grandma, taking care of her every day. Her sweet tooth.
• My other great grandma, and her toffee and stories she would tell me for hours on end.

      I miss laying on the grass, almost every sunny day, and looking up at the blue sky.
      For the longest time, just thinking, and dreaming.