Transparency..

Lately, I’ve just been feeling like I need to reset my foundation in Christ.

I don’t want lies. I’m getting to the point where my relationship with Christ is taking root deeper, and buried really deep are lies and secrets I have always been to prideful to let people know about.

Tonight I found a quote that says, “Perhaps we should meet each other where it hurts. Maybe we belong in the places we don’t want to share.” I find this so true.

I know it is true.. God wants the truth. God demands and deserves such a respect for him, and such transparency that we have no choice but to be willing to be vulnerable. At least that’s what I believe.

There are a lot of things that hurt me that I’ve experienced that I don’t talk about. But I think it’s time I do. I think it’s time I really be transparent..

I guess starting with the one I feel like is the biggest, or I guess which one hurts me the most is the fact that I have been struggling for years with a sexual addiction.

When I was 6 years old, I figured out on my own what masturbation was and I honestly still didn’t know what it was, I just knew it felt weird. No one talked to me about it.

Pretty soon, I found out once again on my own what pornography was and I realized that if I put the two together, it felt pretty good. I started watching it when I was about 8 and I am still struggling with it. I never really had any preference, girls, boys, didn’t matter. It all worked. I didn’t know it was wrong or bad.

At school I had always been picked on.  Was taller, fatter, and not as pretty as the other girls. My parents always told me that I was beautiful and pretty so I just assumed my parents were lying to me. I wasn’t pretty, or worthy, and no one would ever want to spend their life with me. I wasn’t good enough. I eventually lost my virginity, and in middle school I started flirting with guys I would meet online and I would send them naked pictures so they would like me. I didn’t think it was that bad. No one wanted to kiss me, but when I would talk to older guys online, they liked me. They thought I was pretty, and funny, and they wanted to do things with me that none of the “pretty girls” had ever done..

I eventually lost my virginity to a boy I loved but he just wanted to sleep with me. I feel for the “bad boys.” I bought into the lie that if I slept with enough boys, eventually one would love me back. I never found one to love me back.

By around 16, I couldn’t manage a functional relationship. If we weren’t sleeping together, something was wrong. Or I would sleep with them and that would set the tone of the relationship.

I finally got to the point where God got through to me. I don’t know how or why God is so gracious to me. I don’t know why my parents never talked to me about what I was doing. All I know is, I love my parents more than life itself, and I am so glad God didn’t give up on me, and he didn’t let me give up on myself.

I’m sorry that this is messy. I’m sorry that I am messy..

You know what, no. I’m not sorry. I can’t say that the mess is what I love or what I crave, no. but the reconciliation, and the love I feel and know is there and is real when God brings me back, is better than the ideas of perfection. It’s better than trying to have the “pretty girls” or the “hot guys” like me. I like me. I need me. I need love. And now, I know exactly where to get it..

I don't want to share this with you. I didn't wake up this morning and think, "Hey! That would be fun!" But somehow God gave me this story, and who am I to decide what gets shared and what doesn't?

I hope you come to a place, where it feels real. I hope you come to know, that transparency, is not the end. This does not end on a bad note. This is just the beginning. Roots are digging, and they are going down deep.

Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil.

Peace to you,

Dorothy.

12.15.13.

A Very Unnecessary Update..

I am really tired. I think I should go to bad but I have to take a shower. I haven’t showered in probably like 3 days except for that little lay in the bath tub I took earlier today to soothe my cramps. Is that weird? I feel like that might be weird.. Oh well.

 

Okay, so I have been really good. I really wanna go to Rwanda but I wake up wanting to be there, I go to bed the same way, it doesn’t stop. I hope it never does. But finals are over, so here we are.

Almost Christmas, I really don’t like the idea of American Christmas. I don’t like the idea of feeling like I have to give away all kinds of stuff to people to make them happy. I just really don’t like it. Oh well.

I got a type writer! That was something exhilarating. I’ve been chugging coffee lately and I want nothing more than to rekindle my love of tea again so I can sleep and not feel like a 12 year old with a pack of pixie sticks..

I wanna get back to feeling like me. Back to my overly sensible shoes, my plain hair and being more of a mother than a child. I’m ready to leave the America again. I have to go get a TB test soon for Haiti.

I am for the first time since it really counts an A+ student which surprised me immensely. If I wasn’t constantly focusing on going to Rwanda, I probably would enjoy college a lot more. I still like it.

I keep telling myself ever since my recent adventure using American transportation that I wanna ride the train up to Albuquerque and ride the bus over to the Rescue Mission for the homeless to volunteer on Monday’s and Wednesday’s since next semester I only go Tuesday’s and Thursday’s and people keep telling me that’s not a good idea to do that alone, so if I’m feeling like myself, I probably will do it. I don’t know.

I get one free moment and decide I want to do more. I wonder if I sound as crazy as I feel? I’m so ready for summer so I can get up early and go wash and hang my clothes up outside early again!

Alright, I guess this update thingy is done. I’ll be blogging better stuff later, probably starting tomorrow, maybe not.. I’m a loose cannon at this point!

Peace to you tonight,

Dorothy York.

12-13-13

So I'll Run..

I have decided to start running…

And before you ask, no. I have no intentions on running a marathon, or a triathlon, or any of that other witchcraft.

I just was watching a video and a guy was running, and I thought, “Hey, that looks easy.”

And I know it will so not be easy, but that’s the point. I have always hated running, and what if, before I leave for Rwanda, I confront all of the things I hate, and fear?

I’m going to do it. Sort of a preliminary bucket list. I am going to leave this country, not hating a thing, or at least having a better respect for everything.

I bought some running shoes, and some hiking boots. Before I leave, I want to run some trails at the Bosque, the Sandia’s, the Manzano’s, and I want to at least not feel terrible doing it.

This is somewhat of a Forrest Gump type thing I guess.

But I think it’ll be good!(:

Peace to you,

Dorothy.

11.12.13

Moving Forward..

     This morning, I woke up to my mom asleep in bed, the house quiet, and nothing done yet. Which I guess isn't that odd for some, but not in my family. I always felt like I woke up late compared to my family, but whenever I stay the night at someone's house, I realized that I wake up "ridiculously early!" as they would say it.
     But this morning she was asleep, and I asked her how last night was. Last night, she had a meeting with my aunt to finalize her divorce. And it actually started at 9 a.m. and went till 3 a.m. the next morning. But as she said they got it finalized, and it hit me.
     The way she looked, like she was just dead on her feet, but joyful, I think I have that a lot. Especially when I'm doing something for God.
     When you come back from a mission trip:
     It's pretty much like, well for me, it's my future, so it's like I spend a day flying, which I'm not too big a fan of, then you get there, are for a few hours are incredibly uncomfortable, it's either too hot, or too cold. It always smells funny, there are people bombarding you at the air port, then you get to where you're staying, and it's usually a very nice house, with either no heat, or no air conditioning. Then after a while, you don't really get used to it, you become a part of it. In America, everyone is encouraged to "be different," there, you become one with the people. You dance like they dance, dress, their dress, speak (very badly) their language, and for the time that you're their, that is your home, that is your life, that is your family.
     Then you get to the last day, packing, crying, hugging, telling stories, getting Facebook names, e-mails, and other things. There is so much emotion and for most, they are ready to leave and see spouses, children, friends, their own bed. And while that is true for you too, it's like being kicked out of the garden of Eden. It's your future, maybe not in that exact place, but it's like job shadowing you're dream job, and it's fun, and you are so excited and joyful, then all of a sudden you're working at McDonald's for the rest of your life (I mean no offense to McDonald's workers).
     It can be really depressing. I cried for about two weeks after I got back from Haiti, and I think the they were a mix of joy for what we had done and been able to see, sadness for the things we could do nothing about, missing the people and the places we had been, and sadness for having to come back to America.
     A mission trip, is a beautiful thing for the one who goes on it, and if you go with the right organization, it may be one of the best things you've ever done. I am a total supporter of mission trips, because that was where God gave me the confidence to fully peruse mission work as my life. It just makes me think of the saying, "There is joy in the journey."
     Go on your journeys, and go boldly, and go knowing you are loved, and the world is out there waiting for you. You are the only thing holding yourself back. You are in control of your destiny. You hold the keys, all you need to do is go forward with the.
     Go in grace.
Peace to you,
Dorothy.
11.12.13

Today..

So this morning I woke up, and did my normal Sunday thing.

Yesterday at the UMW meeting the older women in the church went for my idea of a missions committee and basically, what we are doing is every year partnering with one mission here in Valencia county, and one overseas like Respire Haiti, or Oswaldo and Deniese. And I’m super excited cause I was elected I guess you could to be the leader of it, but to me, I need to give more each day.

Just volunteering for something, no matter how big of a commitment it may be, is not enough.

And today I was praying that someone would cross my path somehow, or I would cross their path, and I could help. In some small way.

I wanted to feel that closeness to God that I haven’t felt in months, and that only comes through serving his children.

As you may know, I am in the process of selling everything I own on Ebay, and moving to Rwanda after college, and today a lady sent me an offer on some jeans and begged me to accept her offer. I did, and she offered me some money on a few other things.

She started messaging me things like, “I pray these jeans fit.” And “I need clothes!!”

She is a single mother who lives back east where it actually gets snow in the winter, and I don’t know what that’s like, but if I didn’t have jeans, there would be many pity parties in the snow.

But anyways, she started telling me about how she puts all her money to bills and then she only has about $20 at the end of the month to spend on her and her daughter.

I immediately thought, “Hey, I’m selling a few more pairs of jeans. I can end those items, and send them to her too. She needs them more and God will provide for me.”

So I ended a few more sales, and for the extra $10 shipping, I sent her two more pairs of jeans, 3 more shirts, and a letter with $36 to spend on her and her daughter.

She has saved for 5 months to buy one pair of jeans and two tops..

I don’t know what that might feel like.

I’ve never lived paycheck to paycheck. In fact, I’m extremely wealthy compared to where I will soon call home.

I guess this is a story of how faithful God is.

All day, I was asking like a little kid for someone I could help, just so I could feel that closeness to God again. He is what I long for, always.

I guess that’s why raising donations are so important to missionaries, because once you get to the point where you are begging to give yourself away, giving your income, food, and clothing is not that much of a sacrifice. But you still need the funds. But through family, and friends, God always provides.

I don’t know what it feels like to not eat for three days.

I don’t know what it feels like to long for a pair of jeans in the winter time.

I don’t know what no roof over my head might feel like, and I really don’t know the sting of not being able to feed my children.

I just want to be there for anyone who is feeling that. Here is America, and anywhere I go.

I don’t ever again want to close my eyes, ears and hands to the oppressed and the poor.

I don’t ever want to find out what living for a job, or a raise, or a man feels like. Unless that man is Jesus.

I want to feel life and life abundantly, and that will cost me everything..

If this is my cross, then this is me picking it up.

Peace to you,

10.20.13.

We Are Not Just Saved..

Tonight I have been listening to a podcast from David Platt called, “Two Simple Words: Follow Me.”

He was talking on Matthew 13:44

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.”

And I’ve heard this verse a lot, but when he started talking about being a true disciple, and going out into the world, when he started reading the verse and said the word treasure, I had Africa pop into my head.

The country, the children, the dirt, the lifestyles, the languages, and everything else I’ve ever learned about it.

That is my treasure in the field. That is my pearl. That is what I leave my entire first-world way of living to get. I trade everything! I sell it all!

 I don’t want anything else for the rest of my life but to love and to live in and for God through Africa.

I think the idea of finding our treasure in our metaphoric field that connects us to the kingdom of God in such ways that it’s unimaginable, is wonderful, and exciting, and makes us so motivated to find it..

But it’s so scary! I mean, seriously!

And I’m not trying to talk you out of seeking for your treasure, but for real!

Think about it! You find something, or someone, or somewhere that makes you move so much that you sell everything that hinders your opportunity to get to that place, to get to that person, or those people, or anything else, that you find your love waiting for you, and God put it there just waiting for you to give what it takes to get it.

But what it takes, what it costs, is everything!

We are not just fogiven!

That is an American gospel. That is a deluted gospel.

We are not just saved from our sins. We are saved from our sins, we are saved from the American dream, we are saved from loving our big screen tv’s, we are saved from putting our lives into our trucks, and we are saved from ourselves. We are saved so we can show the grace and mercy of Christ around us.

He is our motivation, and he is our goal.

Our goal, is radical abandonment.

Not more stuff.

Peace to you tonight,

Dorothy.

10.1.13

I fell in Love, With The Love of my Life..

Alright. So I'm back home from Franko's ranch, and this year, I really learned something about myself.

Every year I go up there, and I mean, I love to dance. I don't stop dancing 'till the music goes off, but being around all of the cowboys makes me miss my little American dream.

Let me paint the picture for you.

there's a boy, I've been on and off with since I was 14, he's a cowboy, and everything I could ever want, if I was chasing a life in America.

I still miss him a lot of the time, but I am chasing Africa.

I'm chasing all the dreams I've ever had and I know he is amazing, but even he's said if I move to Africa, he will move on.

But anyways, I always get up there with everyone and I get swept up in the country music and I always convince myself that I miss him so much that I need to call him when I get service when I get back to Belen, and that would be such a great idea, and I did, but I realized I don't need him to love me again.

I found a new love.

I fell in love with a God that is so beautiful, and moves in so many different ways and always has his little hands moving here in my life.

I fell in love with a God who allows me to fall in love with everyone I see, and he allows me to give myself to so many different people, and so many different people fill me back up again and again after I pour myself out over and over again for those around me.

I fell in love with a God who took a broken, sick, hurt, cut up soul and loved it so much that the scars, and bruises don't matter, and no one has to see that anymore.

I fell in love with a God who loves me so much, and chases my affections so much that there will never be a place that I can run to to escape his love.

I fell in love with a God, who never gives up on me. And never wonders why I'm still single, and why I won't date anyone.

I fell in love, with the love of my life.
And I've never felt so joyful.

Peace to you tonight,
Dorothy.
9.29.13.

Finding My Calling..

Have you ever had a moment in your life, when God says, "It's time."
And heaven opens up, and your answer to a question you weren't sure you had is right there in front of you? ...No?... Well, I guess that's not really what happened to me today. At least, that's not how I would explain the intensity of it.

I was walking out of math, around 4:15, just an ordinary Thursday.
And I had on a long flowey skirt that made me want to be in Africa, and I parked at the back of the south lot so I could enjoy my walk to my car, and call it God, or fate, or whatever you want to call it;

But I could not get the statistic that only around 1% of African girls ever get to go to college.

It just wouldn't quit.

And I was thinking about how much I really do enjoy college. It's fun, and I've learned so much about myself, and the people I surround myself with, and my future, and it was like God was saying, "Here you go. This is it. This is the reason I put you on this earth Dorothy. Listen to me you bone head! (Okay, I may have added that in myself.)

And I guess this is divine intervention, because lately, I've been really thinking about girls.
Sexism. Biases. Jokes, and just things that put girls in a box.

I've never been a feminist. In fact, they scare me. I grew up with men, I'm used to men, but something about the fact that only 1% of African girls even get the choice to go to college, made me mad.

And not American Mad.
And what I mean by American Mad is something I've noticed here in America.

We see things like genocide, mutilation, LRA, people killing their own people, girls in china just thrown to the side, and we think, "Holy crap!!! That sucks! Someone really needs to do something about that."

And then, we go back to dinner. Two and a Half Men is so much more important that those people who have no hope.

But it was God. And it was real. And I have no idea how I'm going to do it.

But I think God just showed me my calling...

Who knows, maybe we'll change the world.

Peace to you tonight,
Dorothy.
9.26.13.

A Letter to My Parents..

I write a lot of things, but I don't often write to or about my parents.
I think about them a lot. When I was going to Haiti, I had to stay the night in a Ft. Lauderdale hotel that was freezing, and even though I hadn't slept the night before, and even though my flight had landed after mid-night, and we had to get up at like 5 a.m. to go back to the airport;
I still insisted on staying up to re-pack my bag.
So I did, and in about the middle of my bag there were two letters.
One from my mom, and one from dad.
The one from mom talked about how proud my grandmother would be, and how proud she is of me.
The one from dad talked about being proud, and how people I meet will remember the young American girl who came to love.

I don't want to be a parent.  ever.
I mean, I don't want to have my own kids. I really don't.
I'm starting to realize, the call Paul made to stay single and go into the world, is one I have received.

But anyway, my parents are different.
I mean, I was a weird kid. I was crazy shy, then I was a star-student and athlete, then I was depressed and suicidal, then I was a party girl, then I decided I want to be a full-time missionary and leave America.
Okay, well, in my defense, I always knew I wanted to live in Africa, but I don't think it was ever really that serious until I went to Ecuador.
But anyway, I mean, how would you handle that as a parent?!

How would you feel knowing your child finally got better, and wasn't wanting to die every day, and now she wants to move somewhere where she might be killed any day?
I don't know. They're stronger than I am!

I don't ever want to be a parent, at least, not having my own biological kids.

I don't have a lot of words to give to my parents to say how greatful I am that they didn't raise me like my friends parents did, cause it would have never worked..

But I just want my parents to know and to remember, that wherever I may be, and wherever I may go, I will always be theirs.

Peace to you today,
Dorothy.
9.17.13

I'm Going to Rwanda!

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.." or something of that nature.
well, I guess it's announcement time.
I am going to Rwanda alone.
there is no group going with me, and I am 18 and I have made my decision.
I am really excited, and I get to spend over 26 hours (not including layovers) in like 6 planes going to places I've never heard of.
I get to live my future, and I get to finally see Africa.
I get to see my future right in front of me.
Going alone, I get to customize my trip, and I have decided to spend as much time with Twizreimana as possible.
I get to go to her village and spend time with her and her family and friends, and have a meal with them in their home, and see where she gets her aids medicine, and where she goes to school, and I have never been more excited to go anywhere in my entire life.
this is what I have been working towards forever(:

So now I'm fundraising! Selling t-shirts, and working towards my goal! once I raise enough money to go I can call Compassion Intl. and start scheduling when I can leave!(:
So stay tuned, cause more is a'comin!!(:

Peace to you today,
Dorothy.
9.16.13

Sobriety in College..

Well, it’s been interesting lately.

College is way fun, and I am so glad God kept me alive for this experience. I know some people who really wanted me to pursue mission work right after high school, but I know this is something God is calling me to.

My sophomore year of high school (what I can remember of it) was a mess to say the least. It’s a blur of boys, pills, parties, and cutting.

I started writing these letters to God and I kept promising him that once I graduated from high school I would get myself into rehab if he would just let me live cause at that time, I really didn’t know (or care) what would have happened to me (thankfully, I’m still here lol).

Anyways, I was extremely nervous to start college. You know, all the parties, and just everything you come up against, and being a Christian is just really hard.

I honestly thought going to college, meant I would immediately start partying again, and lose my scholarship, and just fail. But I didn’t ( and granted it’s two weeks into the semester), but I have a focus that somehow, is on me and my future, but at the same time God.

Like, I do my homework, and I don’t go whoring myself out like old days,

And I don’t party, or touch pills, or cut, or any of that stuff.

And I wear my sobriety chip around my neck with pride that I didn’t ‘narc’ out.

I got help. I went through the recovery, and the pain, and the self-hatred, and the rehab, with God.

In houses. In churches. In busses, and vans, and cars, and with random people I never thought I would need to tell my story to, but I did.

My story is weird.

A lot of times I feel like it was a dream. Like I am the me right now that I’ve always been.

But I’m not.

And I look down on my arms to see a million little scars still healing, and lies I’ve sown into my body that are still trying to fight their way back into my life.

I don’t know.

I just still feel God.

And that is a lot more than I thought would have happened at this point.

I don’t know.

I like school. I like to feel the warmth of a professor when you are that ONE kid in class who says thank you, and please, and doesn’t back sass.

I love to see people smile.

I love to talk to my peers and not really pray, or hope, or anything big.

Just to be there. In that moment.

To be an example of a Jesus I know, who loved me in the gutters of my soul, and loves every part of theirs.

To love.

To live.

To be in those moments that we will forever remember as the years we decided who we would soon be.

I hope I make it.

I hope I get through it sober.

I hope I see my friends again tomorrow.

I don’t know.

Peace to you tonight,

Dorothy.

8.26.13.

I'm Not Sure What This Crap Is..

I have the right to choose Jesus.

I know, Sunday School didn't really work well on my. The little "I choose Jesus" songs didn't do their job I guess. whatever.

I'm 18. I'm starting college, and man, did I used to party.

I loved being the center of attention, and being "that girl", and my only saving grace was that my parents took me out of high school.

And now, I'm starting college, and even before hand, I have slipped, and given into the temptations of being a college student.

I am so sick of it.

And it's like I have the right to choose any religion, and focus I want, except Jesus.

Like, I can worship my left pinky toe, and say it's my God, and it seems like people would respect that more than Jesus. I'm trying.

I don't like the girl I've been. I don't want to go back to being 'American Dorothy'.

I am so sick of giving into the pressure. I am so sick and fu*king tired of wishing that God couldn't see what I am doing, because I am embarrassed.

I miss the Dorothy that was in Haiti, giving herself away.

That's the real me. That's the me I want to be, every day, for the rest of my life.

Ugh. I don't know.

Bye.

I Will Not Forget Ecuador..

Soo.. A few days after I got back from Haiti, I got a letter, I had known was going to come, but none-the-less, I had'nt anticipated that day, and it was a letter that I wrote the last day I was in Ecuador.

Denise and Oswaldo had us write a letter of things we wanted to remember about our time in Ecuador, and with the orphans. And so, here is my letter(:

:

5 things I want to remember about Ecuador 2012-2013:

1) Don't forget the stentch of the kids, and how you had to hold your breath when you held them in their arms. And the feeling of knowing lice are crawling on you, and that's what it means to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

2) Don't forget the way Stephen ate ice cream and spilled it all over you and how you felt God through you.

3) Never forget the sadness in their eyes every time you would leave, and knowing that you can no longer pretend they do not exist. They are real. You see them. They exist to you.

4) Knowing that, you know you need to do something about it.

5) Never forget the way you felt when you felt God calling you here, and walking away from the boys home, knowing you are in love with this place, these children, and this culture. Please, don't stop. They need you to come back to help them, They need someone to be for them, and to stay. They need love, they need a chance. They need to know someone loves them and is there for them. Please, don't stop!

Jesus loves them, and you soo.. much!

You can't turn back now! Please.

Keep going.

Go.

Be.

Love.

Will you still?

　

　

He is soo.... proud of you!

God, thank you, for making me remember.
Please, don't ever let me quit.

Peace to you tonight,
7.21.2013.

Becoming a Haitian Begger..

Soo.. I've been wanting to write something about Haiti, and I just could'nt find the words to say anything. At all.

I just kept going over and over my thoughts and memories, and I could'nt find a particilar story I wanted to tell first. Or just at all.

I think part of the reason it is so hard, because Haiti is somewhere where I could see me living for the rest of my life. It's like my paradise. (I know, probably not most peoples idea of paradise)

So tonight I was praying and said," Alright God, I realllyyy want to be able to tell people just something, anything about what I expierenced, and just if it's your will, give me a song, or a quote, or a picture. Anythinnnnng!!"

And the Father is faithful.

I am such a mess.

I am so small.

I am a sinner in the deepest meaning of the word.

I am a begger.

God led me to a quote by D.T. Niles, that says, "Christianity is simply one begger telling another begger where he found bread."

I have used substances, I have abused substances, I have hurt so many people, I have ruined relationships, and probably messed up parts of alot of peoples lives.

But being at Respire Haiti, holdings 35 kindergardeners, and having kids come running to you, to hold your hand, and dance with you, and just to know you, they did'nt see the old me.

they did'nt see me with makeup, or clean clothes.

I was dirty, sweaty, tired, I did'nt speak their language, I did'nt fit in.

I was dropped from my cushy first world life the the third world reality.

( I hate those terms so much.

It's one world, but anyways, that's another blog, another day.(:  )

But anyways, I am a begger. I may be an American, rich, clue-less girl. But I am a begger.

Holding hands that I did'nt know how long they had to walk, or where they lived, or if they were restaveks, or if they were alone, or if they were loved by someone at "home".

I've always held hands, without holding hands. Yeah, I was that girl in prayer time who did'nt hold your hand back.

Haiti, I just remember holding kids hands walking down the mountain and just squeazing their skinny hands.

It's still hard.

I wanted them to feel my love.

I've never wanted someone to know I loved them that much. It physically hurt me.

It's still hard...

I want them to feel my love. I want them to feel the Fathers love soo.. bad..

I want them to wake up next to loving parents.

I want the little boy with all the whip marks acroos his back to know that he is beautiful.

I was Nikson to know that if I could, I would have stayed.

I want the girls in La Coleen to know that they are worth so much more than they settle for.

Ecuador ruined my "American life."

Ecuador made seeing the greed of every one of us in the states sickening.

But Haiti made me move for that.

Haiti made me open my eyes to, well, Haiti.

Haiti made me believe that I can't go back to 'my old life.'

Haiti hurt me more than I could ever say. But Haiti moved me, more than I could ever imagine.

I hope you find your Haiti. I hope you find a place, that just makes you move.

You can't sit back anymore and just watch. Your heart is breaking with every injustice along with the Fathers.

A place that moves the mountains inside of you, and a place that hangs inside of you, reminding you of the real world.

A place that you are a begger.

But be a begger, telling another begger, about where you found bread.


Peace to you tonight, begger,

7.20.13.

FutureMe.org

Soo.. There's a website called futureme.org, and basically, you can send letter to your future self (I know, didn't see that one coming!). Anyways, it's pretty cool, but what I really love is that there's a section called 'public but anonymous', and basically, no one knows who wrote the letter, but everyone can read it. And I love the letters on here. Of course, there are some really stupid ones, but there are a few that I've really started to love. These are some of my favorites!:

"Letter to me

Dear FutureMe,
By the time you get this you will be 18! i hope you realized high school wasn't so bad and i hope you took time to enjoy it. Please don't ever give up, i know things get tough but remember to always keep your head high :) remember your parents love you and i hope you continue to have the wonderful relationship you have now. remember to stop and enjoy the little things in life from time to time. your a beautiful, person inside and out. i hope you don't ever change for the wrong people or the wrong reasons. i hope you get off your ass and change everything you are unhappy with, within the next two years i believe in you. Remember family comes first! now that your 18 don't go crazy cause you think you have so much freedom! hopefully you will go to college soon don't waste your time there study hard! party just a little ;)"

"A Letter from July 6th, 2011

If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise don't even start. This could mean loosing girlfriends, wives, relationships, and maybe even you mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days at a time. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean desertion. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you could have ever imagined. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no better feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is."

Soo.. I don't know. I love this idea, but I love getting to feel like I share a part in their happiness to hear from themselves.(:

Peace to you,
7.19.13