Praise and Worship.

I have been meaning to write new blog posts and catch you up on some of my most recent sessions. Earlier today I knew which session I wanted to share with you, my faithful reader, but on the way home this evening from a trip to the local ice cream shop something else came to mind. 

God. 

Not in the usual ways in which I think about our father nor in the form of thanking him for the parking space, the exact quarters I needed for a Coca Cola or for placing an extra memory card in my camera bag at just the right moment. This time it was a little different. I drove home with the ice cream in my hand and the spoon in my mouth munching away while feeling for a mere minute and a half like my blood was boiling. I felt angry, betrayed and helpless.

As I drove into my drive way and failed at parking correctly because I was much more concentrated on eating my ice cream, a great song came on the radio, the christian radio. During the drive from getting ice cream to my drive way I prayed for peace - peace of mind and peace of heart. When I finally reversed correctly I sat there in my car smiling, praising and worshiping. 

I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe he died on the cross for our sins and that he is seated at the right hand of God. One day he will come again and I pray that I am saved. But I have not been to church on a regular basis in a very long time. I don't know why, I really don't. A few people have reminded me that I need to go back. I need to hear the word. 

And I do. And for a few months now I have felt like such a bad child for neglecting to attend church regularly. I often tell myself that Christ lives in me. I thank him daily, continuously and pray to God very often. God is with me in or out of church. That's my rationality. 

But I don't hear the word. I can read it but I don't hear it from someone else. But today, just literally a few minutes ago, I realized that I do. I do hear the word. I do worship. As I sat there in my car, I thought about all the times I sit at the wheel and drive listening to the word on the radio, in form of songs. I sing out loud, very loud, and I cry. If I feel the spirit, I cry. During my drives around the valley is when I talk the most to God .

It's when I ask him, with tears in my eyes, to take my hand and guide me. I worship. I realized that the same feeling I get when I'm in church is what I feel when I devote my time to him - completely. So today, singing along to Francesca Battistelli one of part of her lyrics stuck with me.. 

"In the middle of my little mess I forget how big I'm blessed..."

Now matter how I am feeling at any given moment, I am blessed. The struggles I endure are only to make me stronger. It is because God created me to sufficiently handle every good and bad thing that comes my way. It is because he made me to withstand losing people I love and meeting people I have to fight for. Because God made me, I can cry for my dad. I can miss him. I can cry for him. But I can also remember him, in my life.

I choose to no longer feel overwhelmed, depressed, anxious nor fearful for anything in my life. I am blessed. I am blessed. I am blessed!

Now, I don't have a photo to go along with this post as I had other plans to blog. But because I felt I just needed to write this down, for myself, I will let you in on a little, itty bitty secret...

I HAVE AN OFFICE SPACE NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew. It's been hard to spilling the beans for almost a month now. This is a big deal for me... more on this soon - promise!

Oh, and yes... my website should be back up tomorrow evening ;)

Promises.

I promise to succeed.
I promise to believe.
I promise to myself that I will never be naive. 


I have major news to announce at some point within the next few days!!!! I have not neglected this blog intentionally but I have lots of catch-up-blogging to do, gasp!

I'll leave you now but I'll be back soon...

:) Be blessed!

Believe.

By the end of 2011 I will have been a college graduate for three years. When I was in elementary school I used to dream about attending the university and learning about other cultures, history and meeting new people. In my mind, the university was for intellectuals - individuals pondering world issues. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Hernandez, nicknamed me "The Speeding Bullet" and "Speedy Gonzalez." I'd finish my work so quickly she often didn't know what to do with me because I'd finish way ahead of the rest of the students. 

Every class has a similar student; you know, the obnoxious one who works so hard to be the best and makes everyone else seem slower than usual. That was me, for a long time. I can't recall my parents ever sitting me down and telling me I needed to be the best. It just simply was in my nature. Perhaps I gave my parents the easy road in terms of academia for their child because I would get sent to the principal's office for awards not apprehension. 

Back then, I never thought about what I would study in college. I just knew I had to attend; I desperately wanted to. People go through life with or without motivation but, ultimately, we all have an end goal. My goal in high school was to graduate from the university and embark on a successful career. Somewhere in between junior year and graduation I was sure I'd become a lawyer. The Law. I wanted to study it. I wanted to know it. I wanted to practice it. Even now I think about the excitement of playing within a set of certain rules to win a case.