wrestling

God.

do you love me?
do you love the way you created me?
what are you going to show me in marriage?
do my actions or my words make you cry?
do you cry?
how can i love you better?
why did you save me?
why did you make us, knowing we would reject you?
will i ever be able to rest?
why do i not trust you?

you are a sweet, sweet song.

a new challenge

when i was in Brookyln back in october,
i wandered into this bookstore right on the waterfront.
i picked up this book called "Raskols"
it is a photo journalism project by Stephen Dupont.
He lived in the slums among the gangsters of Papua New Guinea
...and he captured these worn and torn faces,
and in my opnion he did a beautiful job.

here is a little bit of his work:

i'm in a photography class this semester, 

and my focus is portrait photography.

i want to be able to capture 

the divinity that is reflected in the human face.

this skill takes much humility of the photographer

and much trust of the subject,

because within a powerful portrait...

a story is revealed.

the relationship between photographer and subject

is very intimate.

just some food for thought,

steph

do not forfeit grace.

october 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8

change is good.

some people really struggle with change.
they respond to change
as if if they do not know how to react
as if change is the very thing
that is the tearing of their souls,

but me.
i think i itch for it.

there is this antithesis that
is swept in with the autumn season

that i quietly thrive in.

because in the fall

i crave for the familiar: haunted with nostalgia

but i also am
overwhelmed in the
wonder
and
awe
that surrounds me

and i badly want to create
and restlessly i try to write papers
but deeply desire to be exploring,
to be breathing in the new air
new dreams,
 stirring in my expectant mind

the vibrant colors
and the shedding of the old skin

it is so drastic
extravagant
stunning
compelling
dramatic
it is fascinating
and incredibly aggressive
it is so provoking.

then
quietly
i breathe in
       .
my lungs
chilled,
my eyes wide
&
all is dead

violently
transitioned into a season of
hibernating
and thick socks.

just
experienced
a heap of
beauty
and loss


i'm left cuddled under piles of quilts
and knitted blankets
with my hands clasped tightly around mugs
filled with cider or soup

to reflect
to slow down

no other season can display the
magnitude of change
but
autumn
does just that.

let us not write off the intensity of the season.

why don't we live more in it.
and capture the emotion of it.

"In the Harvest 

feast or

the fallow

ground,

my certain hope is in 

JESUS found.

my lot

my cup

my portion 

sure.

whatever comes

we shall endure."

- sandra.

...dang i must admit i coveted her boots.

each encounter with change 

i find myself dancing with challenge

but when i am pulled in closest,

grabbed at the waist.

i always realize it is wisdom

holding my hand

leading my next step.

i cannot deny 

there are those seasons of change

where  the dance seems more like a fight

but, somehow we stumble right back into step.

and there is growth.

i've never regretted dancing.

running back to self-restoration.

today it feels like fall.

pure autumn.

blue skies,

orange mountain,

my lungs are chilled

fall.

the season where life is made new

where the light changes the way we look at things

fall.

so i ran.

each breath in

was refreshment

and each breath out

was negative energy being

defeated.

four

miles

.

roughly

six

thousand

steps 

.

of 

renewal

.

and i feel a like

each step i took

was bold.

each step

was stomping out

fear.

i was running a little closer

to 

who 

i 

am.

my potential.

who i am created to be.

i am not my fears.

i am filled with love.

a supernatural love.

one that allows me

peace.

i choose 

whether or not

anxiety

can triumph over me.

i will not die to my fears

i'll die fighting.

isn't she lovely?

this is my running partner. 

lupe fiasco.

"That's how it's supposed to be: a butterfly

For the sake of rhyming let's just say "butterflyee"

The truth stings like Muhammad Ali

I tell 'em tell 'em don't homicide me

I just a little old hope with his back against the ropes"

&& that is what is beautiful today.

insomnia session one.

my journal is quickly running out of pages.

and i have this urge to paint, and well i do not know what.

i just know painting something

could very well do the kind of soothing

my soul is longing for.

i have two colors to paint with: blue and yellow

the blue is of a robin's egg, and the yellow of a dandelion.

i may just write instead. or read. or listen.

i have been overwhelmed lately by the

busy-ness of the world we live in.

the constant go, go , go.

our culture does not let us breathe.

or let us be content with where we are.

or with what we have.

i want to live slower.

i want to take time to capture the beauty and love

that is surrounding me.

and to be grateful.

i want to take more pictures.

i want to get my hands molding clay,

i want to breathe deeper,

and practice yoga.

...this is the season.

the season to slow down.

to savor.

to celebrate in the ordinary.

to go on a road trip.

to make a home.

to pray.

to create.

...to not worry.

i am going to try to sleep.

or read

or something

but before i go...

this song, is worth pausing your life for a second to

just listen. and let the music feel for you.

"same in any language" by. my morning jacket

i hope you enjoy this song as much as i do.

it takes me to a cozy place.

"and it's such a waste to grow up lonely."

snapshots

these are little reminders

of miracles.

what i believe.

who i am.

who i serve.

and the love

that i'm drowning in.

i believe in .

strong, bright,

growing women.

i believe out of chaos,

life can be found.

absolutely.

profoundly.

beautifully.

bold love.

fearlessly we can ask with expectancy.

where there is a beach

there is little worry

let the children be free.

teach them truth.

so once again i dropped off the blogging map for a while.

..oops! well i'm back. for a season. maybe a long one.

but then again, maybe not.

much love and God bless,

steph

*i like the last photo especially.

it is me and will, through the perspective of zah.

i like to see how she sees.

seven years old, but man she is beautiful.

in fact. her little life,

changed mine.

germantown road.

And I guess it's just as well
But I miss your face like hell
[Chanting]
Been talkin' 'bout the way things change
And my family lives in a different state
If you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate
So if you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate

[chanting]rivers and roads.
rivers and roads.
rivers 'til i reach you
-the head and the heart <3

you ain't gonna please everyone.

and then some

"you are crazy and stupid enough 

to drive to crazy places, 

dangerous places, 

and you've put in all this work for this?

you don't even know what you are doing.

...you are crazy." - dr. mask (on our internship)

currently reading:

(yes, just for my own pleasure)

"Your handwriting. The way you walk. 

Which china pattern you choose. 

It’s all giving you away.

 Everything you do shows your hand.

 Everything is a self portrait. 

Everything is a diary." -Chuck P

you are beautiful my sweet, sweet song.

4 days, 40 pages of writing.

i am dead.

going to the beach.

a fire in my heart.

from an article titled "I Saw A City Die"

written in 1963 by Charles Morgan Jr.

brave article.

brutally honest.

brings conviction.

i think it has a lot to say about our society today

and how we respond to the poverty around us.

are we truly loving our brothers?

are we afraid risking relationships...selflessly.

because that interferes with our safety

and our convenience.

makes me sick quite honestly.

its uncomfortable,

but what if we all tried a little harder

to die to ourselves...

and extended our hands to our neighbor.

why is it that we are so afraid?

because

that is all i can think is holding us back,

fear.

because fear is the opposing power of

love.

step out your comfort zone.

stop being so scared.

i bet the white people of the day hated this picture.

i want it framed in my home.

“I believe that there will be ultimately be a clash between the oppressed and those who do the oppressing. I believe that there will be a clash between those who want freedom, justice and equality for everyone and those who want to continue the system of exploitation. I believe that there will be that kind of clash, but I don’t think it will be based on the color of the skin…” - Malcolm X

just some food for thought.

much love and God bless,

stephanie

PS the sign he is holding says:

"Congratulations,

your courage and honesty

has placed your name on the doom list of those barbarians

...so be careful."

ferninand the bull

this little story brings joy to my heart.

cats and dogs

"you’re in my soul now

you’ve got to waste away with me

my minds made up i’m doing this with you

there’s no use knowing

which way the wind is blowing

my minds made up i’m staying,

i’m staying here with you there’s no use knowing

which way the wind is blowing my minds made up,

i’m doing this,

i’m doing this you’re in my soul

now you’ve got to waste away with me"

- the head and the heart.

God is teaching me a hard lesson right now,

I am learning that all this time,

I have not truly trusted him in my life.

my whole world is being rocked right now.

its more than a house

its more than money

its an issue of the heart.

he whispered to me yesterday, that he is bigger than my distrust.

i am in class right now, should be listening.

but instead i am dreaming. dreaming of days out of school,

free of the chains of papers and deadlines...

and free to dance and paint and journal.

take it in for a moment.

i really love beauty.

there is no more explanation than that.

tuesday night at sluggo's

tonight i let myself be gripped by lyrics of a song.

i drove home the long way

played the song again and again

and i cried.

mourning.

what i can't understand,

what i can't express,

what i can't get others to understand,

what i can't believe.

what i can't accept.

how do you explain it will all be ok, when there is no understanding of safety.

how do you tell babygirl in the morning there will be dancing,

when her best friend was stabbed in the heart the purest hours of the morning?

"we are all so young, and all so alone.

we ain't even old enough

to realize we on our own."

what happens when you have lost heart

too desperate to even fall on your knees to pray

how do i make these cries aloud?

grasping the enormity of it all.

it's winter break.

everything in my life right now is screaming:

read! write! listen! publish!

but my task right now...

is to just write,

write down everything.

write about the sea,

what i see.

how i feel,

what people say

how i react,

what i am dreaming,

feelings of failure,

accomplishments

big

small

why.

write it all

because she simply cannot be

accept the world around her

her form of wrestling

is the pen.

break has just begun,

yet it will be over before i have fully rested,

and it seems inevitable...

i won't get everything i would have hoped to get done,

done.

it happens that way.

funny the way it is.

there will still be refreshment.

maybe even more than i could ever ask for.

"the learning curve's steep - you learn quick"

i feel like this past year. 2011 has been one of those crucial years in my life.

i am starting to process all that is happening. all that has happened. the growth.

the things i can't change, but wish could have happened differently.

things i am grateful for. the pains. the laughs. the hardships.

things i survived. the friendships that withstood during hell.

how i let go, but God held on. the year could be defined as RAW.

a year of sickness. one of brutally honesty, a messy year.

but i feel this year God used as one hell of a lesson,

for what? i can only trust God that it is being used to further his Kingdom.

i am a student of mistakes

i try

i fail

i try

again

i like to embrace

what is going on around me

i like to try everything

take what i like

leave what i don't

a collection of experiences

that is all.

little moments of the morning.

i was reading an old journal a quote i stumbled upon said: "when was the last time you did something for the first time?" how fitting for the new year. i think i am going to try to journal each day...at least one thing i did that day i had never done before. whether it be something extreme like skydiving, or a more subtle shift in perspective...i hope it will help me be more committed to writing.

3 days until Will gets to Florida :]

boy you look good ;]

what a punk.