Check out my new blog site!

The time has come for me to move! I will now be making Wordpress my full time blog site. It just seems to make displaying my photography easier and it has more options for me to utilize! Thanks for following me! 

~Alycia Renee  

Here is the link to my new site: 

http://ascheidel.wordpress.com/

Come and Die

      It seems that for my entire life I have asked myself the question, what bids a man to come and die? What force is so strong that a person will willingly go to an early grave? I remember first being fascinated with such an idea at age eight. I used to write stories, elaborate ones that never made it to paper. These were formed in my head- an unlimited space larger than any hard drive and one that I did not fear losing. In my stories the hero, or most often, the heroine, would set out on an adventure or a quest so large and so seemingly impossible, that one could wonder how an eight year old managed to fabricate it. In every case, whether the protagonist was a young, Irish girl, beset by divine dreams that damned her as a witch, a young queen who found the world suddenly thrust into her arms due to a betrayal, or a group of orphaned children set on a path of death to avenge their slain kin, a great choice presented itself and demanded of those, who would accept it, great and often fatal sacrifice. My stories have always been riddled with people who chose to embark on a mission much larger than themselves, one that they did not fully understand, but one that the fierce longing in their hearts and very souls would not allow room for hesitation. The heart has always allowed questions, for questions are how we discover, not only ourselves, but the world around us. You see, doubt and inquiry are two different beasts entirely.
   
     When I was ten or eleven I had a best friend whom I loved dearly. One night at a sleep-over I told her I would go to any length to protect her. The other girls laughed and asked me how far I would go to see her safe. I turned to them, somber and unsmiling, "I would die for her." They believed me. Unbeknownst to me, I had made my first commitment to something larger than myself. For greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Perhaps it makes sense then that I have always possessed a deep respect for members of the military. The concept that someone would willing give of their life to defend the lives of others drives at my heart and invokes passion in my soul. There is no greater honor. Even now, I am in love with a man, a soldier, who will undoubtedly risk his life for others. Tears grace my eyes thinking about it. These tears are complicated. They hold sadness and fear, but also great wonder. I have never been so proud of a person, and when I think of him and the selfless cause that he fights for, I long to be there. My wish is not just to be with him, though that would be a dream, but with all my heart I long for something worth dying for. Not long ago, I  realized that every character I had ever written into existence, who went to die for something, was me. Even at age eight I was searching for a cause worthy of my life.

     I think I have finally found something worth dying for. Instilled deep within me, is a desire to see people saved. This love for Africa that I possess is not only a calling for my life, it is a calling for my death. For all my life God has asked me the question, will you die for me and the work that I have called you to? Will you die for the children whose lives are torn apart by greed and hate? Will you die for something so much greater than who you are? What are you willing to die for? I have been afraid! I will admit it. Death is foreign to us- a people so well acquainted with life. I don't wish to die, and the truth is that I don't even know how or when I will pass. All I know is that when God does call me, I pray that it is the result of a greater work. I pray that my death brings freedom and peace to others. I pray that it is a source of inspiration and strength. And I pray that through it, others will see the glory of God.

       So, what bids a man to come and die? What makes the soldier pick up his gun and enter a battle that perhaps would not affect him otherwise? I still don't possess those answers. Perhaps it's different for each person or perhaps it is all the same. I know, for myself, to die for a cause that serves to save people and bring them to freedom, is the greatest love.

       Below, I have posted a link to an interview with a remarkable, young photojournalist who was recently killed due to conflict in the Central African Republic. This woman had a passion to change the course of history and I cannot help but mourn her death as if it were the loss of my own dreams. My prayer is that I can continue her legacy by picking up the work that she left behind. For you see, Camille found something worth dying for. I pray that we all become so lucky. Because when you do find something that you will die for, it is then that you know you are truly living for something.

http://petapixel.com/2013/10/22/hidden-world-south-sudan-interview-photojournalist-camille-lepage/

The Beginning of My Journalism Career

Well, this is it. Everything I have ever dreamed, hoped, and prayed for, in regards to the start of my career, is finally happening. I have received my first ever photojournalism assignment, and it is going to take me deep into the heart of Africa. I have not been able to come up with a word yet to describe what it is I am feeling. Ecstatic, joyful, thrilling... none of these possess enough power. I need a word to describe the goosebumps that rise up and down my arms and neck, the race in my heart, the wide smile, the confidence, the determination and, yes, the fear. Understand, I do not fear danger or harm to myself, I fear failure. I fear failing the people that I am going there to serve. I fear that I don't have what it takes to convey the magnitude of stories that I will encounter. That is why I have been studying, researching, madly scrutinizing photos from other journalist's travels, trying to determine what captivates an audience and which photos can be simply looked past. At times I find myself stumped and other times I feel utterly enlightened. Sleep still does not come easy to me, but now it's because my thoughts are haunted by "what-if's." This journey I will be embarking on is no simple task, no walk in the park, no "easy street" stroll. Some journalists are "eased" into the field, starting local, building their resumes stateside so that later on they can breach the outside world. Not me. Come to think of it, I don't think I have ever done anything the easy way. The funny thing about all this is that I am a person who desperately lacks patience. For four years I remained in an agitated interim. My nights were filled with dreams of Africa, as were my days. I used to wonder what it was about that land that so captured my heart. I tried to make myself see Africa in a sensible light as so many of my family members seemed to- dangerous, hopeless, and a waste of time. What I found, however, is try that I might, I simply couldn't. Africa is to me as heaven is to the saint: unknown, vastly illusive, but at the same time, thrilling- a place the soul longs to be. I was reading an article by a New York Times journalist about his experience working in Africa. His name escapes my memory, but I distinctly recall him talking about his love/ hate relationship there. He hated the war, the genocides and the evil, but still he went back again and again. He HAD to go back. Why? He talked about asking himself that same question. He went back because he loved the people, the land, the beauty. He both loved and hated Africa. I am deeply inclined to believe that is how I am going to feel by the end of all this- not just after this tour, but after my career has become wholly underway and I have spent a large portion of time there. That is a long ways ahead though, so for now I must focus on the task at hand. How do I capture the sorrows, the turmoil, and more importantly, the triumphs of such a complex continent? I urge you, reader, to offer up your insight. What is it you want to see? What sort of stories and pictures affect you? What tugs at your heart strings reminding you of your humanity? I have always been a firm believer in the power of the written word, and now I am an equally strong believer of the power of a photograph. Both of these mediums- paired with a passionate, creative, willing and determined heart have the undeniable potential of changing the world.

Always Faithful

      Semper Fidelis. Let us now have a word about faithfulness- a word that, I fear, has been lost to the ages. What does it mean to be faithful? In my experience, being faithful isn't always easy, in fact it may be one of the most difficult things a person attempts to do. To be faithful to something takes a certain amount of passion and devotion, two things that have the likelihood of fading with time. All too often we start out on a journey of faithfulness (a spiritual high if you will) and in those early days it is easy to stay committed. We have not yet felt the crushing weight of time or the friction of this corrosive world. Our faithfulness comes in the form of pridefulness, devotion, or, most often, duty. The Marine Corps has a slogan: semper fidelis. This simple, Latin phrase is translated to mean, "always faithful." When I first heard this phrase, I was taken aback. Always faithful? As in, forever? That takes a lot of commitment, a lot of patience, a lot of passion. When a person is sworn in as a Marine, they are essentially giving their life to the values and cause of the Marine Corps. Having several family members who have pledged their lives to the armed forces, I knew the gravity of such a promise. You are not only giving up your life in the sense that time is no longer your own, you are pledging to give up your life in an utterly physical sense. Death. What a morbid thought to dwell upon. Morbid it may be, but noble all the same. I often wondered if I could ever find a cause worthy enough to be "always faithful" too. I also used to think that it took a special sort of person to live out such faithfulness, for the cost of it is very high. Sacrifice goes into faithfulness as much as anything else; sacrificing the desires and wants of your heart for the betterment of the whole. Anyone can become faithful to something, that is easy. The difficult part is remaining faithful. It takes patience and determination, and an agreement with yourself that even when the task of being faithful seems nigh impossible and when other people are questioning your wisdom in remaining so, that you stay utterly steadfast. I think of the Marine who, on the eve of battle, his own life a great question, still remains faithful, still remains determined, though sweat and tears may mar his brow and his hands shake as he cleans his gun. Perhaps it does indeed take a special sort of person, someone with a spirit bigger than the world around them. Faithfulness is lacking in the world today, and I am afraid that all too soon it will disappear entirely. I will not be the one to let it wane away. If the Marine on the battlefield can stay faithful to his cause, even when his own existence is being called into question, then so can I. Faithfulness is born of love, and love is something that does not easily die.

“Some people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them," I said.

"Right, of course. But you keep the promise anyway. That's what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway.” 

-John Green 

My Journey to Know God- Day Six

     After today, there is only one day left of my challenge. In my heart though, I know I will continue this journey, because to know God will take a lifetime! Longer even than that! Allow me to tell you a little bit about young Alycia. My dad is a rice farmer, and I grew up on a beautiful plot of land nestled in the heart of the Sacramento valley. At a young age I was given the keys to vehicles (mainly trucks, quads, and tractors) and was expected to be able to drive them from "point A" to "point B" on the farm. Some of the best days of my life involved racing my cousins across the ranch on our quads, hooting and hollering like a group of banshees straight out of hell. We used to take my grandpa's old paddleboat out into the lake and fish and swim until dark. Then we would make the short trek to grandma's house for marshmallows and root beer floats. Summer was my favorite time of the year, when school let out, and we were unleashed on the ranch for a whole three months. In those days we did just about whatever fancied us- more often than not we wound up in some form of trouble. In those days, those golden years of my youth, it was easy to smile, it was easy to be happy. Worries were things we read about in chapter books or watched on adventure shows. I guess the only real worries we had were how much time we had before bed and whether or not we'd be allowed to play outside the next day. These days worries come in different forms. I worry about a lot of things- the well being of my loved ones, money, relationships, my future... I worry about whether or not I am actually losing my mind and if it's even possible to know if it's being lost. To say the least, I don't smile as much anymore. Some days it takes something truly extraordinary to make me happy. When I am talking to my mom on the phone, she often comments on how unhappy I sound. "You know, you could always come home, honey. You'd be happier here." As much as I would like to agree with her, I know it's not true. These feelings are not a result of my surroundings, they are  reflections of what is in my heart, and for the longest while, my heart has been empty.

      On day six, I was working at Stone Gardens and feeling rather useless. Business was slow, and I had done just about every mind-numbing chore I could think of doing. I could feel myself starting to crash, my entire body's energy levels dropping dangerously low. One of my co-workers sweetly hinted that dishes were piling up in the staff room. I stared at her a moment before nodding my head ever so slightly- enough to show minimal politeness, but to also express my immense displeasure. I gathered up the heap of reeking dish ware, and headed towards the sink in the back, haphazardly balancing mugs and mason jars filled with suspicious green and brown substances. (Rock climbers eat and drink the strangest things) I filled up the sink with soapy water, placed the first dirty dish in, and BAM! I felt an overwhelming sense of joy. I had to keep myself from laughing out loud. There was a suspicion in my head that some of those brown-green substances contained some sort of drug that upon inhalation had turned me loopy. But alas, it was no drug. This was God, yet again, revealing, in His way, the character trait of the day. God is joyful.

    I have learned that there is a difference between "happiness" and "joy." Joy is lasting, happiness is not. Happiness comes from your environment, and joy comes from the soul. God's joy is limitless and immeasurable. It can not be defined by human standards, nor can it be fully understood. I know one thing that brings God joy is the well-being of His children. God does not rejoice when we endure suffering, though He knows how to rejoice in the midst of suffering. God's joy is everywhere, I have seen it in so many things: in a child's laugh, in the eyes of the passionate, in the downpour of rain, in the majesty of a mountain, and yes, even in the face of great tragedy. I happened to ask God what makes Him most joyful. He responded, Seeing my children joyful. 

Well that's a "text book answer," I thought. Joyful about anything in particular? 

I find most joy when my children turn to me, when they turn to find joy in righteous and noble things. I know you felt joy in things today. Tell me about them.

I felt rather silly listing off things, that I knew God was already very much aware of. Well, I found joy in training for my new job, I found joy in meeting new people, in washing dishes, in making people happy... 

All noble things. 

I scoffed at this remark. Noble? Not hardly. They were more like dull, ordinary things. 

And who is to judge what is "ordinary?" Certainly not man. 

But I want to find joy in adventure, I protested, And in truly helping people. I want to change the world. 

You must first find joy in little things, He said patiently. Little things are the keys to big things. A little key may unlock a monstrous door and who knows what that door may hold? How much more sweet will those "big things" be after you've learned to be content with the small? 

I had to soak that in for a few moments. What God was saying went against the very fabric of humanity. Satisfaction in a little? But we are people of the extravagant, of the "super-sized!" Little things do not hold up in this world. Little things are squashed like bugs on a windshield...how am I to take joy in bugs? But I recalled the joy I had felt at work, and the joy that had followed me the remainder of that day. That was not something I had fabricated. God had given it to me. Thank you for giving me joy. 

Thank you for looking for it. 

Had I gone looking for joy that day? Maybe not intentionally, but I had allowed myself to be open with God. I had allowed Him access to my heart and my trust, and maybe in doing that, I had been looking. Some days joy seems lost, like a cloudy memory of better days, but I know that in a trice it can be restored. After all, my God is joyful... and more than that, He IS joy.

My Journey to Know God- Day Five

     On the fifth day of my journey I decided to go on a run. There is a trail that runs through the little town of Duvall and ends in North Bend, at RattleSnake Lake. It is 31 miles, and I will tell you now that I did not do the entire thing, though I am proud to say I put several miles beneath my shoes. I do not often run outside, not in public anyways. I prefer running through wooded areas, through ferns and forests, in places where I am certain to meet few people. Running down a well-known trail is not something that I am often inclined to do, so this was a pretty big deal for me. Fortunately, the day was cold and dreary, as is Washington custom, and few people had ventured out. The first few miles were rough, and I began to regret the neglect I had been showing to my legs. After a while though, I fell into a comfortable pace, and my mind and eyes began to wander. The landscape around the trail is actually very beautiful. It leads you through agricultural valleys, with small, picturesque farms, streams, and some remarkable views of the surrounding mountains. To say the least, I was enchanted. Even the cold, which normally drives into me like a stake, seemed to have relinquished its power. I felt incredibly at peace, as if it were only God and I on that long and misty trail.

     On my way back, I slowed myself to a walk, took my earphones out, and soaked up the silence. I asked God who He was, and what He would reveal to me today. I heard no voice, no answer in my head, and so I decided He was not yet ready to tell me. As I stared into the passing waters, the fields impregnated with new rain, it occurred to me how strangely calm everything was. There was no wind, no leaves blowing, no trees bending, no ripples in the water; it was simply still. I happened to look up then, just as an eagle was gliding noiselessly overhead. It did not appear to be in any sort of pursuit, no hunting, no seeking... in fact, the eagle looked like it was enjoying itself, caught in some invisible current, floating above the tree tops and the lives of people down below. In that moment God spoke to me. Still. I am still. I laughed joyfully. In the stillness He is there, in the quiet He is present. God is as powerful in a silent fog as He is in the rage of the storm. How truly remarkable. Later that night as I began my prayers, I realized that even then God is still. He is still because He is listening. Perhaps that is another of His traits, or perhaps it just goes hand in hand with Him being still. God listens. Even when we are sure He isn't. He is always listening, even when I am droning on and on about my worries and my upsets and my sorrows. I am amazed at His patience, for I know that my own complaints are tedious enough. To engage in an entire world's complaints? Well, God is remarkable.

"How can a being so powerful as yourself stand being still? I have a hard time being still for one second."

"And that's why you've had a hard time finding me. I dwell in the stillness. There is peace here." 

"I feel like being still is... a waste of time. We only have one life."  

"You were created to glorify me. Do it in the stillness." 

"That always sounds, forgive me, a little selfish." 

"Is it? I did give you life, I give you love and mercy. I want your appreciation." 

"Isn't there a difference between appreciating and glorifying? Don't get me wrong, you deserve praise..." 

"But?" 

"There should be no 'but.' I'm stupid to question you." 

"I have no problem with you asking me questions. Questions spark conversation, and I love to talk to you. It's when you have doubt that I have a problem." 

"We've been over this time and time again. I am trying, but trusting is so hard." 

"I know, and I am proud of you for it. This is the closest we've been in a long time. You've learned so much already, and I can not wait to reveal more of my heart to you." 

"I regret not having done this sooner." 

"What matters is that you're doing it now. Just don't lose it." 

"But you can see the future... you're God! You know if I am going to stray or get lazy..." 

"But the choice is up to you. You can choose to continue relationship with me, or you can choose to end it." 

"Well obviously I choose you." 

"Good. Just remember that when distractions arise. I'll always be here, you just need to seek me out." 

"In the stillness?"

"In everything." 

     I really have a problem with being still. My mind is apt to wander into realms too deep and too profound for it to be, so I try my best to keep my body busy and my mind occupied elsewhere. When I begin to settle is when I begin to fall back into the deep bog of discontent and mindless worry. I think, that in these times, I need to focus less on myself and more on God. What is it He is trying to convey? What does the stillness hold? It was a moment of stillness that led me to begin this transforming journey, and I do believe that many more journeys lie in wait in the quiet of God's presence.
   
      "Be still, and know that I am God." 

My Journey to Know God- Day Four

      There are days when I wake with a terrible sinking feeling in my stomach. I open my eyes and go to breathe, but it feels as though all the air has left my lungs, and quite suddenly I'm drowning in an ocean of despair so wide and so thick that I am overwhelmed. In moments like these I don't try to fight it. I know too well how futile it is to resist the smothering fog. This blanket of misery is often knit from anxieties of a future that has not yet come to pass, or from a past that has all but settled. I find myself at the mercy of these terrible times, and I swear to you, sometimes I feel like I am going to die.

     As a rock climber, I have had my fair share of "close calls" and moments of panic when fingers and feet begin to slip from their slivers of rock, and the ground rises up to meet me like an old friend. It is amazing how good the smallest piece of rock can feel when you're scaling a 1,000 ft. mountain face. A two inch crimp can become just as good as a platform, and the slightest indentation in the rock can become a heavenly foothold. There is nothing in the world that beats the feeling of grasping a solid piece of rock and knowing you have made it that much further on your journey to the top. I think of these moments as "hope" moments- when you feel as though there is no possible way you will be able to take another step, let alone finish the climb- and somehow, you do. God is my every hope moment. On the days when I feel like life is too long and too burdensome, He appears to remind me that I am here for a purpose. When I look out across the snow-capped Cascades and begin to question why my life has driven me here, He shows me why. When I am left reeling at the loss of a friend, and tears are blinding my judgment, He becomes my eyes. It is truly amazing how the smallest word from Him, the tiniest sign, can change my day, my world, completely.

       I constantly question God, His intentions, His plans... too often I am in a state of distrust. Still He offers to me the one thing that I need most, hope. Hope that tomorrow will dawn, hope that my life has a purpose, hope that my heart will not burst from the burdens within it, hope that I will never be alone. His constant bestowing of hope tells me one thing, His love for me knows no bounds.

"So God, you're hope huh?"

"Hope to those who will accept it." 

"How do I remember to hope? It can be so hard sometimes." 

"Every relationship takes trust. Just trust in me." 

"For people like me, who have been hurt so often, it's hard to trust." 

"A relationship without trust is also void of love. If you love someone or something, you will trust them. You need to love first." 

"But, a person can love you and still betray your trust." 

"Yes, such is the way of mankind. Please, do not judge me by man's standards. My love is unconditional." 

       A God who supplies us with endless hope and love, unconditional love at that... how is it that we still find excuse to deny Him? Someone like myself, who has grown up in the church, who went to Christian school from Kindergarten until my last year of college, who studied the bible inside and out- why is it so hard for me to trust? God has always answered my prayers, in one form or another and He has always provided for me. This summer, when my heart was broken, He restored it. When I was agonizing over how I was to return to Africa, He opened a door. He has always supplied me with hope, and now here I am, yet again, faced with trials that wear at my soul. How will I withstand them? Will I weep and wail, and stare hollow eyed into the foreboding fog? Or will I stand tall with the knowledge that God is hope. He has always delivered me from the trials of this life, and He will surely do it again. Some days the choice is more difficult, but I know that my God saves, and His unconstrained, unreserved love shall see me through.