bridges

We make bracelets now. Well, we don't. They do.



They look like this:



And you can get them here (feel free to ask if you have more questions about Blessed Hope): http://missiontrade.net/storefront/

Sometimes the tiny beads make my head hurt. And sometimes trying to bridge the gap between two opposite cultures, neither of which I fully understand, makes my head hurt a little more.

But it's beautiful. For a thousand reasons, it's beautiful. Many of the reasons are shown only by a squeeze on the knee or trading smiles over a cup of milk tea. And I often find myself anxious for heaven where there won't be any language barriers, where I will easily be able to sit and talk to my friends. And I already plan on blocking out a chunk of eternity for some of them.



The distributers of our bracelets want our women's stories. So we've been tasked with the assignment to write their bios. I promise you, I've never been more thankful for an assignment in all my life. Each story grabs a piece of my heart, and I wish I could tell every one because I'm convinced that knowing these women can only make a person better.

They have stories like this:

My sweet friend, Sijok, was raised in the village and moved to Kathmandu when she was around 20. When she got here, her older brother was already living in the city and had started going to a Christian church. She decided to go with him, and shortly after became a believer. They began praying for the rest of their family, and over the last seven years, all four of her siblings and her mom, who had been an alcoholic, have come to have a relationship wiht Christ! I love seeing the way our Father is faithful in families.



Sijok passionately feels that she is called to move back to the village and share the Gospel with her people, but right now she knows that God has her in the city for a reason. She says that she is just waiting for God to tell her when to go and she'll be there.

It's amazing really, how alike stories are no matter where you go, isn't it?

Her older brother, the one who first took her to church, has been in jail for almost a year now for killing a cow. Since cows are sacred in the Hindu faith, it's illegal to kill one. He could face up to 11 more years. One reason that Sijok believes she's supposed to be in the city is to help take care of her sister-in-law and their children. So she works for our cookie business and is a manager of Bless Hopeed and helps provide for them.

My favorite story of Blessed Hope thus far is the one of these bracelets.



Sijok decided to take some beads and string and a crochet hook to the jail last time she visited her brother. And she taught him how to crochet the bracelets. When she brought them in and told us who made them, I almost lost it. My heart was so full. We knew the story of her brother, and we had been praying for him, so to learn that by making bracelets, he had found a way to support his family while he's in jail was incredible.

Each week she goes back and delivers more beads and teaches him a new pattern, and each week, his bracelets are some of the best ones we get. I love it.

His hearing to determine whether he will be released or sentenced longer is in one week. It is impossible to predict what will happen because the cows don't really belong to anyone and just kind of wander the city, so the decision will be strictly political. The family and church know that God is in control of the situation, but I wanted to ask you to join us in prayer over our brother. It is a hard burden for their family, as you can imagine, but I promised Sijok that I would ask people in America to be praying with us this next week, so thank you. Thank you. Thank you for your prayers.

I'll take the DMV, thanks.

I'm always saying that I can't describe my life here, and I really can't. There's nothing I can think tell you to compare it to at home. But I can't resist attempting to at least try to paint you a picture of my day today because it is the perfect example life in Nepal. I want to preface this by saying that I love this country.

And I love these people. And I love my life. I don't, however, love running errands in Nepal.

So here goes. Background: Leah and I have been in the process of getting a student visa for a couple of months now. We turned in our paper work last week to the Ministry of Education with the man promising to call in two days(mmmhmmmm...). When we hadn't heard from them after 4 days, we spent about 2 hours yesterday morning searching the internet for the phone number of a government building with zero luck. Sidenote: this process also included me running downstairs in my PJ's to find a Nepali to translate an automated recording from one of the dead end phone numbers. After admitting defeat, we decided to get up and go there again this morning.

This brings me to today. Oh what a day. The following is an approximate timeline:

8:40 Catch a taxi from our apt to the Ministry of Education.
9:10 Arrive at the Ministry of Education-only to find out that there are apparently two, so we convince our sweet driver in broken Nepali/English to take us to the correct one.
9:20 Arrive at the second Ministry of Education-only for the guards to tell us that it doesn't open until 11. Again, this is a government building, why would it open before 11?
9:30 Walk down the road to find a cup of coffee and read (we were prepared).
10:50 Pay for our coffee and walk back to the Ministry of Ed.
11:00 Find the building and navigate ourselves to the correct office using this:

11:15 Pick up our completed paperwork and start walking to the immigration office, which we were instructed was "estraight."
11:25 Come to a fork in the road. Ask a Nepali where immigration was. He gives us directions..
11:26 A white man across the crazy busy road flags us down, runs across the street, tells us the Nepali man's directions were wrong and points us in the right direction of the immigration office(how he interpreted our conversation, I will never know).
11:35 Arrive at immigration...for the first time.
11:50 We are directed to three different offices before we finally get to the right one, where the man tells us we need a bank statement-we ask, "Is that all?" He looks at our paperwork and says, "Yes, that is all."
11:55 Get directions from the Nepali guard out front to the nearest branch for our bank. Take off walking.
11:07 Realize there is no bank.
11:08 Asked another Nepali...then interrupted by a second...then third Nepali-we repeatedly explain what we're looking for, they discuss our plight in Nepali and come to a consensus of what we should do.
11:15 Flag down a taxi, and,on faith,tell the driver where our new friends told us to go
11:40 Arrive at the bank, miraculously.
11:40-12:30 Yes, an hour. First, we were directed to the wrong line and waited 30 minutes. Finally got to the right window-where they told us we couldn't get a copy because we signed up for e-statements. Eventually, we talked them into printing it for a fee of about $1.70. During this time, I caught myself absentmindedly doodling, "USA" on things.
12:35 Flagged down a taxi. Ate a granola bar.
1:00 Arrived to immigration for the second time.
1:15 Got back to the office and to the front of the line.
1:16 The same man told us we needed a copy of our passport and visa and to go next door to get it.
1:17 Slightly frustrated, we go next door. Next door tells us no-go across the street.
1:25 Across the street tells us there's no power-walk down the road.
1:40 After walking in to approximately 6 shops, we finally find a place to copy our passports.
2:00 Arrive back to the immigration office for the third time. The man, he signs our paper and sends us to the next office.
2:05 We are near the front of the line, and they bring in food for the workers, and send everyone to the lobby for 30 minutes while they eat.
2:35 Go back in. Give the man our documents. He looks at them and tells us to come back tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.

6 hours.

I will never ever ever ever complain about the DMV again.

Rooftop Restaurants and Subtle Reminders

The other morning I set my alarm earlier than normal and dragged myself out of my warm bed, got all bundled up, grabbed my bible and journal and set off to have breakfast at a rooftop restaurant around the stupa. I did this quite a bit when we first got to Nepal, but as schedules filled and temperatures dropped, I had let quite a bit of time pass since I had last done this. Laura left us an envelope full of letters when she left, and she suggested this one particular restaurant that I hadn't been to have breakfast and pray over the people and country, so I went.

The few days before this I had found myself in a bit of a funk, for no real reason. I could find excuses and explanations, but mainly I just kept thinking, "I should be home for that."

Daniel hit a half-court shot at the buzzer; I should be there yelling louder than anyone else.
Katie gets a new boyfriend; I should be there to make sure he's good enough.
Jon gets a promotion; I should be there to take him to dinner to celebrate.
My grandma's sister passed away; I should be there holding her hand.

Isn't it frustrating how just when we think we have something under control, Satan comes up with an entirely new way to lie to us?

But as I made my way to the rooftop, the view that early morning made my hands tremble and my heart pound. As I looked down from there, I could see the hundreds of people circling the stupa in their futile attempt to earn karma and repeating prostration after prostration, and I could see the smoke from the incense wafting through the air, and for the first time in a few months I could literally feel the hopelessness.

And as I sat there and began pouring prayers out over these people, it was as if there was suddenly a very clear line that separated what matters at this point in my life and what really doesn’t matter at all.

Jesus himself said, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead.” And if the dead can bury their own dead, then all of those things that I think I should be there for can surely carry on just fine without me.

And none of this was God telling me that my family or home wasn’t important, not at all. He created the family. Scripture is clear the value that should be placed on building a Godly home and honoring Christ through that, and that made the message of this morning even more powerful. It was so very clear to me that as much as He loves the family, the fight for the souls of these people far outweigh anything I am missing out on at home right now. And with that again came the peace that I am exactly where I should be.

So today I am thankful for God's goodness, even when my heart lousy.
I'm thankful He's holy, even when I'm sinful.
And I'm thankful that He's faithful, even when I play the part of a harlot.

Delighted

Divine appointments must bring our Father so much pleasure.

We have been in Nepal exactly twelve days. My supervisor has said so many times, "You just can't explain this place." And I really can't. It's such a strange mix of beauty and dirt-joy and darkness.

And my heart is so glad here.

Tonight was one of the greatest nights of my life. And I don't say that lightly. Laura, Leah, and I were walking up the stairs in our hotel, and two complete strangers walked up to our room and started conversation with us. We had never met them, but they said when we walked in they knew we were part of the family and wanted to encourage us. Within ten minutes of meeting this sweet brother and sister in Christ, they were praying over us the exact things all of our hearts needed. It was as if the Holy Spirit was pouring out of them and directly into us.

And if the night would have ended there, that one sweet moment would have been more than enough and more than we'd hoped for, but God must have felt like showing off tonight.

Somehow over the next hour, three different, separate groups of believers found their way to our room, along with a guitar and djembe, and sweet, precious worship to our King was lifted up for the next few hours.


We were all in this city for one night at the same time. And the Lord brought us together to share our stories, offer our praise, read scripture over each other and shed tears for the lost with complete strangers, that were family.

And God brought us together for "such a time as this." What an incredible,undeserving gift!

Yesterday I was reading in 2 Chronicles, and the first five chapters is a detailed explanation of Solomon building the temple of the Lord. And it's stunning. It was elaborate and massive and unlike anything the earth had ever seen before. And when they go to bring the ark of the covenant into the temple, there's praise from Israel like nothing that has ever been seen or heard before! (Seriously, it's beautiful; go read it!) There are sacrifices being offered up-so many, it can't be recorded, and there are cymbals, harps, lyres, and trumpeters-and all of them are "joined in unison, as with one voice, to give praise and thanks to the Lord...He is good; His love endures forever" (5:13) Then get this,

"The temple of the Lord was filled with a cloud, and the priests could not perform their service because of the cloud, for the glory of the Lord filled the temple of God."

I don't know about you, but when I read this, my heart was completely overwhelmed. Read it and really picture it unfolding. There are 120 priests here, and this cloud-a literal cloud-comes down from heaven and stops them from performing their service because the glory of the Lord! I mean, our God is an entirely unique and powerful God!

And in my prayer journal yesterday, I wrote about how I wish I could have been there for that! How, out of ALL time, THAT moment had to be one of the sweetest for Him-top notch, is actually what I said.

And then tonight as twelve complete American strangers were gathered in a small hotel room in Nepal, God so clearly, sweetly whispered to all of me, "THIS is top notch."

"He is most glorified in us when we are most delighted in Him." Piper

And I don't know that I've ever felt more delighted than tonight.

"Sing to the Lord, all the earth;
proclaim his salvation day after day.
Declare his glory among the nations,
his marvelous deeds among all peoples.
For great is the Lord and most worthy of praise;
He is to be feared above all gods.
For all gods of the nations are idols,
but the Lord made the heavens.
Splendor and majesty are before him;
strength and joy in his dwelling place."

Chronicles 16:23-27

What happened tonight shouldn't have happened where we're living-a five minute walk from the second largest Buddhist stuppa in the world, yet God knew that each of us, either coming or going, needed tonight.

Praise God for sweet gifts of divine appointments.

I'm going to leave you with a video-this song has broken me this past week. I pray it does the same for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYuWOx2pp38

Stuck in the Unimportant

Sometimes I get this sinking feeling that we're a world full of people who are largely stuck in the umimportant.

And I find myself playing two roles. One is perfectly at home in the oblivious majority of people. I am vaguely aware of the absence of something meaningul, but am too buried to bother to look beyond myself and realize the bigness in the purpose of creation...this role of myself thrives in the unimportant.

But then there is another part of me that is sometimes awoken. It's the part of me that seems to be standing in the middle of some crazy busy place-where thousands of people pass every minute-a street or subway, perhaps, and I'm frozen. Completely and utterly frozen. I know I've had a glimpse of what they don't. And so I try to say something to one person, but it's ignored, almost as though I'm not even here. As if I haven't been standing and watching for all my life. So I start to scream with such passion that I know it can't be from me, "What are you DOING?"

But I'm in a vaccuum. No ones seems to hear.

And the urgency picks up. I can feel the weight of the unknown impending doom we're heading towards, but I'm unprepared to fight it. So I kick and scream all the louder because I just can't let person after person pass by, but I do and they are...more and more and more, and I'm helpless.

But I can't stop.

And I don't want to be stuck in a world of unimportant.

Miles and Days and Years

"But godliness with contentment is great gain." 1 Timothy 6:6

Contentment is a struggle for me. Sometimes daily.

It feels like running a track for miles and days and years, all the while never knowing that there are oceans and mountains and rivers and forests to run through. Although, this isn't a problem if you've never ran through a forest, but once you have, a track will never be enough.

And so I find myself in this constant battle of repeating said verse and pinning things like this:

And this may not seem like a big deal, but it starts to penetrate and makes me question what I'm doing with my life...even when I'm perfectly fine. But is perfectly fine what we're here for? And when did life become about my adventure? I am completely confident that if I tried to control my life based on what my idea of adventure, I'd lead a very empty and meaningless life.

But that doesn't change the fact that this idea of pursuing our happiness and our truth is everywhere and draws me in often. And makes it seem like this life I've been given isn't enoough...and I find myself unable to muster any contentment and get mopey comparing my life to others.

This far from godly contentment.

But on the other hand, discontentment isn't always negative. It extends outside of comfort zones. It opposes indifference. It provides excitement. It confirms we're alive and are made for something bigger.

But then again...

I'm an extrovert. For better or worse.

This means that when I'm alone for more than an hour, I get a little stir crazy. I like people. I feel connected, and connectedness is something that I need to feel complete. And I'm better than I used to be, but sometimes, oh, sometimes, being alone triggers an onslaught of overwhelming, suffocating lies that try to consume me.

I'm not enough.
I'm too much.
I should be more...less...further along...somewhere else entirely.

And this type of discontent is when I find myself repeating 1 Timothy 6:6. And this is when I get away to beg God to quiet my insecuries with his peace and reassurance that I'm exactly where he wants me.

And he always does.

And I'm reminded of the truth that so often our strengths are often our biggest weaknesses.

Maybe this is God's way of keeping us humble.

Maybe this is His way of breaking us to teach us this is His story, but He chose us to play an important part.

And maybe this time in my life is to prepare me for something else..something different, and this is His way of showing me the value of being patience, all the while reminding me softly, "Godliness with contentment is of great gain."

"There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the sun..."

"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world." — C.S. Lewis

doing.

I get in the mood to write often. It’s provoked by a lot of different things. Most of which never end up here…I never know if I'll post it when I start.

I write when I feel. And I feel a lot.

I just left a movie in which the only purpose had to be to further cripple any sense of morality in Americans because, as far as I could tell, it was a long cry from being entertaining.

And as I was driving home, somewhat annoyed, I was listening to the radio and I heard this mixed in with the news,

“Over 29,500 children under the age of five have now died because of the famine in Africa.”

What.

There doesn't seem to be enough air in the car. And I’m struck dumb in my naivety. How is this possible? How do we live in a world where this is happening..? How does my heart even begin to process, let alone understand, this?

And then I remember,
“Do you want a box for that?”
“No…it would make my car smell, and I probably wouldn’t eat it anyway.”

There’s too much not right. And nights like this I realize why it’s so difficult for me to research Literature from Russia or make lesson plans emphasizing literary devices. Because how can I teach something that seems so insignificant in terms of eternity? How do I connect the two?

And when it comes down to it, sometimes I catch myself wondering, "What am I doing? Really."

My heart hurts tonight. That’s why I write.

Inadequacy: My Response to Haiti

I struggle with how to write a response to my trip to Haiti.

I could recount the poverty we saw. But what's the point in trying to describe something that's beyond words?

I could try to explain the massive range of emotions I experienced. But I'm afraid they would sound empty and overdone.

I could tell you about the labor we did, but without feeling the heartbeat, it's unimpressive.

So I choose to tell you one lesson. Just one of many I'm learning. Because that's all I really know how to do. So hang with me as I work my heart into words.

I'm going to go back a few weeks to a conversation I had with a very good friend. She quoted this statement to me,

Adoption apart from Christ is meaningless. No child needs to be more comfortable on their way to hell.

This is a brash statement. And when I heard it, it didn't set right. Even as a Christian, I'm so tempted to say that a caring family can give a child a better life with more opportunity in America than some of the circumstances I saw last week. But that, of course, begs the question, "What is my definition of better?" Apart from Christ, isn't everything hopeless?

The walls God has been working on tearing down came flying back up as soon as I was faced with blatant injustice. I realized that when I said I wanted to help, I meant from a distance. Because I didn't want to feel their pain. Or my conviction. So I put up this wall claiming in arrogance that "it's just the way it is" or "it's all they've ever known." And even so bold to say that they're the lucky ones (in some ways, maybe.) But mostly, this is me being a coward and unable to cope with the weight of reality.

The first night in Haiti, I remembered the conversation about adoption in light of the reaction I was having to what I was seeing, and it dawned on me. I'm so uncomfortable with anything that shouts my inadequacy. I am inadequate to do one single thing that is worth anything apart from Christ. Because at the core of everything,everything, it's Him.

If I gave every single penny I have. And sold everything to devote my life to these people. And carried bucket after bucket of concrete. Or put shoes on every child. Or raised money for education, clean water, hospitals, freedom for sex slaves, the list goes on and on...It wouldn't touch it. Because I am terribly inadequate.

And thank God nothing relies on my ability to be adequate in anything. That realization is the only thing that gives us freedom to have joy or peace or comfort.

His supremacy.
His kingdom.

This is my new prayer.

"We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me."
Colossians 1:28-29

Grace

I’m thousands of feet off the ground stranded on a round rock about a foot and a half in diameter. It’s almost completely dark. I can hear waves below me, and I’m literally terrified of taking a step in any direction. I think there may be a narrow path somewhere, but I can’t make out where it is. And the fear of taking a step…in any direction is paralyzing.

This was how I pictured myself. And I felt with my entire being.

“Baby, you’re not stuck in some box with no options. You’re still young enough to change your mind and not be miserable. No one’s going to be mad at you.”

And this was my dad speaking truth into my confused state-giving me permission to release myself of all of the pressure and expectations that I thought were placed on me-that I had given myself. This was the beginning to the slow end of the version of myself I had created.

What do you do when you don’t want to do anything because nothing seems right? But you know staying put isn’t an option.

In that conversation, a teeny tiny light shone to a teeny tiny walkway off of the rock that I had stranded myself on. But the longer I looked, the more I thought, the harder I prayed, and eventually the truth hit me in the face like a fierce winter wind. This is grace. This is the answer to the questions I’ve cried out in prayer. This is the way out-but nothing about it is easy.

Why should it be easy?
If it was easy, how much value would I place in it?
And what kind of weak faith would that produce?

So I’ll tip-toe confidently until I’m able to run wildly.

Bigger

If you think America is your calling, congratulations! You love 5% of the world.

My friend, Stuart, made this comment to church Sunday morning when a team was sharing about their recent trip to Haiti. Needless to say, he was a little fired up and trust me, this was just the tip of the iceberg of what he had to say-it was real and brilliant and raw and God-breathed and beautiful. I wish I could have broadcasted it. It was just another piece to this puzzle I'm working on...

You ever feel like there's a theme to your life? Things that stick out here and penetrating so deep there, that it feels as though it's suddenly no longer just a part of you, but it has somehow become you.

I watched this the other night, and if you haven't, please do. It will change your life. It's all about the poverty and injustice in our world and a desperate cry to DO SOMETHING There was a quote in it that said,

You may choose to look the other way, but may you never say that you did not know.

This hurts and makes our chests tighten and beat a little harder because it either calls us out or calls us all to action.

This is our world.
Those are our brothers.
The truth is simple.
The evidence is overwhelming.
And the need is great.

But I'm afraid, too often, we don't rise to the occasion because we had a long week...our favorite T.V show is on...we can't miss church...we have plans-we always have plans.

Don't get me wrong, things aren't bad. But am I the only one who thinks that we're missing something? Surely there's more to life than what I've been doing? Surely...surely this ache in my chest is for something bigger.

This is a quote that I read from Radical. It is from Jim Elliot's journal. And if you don't know who Jim Elliot is, here's a short bio: He and his missionary team were killed while taking the gospel to hostile tribe that had never heard. His wife eventually led that chief to the Lord after Jim's death. It's an amazing redemption story. But before he left he wrote this in his journal:

Surely those who know the great passionate heart of Jehovah must deny their own loves to share in the expression of His...So what if the well-fed church in the homeland needs stirring? They have the Scriptures, Moses, and the Prophets, and a whole lot more. Their condemnation is written on their bank books and the dust on their Bible covers.

This quote won't leave me alone. It's haunting me. I pray that I can have this kind of faith. And even now, as I sit here writing this, it's almost more than I can handle. My heart stirs and my conscience begs me to answer why I spend my time doing this or a million and a half other meaningless things that manipulate my days.

I know that the need is great.

Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few." Matthew 9:37

Need.

"All I need is You, Lord"

Over and over and over and over again, with the music rising and falling. I'm in a room with thousands of people with their arms high and voices screaming to the heavens. And at some point all I could do was simply stop.

Stop. And breathe in truth.

Because there comes a time when you have to let the truth of those six words overwhelm you. And when you do, they will. That's the only thing they can do.

This past week I've realized how many times I use the word "need"

I need new shoes.
I need coffee.
I need to go to wal-mart.
I need ice cream.
I need to see my friends.
I need gas.
I need...I need...I need...

And where does it stop? What I NEED is perspective because the everything else will eventually fade. And I'm left with only You.

And that is all I need.

What's Left...

Questioning.
Struggling.
Wrestling.
Stripping.
Awakening.
More questioning...always more questioning.

This could sum up my last 3-5 months.

God has shown me, me. How he sees me. And it wasn't pretty. It hurt. It wasn't who I wanted it to be. More importantly, it wasn't who He intended me to be.

So I've let go.

"You see that? Your selfishness...it needs to go. Your insecurities...no need for them. You have a problem with vanity. And you want your wants more than mine right now. Your plans, they aren't mine-they never were. And above all, you have this problem with pride that we need to get under control."

Ouch. And I'm left with this...this knowing, this unattractive revealing of who I am and who I've become and two choices. His way or mine.

I once had a good friend who I knew had some major problems in her life, and I knew she needed to confide in me, but there was a part of me that wasn't ready to know exactly. Because once you know, YOU KNOW. And you can never unknow. And you can't pretend like you don't. It changes everything.

So I said OK.

And He started chipping away. And there were (are) times I can almost feel a literal battle going on within me. And all that's left when all of the stuff that I've been hiding behind is gone is a raw version of myself that's almost unrecognizable--but there's a peace that I haven't known in so long.

And with a sigh of relief and smile, I can almost hear an audible, "Now we're ready..."

A little of home

I never saw a key to the house I grew up in. Surely we had one-but there was ever a need for it; the doors were never locked.

Huge Oak at the end of the driveway. Tire swing. A rock waterfall in front of the garden...Front yard, home to dozens of touch football games(and injuries), just beyond the stairs leading to the front door of our home with the wooden porch swing. Images of home, built by daddy's hands and momma's love.

I knew the dog whose paw prints are in the cement basketball court. And I learned to shoot on the faded orange lines. There were countless nights I'd crawl on top of my car when the rest of the house was long asleep and find myself completely lost in the vast stars. It was those nights that I began to understand God's pursuit after me. He'd show off with those stars and make me feel like I was the only one who could possibly see the world as it was at that exact moment...and I knew, the stars always shine brightest at home.

My name is signed upside down on the window sill in my old room. And there's a hole in the carpet where I once spilled bleach. And if you want to know how tall I was when I was 11, it's on the wall by the pantry.

I liked to look out our kitchen window, through the pasture, across the creek, and up the hill to see the house where my parents met.

It may not be perfect to you with Pepto Bismol walls and holes hidden by frames. But it was.

I drove by it the other day. The grass is grown up and there's no longer vegetables in the garden and the water is drained from the pool...and I comfort myself with cliches-this isn't my home anyway and all good things must come to an end and something about chapters ending and beginning (which is where I always cut myself off)...

But some days, my arms ache climb the oak with my brother or spend an entire summer by the pool with my cousin or walk through the French doors to momma and daddy's room and crawl in bed with them.

They're just four walls,I know, but on overly sentimental days like this, they are much more.

Passion in Paint

I was once asked what my greatest fear was. My answer was that I'd somehow get lost in a routine and go through life without a passion and purpose. That someday I'd be all grown up and settled and realize that I didn't make an impact-I didn't live up to my purpose. That person responded by saying that if I was aware of that fear, then I wouldn't fall to it.

I think he was wrong.

Because IT IS SO EASY to go through one day without passion and purpose, so stringing them together one day after the next-it's really that much of a stretch when you think about it. It no longer bothers you.

Tonight I got a message from my best friend. She was talking about one of our favorite subjects to discuss in great detail-passions.

More specifically how easily it is to get lost in the mundane and think our passions are nothing more but silly dreams. We don't let each other stay there long because one thing we do know is that even if everyone else, the rest of the world thinks we're foolish, we push each other forward. I'm thankful for a friend like her.


So whatever your passions are. Do them. Don't lose them. You desperately need them.

Photograph this rain.
Join a bible study.
Start a bible study.
Write a letter to a friend who moved away.
Take a trip.
Throw pottery.
Sing really loud (and off key).
Paint.
Read a book cover to cover without getting up, drinking coffee out of you favorite cup.
Jump on your trampoline.

Whatever it is...do it.

books. backseats. blockquotes

When I read a book, I almost always rush through it to get to the end. I think I'm just too impatient, (and it's a habit carried over from middle school when I didn't want anyone to think I was a slow reader) but, inevitably, when I realize there's only about 15 pages left, I slam on the brakes. I'm just not quite ready for it to end.

Even though my youngest brother is practicing for drivers test as we speak, I still think of him as the cutest little boy ever. He has so much life and always has. When he was younger and all six of us would be in the car on vacation all of a sudden Daniel would get really excited about something he saw and he would yell, "Hey! Hey! Guys...everybody, whoa-did you see that??" And by the time we finally got out of him what he was talking about, the thing that had captivated him to such excitement was long gone. We missed it.

Sometimes I think this same attitude carries over to our lives. And I think sometimes God is like a little kid in the backseat that's so excited and is exclaiming, "Hey! Did you see that? Look-hurry!" But we're driving too fast and we're too focused to even notice the disappointment He feels at missing out on what He's excited about and wants to share with us.

Isn't life so much more than that? Isn't there so much beauty left to be seen? And why wouldn't we take the time to see the bright colors and strange sights and things that make us thankful and things that confuse us in their complexity? Life is more than we give it credit for. I'm afraid God intends for us to get more out of it than we do.

I just finished Cold Tangerines and I want to leave you with a quote (one of many highlighted) that I really like.

Because it seems like that's what God is saying to us, over and over. "What can I do today to remind you again how good this life is? You think the color of the sky is good now, what till sunset. You think oranges are good? Try a tangerine." He's a crazy delightful mad scientist and keeps coming back from the lab with great, unbelievable new things, and it's a gift.

"Oh honey, there are so many things in life worth your tears, but this just isn't one of them..."

This was a converstation I had with one of my players, who was also a cheerleader, that had a cheer competition and basketball game on the same day earlier this year.

For some reason this scene that played out in the weightroom months ago popped into my head and got me thinking.

I'm not ashamed to say that it the past 12 months I've had my far share of crying, and honestly, I could probably justify the majority of those tears-heartache, frustration, growing, change, confusion...very few people would fault me for it. As my mom says, "It's more that ok to have your moment, just don't let it become WHO you are."

But when I'm honest with myself, how many of those tears were shed for the hurting and the hungry?
For the lost?
How many tears led to positive action rather than self pity?
Were any out of brokenness or humility?
And when I get to the heart of it, what does that say about my priorities?
And how do I even begin to justify that?

I'm running in a marathon in a couple weeks. Well, actually a relay marathon-which is far less impressive, but still quite far. I committed to run a couple of months ago and have had ample time to prepare. Yet, here I am, two weeks away and can still barely make it two miles without stopping. Sad, huh?

There are so many times when I'm humbled by how far I have to go (not that I ever thought I was close to where I need to be, but wowzers!). Is my lack of preparedness, motivation, and commitment a trend in my life? Or in my walk with Christ?

But the good news, no, the BEST news, is that Christ consistently and subtly calls our attention to the things that matter. The things of Him. He puts people and things and memories and stories and movies and a baby's laughter and snow capped mountains in our lives, and all of these somehow beckon us sweetly and softly back to Him.

And suddenly the beauty of mountains and the pain of running and the memory of a conversation from months before make me more acutely aware of my passions and priorities in a wonderfully intricate way. A way that only my Father could weave together to make sense in my life.

Long Time, No Blog

SNOW. SO MUCH SNOW.

I tried to leave today. I didn't get far. Chalk that up to me being a chicken driving on ice or the fact that I didn't have a whole lot of motivation to get to practice or that that I kept sliding and getting stuck, either way-it didn't last long.

The snow has been rather nice though.

So for my first blog in 3 months or so, I thought I'd leave you with some pictures.

This is Gracie and me sledding on 1st snow day :)

And this is me trying to leave...

Ice Skating with the boyfriend :)

Picking me up on the scooter. We got lots of laughs and honks and pictures taken.

Sweet fort we built while we were snowed in.

I hope everyone else who's had snow days have taken full advantage of your days off!

I've been sitting in a Jammin' Java for the last couple hours working on...stuff? Sorta. And I became painfully aware of how good I am at wasting time. So in light of this revelation, I started going through pictures on my computer from the last couple months. It's been a wonderful last couple of months. It's been insanely busy, emotional, challenging, and reflective. But it's been so much. And sometimes when I'm tempted to focus on the less than ideal parts, it's as though God reminds me, "Hey, it's ok! Look at all I've given you!" I am so blessed. Through everything, I'm learning and growing and changing and loving. And finding joy.

There's joy in hitting my ball in the water 8 times while putt-putting.
There's joy in doing cart wheels in front of the Alamo and getting lost in Tulsa trying to find a coffee shop and walking on the Riverwalk and going to baseball games in Kansas City. There's joy in the face of my 5 year old cousin. And there's an ultimate joy in knowing that God intended us to live a life focused on bringing glory to Him in everything we do. Life is so full of joy that isn't to be missed!

 

2 Our mouths were filled with laughter,
our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
"The LORD has done great things for them."

3 The LORD has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy.

Make you smile.

I live with my grandma.
I love hearing stories.
My grandma is a phenomenal story teller. About 5 Christmases ago, my cousins, brother, and I were genuinely mad when we found out the stories she told us when we were little came from Little House on the Prairie.

But tonight, we are sitting here watching Sleepless in Seattle, and she starting telling me about her first husband who died in a car wreck when she was 24. She starting talking about him tonight. Turns out they met the day before her 21st birthday and were married 9 days after her 21st birthday. They eloped. And I can only imagine the chaos and the panic she put in my great-grandparents. I bet it was beautiful. And they were crazy in love. And I've decided we would have been very good friends.



I love hearing stories.

Right where I'm going to want to be...

This time of transition is on my mind a lot lately. I guess because I'm right in the middle of it. I've watched more movies made between 1930 and 1960 than I ever thought I would in a month (I adore them), I've eaten more home cooked meals than I ever did at my apt, and I freeze to death all the time (so I've started running again (this parenthesis can also apply to the previous point)). Perks of living with your grandma.

Tonight was the first fuel, and I pray that it went absolutely wonderful and that it will impact so many students the way it impacted me. And honestly, this time last week I would have completely bummed I was missing out. And while I still miss it and wish I could see everybody, I'm ok. Somewhere between watching my cousins and uncle play softball and fighting with my "daughter" in "Spanish" with my 5 year old cousin during a 25 minute car ride and a dozen hugs in the hallway today and laughing till I cried at something a 12 year old said, I realized that I'm not only where I'm supposed to be, I'm exactly where I'm going to want to be, too. And I think that's the trick. Make where you're supposed to be, where you want to be. I'm getting there.

I'm looking for churches. I found one I really like. We'll see where that goes.

Breathe in deep
Before I say
I can feel us slip away
You're almost gone
You're good as gone
August is over

My kids are writing their journal entry to this song tomorrow. "Choose a metaphor or simile to describe August. Explain in at least 3 sentences." GO!

Some things to be missed...







August is over...