Seasons of Waiting


I walk across campus to get to my early classes and normally that has no effect on me. However, with the bitter wind chill that whips at your face, numbing it within seconds, the trek has become a daily feat for me.

Like so many other this time of year, I long for the warm summer nights and the days where you don’t have to warm your car up for fifteen minutes before you go anywhere. Winter has always been a season of waiting for me. Everything seems paused, at a standstill. The trees have given their last breath of life for several months and the bird migrate somewhere warmer.

Oh how I wish I was a bird sometimes.

Much like winter, I feel I am in a season of waiting. I’m young in many aspects of the word but I am an old soul. Once I took a quiz to find out my “true age” and got forty. I wasn’t sure what emotion to feel.

My whole life I’ve wanted only two things. Well, I’ve wanted several things but these two have always been constant.

I’ve wanted to write books.

I’ve wanted to be a mother.

Ever since the fourth grade when I wrote in a daily journal for my teacher, I knew I wanted to write. Fast forward eleven years and that’s still on my list.

But lately, it’s been the latter. I’ve always loved kids and desired to have a family. Where I work, I’ve been in the children’s sections the majority go my shifts. I love seeing little kids’ faces light up when you hand them the book they were looking for, or when an expecting mother comes in and asks for recommendations on starting a mini-library for her first child.

I see all the books I loved as a kid, Corduroy, Jamberry, Go Dog Go and my heart yearns for a little one of my own to share my love of books with.

All in God’s timing

That phrase has haunted me, given me encouragement, and confused me all in a span of a few minutes. For one, God’s timing is completely different from ours. What’s years for us probably feels like minutes to Him.

People have said, “He’s saving a great one for you.”

I get that but sometimes it’s frustrating. Why is He saving him? Can’t he just drop him in front of me and go “BAM! There he is Hannah.”

Another common phrase I’ve heard is, “This is where your faith comes into play. Have faith and trust God.”

While I understand both concepts and somewhat agree with them, I can’t help but get at least a little discouraged. Motherhood has always seemed like a far off dream. I’m in the middle of my college years and it’s not feasible right now.

I’m still a kid myself and at the end of the day just like Paul says in 1 Corinthians 7:34-

An unmarried woman or virgin is concerned about the Lord’s affairs: Her aim is to be devoted to the Lord in both body and spirit. But a married woman is concerned about the affairs of this world—how she can please her husband.

For this season of my life, I am dedicated to the Lord. He knows my heart better than myself or anyone around me. He knows exactly what I need and when I need it.

Even in the Small Things


Months ago I prayed, “Lord, I pray whatever Your will may be, I would find peace in it.” I had just returned from my third trip to Guatemala and like every other time, re-adjustment was difficult. I’ve always had a heart for the less fortunate but it wasn’t until I began going on short-term mission trips that my eyes and heart were truly opened to the need.

I’ve written several blog posts about my sponsor child, Kenny. Over the course of a year and a half of sponsoring him, I’ve come to love the little boy a whole lot. While adoption isn’t tangible physically yet for several reasons. (There’s a ban on Guatemalan adoptions, I’m single and only 21.) The weight never quite goes away. I found myself praying for Kenny a little more each day. That if the door ever opened, I would be blessed. But also, if the door remained closed, I would still be blessed.

Just a few days ago, I found out that Kenny is now a part of a family in SafeHaven Village on the campus. The news was shocking at first because like most people I had certain plans in my head. SafeHaven Village is such an amazing opportunity for the orphans as HOL. It’s family style orphan care that is changing these kids’ lives. They are no longer orphans. My heart is overwhelmed with joy in hearing that Kenny is now a part of it. He’s happy, laughing and smiling. It makes me smile to know that even when I cannot be there he is loved. He is so loved.

I was reminded of my prayer and a peace settled over me. God’s plans are ALWAYS so much better than anything we would’ve planned for ourselves. In a little over four months, I’ll be back in Guatemala this time, with my cousin in tow. I’m eager to see hearts changed, including mine. I’m excited to see how Kenny has grown. I’m excited to be apart of something great.

Radiant Diamonds: A Tribute to My Mom


There’s a famous saying that says, “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” It’s been featured in several jewelry commercials and on multiple Pinterest boards. There’s always the few girls who exclaim that it’s not diamonds but dogs that are a girl’s best friend. That’s where they’re both wrong.

radiant diamonds 2

Tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. I won’t reveal her age but she doesn’t look or act like a day over forty-five. I’m not lying either. That woman has gone through more in her life than I ever hope to go through. However, if I did go through it, I’d want to come out exactly like her. It hasn’t always been easy but my mom has stood by me through countless issues. She’s been the rock that’s kept my family together and she’s done an amazing job at raising three kids on her own.

She’s my best friend. I know I give her a hard time each time I hear her call my name asking for help with the computer. I’m not going to lie and say every time I’ve been eager to help. Because I haven’t. More often than not, I get frustrated. She has done everything for me and the least I could do for her is fix the printer when it’s not printing out her weekly newsletter.

She put herself back through school to renew her teaching license and it might have been because I was still so young, but I can’t remember ever hearing her complain about anything. Now that I’m an adult, I appreciate every little thing she does for me. It  might be something minor like unloading the dishwasher for me simply because I’m swamped with Shakespeare homework.

The majority of the time the things she does for me aren’t just small things. She prays with me over anything and everything. I know I can come to her with anything and she’ll hear me with an open heart. Recently, I got a new job and like any job there’s training involved. I was getting worried about performing my tasks with minimal errors when she reminded me of something.

“Hannah, training is there to make mistakes. That’s why you train in the first place. You will make mistakes and you will learn from them. Nothing worth having comes easy.”

I wish I could give my mom the world because she deserves every last treasure on this Earth. Numerous times she has sacrificed things she’s wanted to get us things we need or want. I hope that as I get older that I’m able to give her all she has given me tenfold. In a way, I can never repay her for everything she’s done but I can spend my life trying. I love you, Mom and I hope one day we’ll do everything we say we will. Happy Birthday!

radiant diamonds

Welcome to the Tundra


It’s only mid-November but winter has come in full throttle. I’ve lived in the same place my whole life but I’m still not used to the harsh winters. Last winter was especially brutal with temperatures reaching into the negatives at some points. When it falls below zero degrees nothing moves. Gas freezes in your tank, buses can’t run which leads to snow days, and if you are outside for an extended amount of time the chances of getting hypothermia are much greater.

Last winter, I was taking online classes so I barely left my house. This winter not only am I commuting, but my classes are all over campus. Two jackets, gloves, a hat, and a scarf later I am ready to face the formidable tundra. However, there are several students who seem to think these aren’t dire conditions.

While waiting for my car to heat up, I saw several guys walking across campus in athletic shorts and hoodies. That’s it. (I swear it’s a guy thing because my brother does the same thing only in jeans.) There are a few select girls who still thinks it’s warm enough to wear light hoodies and moccasins. That’s not an issue for me. If you want to freeze and get sick, then be my guest but please stop complaining about how cold it is outside.

In just a few short weeks, Facebook will be flooded with Do you want to build a snowman? posts and I’m bracing myself. I have to keep in mind that these are minor issues. I have a house with heat and a bed with multiple blankets to keep me nice and toasty. I can drink unhealthy amounts of hot chocolate and tea, if I want. I’m wearing a thermal jacket and have warm sweaters to wear underneath.

I’m lucky.

I wrote a post on this topic earlier but it won’t leave my mind or heart. A girl who I used to go to school with has started a blog and curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to see what hers was like so I checked it out. I came to the conclusion that there are two types of blogs.

1. You either want to raise awareness for a cause or are passionate about something and want to bring awareness.

2. You gripe about minuscule things that don’t matter in the grand scheme of life.

It’s my hope that I fall under the first category. But as I’m typing this I realize that the first half of this post falls under the second category. Who cares what others wear in the dead of winter? It’s their choice and they’ll reap the consequences of it.

I’ve been given one voice and I want to make this voice speak for the right things. I want to be an advocate for those who can’t speak and those who are being served injustice. Those people don’t have a voice but I can use mine to make their pleas known.

Over the weekend, ISIS decapitated another American, one who had been a hostage for over a year. It made the news for a cycle but then we’re back to hearing about the Pipeline XL not being passed in the Senate. ISIS is the greatest terror since Hitler, in my opinion. (Others have agreed.) There are a few however, that hear the Middle Eastern Christians plight.

Winter is coming for the Middle East and unlike most Americans who are guaranteed housing, food, and a warm place to sleep at night, the Christians in Iraq and Syria aren’t guaranteed anything.

World Help is hearing their plights. Visit world and that’s the opening page. They can’t help them if they don’t have the funds.

Everyone can do something. Pray and see what God would have you to do.

Little Arrows: the 2 am effect


Many of you know the feeling. It normally hits you once you’ve relaxed and are lying in bed after a long day. Maybe it hits you in the quiet hours of your day. I call it the two a.m. effect and when it hits you, it hits you hard. It’s a potent mixture of self-doubt, failure, and every mistake you’ve made in your life, dumped on you all at once. If you’re not careful, one sip of the poisonous concoction and you’re down in the dumps for the remainder of the day. Trying to resist it is hard, but giving in to it can prove an even bigger uphill battle. The arrows have poisonous darts at the end and if you don’t dodge them quick enough, a root takes hold in our mind.

Growing up, my mom called this “the battlefield of our minds.” It’s where we over-analyze our mistakes and where our greatest ideas come from. It’s our hard drive to how we live our lives and what we watch, listen to, and who we let ourselves socialize. She hung a hand-drawn picture on our fridge and I think it’s still there to this day. It’s faded and worn even in its plastic sleeve, but the message still rings true. The devil wants us and he’ll get us any way he is able to.

The picture was of a stick figure’s head. Inside his brain was split into sections and each section had a different inscription written on it. This particular drawing was filled with positive thoughts.

Love with a gentle heart.

You have a purpose.

Trust in God.

Walk the path He shows you.

Those words didn’t mean much to my seven-year-old self, but now a junior in college those words mean more to me than I thought was possible. The devil loves to use doubt as his greatest weapon and I have admittedly fallen prey to his strategy too many times. While I was in Guatemala, my mom did a fantastic job of tidying up my room. (I’m not the most organized person known to mankind.) When I got home, I found a book I had been looking for for several years. Well, my mom found it and put it on my desk.

The book was given to me after my dad passed away when I was six. Pages are missing, the white pages are no longer white, and the cover is torn, but the book has helped me in some of the most difficult times during my childhood. God’s Promises Rock Your World had a ridiculous picture of a dog wearing goggles on the front. The contents inside is what mattered to me. Over ninety different topics of Scripture helped me immensely. I haven’t had the chance to flip through it yet but it’s still sits on my desk waiting for me to peruse its pages again.

Through Scripture and devotionals the devil loses his grip on our lives. The two a.m. effect no longer keeps us up at night when we turn over everything to God.


We are N


I’m a 21-year-old college student. I live at home and work a minimum wage job at a local frozen yogurt shop. I commute to college three times a week where I’m majoring in English with a minor in Spanish. I get up every day without fearing for my life or anyone’s life close to me.  I’m fortunate for the things in my life. I’m safe and that’s more than Christians can say in the Middle East.

As an avid news watcher, I knew what was happening in the Middle East and  it broke my heart. Thousands of Christians have been displaced by ISIS. We’ve all seen the headlines and seen the news coverage of the men beheaded by them. But has it actually sunk in? My pastor is on the board of World Help, a non-profit organization. He recently came back from one of their annual conferences and shared with us what was happening in the Middle East.

Children are systematically being slaughtered and beheaded in front of their parents, if they don’t deny Jesus as their Savior. The world hasn’t seen brutality to this extent since World War II and the rise of Hitler. No one expects this in our day and age. It’s 2014 for crying out loud. By this time, Marty McFly thought we’d have flying cars. This is barbaric and is reminiscent of the Assyrians and Babylonians of ancient times.

I think the saddest part, however, is the fact that news channels aren’t reporting the events anymore. It’s too gruesome for our reality TV trained minds. We need a wake up call. This is bordering on genocide and Western Christianity and civilization, for the most part, is doing nothing to stop it. We’re worried about what our costume for Halloween will be and if we can afford to go to the movies this weekend. Hasn’t it dawned on anyone that hundreds of thousands of people are being displaced and being slaughtered. Winter is fast approaching and for these Christians in Northern Iraq they’re facing impending doom, if we don’t take action.

I don’t have a pool of money to send over but I wish I did. However, you don’t need to have money to be effective. Use whatever voice you have. That could mean sending money but it could also mean spreading awareness or blogging about it. I wish I could do more but the one thing everyone can do is pray.

Pray for the displaced.

Pray for supplies to be safely distributed.

Pray for safety and comfort in the coming months for those in the elements.

Pray for the persecuted church in the Middle East.

This is where Christianity began. The roads ISIS are traveling on were the same that Paul the Apostle walked. This is where Jesus’ greatest ministry was held. If it wasn’t for the Christianity in the Middle East, Christianity would not have reached the western world.

Esther 4:14 NASB-

“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place and you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not attained royalty for such a time as this?”

Mudslides and Bus Rides


Before I get to the point of this blog post, I need to apologize. Every time I have a blog post idea, I sit at my  laptop and punch out a line or two before becoming disinterested or uninspired. I must have at least five drafts I’ve wanted to post but have either forgotten about them or don’t know how to continue writing them. My sincerest apologies because I haven’t updated since August 15. Two and a half months of blog silence is unacceptable for me. I’m not going to make excuses because none are justifiable.

I wrote my goals for 2015 on a sheet of notebook paper last night and tacked it onto my bulletin board that hangs on the wall beside my bed. There were several items that made the list and one of them was this blog. It’s been a dream of mine for quite a while to get this blog updated on a regular basis. I’m not a planner or organizer in the least. Many of my lists remain unchecked and uncompleted. I’m determined to accomplish the list hopefully over the next year.

The point of this blog post wasn’t to detail my list of New Year goals. In fact, I hadn’t planned on writing about that for quite a while since it’s only the end of October.

This past week I had the opportunity to once again travel back to Rio Hondo, Guatemala. It was my second trip of 2014 and I couldn’t have been happier to return even though it was only for a week.

This trip was similar in ways the previous two had been, but it also held many new things in store for me. It started off on a plane and the first day ended with a five-hour bus ride. Normally, it would only take us about four hours to get to Hope of Life but because of several mudslides, our trek would be delayed a bit.

A family that had been on the trip in May also returned and I couldn’t have been more excited because they were such an amazing family. Throughout the course of the bus ride one of the kids, Austin showed me a game of jelly beans where by chance you would either get a great tasting jelly bean or a horrible flavored one. Some examples were barf or tutti fruity, lime or lawn clippings, and buttered popcorn or moldy cheese. Thinking that it would help pass the time, I challenged him to play. I will never eat another jelly bean in my life.

After consuming many disgusting jelly beans, we pulled into HOL and finally settled in the rancho. The week had only begun. I was able to spend almost every day up at the orphanage with my sponsor child Kenny and had the amazing opportunity to spend Sunday church with him.



He’s growing, he’s happy and he’s still chubby. Even at four years old, I can tell he has a giving heart. He’d share his water or banana with me even though I adamantly said it was his in my broken Spanish. I read him Go Dog Go in Spanish and despite me not being able to roll my r’s he had me read it again. The next day I traveled up there, he came running out with another book this time it was Buenas Noches Gorilla. My heart soared. Even as I stumbled over pronouncing giraffe in Spanish he’d say it several times and wait patiently for me to repeat it.


The week flew by as we traveled out to Los Jocotes and watched as Cross Creek Church dedicated trees, the church’s bathroom, and gave Pastor Carlos a new motorcycle to make his trek to church quicker. Let me tell you, those people love the Lord and love serving. Serving alongside them for a week only helped my faith grow. I watched as they pushed past the pain, past the sweat, and rejoiced with the people of Los Jocotes.