from a niece to her uncle.

So tomorrow is September 10th, 2012. The beginning of a week that is very close to me. A week that tears me apart and yet, puts me back together again at the same time. September 10th-15th is National Suicide Prevention week. About 10 years ago, labor day weekend, my uncle Jason never came home.

At 5 years old, it's kind of hard to understand the concept of death. I remember the police showing up at our door. I remember my aunt collapsing. I remember hearing her screaming as my parents took me upstairs. I remember sitting on my parents bed, being told my uncle wasn't coming home again. I remember thinking, "when is he coming home, then?" But then I looked at parents who had tears in there eyes and thinking that something wasn't right. At 5 years old, it's kind of hard to understand the condept of death.

My uncle was an undiagnost bipolar who had struggled with depression near the end of his life. But that's not who I remember him to be. I remember him with a smile on his face, letting me jump on his bed. I remember the uncle who always came home with a gold dollar for me. And that's who I chose to remember. One of the favorite men in my life. The man who loved my aunt with all his heart. The man who made everyone happy.

During this extremely hard week, I chose to remember my uncle. I chose to help anyone who could have ever possibly want to end their life. I chose to be there for anyone, and everyone. "You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters." You are not alone, and hope is real.

Jason, thanks for being the best you could be. I wish I could've known you longer, that I could've helped you. But I hang on to Romans 8:28 and and continue to hope. I love you and miss you so much. I'll always keep collecting those gold dollars.
Love,
your niece.

be a light.

It's funny how one thing can bring such joy to your heart. How one thing can convict you so much. That thing that other people may just look over can just grip at your heart and not let go. This is what this picture does to me. This is what that country does for me. I want to bring this type of pure hearted happiness to the kids of Africa. I want to show them Jesus.

he makes me beautiful.

As many of you know, for the past 40 days, I have been fasting makeup. On August 11th it will officially be 2 months. Now, I know for some people that may not seem like a big deal. Oh, she went 2 months without makeup? Big whoop. There are kids out in the world starving and here she is complaining about fasting something so trivial. And I admit, it is a bit pathetic. But I would be lying if I told you these past few months have been easy. They haven't been. Not even close. For me, makeup is a shield, a security blanket. Something I can put up and hide from the world. I struggle with an addiction, in a way, to it. I seek it when I am feeling bad about myself and use it to try to be better. Makeup was my way of not having to face myself. I had become so addicted that I wouldn't be caught without it on. I even wore it around the house. For awhile now, I 've been suffering with low self-esteem and self-worth. I would pass mirrors and have to hold in tears. I remember praying to God at night, begging him to make me beautiful. To make me skinny, pretty, tall, gorgeous. But I still woke up every morning looking exactly the same, hating both God and myself. So I started wearing differently clothing, dieting, and wearing makeup. And people started liking me. There wasn't a time where I left the house without my hair exactly the way I wanted it or my makeup not done. But this year I started to take a few days off and stop keeping up these apperences. People asked if I was sick or tired. They said I wasn't looking like myself. Which is ironic because I probably looked the closest to my original self as I could. It mad me sick to think that people had thought the real me looked worse than the makeup me. I was so angry at myself for letting my addiction take over. I needed to take this to God. I needed to end it. So I prayed. And fasted. Giving up makeup was hard. Extremely hard. One of the most challenging things I've had to do, which says a lot. But I have learned so much in the past few months and I wouldn't change any of it. I don't need makeup to be beautiful. I don't need makeup to be accepted. I don't NEED makeup. What I need is God. The God who created me in HIS image. The God who made ne fearfully and wonderfully. The God who loves me and has a placed a deep beauty in my heart. He is the one I need to please. He is the one who makes me beautiful.