Paralyzed: A Love Story

I kept looking at my phone every two minutes to make sure I knew what time it was. The sound of my fingernails clicking on my wooden desk echoed throughout the classroom. Everything my professor said seemed to go in one ear and out the other. All I wanted to do was get out of there . . . the only thing I wanted to do was run, and it really didn't matter where. All I wanted to do was escape. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.  It was three thirty on a Friday afternoon and I couldn't believe I was still in class, or why.

"I want to show you a short video," she said. Prof Miller's soft voice was making me sleepy.

"I want to show you a video explaining a why factor," she continued. "So many times we focus on what is at hand, that we lose sight of why we do what we do in the first place."

What a mouthful, I thought. She didn't seem to be making any sense and she couldn't have been more confusing. I didn't have anything better to do, I was still a prisoner of the classroom, so instead of falling asleep, I decided to pay attention to the video she was about to show.

"He's not a normal teacher. Everybody loves him." A boy about 16 years old began, "He's the epitome of what a great teacher should be like."

A man referred to as "Mr. Wright" was now on screen- and his arm was on fire. You see, Mr. Wright is a high school science teacher.

 

 "I've been on my own since I was 15 years old. Mr. Wright knows that. He's someone I have been able to tell things to, I can trust him. And I know he cares about his students," a young girl said.

The camera was back on Mr. Wright and this time he was shooting a potato through a pipe across a field.

"I've heard everything from, 'Mr. Wright, I'm pregnant' to 'Mr. Wright, I ran away from home'. I've seen things most people don't even know go on in a young person's life. Some of these kids are just wanting to be loved on, they're different- and that's why one size doesn't fit all inside my classroom," the science teacher said.

I was already intrigued by Professor Pam's video, and I remenisiced about my high school days. Mr. Wright reminded me of my biology teacher I had my sophomore year. But I still couldn't find out what was so special about this guy. What was the underlying reason for his incredibly caring heart? He had a passion for reaching out to high school kids. So what. A lot of teachers do. That's why they're teachers. But I continued to watch.

The interview with Mr. Wright suddenly took a new angle when he began to talk about his family.

"I have two kids," he started. My daughter is 15 going on 25. She's your normal teenage girl, you know, she gets embarrased when I give her a kiss goodbye, and she thinks I am the world's dumbest dad. But I love her to pieces just like any father would," he went on, "And then there's Adam. I was so excited when I found out my wife was pregnant with a boy. It was like I had the best of both worlds. I couldn't wait to go to ball games and thow a football, you know, do men stuff with my son someday," he paused.

"But when Adam was born, he was breathing 180 times a minute. That's more than three times a second. Adam was born with a rare disease similar to cerebral palsy. The doctor told us he was completely blind, and he would never be able to control any muscle in his body. My son has a perfect mind. He can think and he has the ability to learn, but he cannot control the muscles in his body. Sometimes Adam punches himself so hard he bleeds. If he falls out of bed in the middle of the night and I'm not there to help him back up in bed, he'll lay flat on the floor all night long until morning."

It was so quiet in the classroom now that you would have been able to hear a pin drop.

"For a long time, I was pissed at God. I didn't undersand why He would give me a son who couldn't talk to me, who would never be able to stand on his own two feet by himself. I got so angry. . . until this one day when I walked in on my daughter sitting in her room with Adam propped up against the side of one of her dolls. I asked her what in the heck she was doing, and she simply replied, 'Playing with Adam, Daddy'. How was she playing with Adam when he couldn't even  see her, I thought. And then I understood. My daughter was holding up a dollar bill and she was telling Adam to hit it. And he hit it every time. Every single time. . . which meant that Adam couldn't be blind. We decided to teach Adam sign language. And I'll never forget the day he signed this to me."

It was the weirdest thing, I had just learned the sign for "daddy" in sign language class the day before.

"It means, 'Daddy, I love you," Wright said, tears flowing down his cheeks as he continued to tell the story of his son for his students.

If I was holding back the tears before, I wasn't now.

The b-roll continued to show this man caring for his 12-year-old handicapped son. Changing his diapers, and feeding him. Loving him. It was a picture of a completely average man, loving his son in the most incredible way. And that's what broke me.

I finally understood why. I saw a glimpse of what unconditional love looks like- and I felt it. Here was a father who was given a son who could never tangibly repay him- who would never be able to throw a football, or wrestle, who would never be able to tell him all the ways he loved his dad.

I felt my chair sinking to floor. And I thought about all the ways Mr. Wright's story symbolized the story of the cross. How little I felt. How small and irresponsible I am.  How many times I fail, but His blood still covers a multitude of sins. How paralyzed and worthless I am without His forgiveness. How the Lord doesn't need me for a second, but still, He loves me.

Sometimes, what it is we care for, or what we love isn't everything. It's why. Why do we love? Why do we forgive? Why do we do what we do? Is it because we're supposed to? Is it because we can gain something back from who or what we love or forgive?

Mr. Wright's story is something amazing. But how much greater is our Father's love for us?

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end." Lamentations 3:22

Nothing Has Changed

All I know now is it's been three months
Since we let the summer
Tell the story of us
And all that I've seen in the back of my head
Are your green eyes and your smile
And when I'll see them again


Oh I'll race you back to the good old days
When I used to deny
All the ways
I fell for you and as nights linger by
I miss your jokes
And your bow ties


I searched all over the world and couldn't find
Something wrong with you or reasons we couldn't try
So let's stay up late come sneak me out
Put Red on repeat
You know me better now
And let's find who we're supposed to be
It's gonna be different, you and me
There could be more to the song we sang
I'm still your "Little Bird"
And nothing's changed
Oh yeah and 'all I know since yesterday',
Oh since yesterday,
Nothing's changed

Let's go back to times last year
When you weren't so far
When you were here
Just come back home so we could pick up
Right where we left off
Let's figure out love


Come back to me, Sir, I'm still waiting to dance
I've waited so long
But we've still got a good chance
And if you've waited too, let's sing from our hearts
Let's finish our song
Yeah let's make it ours

Because  . . .


I searched all over the world and couldn't find
Something wrong with you or reasons we couldn't try
So let's stay up late come sneak me out
Put Red on repeat
You know me better now
And let's find who we're supposed to be
It's gonna be different, you and me
There could be more to the song we sang
I'm still your "Little Bird"
And nothing's changed
Oh yeah and 'all I know since yesterday',
Oh since yesterday,
Nothing's changed.

Learning to Love

"If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything." Malcolm X

My parents always told me to follow my passions, and to stand up for what I believe in-- but it took me almost 21 years to figure out what I am truly passionate about. 

Over the last few months, the Lord has taught me about the power of His amazing love and kindness. A little over four months ago, He shattered my whole world when he took away my biggest idol- and then only a few weeks later, he reminded me about the fragility and shortness of life when I witnessed the death of my 18-year-old dorm mate. 

On the 30 hour bus trip down to Texas, I decided to read some old prayers written by a terrified, brokenhearted girl- the faithful, brokenhearted prayers I prayed while going through two of the darkest times in my entire life. Reading my old prayer journals is something I often do when I am discouraged to remind and  to encourage myself of the Lord's faithfulness and overwhelming love. 

I remember the girl I was only four short months ago. I remember feeling like God couldn't possibly understand my depression which stemmed from my circumstances, and thinking how He probably blocked out the angry prayers I yelled in the shower, or in the middle of the night at the Prayer Garden. I remember thinking things would never go back to being the same. I questioned the Lord's love for me so many times- and every time I questioned it, He just kept on making it more and more apparent in my life. 

And while I've been in Texas, the Lord has been teaching me how to love people the same way He loves me. No one ever said that standing up for the truth would ever be easy. And loving people that hate that the Lord and the truth is something that I've always struggled with.

View from the second floor of the capitol rotunda

A few hours before the bill finally passed, LAN team and I went to capture some of the chaos which was happening inside the capitol.

First floor inside the capitol rotunda

The orange shirts, (pro-abortionists) carried signs which read things like, "pro-choice = pro-life", "Keep your rosaries off my ovaries", "My body, my choice" and "Wendy Davis is my hero". One girl with our group had the back of her shirt ripped by an angry protester, and another lady I interviewed had her things stolen by a mob of people in the overflow chamber. There were threats from the pro-abortionists that human feces and urine would be thrown at people in blue (more than 20 jars were found filled with waste at security) and one even reported a pro-abortionist carrying a semi-automatic rifle. Some orange were smoking- some were spitting and some were cursing at those dressed in blue silently praying and singing hymns. Inside the Senate gallery, women chained themselves to posts and sat down in front of the entrance to block the DPS as well as those inside the senate chambers - up to thirty were arrested and literally carried off the premises kicking and screaming, "Shame on you, shame on you!".

DPS trying to break woman free after she chained herself to the Senate gallery railing

As I fearlessly held up my little video camera in the middle of this orange sea of protesters, ready to catch whatever nonsense may occur (dirty tampons being tossed at blue shirts, fights, etc) someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"Can I interview you, Miss?" A man in a suit holding a microphone and another one with a large video camera with a sticker on the side read ABC News, Channel 12.  It was the one day I decided not to wear any makeup, my hair wasn't washed, and both of the sleeves of my oversized baby blue shirt were  cleverly hemmed up with fire engine red duck tape which bore the word "LIFE" written in black sharpie. The bright light attached to the camera was blinding and I could feel my knees beginning to shake, but my adrenaline rush from the excitement and loudness of the crowd took away my nerves. Without any hesitation I yelled, "Yes!" and the anchor pointed his microphone at me.

"Sources are saying that the bill will be passed by the senate in a few hours," he paused, "So why are you still here?"

I tried desperately to drown out the noise in the background. What did he just say? I thought.

"Pardon?" I yelled back at the anchor. He repeated the question and this time I knew what my answer would be.

"We are undeserving of Your love," Michelle Duggar had prayed at the rally a few days ago. Those words had lingered in my heart all week.

There were more than a few times I almost lost my cool while standing in the middle of the orange sea, and the pro-aborts weren't the only ones I had resentment towards. One woman carried a large cross with a sculpture of the body of Jesus on the front and she was chanting, "Don't mess with Mother Mary, she will kick your a**." The day before, some blue shirts held large, graphic signs of aborted babies, screaming "Murderers go to Hell".

Why was I still here. Good question. We were 90% sure the bill was going to pass. So why was I still fighting for it? The answer was simple. I wasn't fighting for the life of the bill anymore. I had bigger reasons for being in the middle of the life-threatening mob in the Texas capitol.

Preventing the physical deaths of Texan women and children was all it took for me to jump on a bus and head to Austin. But it hit me like a thousand bricks when saw thousands of people whose eternal deaths I knew could never be prevented without the saving blood of Jesus.

Even though I was in Texas to show my support for physical life, I was constantly reminded by the Lord that displaying His unfailing, unconditional love to people who hate Him had to become my first priority.

Students for Life praying outside a Planned Parenthood in Austin

Proverbs 3: 3-8 says, "Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man. Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path. 

We won a political victory in Texas this week, but the Lord's blessings didn't stop there. I haven't slept very much in the past week, and spiritual warfare has been heavy but I have confidence that my God is good and that He has the power to save.

I've learned that He is in control- no matter how big or how small the enemy is, and His precious love has the power to overcome death in even the darkest of places.

"But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: that the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never  come to an end." Lamentations 3:21-22

The Voice

It's one of those times, I've felt lost in this world
No one to listen, no voice to be heard
Losing valuable time, no power to learn
My head and my heart how they ache and they burn

These eyes have seen things too big for my dreams
I let go of my past, it's an immeasurable piece
Of the person I am, what they want me to see
And I can't even remember what I wanted to be

We were caught in a love held up for a time
We danced and we laughed, we kissed and we cried
I wanted to know, to see you as you are
I wondered if you could look past my scars

But- the voice deep in my soul desires to know
What do I love; where do I go?
I've been wandering alone now
Hope's lost, I'm too far now
Too far gone to remember my name.

Becoming An Advocate

As a small town country girl born and raised in a very conservative, Christian home, I didn’t realize the culture shock I was in for when Live Action accepted my application to become an intern for them in Washington, D.C. At first, everything about the city was something new for me to get used to.  There are no dirt roads here, and no rolling hills, but there are a whole lot of career- focused people constantly flooding the streets and subways. Even though some may say the way I grew up was simple, I was taught that there is nothing more important than loving people no matter how “different” or insignificant they seem.  I was taught that the value of life is immeasurable.

So while the largeness and the bustle of city shocked me, one thing was even more astonishing: the considerable number of people who oppose the pro-life movement.

As an intern for Live Action, I discovered this truth by going out campaigning on the streets of D.C., attempting to speak with people about pro-life matters, and handing out issues of The Advocate, our student magazine. It was not until the fifth or sixth person brushed me off when I realized the greatness of the struggle I signed up for. There I was in the middle of street, on the brink of tears because I couldn’t believe so many people could be so closed off to the idea that unborn babies deserve basic human-rights protection. I still have trouble processing this fact.

But I didn’t come all the way to Washington just to give up, and I didn’t sign up for an internship with Live Action because I thought they couldn’t use my help. So I swallowed the lump in my throat, brushed off my shoulders and spotted a man in a janitor’s uniform leaning against a building. I asked him if he had ever heard of gendercide . . . and he didn’t brush me off. Instead he nodded and asked me why I’d present him with such a question. I could tell he was interested in what I was saying, and for the first time that day, I became filled with confidence.

I started explaining that sex-selection abortions, (gendercide) are happening not only in China; they are happening right here, every day in the States. As I went into detail, I noticed the friendly expression on the man’s face changing to disbelief and concern.

“Why are you telling me about this?” he asked. “That is legal?”

He explained to me that he was from Africa. He had had no idea that abortion is legal in the U.S. He didn’t understand the reason for standing on street corners, handing out flyers about why abortion is wrong. I was still getting over abortion support being more widespread that I’d ever imagined, but to this man, abortion itself was a foreign concept.

“People do this on purpose?” the man asked, pointing to a picture on the back cover of my magazine I was offering him. It was an image of a seven-month-old aborted baby. “How is this okay?”

I kind of just stared at the man for a moment, wondering what to say next.

“It’s not.” That was about all I could get out.

I’ve always known how to tell someone why abortion is wrong; but explaining to someone why it was legal was another thing. How was I supposed to tell him why it was legal, if I didn’t even know the answer myself?

I could tell the man was getting angry now. I wasn’t sure if his anger was directed towards me, or if he was upset about the magazine’s explicit pictures of aborted babies, but either way, I felt embarrassed. Embarrassed for my country. Embarrassed by what is considered legal in the United States of America. I could feel the lump in my throat coming back.

As Americans, I feel like we take life for granted. We are so obsessed with preserving and protecting our “rights” and our freedom to choose the lifestyle that fits our personal worldview. And while I appreciate being able to live in a country which upholds the rights I enjoy every day, no right can be legitimate if we have to murder children to secure it.

I’m still getting used to Washington, D.C. – from figuring out the metro, to the hectic pace, but most of all, to the people’s prevalent dismissal of the rights of our weakest citizens. I learned that if I have a passion for standing up for the rights of the unborn, I can’t go very far unless I act on it. That’s exactly why I came to this city; that’s exactly why I stood on that street corner.

Thirty-five percent of Americans believe in the pro-life movement. Think about what would happen if all those Americans who oppose abortion actually did something about it!

The African man leaning against the wall was not the only person who gave me a moment of his time that day. I planted a seed in hundreds of minds, and it was as easy as handing out a few magazines on a street corner.

For We Walk By Faith and Not By Sight

I could smell the sweat on his body and I could hear his heart pounding like a drum inside his chest as he held me inside of the ambulance. Our grimy hands were clenched so tightly together that I felt the dirt beneath his fingernails. There weren't anymore words left to say. My mind was racing and backtracking over the day; thinking about all the ways how I could have prevented the situation that was before me.

It finally felt like spring in Lynchburg. The sun was out and the birds were chirping. Mark and I were eating a late lunch outside in the courtyard when I got a call from my roommate asking if I wanted to go hike up to Crabtree Falls. It is not like me to skip my classes and my on-air 3 o'clock segment, drive an hour away alone,  and then hike up a mountain in the middle of nowhere with a group of girls who probably had no idea what to expect. So, feeling rather uneasy about the plans, I asked Mark to join us for moral support and to make sure all five girls would be safe while in the mountains.

I hurried back to my dorm to change out of my school clothes, and to gather some things I knew I would need. I flung open my door, and there sat my four beautiful friends. Hair and makeup done. Jewelry on. Wearing insensible hiking shoes and cutoffs over their string bikinis. Pulling a sports bra over my head and then tying up the laces of my hiking shoes, I advised the girls wear something a little more conducive to the occasion.

It didn't quite hit me that the whole trip was probably not a smart idea to begin with until we pulled up to the hiking trails and the sun was already setting. I calculated in my head that we had about 2 hours before it would be completely black outside. Since there were six of us, halfheartedly I told everyone to pick a buddy.

Mark lead the way. Up the mountain we went. Five minutes went by and I already heard complaints coming from behind me. I wasn't sure if the girls knew exactly what they were getting into, and it began to worry me. Stopping every eighth mile to take pictures, Mark and I began to feel extremely uneasy that we would never reach the top of the mountain before dark if we didn't pick up the pace.

Realizing this, I put a distance between myself and Mark and stayed alongside the girls toward the back of our group. We were about three quarters of the way to the top when we decided to stop and take pictures by the falls. It was breathtaking. The rush of the falls echoed through the mountain, flowing nearly five thousand feet down. I looked out across the waterfall and saw a few large, flat rocks that were easily accessible. It was a perfect spot to snap a few photos. Lori went first, then me, and Mark followed, making sure if we fell, he could be there to catch us from behind. We crossed over the safety railing, down the cliff and back up the mossy, wet rocks, careful not to step anywhere too slick.

When Lori and I made it safely to the rock in the middle of the falls, I quickly realized that it was too small for all of us to sit on at once. Lori and I posed like Superman, carefully keeping our balance, while the other girls patiently waited for their turn to come over the falls.

Faith was next. She untied her Vans, pulled off her socks and started over the railing. I never took my eyes off of her as Mark helped me back across the rock holding me tightly and making sure I didn't lose my balance.

The last thing I heard were shrieks of terror. Horrifying screams that rang through the forest. Everything within me froze and I could not wrap my mind around what I had just witnessed.

What I had seen wasn't real. I was so far away from the world; and in a second, Mark let me go and jumped back over the rail to the cliff, screaming at me to call 911.

The next thing I knew I was lifted from the falls, back over the mountain. Lori had managed to climb over one side of the mountain and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me away from the danger of the waterfall. I was shaking so bad that I could feel the blood rushing to my heart, and then my head, my muscles aching and trembling as I darted back down the mountain to try to find the others. Every so often I would stop and dial 911 on three different cell phones all at the same time, hoping one of them would pick up a signal.

It seemed like hours. Days. Years. When I finally reached the bottom of the mountain, I layed flat on the pavement and wept like a baby, screaming out to the Lord at the same time. The earth beneath me was spinning. My vision was blurry. My heart felt numb. My shoes were laced too tightly on my feet. And then I saw them. The paramedics were at the bottom of the hill making the drive up the winding mountain.

It was cold in the ambulance, and it smelled of bleach and sanitizer. I felt alone, even though I sat with a female medic, sobbing and praying aloud. Uncontrollable, the old woman coddled me in her arms and held me close to her chest.

"Do you believe in God?" I remember yelling at the 80-something-year old woman. Her name was Tonya.

"I believe in a higher power," she said, calmly.

"Why not!" I retaliated back, confused by her answer.

"How far down did she fall?" Tonya questioned me. I told her I thought she had fallen 30-40 feet down, reassuring myself that 40 feet wasn't such a high altitude to fall from.

But Tonya shook her head when I told her I watched as Faith bounced down the mountain like a basketball, airborne most of the time.

"She's gonna be okay right? Jesus can save her!" I kept screaming at Tonya, but she only gently grabbed my face and wiped away the dirt from my cheeks and forehead, while another medic took my blood pressure and other vital signs.

"She's in shock." Tonya told the other woman in the ambulance.

"Why don't you believe in Jesus? Do you believe in the Bible?" Hysterically yelling at Tonya this time. "Can I pray for you?"

"No." She replied. And I began to weep some more over the lost, troubled, old woman I had met just minutes ago who I knew had no desire to accept Jesus.

In that moment, I longed to be with my friends, to know they were safe. But Tonya still held onto me, stroking my head and squeezing my hand every so often . . . and then we heard it.

A loud voice from a dispatcher over the radio. And I'll never forget the words that he said.

"I'm calling it a DOA 18:37."

"What does that mean?" I yelled at Tonya. Ariel, my roommate, had her head in her hands and she started crying.

"What does that mean!" I repeated over and over again, even though I knew exactly what it meant.

"Baby, she didn't make it," Tonya said.

Those words. How they sent an arrow right to center of my heart. And I wished it was me. I wished I had dove in the waterfall after her instead of watching her being skipped like pebble across a river. I wished we had never even come here. I wished I hadn't been so immature. I closed my eyes, playing it back, moment by moment, thinking it was a just a dream.

Hours later, Mark and Lori finally joined me in the ambulance.

The three of us sat there in silence, holding on to each other, nothing to say. Mark rocked me like a baby in his arms and Lori held my hands as we tried to console each other. You could smell the sweat and taste the saltiness in the air. Mud on our shoes and legs. Still soaking wet from the splash of the waterfall. Time dragged on for far too long and sleeping was out of the question. The earlier visions replayed in our minds and we shrieked in fear every time the doors of the ambulance were opened. Soon the darkness of the night crept over the mountain and we hid ourselves under a dirty, white blanket from the news reporters outside of the ambulance like three small children afraid to face a monster under the bed.

When Alyssa and Ariel finally showed up after being questioned by police, a peace finally began to come over me because I knew that they were safe from the dangers of the mountain.

The girls that had located Faith said she looked untouched without a scratch on her body, or even a scar to prove how far she had actually fallen. She was curled up in the fetal position, so peaceful. In Heaven with her Father.

Experiencing this firsthand has been one of the most traumatizing times I have ever had to deal with. The five us of involved have felt like our innocence has been stripped away, no longer children, but adults. We have seen and felt more than most 20-somethings have, and it doesn't even feel close to normal.

We are bonded together by a common tragedy; but we are held together by something far greater than our personal experiences. We are held together by Jesus Christ. We feel each others hurts, and understand the fears that have developed since that night. We were not alone in this.

Sitting in that ambulance made me realize something new about each and every one of the previous trials I have been through in my short life. You cannot change death. My dear friend was in Heaven long before I knew she was, even though I had hoped she wasn't. I could not change the fact that she was already gone, and instead I had to deal with it.

The words from a familiar worship song we often sing in convocation filled my mind.

All of my life, in every season, You are still God, and I have a reason to sing, I have a reason to worship. 

So often I have found myself asking the Lord for ways to change my current state. God, if only You would do something so real, so spiritual and change this who situation around, I would be happy, I would be content. Jesus, how can I change this? Lord if only I can get an opportunity to witness to my unsaved family, maybe then You would save them. If only. . . 

Even though we are hurting, I can honestly say that not for a moment has the Lord not held me tight in His arms during the last week. Not for a moment has He let me go. My heart aches to be normal again, to not feel the pain and the terror of what happened that day. But one thing I am absolutely sure of, is that Faith's little life is now a part of my testimony. I will never be normal again. There is a reason it wasn't me who fell into the arms of Jesus that day. I'm not done doing what the Lord put me on this earth for. I'm left here for a reason.

You see, when you lose a friend, and you understand how fragile life is and how completely helpless we are as humans, you see how big God is. A few days after the accident, Mark and I went for a run together to get our minds off things. Out of breath and tired, we sat down on a curb and looked up at the stars. They were so bright, so beautiful. "She's up there," I whispered. When you look at the stars, and you understand how far away they are, you remember that God put them there. That God is the ruler of even the stars, and He makes them to shine bright when the sun leaves the sky. Sitting there with Mark, it was so amazing to think that Faith is with Paul, and Peter and James and John and Noah, and Abraham. . . and then Mark reminded me that Faith is with Jesus. How my heart beat faster when I pictured the look on Faith's face when she finally saw our Lord Jesus face to face; when she touched His nail-pierced hands, and felt His arms around her. I couldn't even begin to imagine the joy that she must be in. How she wouldn't come back even if she could.

It is only human to be afraid; to fear the unknown, to fear death. I jump every time I have to brake too hard, or hear a playful scream from people far away. The mountains terrify me. The sound of rushing water makes me want to throw up.

But God.

But God is bigger. But God is almighty. But God is sovereign. But God is faithful.

When you experience something like I did, something so traumatizing and real, something so incredibly easily taken away, you understand life as something that is fleeting. As a vapor. The goals and priorities you have are changed, and they are different. What people think of you no longer matters, fears of disease and illness seem to have no effect, hurting and pain stops. According to His great mercy, He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled and unfading which is kept in Heaven for you! (1 Peter 1:3-4) John Foreman could not have said it better when he wrote, Two things You told me, You are strong and You love me, yes You love me! 

What do you live for? Really. Does the overwhelming love of Jesus make you want to be with Him everyday? Are you content with the trials you are put in? Do you realize that God has a plan that is so much bigger than the event you are apart of? We do not belong in this world! Praise God that we are only here for a short season! I cannot wait to be with my Heavenly Father. I cannot wait to see His face, to finally understand the joy that Faith has!

2 Corinthians 4:13-15,17 says, "Since we all have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, I believed and so I spoke, we also believe and so we speak, knowing that He who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into His presence. For it is by all for your sake; so that as grace extends to more and more people, it may increase thanksgiving to the glory of God. For this light momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

For we walk by Faith and not by sight.

Baby girl, you are missed by so many of us, still here on Earth. But I know that one day will be together again, in Heaven.

In loving memory of Faith Beverly Helbig: April 20th, 1994-April 8th, 2013.

In My Dreams

 (First Verse)
As I sit here I am weak
Want to tell you what I feel
I would usually tell you what I felt
but the only one I'm telling is myself

I've spent hours by myself
Finding what is left
Of this broken heart of mine
And I've been told nothing heals but time

 (Chorus)
And in my dreams you're so close
And I can hear you're beating heart
Beats like a drum And then it's gone
And then I wake and I am all alone

 (Second Verse)
Please release me from your arms
Leave alone my empty heart
That's pursuing something dead
And I've already found the end

Please let me go of you're strong hold
That kept me back from being bold
Don't take away this part of me
But keep your thoughts, my memories

 (Bridge)
See you from a distance,
Butterflies at my first glance
Just like I had so many times before
Why don't you get them anymore 

(Chorus)
And in my dreams, you're so close
And I can hear you're beating heart
Beats like a drum and then it's gone
And then I wake and I am all alone
All alone,
All alone,
All alone