Final

I've read some great things recently. All of which inspire me to write about that topic or this topic. I'm not very good with hard news I have no desire for it. But I do admire those journalists who are always on top of the next story before it even hits.

Well, lately I’ve been reading a lot of features. I see features as life news that unfolds before the world’s eyes. People’s stories are so real it’s actually shocking sometimes. And thinking about this blog I was trying to figure out what I’m passionate about and what I know.

To be honest I don’t know much. All I know is voice and church. I know how the church ministry works, for the most part because I grew up in it. I’ve seen the church at its most disgusting points. And the same goes for voice, I know it because I grew up singing. I’ve always taken lessons and I have a passion for music. If I could choose right now what I wanted to write on for the rest of my life I would choose people. People from all walks of life, living anywhere!

Some people might say features are easy and they always talk about the same things. Well, to a certain degree that is true. But people have the gift of lifting each other up through shared experiences, or even unshared experiences. There’s just something about knowing you’re not in it alone. Now as a Christian I always remind myself that I know and I believe Christ walks with me. I believe Christ will see me through. But a lot of what Christ does in our lives is through other people. A person is a blessing; a person’s story written out is a traveling blessing touching one heart—one life—at a time.

I just read an article written on a man by the name of Sayed Mossa. Mossa is Afghan and he worked a good job serving the wounded soldiers of his country. One day he chose to follow Christ. But, converting from Islam to Christianity is a crime in Afghanistan. Choosing Christ in that country means the government has full rights to imprison you. Choosing Christ for those, like Mossa, in persecuted countries truly means to forsake everything. Mossa was arrested on May 31st and is still in jail in northern Afghanistan. He is a husband and father of six, all under the age of 9. Mossa is still in jail because his government chose not to abide by their own law. An indictment was not presented within 15 days of his arrest and any criminal has the right to be released if an indictment was not given within 15 days. But they have neither charged or released Mossa yet. His story became known when a westerner visited him and he gave the westerner a letter describing his experience and condition in jail. The letter was then forwarded to WORLD Magazine and it caused awareness throughout the world, especially in Kabul.

That is what I want to report on, write on, and bring awareness to.

Everyone has a story deeper then they even know. Not every story will touch each person, but every story will touch someone. I would love to open the eyes of others through the eyes of someone else's life.

A Life of Ministry

I honestly don't know much about anything except for a tiny bit of music and ministry. When you think about it anything anyone truly knows--cooking, playing an instrument, coaching--is something they are constantly working at or working on. It's just a part of their life. I've grown up in the ministry. My father's a minister and my mother is his wife. Every bible study, every visitation, every church service my entire family was there--father, mother, sister, and myself. That's just how it was, and when I go home during the summers that's still how it is.

Growing up I always said I wasn't going to be involved at church "like this." I planned on attending a large church free of problems and drama..and I dreamt of singing on an amazing praise and worship team. I look back at those days. I was so young and naive. No church is free from problems and drama, just like no life is free from struggle.

Somewhere down my life journey the Lord laid upon my heart the very thing I didn't want to take part in growing up--the ministry. Over the years of anger and lack of patience, of frustration and learning I came to love God more; I came to love His people more and a great desire grew within my heart--a desire to serve the church.

When asked what my plans are after graduation, I basically said the same thing over and over and over.

"I feel led to work in the smaller churches, where they don't have the means to pay for a music minister or a youth minister. I want to help the smaller churches develop their music programs."

It was all such a great dream. In my mind the process, by God's grace, would go so smoothly and after helping one church I could move on to the next and then the next and then just go where ever the Good Lord would lead me.

Currently, I am helping in developing the music program at my god-father's church. Oh the struggles...
In the beginning I was so excited. I was just happy. One day it hit me that the Lord was giving me the priviledge now to live out the dream that I had been telling people about for the longest time.

But even that excited leaves me. The time and effort that I must muster up to get through a simple rehearsal knocks me over. I find myself dealing with a great number of personalities and sometimes it can be so disheartening.

But the call for Him is so great! In a month's time I've already learned so much about patience and the constant pouring our of His love on these people. I've just forgotten that as I pour out He will replenish me.

I'm tired and beat and the truth is I'm swamped--completely in over my head. But, my God is forever good, and His strength is at its best in my weakness.

So, I've lived a life of ministry since the day I popped into this world. I figure my niche could revolve around my current experiences but at the same time I would be using my life as an example of how the Lord is moving and how He is leading me. For instance, this week I didn't practice patience and grace at rehearsal, but I was reminded on numerous occasions this weekend that I should have.

STOP before it's too LATE!

Oh dear...one of my closest, quite annoying, rude tempered friend--more like acquaintance--returned from a short lived vacation. And, well, "it's" sleeping on my couch, eating my food and seriously drinking all the good stuff (the good stuff being mild, ofcourse). "It" also brought along "it's" cousin--the respiratory infection.
In case you're wondering, "it" really goes by Procrastination and The Respiratory Infection goes by "SUPER SORE THROAT".
Yup, I've been hit!! Procrastination and SST. I seriously feel like dying daily.
With everything I have going on SST will probably hang around for a while, but I've decided to kick out Procrastination. I mean Procrastination was always inviting me to do this and to do that. I was so busy doing the things that were of no benefit to me, I didn't notice I was missing out on the "good stuff"; everyone knows "milk does a body good."
So, when I came home from practice I kicked Pro-pro out and enjoyed a glass of milk. SST is chillin' on the bottom bunk, but a couple of blue pills should send him packing in a week at most.

I don't want to bury my life under papers from yesterday, or the day before yesterday, or the day before that. So, I shall STOP "slackin'" before it's too LATE!

Reflection

I’ve finally reached my senior year in college. Freshman year seriously feels like yesterday, so many great memories…so many great moments. I can’t say that I have any regrets, but obviously I do recall some poor choices I’ve made over the years here at college. One of the poorest choices I made from second semester freshman year until the end of my junior year was not taking the time to “stop and stare”. Plenty of refreshing, uplifting moments passed me by simply because I passed them all by without a second thought. Lately, I’ve been walking from the music building feeling tired and feeling pain from trying to continue life with illness but when I see the sun playing hide and seek with the trees between the cottages and the J building I can’t help but “stop and stare”. Lately, I’ve been just sitting in that area for a couple of minutes each day. I figure my apartment basically looks the same everyday, but the view outside changes minute to minute. If I don’t take in that minute it will just pass me by.
I’m enjoying this year so much…so far. I can see how I’ve grown since freshman year. I know a lot of others don’t see it, but I don’t think the same, and I don’t make the same poor choices just because I don’t want to do something. I can also see how the Lord is working in my life and in the lives of those who I hang out with. He is so good.
Out of all my years here in college one of the greatest things I’ve learned is that God is truly in control. Politics will always be around but at the end of the day I rejoice in the fact that God is forever in control. My life is in His hands and He will not lead me astray.

How to Take Care of a Perm/ Curly Hair

Taking care of one's hair, in general. can be a daunting task. With the speed at which everyone moves there is no time to put on lotion, how can one take the time out to do hair. Curly hair, though differing from one person to the next, is basically wash and wear. But, without proper product curly hair has the tendency of just becoming super poofy as the day goes on. Ten minutes! Ten minutes is all that is needed for one to properly primp one's hair. With the following quick and easy tips one will be able to manage the unmanageable.

1. Run hair through water if a shower is not taken. It's much easier to work with damp curly hair than dry curly hair.
2. As you run your hair with water, don't forget to condition it well.
3. Dry hair with towel until it's lightly damp.
4. Use leave in conditioner or if you don't have any, regular conditioner will do. Run the conditioner through hair until you've detangled every strand.
5. Take a wide tooth comb and comb hair from top to bottom, remembering that you want your hair to be smooth and, again, detangled. Use as much conditioner your hair calls for.
6. Take a bit of gel, moose will work--but gel is preferred, and run fingers throughout hair. The more gel one uses the crunchier one's hair will become. If you want a softer look, use only a little to keep curls together.
7. Now take a towel and crunch hair up from ends to roots. The use of the towel removes some gel, shapes curls, and keeps hands sticky free.
8. Continue with this process until hair is fully crunched to your desires.
9. If you choose to blow dry remember to blow air downward. Blowing air any other way causes hair to poof, and removes any refinement the curl once had from the process of geling and then crunching.
10. Air drying curly hair is actually the proper procedure.

It's not terribly hard to get that hair done. Ten minutes is all you need for a more refined hair do.

Blog 3

I love this years theme for the simple fact that everyone can relate to it on a personal level. Dreams are some of the greatest gifts God has given; they allow people to desire a type of success, but in the end I believe many would say it is the process, the steps taken, to attain a dream that has molded one's character or being. Actually attaining the dream is a bonus. Even if the dream isn't attain, the process, the time spent, will last lifetimes.
4,105 balloons has reminded me that I and my 4,104 classmates have dreams we all wish to achieve and dreams that have floated away. Sometimes I'm so stuck on myself and what I want that I forget others have huge dreams too. Sadly, I'm also reminded that some people have completely given up on their dreams, some have given up on God. But really, His dreams for His children are 4,105 times better than anything anyone can fathom.
I've always had a dream. I'm a dreamer, so I can't remember a day when I didn't have a dream. Right now I dream of getting into a great grad program at a totally different school. I do enjoy learning, I just think that the busy work teachers give causes me to dislike some courses. In grad school I hope to further my understanding about the subject I'll be mastering in.
Aside from my dream today, I've always had a dream of becoming part of some kind of movement. It doesn't need to be a huge one, it doesn't even have to be greatly recognized; it just has to make an impact. I'm thinking I'd love to take part in a church plant with fellow college students.
The church has always been a great passion of mine. I originally wanted to study at biola and major in worship music. When my parents strongly objected the idea I thought I would never become what I felt was in my heart to do. I don't think my dreams changed in this situation, but I do believe that my path towards that dream changed.
I dreamt of studying worship at Hillsong College in Australia when I was a freshman. I thought that once I graduated here I would go there. I felt it in my heart, I thought it was my one dream I had to attain. But sometime last year I no longer desired that dream. I wasn't sad, it was just a little weird. I didn't give up on it, I just figured it was something God put in my heart once for whatever reason, and now for a another reason He has removed it.

He could have been Mr. America—minus the fact that he was no where near buff, disliked the idea of “strutting it” in man-kini bottoms, and was allergic to spray on, rub on, and under the sun on the beach tanning due to his sensitive skin—if someone had just informed him of such a competition. The name would have suited him well. He was intelligent, smart, bright, knowledgeable, and any other words that mean brainy. Although, he’s wasn’t Mr. Gorgeous, it was okay there wasn’t any competition on the national level with that title anyways. But boy was he a funny one, can someone say Mr. Congeniality?!
His name was Sam Song. His name was Sam Song because he is no longer around, no longer here among us, with us, here, among us. He died and that’s how the story ends; so here’s the beginning.
Sam Song was 1/8 of every other major Asian ethnicity. Being so unique, in that he was uniquely a nationality on his own, every Ivy League school wanted him. Scholarships were being tossed his way like popcorn thrown at the screen during a “boo” moment in the movie.
But, in reality, Sam wasn’t in need of financial aide; his family owned a chain of restaurants, Chalk-ed-Fillets: fillets chalked full of goodness. So, Sam decided to go to a school that didn’t necessarily beg for his presence but wouldn’t mind if he was around, Charleston College, the junior college down town. He was warmly welcomed and began his classes that fall.
Finding the campus to be open, and the atmosphere pressure free Sam figured he would have no trouble breezing through class and enjoying life at the same time.
Introduction to Creative Writing 201
The classroom had a few tears here and there, but nothing that someone wouldn’t buy and fix from thrift shop. The tile floor was peeling allowing students to assume it was lenolium. Desks were cracked—in half, leaving some students to use their laps as extentions. But Sam just figured it was all part of the creative process. A “creative” room for a creative writing class, what fun.
Suddenly, Mizz America walked in. Not Miss, Mizz. It was a beauty pageant recognized on the local level, but just anyone could be crowned Mizz America. Only the most lip gloss poppin’ girl had the honor, and was her lip gloss poppin’. Or, that’s what Sam was thinking.
The school year went by no quicker or slower than any other year. Except this year’s ended in Sam and Mizz America, Della, getting married. The couple was so happy. Though they both decided to continue their education, they didn’t need to because Sam grandfather passed leaving him with money to last the rest of his first child’s life—it didn’t last that long.
During mid-semester of both Sam and Della’s second year, Della’s father had gotten in some deep trouble financially and he asked Della to spot him some cash.
Della knew Sam wouldn’t give her father any money because, well, her father didn’t like Sam and Sam took that fact personally. So, one night when Sam and Della were spending quality time together, she asked him to tell her the pin number of his bank account because as his wife she should know just in case of emergency. And even if there wasn’t an emergency they were married and Della made it clear that there should be no secrets between husband and wife.
Sam loved Della so much that he told her the pin number. The next morning Della made breakfast and then left early for school. Sam didn’t think anything of it, until that night when he out at happy hour with his friends and his card wouldn’t work. He knew she was gone and so was his money.
The following week he died in a car accident caused because of an earthquake.