Imagine Me

I made this video a long time ago. Sometimes I like to watch to remember my anthem... Imagine me. Overcoming.

Imagine me (two)

Gymnopedie...

My day off :o)

Aileen woke me up in the morning with a phone call. I was not happy. So I made a gun with my fingers, took a picture of me in my cool new hat and emailed it to her. She laughed.



I went to the McDonald's PlayPlace with my Sister-in-law and nephews and we had fun. :o) I crawled through all the tunnels with Shawn and played in the big bubble with Nathan. I felt slightly primitive... like I belonged at the zoo.





Before Nikki and I went thrifting we went to Wendy’s and I had chili. I discovered Wendy’s breaks up hamburger meat, adds it to red sauce and beans and calls it chili. I was thouroughly disgusted by this idea... because there were chunks of gray hamburger meat in my chili. Uncool. I have no picture for this one.

Then, we went thrifting and I bought a really cool picture and a really cool colored curtain/material/floor decoration/whatever I want it to be. :o) The colors are orange, brown, mustard yellow, and a deep red. I love it.





Nikki had fun playing with a broken toy. They bonded.






It was a very good day. :o)

I love Autumn...

I know that's kind of weird considering we're close to Spring... but...

It isn't just the way things are, everything speaks of a deeper story. A memory, a thought, a belief, a fear, a vision, a testimony- It's someone's life.

Broken bottles, shards of glass, cigarette butts, pieces of trash, used condoms and used syringes are objects that clothe the grounds of the city's ghettos.

Alcoholism is how the parents cope. Cigarettes and weed are what the children smoke. The liquor stores stationed on nearly every corner have products for the entire family.



In the schools, the children are learning how to read, write and solve numerical equations... and a little girl thinks "The Projects" is the name of a town she lives in...



In the streets, the children are taught to steal, kill and destroy. Gangbanging seems to be a way of life. Getting promoted to a higher rank is a dream come true.

You subject the children to
Drugs
Sex
Violence... in their playing grounds...

You fill their little heads with filth and garbage.
You corrupt their tiny souls with secrets they can't keep.

Needle Exchange Program



The children need to be held, nurtured, cared for, taught to live and taught to thrive. Why do you seek to over sexualize them and introduce them to the temporary high and quick fix antidotes that never really make them believe in anything but instead leaves them with nothing to hold on to? Who will care for the children?

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In seasons of distress and grief, my soul has often found relief and oft' escaped the tempter's snare, by thy return, sweet hour of prayer.

Restless offender
My tormentor laughed at my predicament
Made a mockery of my cries for help
Relishing bad behavior proved to be dangerous
I screamed out into a world of silence
And the same dumb voice responded
Hellooooooo Hellooooooo
Is there help? Is there help?
My words echoed off of the walls
That closed me in
Hollow

We want just the tiniest taste of freedom.



We dance in shattered freedom.

.....:::::.....:::::.....:::::.....:::::.....:::::.....:::::.....

Life is too short to waste precious hours sleeping...
I break out of my mental confinement for just a moment...
Those who would not come out during the day were out then.
Vagrants were rummaging through garbage cans for a midnight snack.
I feared becoming a victim of a midnight attack.
I remember that I must steal away
steal away
steal away to Jesus.

Vertigo

I feel like

I'm falling from the atmosphere

Masqueraded as tiny droplets of rain;

Psychological precipitation

I am a poor wayfaring stranger,
While traveling through this world below.
There is no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go.
I'm going there to meet my Father,
He said he'd meet me when I go.
I'm only going over Jordan,
I'm only going over home. -Poor Wayfaring Stranger




Letting go of my past and glad to have another chance and my heart will dance 'cause I don't have to read that page again..."




I would rather be remembered for the way I think, dream and imagine, for the way I create. My heart, my mind, they must count for something!

-Jennifer Lawrence, the artist formerly known as J.Fro. ;0)

*All of the photos in this blog were taken by Jennifer Lawrence and Marissa Albarran. The poems are things of my heart and mind, old and new. These are just my thoughts. It's what I see, think and believe. It's just my point of view. You may look at my pictures and see something totally different...and that's okay. Feel free to express. :0)

Real life... "The Ghetto"

Peace beyond understanding.

I look up to remember the stars, they remind me to hope. Brightness and the heart of a Creator shown through His artwork in the sky. A reminder to me that He is quite capable of caring for me, much bigger than any thing that could bring me sadness. I hope for a brighter future, the past for me has been nothing short of distressful. Circumstances probably won't get any better and I was never promised happiness. It's my prayer, that I find my joy in God alone so that no matter what mighty winds push and torment me, I can be okay amidst beastly storms. I pray for a peace that surpasses all understanding. It's so available to us if we only ask.

I take it a day at a time... just one day at a time and today, I'm okay.

Fer

*Renee's Update:

Be not weak but strong.

I close my eyes tight as I feel
tears welling up behind swollen eyelids.
Puddled with frustration
Eyes search for truth amidst falsity
intrepidly approaching
the throne of Jesus
I write a song for comfort
be not weak but strong.
Be not weak but strong.
I express this on
piano keys
guitar strings
dance floor
wherever
I find strength and courage.

.::.::.

My truth comes out in the form of jumbled words, I am stumbling over my own vocabulary, unsure of what to say... uncertain of how you’ll respond. This truth hides under my skin, afraid of seeping through pores of lies and fabrication for fear of being misunderstood anyway. It feels like I’m being punched under water, pulled under and drowned lower, lower, down. Shifting gears and shifting beliefs, not entirely believing and fighting to believe... but you don’t see my struggle... it looks like I’m just playing with life. You don’t even hear me screaming... and I am. Screaming for life, screaming for understanding, screaming to be heard.

I would like to shut down the world for just a few moments. Silence, for just a little
while... I’d like to disable human interaction for just a little while. Shut down the world for just a few moments. Eliminate the ability to be misunderstood, increase my chances of being heard clearly by God.

4 Years.

...and counting.

Tell me, are you free?
Are you free?
Am I?

Inspired to create a portrait of my freedom
Through whatever artistic medium
Seeing my life through someone else’s eyes
Gifted to make
Able to create
Removed far enough to realize
My freedom in the air

Seldom do I overcome even one vice completely, nor am I inflamed with a fervent desire for daily progress. Therefore, I remain lukewarm and uninspired.

But oh, how I try to do things differently.

-J.L.