A face without freckles is like a night without stars...

Starr is me, I am her, and she is I. She is so much more than she thinks she is. If you asked her, she would say she is just a mom, wife, daughter, sister, and friend. However, she has been told many times, that she is more than that. Her loving Heavenly Father reminds her all the time, that she has gifts and talents to share with the world, and that like unto her name, she should let them so shine before others, that they may light the day, like the stars light the night. She is passionate, loyal, and gentle all at the same time.


Often when people see her they don't see a gentle, quiet and fragile woman; however, they are wrong. Deep down inside that's who she is, and only those who are truly looking, will see who she really is. If you happen to make it through her exosphere, consider yourself to be a blessed individual. Not many make it there, but when they do, they have a permanent place. Her caring ways, allow her to see things in the world a bit differently than others, unique to a fault.


She truly sees through a darkened glass, and can see beyond the darkness, and find hope throughout the world. Beyond her large, thick exterior are gems within her that are priceless, that are only valued on a spiritual level. Buried within the layers of her atmosphere are different pieces of her puzzle, and even she has yet to put all of the pieces into place. May you enjoy each piece she writes; they truly are the picture into her puzzle.

My Children

I am the mama of two all encompassing children, who own every ounce of my heart and soul, even the part their dad holds onto gets kicked out at times when one of the two does something magical to melt my heart. LillyRose is our precious big girl now, who is a whopping 6 years old! From the moment she wakes in the morning until her head hits the pillow at night in one way or another she reminds us that she holds a status the rest of us don't: Miss Diva Wildfire. Her independent nature, and natural ability to question the world around her has given her the actual gift of life, as every family member knew when she was born at 2lbs 6oz, a fighter since the day she was born.


Our son Abraham Jr. is our love bug. He has eyes that melt every inch of any woman's soul, Look out Ladies! At 5 years old, he is such a smarty pants and I LOVE it! His father recently said he had a genius on his hands, I didn't dispute him or his shining pride I felt emanating from his smile. My son is like the coals beneath a beautiful fire, and often times these parts of his personality help me through my days and "ignite my own fires within myself." Like his sister he too came into this world a fighter at 3lbs 6oz, and his tantrums prove to us that life wouldn't be as interesting without him.


My Children "run" the show, even though we would never admit that to them! That would result in utter defeat in our battle of parenthood. Our days revolve around their schedules, routines, likes, dislikes and even the amount of dishes in the sink when mommy has friends over! My oh my! ;) Together they make up the valves within our hearts, and are the blood circulating through our veins. We are extremely blessed to be their parents and though parenthood has tested us in ways we never imagined, I know we'd be lost without it.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Wonderland and it's Magical Fantasy's

At moments in my life I have felt magic in the air, tempting me to rush toward that feeling of lightness, love and wonder; I've experienced it many times in my life, and it keeps me longing for it to remain everlasting. Which obviously means that it is not everlasting as of yet. It's like putting a very long puzzle together and you can't see all the pieces, and you wonder if you'll ever finish the beautiful picture in which you see on the front of the box. Often times I have felt like my life is a little bit like this. Happiness is too good to be true and love is limited and conditional; And usually the one's that are suppose to love you the most, hurt you the most? And the hurt you feel, often times last a limited time, and then you go around feeling guilty for being mad at the people in your life that your suppose to love, even though you feel they have betrayed the love you have for them, for what feels like the hundredth time? People that say they care about your life, often times don't accept responsibility for the pain they've generated. To me accepting responsibility, means that they part from the behavior they exhibited, apologized and stray from showing similar behavior toward you. I've allowed people in my life to continue to show similar behaviors over and over again. The healthy thing for me to do is to remove these toxic people from my life. I know the "answer." Yet, the guilt that is associated with cutting said individuals off consumes me, because that's what I was taught, and straying from programming that I know, feels painful as well.
People that I love have called me so many hurtful names, just for creating healthy boundaries in my life that I feel will help me ultimately create programming for my children that is one step ahead of the programming I received as a child. The pain and abuse I experienced as a child, I'm just supposed to "get over," as though it doesn't affect my life to this very day. I'm not saying I should throw myself a pity party every single day and wallow in it, I'm just saying that the frame work I was given as a child, continues to work it's way into my current life, and often times when I feel as though I'm straying back into that framework from my childhood, I don't know how to get out of it. I'm still learning.
I've always felt like the punching bag, I've felt like I've never been able to wear my own gloves and fight back. And in my recent adult life, I've realized that it's okay for me to put my own set of gloves on and fight for myself and the things I believe in. I'm just done with being put down, I'm done with feeling like the life I live and the choices I make don't matter to anyone in my life that says they care about me. I go out of my way so often, I feel like to be there for other people, yet, I don't see them knocking on my door or making phone calls to go out of their way for me, whom they say they care so much about. I'm done with the games, drama and negativity in my life. If I make a mistake, so what. Be there for me and lift me up, don't stand there and say "I told you so." I'm too hurt to feel guilty for behavior that didn't come from me. I think this might have just turned into a vent, rather than a blog, oh well... ;)

Monday, August 10, 2015

The Poetry of My Past

Often times I find myself rewriting the pages of my past within the current book I'm reading, and though this is familiar territory to me, I know it's territory that is destructive to the outcome of my own chapters in life. When wandering amongst the destructive nature of my mistakes in my present condition, I have come to find out that I see the woman I used to be, not the woman our Father in Heaven has created me to be. My vision seems clouded and my judgment obscured by the mistakes I've made, as if they are bound to haunt me for the completion of my novel. When I allow these lies to seep into my current framework, it's like a virus that takes over my healthy restructured New York Times Best Selling Novel. Why do I return to the original draft of old framework when I KNOW that the current framework I'm working with will lead to success? The plot is amazing, the character is flawless and my writing style is worth every penny a person can spend on a great read. I know deep down inside that I was meant for greatness, I was meant to live a life of happiness and love, and I know that I was meant to share my gift with the world. However, I find that I keep my manuscript on my own bookshelf of tucked away treasures. Hidden in my own house, where few people truly read it's pages, and though I feel ready to make copies and share it with the rest of humanity, fear grips me and holds back the courage begging to surface; it calls me to share the light, to allow the pages to be turned and to finally allow the book to be opened once and for all. To be opened once and for all, is to be flawed. Though it's the best, another person may find a comma out of place, and extra "E" where it shouldn't be, or worst of all, rejection. I'm not sure if I'm afraid of falling or if I'm more afraid of flying? If I fall, I know how to pick myself up. It's the flying that is unfamiliar territory. I've never used my wings in flight, I've talked a lot about using them, but to actually fall from a tree without knowing if they'll sustain me in a journey across the air, is another thing. Kind of like Faith, I suppose. Really, In order to fly, I need to let go. Step away from the tree, onto the ledge, look out into my happiness and jump toward it. Scary stuff. Some do it better than others, and I hope soon enough I can just let go.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

The Love Letter I never wrote

When I was a little girl, there was a boy who I fell in love with, and I used to think to myself that I would love him forever. He was so mean to me, though! He picked on me endlessly and I thought he hated me, and that made me love that little boy even more. Isn't funny how nostalgia makes us totally "feel" what we did when we first felt it? That young love that I felt has stayed with me my whole life, it's never went away. It's silly and it's crazy to think that a person can actually love someone for that long. Atlas, thus is my life. I have loved this person for the longest time, and thinking that love for them would ever go away, simply because I wanted it to, has made me realize how selfish of a person I can be. Love doesn't exist because you want it to, it exist because we are human beings, it exist because we were meant to love. It's the kind of love that is unexplainable. I have lived my whole life trying to fill my heart with a certain type of love, living with these extreme expectations that nobody could ever live up to. And I know, the reason they will never live up to them, is because I've created that for them. I don't want anybody to love me, because that means that I'm vulnerable to be hurt. Because what I've learned about myself is that I think love has to be painful, but in reality that's not how it's suppose to be. I've created this world where I want to be loved so badly, yet every time someone is loving me, it's not good enough. I'm not saying that's how I "purposely" set it up, but I am realizing that it's a pattern of who I've become. Today, I realized there was a love letter I never wrote to the one person who I should have written to a long time ago. Myself. There are blank pages, waiting to be filled in with I love you's, poems and promises to love her forever. Romantic words of self love, and encouragements. Doodles of my name in pretty pinks, purples and greens. No pictures of what her future would look like with me. No drips of tears that stain the ink, when she went through hard times. There are just so many blank pages that I don't know how to fill up with the words to say to her. When I think about writing someone else a love letter, I have so much I want to say, but when I think about writing that same letter to myself, it's like I don't know how to tell myself that I love who I am. And, If I'm being REALLY honest, I haven't loved myself in the right way with any type of consistency pretty much my whole life. I was taught certain things in my life, that I'm really trying to overcome and change about myself, and sometimes I forget that it's not about the destination, but the journey along the way. I'm trying to find the words I need to fill the blank pages of my love letter. I'm figuring out what it means to truly receive love, not from anyone else, but from the source of where it truly comes from. Me. I need to be my own forever, and once I can truly commit to that type of love, no other kind of love will matter because I will be so busy loving the parts of myself I'm afraid of getting hurt, that if they do happen to get hurt, I can recover. I might be afraid of truly loving myself, because maybe I will be the one who hurts my own heart. Maybe I will find things out about myself that I don't want to know, but if I'm brave enough, maybe I'll find some really great things out about myself that other people are always telling me about myself, but I don't believe. I'm afraid of being laughed at, for being myself. Which is ridiculous, but it's true. What I'd really love to do is fill those blank pages with everything I feel deep down and share them with the world, to be raw and vulnerable and still be able to stand on my own two feet without falling down every time someone attacks my truth. I'm learning to live without everyone else's approval, to live without self criticism and doubt. I'm learning to live without all the stuff I thought was my own, but in actuality was just the baggage holding me down. Learning to live without all the stuff I'm used to, is scary because they are all the things that protected me from being vulnerable and raw. They protected me and held me back all at the same time. I just want to live in the light, and I was taught how to live in dark places, and so the light feels so unfamiliar to me. The love that I feel when I'm in that lite place feels weird, and it makes me want to retreat back into that heavy space that I'm used to, and often times that's what I do, however, I know where I want to be and should be. Someone once said to me that I might find some "type" of love like that, but they were wrong. I am a love like that, and if they don't see that, it doesn't matter. One love. There's only one love we'll ever truly have, and we either find it or we won't, but it's always there waiting.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Night Time Cry, Day Time Smile

Late at night when the sun goes down, and the stars come out, there's a girl who tucks her tears under the covers. She hides them in a world where she pretends nobody sees them or understands. Each tear she sheds makes streaks on the sheets, reminding her that they'll fade away, along with the emotions that created them. People say she's strong, but when it's just her and the stars at night, she feels weak and all she wants to do is sleep, but her mind plays music that creates memories of moments that fill sheet music, and the music of her moments run tracks through her mind on repeat. Her tears come when she can't make sense of the music she's created. She knows it's her own, she knows the notes set in place are what cause her mind to race. The highways of her beautiful soul, sometimes just have no idea where they are suppose to go, and she realizes that the pathway she's supposed to take within her mind isn't the same as the one that her soul truly wants her to go. As she hears the beat in her mind, she knows it's time, soon the sun will come, and what was once undone wont exist anymore. She'll find her sheets are freshly washed, the reminders she had of the night before are now at the bottom of some water recycle plant and mixed in with every other night that every other person had. She's like them, just ordinary. She pretends to be a Queen, but really she feels like she walks with peasants feet. The journey she took that night is really about the fight we have with ourselves inside. During the day, it's easier to see where she's suppose to be, it's with her family. The streaks of sunlight that shine upon their face, makes her heart race, and she realizes that she's just like them, and the moments they share will never go anywhere. The moments of music that she makes with the sunlight, are like treasures written upon her night's heart, they'll never rust nor fade away, nor will they ever wash away, or be any type of ordinary. Rays of sunshine in blonde and blue, keep her focused on what she was sent here to do, and the seaweed of green that stares back at she, knows that life is full of eternity.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

It's simple, Really.

I have often asked myself if others view me as a simple person? I want to think that I am a simple person, however, I know better than to fall into that fantasy. Complicated is who I am, complex in most every way. I think way to much about every single detail of my life. If I have an emotion I wear in right on my sleeve, and try to pretend that it's not apart of me, but the truth is, I am sure that those that really know me can read right through me. I care way too much. I love way to hard. What other people think of me matters way too much to me, this one part of myself I wish wasn't part of my character. This has caused me so much heartache in my life. The emotions that other people have, I literally feel in my own heart. It's been that way pretty much my whole life. Recently, I've come to know it as empathic. I've always been "in tune" with those around me, and my dreams have always been something that guide me in my actions and how I talk to people that I care about. Lately, I have felt so confused about many things in my personal life. Because I overthink everything I feel in my life, it has created this anxiety within me, and because those feelings go unsolved or unsaid I tend to worry about them even more. Sometimes, I think there is something wrong with me because I feel so deeply. I have so much I want to say that I feel like I can't say because I'm not "suppose" to. My heart feels town in many directions lately. As I turn in prayer to my Father in Heaven, I realize that I've made so many mistakes in my life, and he reminds me that everything is going to be okay, even though it doesn't feel like it's going to be that way.
There's only one thing on my mind, and it's not a material item, or possession. It can only be felt with my own heart, and nobody else can see it, or feel it but me. I wish it would just go away and never come back. I would burn it in a wood pile on a beach of sand if I could, I would unwrite it from the etches of my heart, and even from the start it was never what I wanted to feel and it was never something I wanted to hold dear. I wish I never met the feeling I feel, and I wish it wasn't real.