ramblings of a nomad

buddhist meditations and the church.

2010-07-19T17:13:00.000-07:00

***Below is a blog post that I wrote last fall and simply did not publish. Just some thoughts about buddhists, about love and about acceptance!

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Around this time last week, Chris and I were walking along a silent sidewalk in search of number 2937. Two-nine-three-seven... one foot in front of the other, not quite sure where 2937 would lead us, yet unmistakably certain that we thought we knew what we'd find there. We approached a set of stairs with brochures leading the way towards a giant set of glass doors. One step inside, and we veered toward the left; it looked comfortable there. There, at a table, we inscribed our names on a piece of paper, surrounded by small figurines and informational pamphlets. We shuffled a few into our arms, and waited in the awkwardness.

A man approached us, a man of short stature in an ashy orange and deep red robe with one shoulder uncovered. He welcomed us with a smile on his face, a smile that suggested a hint of something that was not right. He asked us our names, and listened tentatively until his eyes couldn't stand it anymore--He peered down at our feet and it became painfully obvious: we were wearing shoes in his sacred place of worship.

To be honest, I had many expectations about what I would encounter at a Buddhist meditation. Chris had to attend a meditation for one of his undergrad classes, so I thought it'd be "fun" to tag along. Besides, who would send their boyfriend into the barefoot unknown alone?

In the past, I never would have done something like this. Why? Because my mind was filled with presumptions that going into certain people's worlds was simply unforgivable; Like stepping into the world of a Buddhist monk would taint my heart a certain shade of wrong. Then, I'd lose my grip on right; I'd forget who God is. Somewhere along the way, someone told me I'd fall into a slippery slope of confusion, and once I did, I might never be able to find my way back again.

But, you see, I learned a lot of things by going to a Buddhist meditation; it was nothing like I had expected. I had expected a man sitting on the floor, legs crossed, holier-than-thou, singing a song through the humming of his throat, eyes closed, with very few words. I had expected silence and a whole lot of awkwardness; many robes, and that Chris and I, in our not-so-fit-for-Buddhist-worship apparel, would stick out like a sore thumb.

We didn't stick out, and to my surprise, the monk was young, about our age, with a personality. I know, right? He talked about life, and the struggles people go through, and then, he told us that he goes to work every week. Let's be honest, that's the last place I pictured a Buddhist monk going. No temple? No humming? No pointing the finger that the new kids stepped on your "mystic" carpet with the soles of our shoes?

And then it hit me -- that the way I had mustered up various "expectations" about a Buddhist meditation was probably the way that a lot of people had micromanaged their thoughts of church, God, grace, Jesus, pastors, go crazy and fill in the blank. We all have expectations about how certain people might act towards us; how we are going to be treated in certain circles. We might think we have no business being in the midst of "goodness" (people don't know how "bad" we really are, and if they did, they'd never accept us!); that a preacher is too holy and could never understand the struggles of the not-so-blessed, and, I hate to say it, but that Christians might judge us. Who, Christians? Judge?

Let's face it -- we all have expectations that control what we do. Too often, our fears bind us in a cage that keeps us from getting to know people in their worlds and learning to loving them there. Letting go of expectations does not mean that we embrace all ideas as truth; we stand firm as ever, but we do it by choosing to see the world with a heart that chooses not to judge, not to live in a prison, and not to fear that which is different. And sometimes, just sometimes, it means sitting on the floor of someone else's world, legs-crossed, singing a song through the humming of our throats, eyes closed, praying like we've never prayed before that the truth of God's love--God's unconditional, stereotype-free love, would overwhelm us all.

What "expectations" do you have surrounding the church, God, Jesus, etc?
What fears do you have about things that are different than your norm?

Challenge yourself. What will you do about them?

choosing to be glad...

2010-06-09T17:58:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in the midst of job interviews, career decisions, and countless conversations about "what is next," I have forgotten what the Lord spoke to me a few weekends ago at a Girls Beach Retreat I attended in NJ. I somehow managed to shuffle the Lord's still small voice beneath waiting for the phone to ring and a few emotional break-downs about my future. Allow me to explain.

Ever since I relocated from Florida to Baltimore, the question from nearly everyone has been this: So what are you going to DO? I have never hated this question, and in fact, it has always sparked a sense of adventure and excitement as the Lord has led me through various seasons of my life. My response, generally, was that I was going to DO whatever the Lord led me to DO. I was going to GO where He opened doors, and I was going to LOVE the people around me. Hands down, that's what I was going to DO. Only this time, things seem different.

I am a college graduate, and I have no idea what the future holds. No classes to attend, or activities to "pass the time." I have been stripped from most of my comforts, and in my eyes, I'm not DOING anything right now. This could be a complete lie, but the majority of those around me seem to have some kind of direction in their lives. Me? I have never been more confused than I am now. This confusing has triggered a complete sense of helplessness in my spirit; one that reminds me that obsessing over and trying to control the details of my life is a job much too big for little ol' me. Go figure.

That was precisely what I felt the Lord saying to me a few weekends ago while I was journaling and praying at the beach. I was thinking about what it means to "be still," and why I had such a hard time with the "waiting process" (Read my previous post!) I tried to listen to the Lord amidst the crashing of the waves on the shore in front of me. Here is the "letter" that somehow became of that moment:

"Shel, you know that I am the LORD. Sure, you go through dry spouts, but you DO know that.
Perhaps your brokenness is not for YOU.
Perhaps it is because 'broken pieces will feed the multitude' and there's a multitude around you that is hungry.
You have wept to me about how the world is hungry, about how they need so much,
and like Christ was broken and poured out for many, you, as His servant and chosen one, must be broken.
Your perfectionism and plans bring glory to YOU, Shel, but I want the glory.
I need you to struggle through this so that others can see ME come through.
Stop trying to fix everything.
Be still, and let yourself be broken before me.
You know I won't leave you that way forever, baby girl.
I love you too much to do that.
But for now, I have placed you where you are, to be broken for a little while.
To wrestle, to yearn, and to invite the multitude of those around you into that process
Can you trust me?."

I needed to re-read this and post it as a sweet reminder that amidst the chaos, the Lord has not left me. He has a PLAN for me, and He knows exactly how He wants to use me here in Baltimore. Any talents, gifts, or abilities -- HE has given me for His purpose. The Lord does not operate on MY time table, but on HIS. There is a purpose for the waiting, and a plan for all of the things that I cannot see.

"So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while..." 1 Peter 1:6

Choosing to be glad. Thank you, Lord.

love,
me

waiting away.

2010-06-09T15:34:00.000-07:00

Our lives revolve around waiting. We wait for the light to turn green, for the clock to strike six so we can leave our offices, for "mister right" to enter our lives and swoop us off our feet. We wait for telephone calls, for the latest gadgets, for birthdays, anniversaries -- you get the point.

Some of us despise waiting. It annoys us to have to wait in line, or to be served last. Some of us get so frustrated by the need to wait that we find ourselves "lashing out" at whoever will take the fall. "We should not have to wait," we tell ourselves, and in the process, we cling onto the notion that waiting is bad. Waiting is useless. Waiting has no purpose. We kick and scream, because, well, "we should not have to wait!"

Or so I thought.

I've never been one to be annoyed about having to wait in line, or waiting for a friend. But in this season of my life, "waiting" has taken on an entirely new meaning. It's like I'm waiting, but I have no idea what I am waiting for. Will I figure out where my "niche" is in this place? Will I find a job? Will I ever get over X, Y, Z? Who am I? You know, all of those fun questions that everyone loves to answer when asked. I am at a stand still, and my natural reaction is to lash out and try to do something about it. You know... fill my schedule with "things" that make the pain of not knowing less heart wrenching. Less obvious. Less lonely. I know that's not healthy, but it's all I know to do.

And then I come across books, like Sue Monk Kidd's "When the Heart Waits," that advocate for the waiting process, as if it is some kind of great and wonderful season that purges the "dark holes" in us and thrusts us into the future, transformed and new. I am not angry with her book, or with her for that matter. Her book is so powerful and distrupting to what I thought my heart was doing right... so much so that I have made it through a mere 34 pages in the past three months. Nope - not mad at Sue, just mad that I am still waiting.

It's not fun.
It feels chaotic, and boring, and confusing.
Sue assures me that it is necessary.
Sue assures me that I shouldn't be afraid of the "pause."
Sue assures me that waiting is not "doing nothing."
Waiting is doing something. MORE than doing something.
It's letting God speak to you; it's being still, and resting in what you do know.
It's letting go of control. Admitting that you cannot do it all.
Did I mention it's not fun?

Nope, not fun at all.

Yet here I remain.... waiting away.

is there hope beyond suffering?

2010-03-21T06:08:00.000-07:00

All I could hear was heavy breathing; heavy breathing that told me that things were not as they should be. My mom repeated the petition of her heart that God would just take him, my uncle Eugene, and alleviate him from his suffering. But all we were left with was deep, heavy breathing.

It all happened so quickly. A routine appointment for back pains brought about the news that no one was expecting: you have cancer and it has spread rapidly. Two months was all it would take, the doctor said. Two months and it would all be over, and as we listened and watched the depths of these painful events unfold, we couldn't help but feel broken and in pain ourselves.

This morning may have been the last time that my uncle will ever hear my voice. The phone was lifted to his ear, and he waited to hear me... Hi uncle Eugene, this is Shelly, and I am here for you, I said. That's all I could say, because before I knew it, the tears began to pour out from my eyes, uncontrollably, and for the first time in months, I felt something other than simply 'numb' and 'indifferent.' I felt helpless, and weak, and in need of God's strength and love more than ever.

I listened to his heavy breathing, and to his deep moans of suffering and pain, and my heart broke into pieces. Perhaps this is what God meant when He said that we are to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn." No words would have had the power to remove his pain, and so there I remained... weeping and praying, each deep breath reminding me that life and death are out of my control. Pain and suffering are inevitable, and that sure is an easy thing to say, that is, until you are the one who has been engulfed by it.

I don't know why this is happening, but I do know this. God is a God of LOVE and PEACE and PURPOSE. I believe it breaks His heart to see suffering as much as it breaks ours. But the beauty and reconciliation that can arise from our trials, our tears, our heartache, and our pain... that is what God is after. He is after our hearts, above all else, and like a caterpillar must struggle its way out of a cocoon before she can become a butterfly, flying and free, so must we..... struggle, and weep, and endure the suffering of this life.

Join me in praying for God's hand in the life of my uncle and for the rest of my family who is struggling to see HOPE in this trial -- especially for his daughter, my grandmother, and my mother.

someone "gets me"

2010-03-02T07:19:00.000-08:00

Ever feel like you just want someone to "get you?" As in, you explain how you feel about something, or what you're passionate about, but no one else quite understands? They try to understand, and they may pretend like they understand, but deep down you know there's a disconnect?

In completing Day 4 of my "90 Days with the Beloved Disciple" study, I learned something that speaks to the many times in my own life that I have grumbled those very words that 'I feel like no one gets me.' Somewhere along the line, I began to internalize the idea that the pains and struggles that I had experienced were unique only to me. "Everyone else seems so happy," I would convince myself. And when I finally began to seek healing for some of those pains and figure out what I am truly passionate about, that disconnect became even greater. Unfortunately both inside and outside of the church, the idea of giving your life to love and serve the lowly seems a bit "extreme" and what many would deem "unnecessary." I have a dear friend who explains it best when she says, "I am in a Christian community, and I have chosen to give my life to serving these inner-city kids. Most people just look at me like I am crazy, and they tell me to get a 'real job' and help out on the side. I just wish someone got me."

This morning as I was praying through these thoughts, I realized for the first time that God gets me. Revolutionary, I know. The God of the universe knows what it's like to experience pain, loss, and separation because He experienced the death of His child. Makes my pain of being separated from those I love in West Palm Beach seem a lot smaller, I suppose. The God of the universe knows what it's like to feel misunderstood, because since creation, He has been trying to get the attention of His people and speak to them about who He is. Imagine what it feels like to spend thousands of years trying to convince people that you are good and that you can be trusted. I know I would have given up a long time ago.

But God never has. The pages of His Word are filled with stories of His relentless pursuit of you and me. Ask any follower of Christ and they will tell you that God's pursuit did not stop in the first century A.D. It is alive and active today, being manifested in both the spectacular and the ordinary places.

Even if no one else in the world does, God gets you. He is personal, and devoted, and a fighter. He fights for me every single day. I'm a bit stubborn, and selfish most days, but nonetheless He continues to fight. He fought for me as a child before I acknowledged Him, and through the many many times that I have rejected Him. And now, after years of striving to follow Christ, love God, and love others... I am reminded that I am not alone. God gets me. And even if no one else in the world ever does, that can be enough for me. And of course, for you, He will fight for you. You need only to be still (Exodus 14:14).

success!

2010-03-01T18:12:00.000-08:00

For any and all who laughed at Chris and I when we opted out of a normal Sunday routine, and even a hockey game, to put together a book-shelf, you'll be happy to know that we did so successfully. No frustrations, or mishaps, or hair pulling (just kidding).... but really, look how excited Chris is [and please ignore all the move-in mess in the background!]:

He did an amazing job putting it together, and he even let me help.... a little :)

After about two hours, here is our finished product. Quite a steal for $30 at Target.

And of course, us, happy as can be to finally be finished. I love him :)

an "alexander" day

2010-02-27T12:32:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite childhood stories is the story of "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." I love Alexander and I feel for him, because in this story, everything seems to be going wrong for him on this particular day. He wakes up in the morning with gum in his hair. His teacher likes someone else's drawing better than his. He skips number 16 at counting time, and to top it all off, his mom serves lima beans for dinner and there is kissing on TV! Poor Alexander is convinced that life would be better elsewhere, so each and every time something goes wrong, he thinks to himself... "maybe I'll just go to Australia."

I had one of these days yesterday. I set my alarm to wake up early, but hit the snooze button for over twenty minutes. I finally woke up and we were out of the coffee I liked; we only had some funky flavored stuff. I left the house and drove a half hour (in the snow!) to go to the DMV, and after waiting for over twenty minutes to be called, it turns out I had left my social security card at home and couldn't get my new Maryland license. Epic fail. I missed a phone call from a friend in Florida. The salt trucks drove by and splashed dirty residue all over my car on my way to Target. I ran inside, looking for a book shelf I had been searching for the entire week, and when I finally found it, I pulled it off the shelf and cut my finger in the process. I wanted to buy new sheets for my bed, but couldn't find the ones I wanted. After finding ones that "would do," I brought them home to try them out. They had a rip in them. So I jumped back into my car, not realizing I was wearing my slippers, and on my way down the road, a car pulled out in front of me and almost crashed into me. On my way into Target the second time around, I walked in the "exit" doors and nearly tackled two separate families without even realizing it. As I was leaving, I thought of Alexander and I mumbled those very words to myself.... "I hate Baltimore! I think I'll just go to Australia!"

Thankfully yesterday, the good moments I had far outweighed the chaos of going to Target in my slippers and bandaging up a bleeding finger in the middle of the store aisle. Yesterday, I got to spend over two hours with my college roommate and dear friend Stacie at Panera; our conversation was refreshing to my soul and that girl makes me laugh like no other! I found a bedspread for my bed, and put my world map up on the wall; my room is finally starting to feel like "my own." For the first time in a while, I got to sit down and really talk to my mom; it was wonderful. Last night, Chris and I were feeling "creative," so we bought the ingredients to make our very own pizza. Together, we made the most deliciousssss dinner, and of course there were chocolate chip cookies involved. We make a great team :)

That being said, Baltimore is not so bad. I imagine I'll have plenty more "Alexander" days, but I wouldn't trade those sweet moments with friends and family and Chris for Australia any day. I might spend a few minutes on expedia here and there, but at the end of the day, I know I'm right where I belong.

who defines you?

2010-02-25T08:47:00.000-08:00

My dear friend Luisel Lawler from West Palm Beach gave me an amazing book as a gift before I left for Baltimore. It is a rather large and very thick book, that in most cases might be intimidating because there's a statue of a man on the front, and it seems like the inside pages go on forever. I know that it's not, because it is called "John: 90 Days with the Beloved Disciple" and frankly spending 90 days with someone like John could only be refreshing and sweet. Weird statue man aside, I figured I'd start with "day one" this morning.

I am not going to explain everything that Beth Moore outlined in day one (i'll let you go get the study for yourself and commit to those 90 days!), but I do want to focus on something that really spoke to me. For those of you who don't know, John was one of Jesus' followers way back in the day. He wrote the infamous "John" chapter of the Bible, where the well-known verse "John 3:16" can be found. He was a fisherman working for his father when he met Jesus. He had an older brother, and Beth points out that in this ancient culture, the first-born always got the best and most-esteemed: double portion of the father's inheritance. Respect. Leadership. First dibs. Everything. And who was John? He was just the "younger brother." In every sense, John was defined by his relationship to his older brother and his father. I'm sure, as in any family, he wanted to find an identity and significance of his own, but wrestled to break free from his natural place as "John, the younger brother of James."

One of the reflection questions that Beth asks us to consider is how we have been defined by our relationships with others, and more importantly, how that identification has affected our lives. I can recount numerous times in my life when I have felt defined by my relationship to a friend, or a boyfriend, and even an employer. In the moment, all that mattered to me was what that person thought of me, how he or she esteemed me (or did not, rather), and of course, how the world viewed me in light of my relationship with that person. As one can imagine, it was extremely tiring trying to live my life like this, because at the end of the day, no matter how hard I had tried to gain the approval of others and avoid the depths of loneliness I experienced apart from those relationships, it was inevitable; I still felt alone.

Looking back, and even today as I stand face-to-face with similar challenges of wanting to "be accepted," I am thankful to God because these challenges remind me that I can never find the fulfillment I am looking for in another person. People can love me, as I know they do, but they cannot be my everything. They cannot fill the depths of my heart and they cannot heal my life. They cannot always be there. Only God can be my everything; only He can fill my cup. As long as I seek to find my identity, happiness, and fulfillment in the world and in those around me, I am going to be left feeling empty and without peace. I know the tune to this song unfortunately all too well.

That being said, for any and everyone who actually reads this, I want you to ask yourself that same question: How have you allowed yourself to be defined by your relationship to someone else? Has this relationship filled you, as you were hoping it would?

Think about it, pray about it, and don't be afraid of what you discover. We all search for complete fulfillment in our lives, because our hearts were created to BE completely fulfilled. We just might be looking in the wrong places, and the beauty of grace is that it's never too late to start over again. Share your experiences, if you'd like. We're all in this together.

blessings,
me

here goes nothing...

2010-02-24T08:12:00.000-08:00

As of nine whole days ago, I have officially returned to Baltimore. Yes, I live here... I live in Baltimore. Maybe I'll write it fifty more times in order to come to terms with the fact that it is true.

Many of you may be wondering if this was ever part of my "plan" to come back here. I'll admit to you with conviction that Baltimore was the one place in the world that I never wanted to return to. Baltimore is where I have fallen the hardest, failed the most, and where everyone knows who I used to be before Jesus got my life together and gave me some purpose beyond alcohol, the attainment of physical beauty, and countless unhealthy relationships. Baltimore was where it all began, and Baltimore is where my testimony of redemption screams loud and clear from each and every person and place that I come in contact with. I have picked you up from the pit, Shelly. Leave your past behind and be free.

So, here I am... attempting to do just that. This is a new stage of life for me, and though it feels like there is a dark cloud of confusion, frustration, and brokenness hovering around me from all angles, I am holding onto hope: the pain will not be forever, the confusion will someday be resolved, and of course, love will always win. Each day, I have to wake up in the morning and remind myself that this move is not about me, or about making me feel comfortable. I move as a missionary because God has called me to a great mission. The mission will sometimes hurt. The mission will sometimes lead to rejection. But one thing is certain above all else: the one who has called me is faithful [1 Thessalonians 5:24]. He is faithful, he is good, and he knows what he is doing.

even when I don't believe it.

I am going to write this journey out, and I am making a commitment to myself to process it with myself and with the world through this blog. Not all of my posts are going to be upbeat and exciting, and more days than not, I imagine I won't have an answer for the things I am feeling. That is the beauty of the journey... it is not about the arrival, but about the small victories, day by day, where we can see God bringing things together for good. That being said, welcome to the journey. Welcome to my journey of starting over and adjusting to life in Baltimore. I am blessed that you can be a part of it, so here goes nothing.

hello, trust.

2010-02-03T08:39:00.000-08:00

So, I have a confession to make. This week, I have been an awful, selfish, and irritable person. I am almost too embarrassed to admit these things, but as I have always been told, there is great freedom in sharing our "junk." Allow me to explain.

Let's just say that my heart over this past week has been like a very large cup, sitting on a table. Me, myself, and I.... we have filled this cup with thoughts about the future, frustrations, doubts, hurts, and our own attempts to control that which we have NO business controlling. We have filled our cup to the brim, so much so that there is absolutely NO room for anything else BUT this collection of JUNK. So when someone comes along trying to "get in," as a few did this past week, there is no room for them in my cup. It's like they pour water into my cup and it just overflows and spills out of the sides and onto the table before I even recognize it happened. And there I am left with a heart filled with JUNK that is sitting in a puddle of failed attempts to give me what I didn't even realize I needed. So it has been, just me and my junky, junky cup. Oh, and the puddle... that is larger than I would like to admit. Hmph.

That being said, I need to get all the JUNK out; let it all go, and trust God. Don't I know these things? Haven't I been here enough times in my life to know that worrying gets me no where? That trying to plan my future is a crazy thing to do in light of the ways God has worked in my life? Yes, yes, and yes. Yes to the eight-thousandth power. I just need to be reminded, that's all.

So here I am, relinquishing control; emptying my cup and all of it's JUNK for the world to see. Goodbye, plans. Goodbye, doubts. Goodbye, worrying. Hello, trust; It's nice to see you again.

his name was homeless and hungry...

2010-01-31T18:16:00.000-08:00

His name was homeless and hungry, and he stood on the corner of Okeechobee and Jog. He was tall and lanky, his skeleton-like frame topped off with a grungy, baseball cap, and his jeans torn at the seams. In his arms, he held nothing but a cardboard sign: homeless and hungry. At the street corner where he stood, his possessions consisted of the dirt that he had collected at his feet. Yet there he stood, homeless and hungry.

As I approached the red light and my journey back to the warm comforts of a house and home came to a brief stop, I couldn't help but wonder where this man would sleep tonight; whether he had a place to rest his head, or someone to encourage him to never cease hoping and trying to overcome. I had no idea what had gotten him to this place, whether it was drug addiction, foreclosure, domestic violence, or just plain laziness, but in that moment, it didn't matter. In that moment, it was not my place to judge him or assume that I had the faintest idea what he was going through. I have never myself been homeless, and let's face it, I have never really gone hungry. My daily burdens consists of meetings, and appointments, and coffee dates; getting frustrated at the bank teller for not cashing my check into the right account, or complaining about how quickly my cell phone battery runs out. His, I imagine, are like small glimpses of hell on earth; moments in which he wonders not "what's for dinner," but "when might I eat next?" Moments in which he feels utterly and completely alone, with no one to love him, no one to listen to him, and no one to show him that the existence of good people and a good God are not just myths to be spoken of, but very powerful and freeing realities.

I may never see this man again, but I will never forget his name: homeless and hungry. His name is etched in the faces of people in our communities, our schools, and our churches. His name is crying out from the broken places, and as the billions of suffering people both around the world and in our neighborhoods continue to weep for justice and hope, I pray we never turn our faces from them; that we find it in our hearts to flash them a smile. Dare to look at them and not judge, but see them as human beings who are broken and lost just like we are. Acknowledge them. Affirm them. Love them, for we never know whether we may find ourselves just as they are: homeless and hungry. If we ever do, I am sure we'd want nothing less ourselves.

once upon a time, I thought I knew how to love...

2010-01-30T08:38:00.000-08:00

There are not words to express the anguish and emotion I felt yesterday as I hugged the Apicella children goodbye. Yes, another goodbye, and I'm afraid this is only the beginning. After nine long months of schedules, play dates, ballet, girls nights, Barbie, roadtrips, messes, giggles, and tears, it would be a complete understatement to say that I have gotten a bit attached. I can't bring myself to truly accept that it is now over, done. Just like that.

I was never just their babysitter, or their nanny, or whatever you want to call it. From the moment I felt God asking me to come to West Palm Beach from Ecuador, I knew I was going for a purpose much greater than myself. I have seen, day in and day out, the seeds that have been planted and the fruits of my obedience in that decision. I suppose that is cause for rejoicing.

Here's the kicker. Before I came here, I thought I knew how to love. I had been in relationships, and had deep friendships, and had even spent time with orphans overseas. I had read books on love, and had studied the famous "love" passage in the Bible; let's just say I thought I had it down. Funny how God works, because though I have always known that I was called to give my life to loving people, the call of a missionary no doubt, living with the Apicella family and spending these past nine months of my life in Florida have completely transformed my perception of what it means to love. Reality has turned my world upside down, in a really good way.

I have always heard that love is sacrificial, and that it is not self-seeking, but never before had I seen the necessity of this kind of love before I came here. I think that's why it hurts so deeply to walk away from this family, for through them... through the hurts and pains, frustrations, and even the sweetest of moments, I have learned that love cannot be shaken. It cannot be moved by condition or washed away by our shortcomings. Love is a choice most days, but it is something worth fighting for. It is truly a miracle to say that through it all, I love them more than I ever thought I could. I am thankful to God for this work He has done in my heart, and I wouldn't trade the hard days for this treasure I have now. I think that is the beauty of loving "because He first loved us" (1 John 4:19).

Because He first loved us, love can look in the face of it's oppressors, and pray fervently... Father forgive them, they do not know what they are doing. Love can cherish every moment, as if it were it's very last. Love can weep on the ground in the middle of the driveway, in the arms of a child who cannot understand why things happen the way that they do. At times, love has no words, yet its power abounds in the silence. Love can smile as a three year old child giggles in the midst of everyone else's sadness. Love can laugh as she brushes her little fingers across its cheek and with compassion, tells the tears to stop falling. Love can hold on tightly, even though it hurts. Love can believe that there will be a moment in the future when the pain will subside. Love can hope for reconciliation and promise to never cease fighting for it. Love can look in the rear view mirror and see not the hard times, but the treasures that have manifested themselves because of them.

Love is from God, and God is love. Apart from God, we cannot truly love well. We can have fuzzy feelings, and do great things for each other, but we will never be able to experience the true power of love apart from the One who daily teaches us what love really is. God has shown us that the greatest measure of love knows no bounds; love is sacrifice. He has shown us how much He loves us, because He came to the earth as a man and gave everything He could trying to show us that we were missing the point. He let us spit on Him, and murder Him... all for the sake of love. This, we cannot deny, is a kind of love that none of us can say we have even come close to exemplifying. On that same note, I doubt that any of us could deny that this is the way that we would like to love others. And if we all internalized this fact, and asked God to help us love the way that He has loved us, I think our world would be a much more beautiful place. We would see God in our relationships, and in our service to others... for though "no one has seen God... if we love each other, God lives in us, and His love is brought to full expression in us."

And so, I'll end with that infamous "love" passage... that passage we all quote at weddings and read in Hallmark cards; that passage that describes a kind of love that admittedly, I have only just begun to understand.

"Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand it's own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice, but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, and is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

...even when my heart breaks

2010-01-28T18:19:00.000-08:00

The last thing I wanted to communicate from my previous post is that fighting the battle is easy. If it were easy, or convenient, or glamorous, more people would do it. I tell you the truth that fighting the battle wrecks our hearts from the inside out, and in my case today, it makes us do things that we wish we didn't have to do. Ever.

Tonight, I feel extremely broken... humbled that God has chosen me to fight this battle, but still extremely broken. Tonight, I had to say goodbye to a family that means the world to me... a sister who I have grown to love just as if she were my very own, and each one of her four little children who looked me in the eyes and simply could not understand the implications of what was to come. I couldn't help but wrap my arms around Nimsi, the most precious of four year olds, and just squeeze her tightly as if letting go would make reality seem more realistic in my eyes. I didn't want reality tonight. I wanted to stay in that moment, wrapped in the arms of a four year old child. I wanted to prance around their trailer patio doing ballet dances with girls who would do anything to have dance lessons. We'd live happily ever after and create our own. I'd stay in that moment and never let it pass. Yes, I'd stay there forever, if I could.

I know that God is greater than my feelings, my emotions, and my heartache. Tonight as I looked my dear sister in the eyes and heard her explain to me what God had done through our relationship over these past few months, I was confronted with a mixture of pain and peace; love rushed through my body as I stood to tell her that I needed as many hugs as I could get before we eventually said goodbye. Goodbye is never easy, but the lessons that we have learned, together, will forever have a place in each of our lives.

My choice to fight the battle means that I walk away from a place in which I have learned what it means to truly love and to give my life to things that matter. It demands that I leave people like this precious family who have allowed me to share life with them. My heart is breaking more than it ever has before, but I am confident of one thing: this battle, this great adventure of following Christ is bigger than my pain. It is bigger than the things I will leave behind. My time here has served a great purpose, and though faith cannot see, I know that it hopes with everything that it has. Tonight, more than ever, I cling to hope.

Tonight, I put on my armor and I let the tears fall. It's okay that they fall, because I know God has great things in store for the future. And though I wrestle to believe that doing the right thing could hurt so badly, I cannot forget in the darkness of today that which I felt so peacefully yesterday while I was in the light. This battle is not mine to fight, but His. He knows what He is doing and simply asks that I do what He has asked me to do. With tears in my eyes, I place before Him every single treasure I have gained from this place, this family, this church, and these relationships. I do it in faith, knowing that His plans will be accomplished, and more importantly, that His plans are much greater than I could ever imagine.

Precious Father, I am the clay and you are the potter. I am the work of Your hands. Do that which is necessary to make me into the person that you have called me to be. Help me to respond in obedience. I promise to trust you, even when my heart breaks....

Love,
me

get in the battle...

2010-01-28T09:16:00.000-08:00

In life, do you find yourself standing on the sidelines watching countless others rush ahead before you and fight the battle to obtain the things you wish that you yourself could have? You know... things like peace, love, great relationships, and even the fulfillment of your deepest desires and dreams?

Maybe you're feeling frustrated... you've found a uncomfortable kind of comfort in ceasing to dream, ceasing to try, or ceasing to pursue hope amidst your circumstances. You've convinced yourself that all you are, is all you will ever be; you'll never feel fulfilled, you'll never be happy, you'll never be loved, you'll never do anything great, you'll always hate your job, you'll never find your purpose for living. Truth be told, this is how so many in our world live their everyday lives. So many have ceased to FIGHT for that which can be theirs. So many have given in to defeat, complacency, and hiding on the sidelines when they should be courageously fighting for life... fighting for hope.... fighting to know God... fighting to encounter the truth... the list goes on.

I think this has touched me so deeply because as I was reading in 1 Chronicles 11 this morning, I saw this played out so beautifully. The story explains there was an army of men who were engaged in battle, and when they came to a field, "the troops fled." I imagine in my mind an open field, one that leaves the troops in a pretty vulnerable position. Think about it, if they enter the field, they could get hurt. They could be knocked down. They could be attacked and killed. I think we feel this way many times when we are faced with making a decision between "fight or flight." Moving forward in courage is risky, vulnerable, and potentially dangerous. Unfortunately for many of us, all we can see is the fear and we choose to retreat, just as these troops did. The risk is too great, we tell ourselves, and we will be scarred for life if we fail. In doing so, we have chosen comfort over adventure, and being "average" over living a life with purpose. Let's admit, we'd never willingly admit we want these kinds of things, but by our actions, we have inevitably chosen them and have no idea how to break free.

There is great hope, I know. The text says in verse 14 that while other troops fled, there were three mighty men who "took their stand in the middle of the field." They defended it, struck down their opponents, and watched as the LORD brought about a great victory. In our great inner battle choosing between fight or flight, I wish that more of us would choose to fight for the things that matter. I wish we would choose to fight against complacency, fight for love, fight to bring hope to those who need it, even if it means we stand vulnerably in the middle of field and must take our stand in the face of great danger and uncertainty. We must do things that don't make sense for the sake of love. We must leave behind great things to pursue that which is even greater. We must risk our lives for hope, even if we stand alone. This, I believe, is the key to living a victorious and meaningful life for God.

When we are faced with the decision between "fight" and "flight," I pray that we would be encouraged to fight and be empowered to believe that God does not ask us to fight alone. Perhaps the most important thing that we realize is that we CANNOT fight alone; we cannot attain victory without His strength and His love pouring out into our lives. Once we realize this, and we move forward in the strength that He alone can give us, we will find the greatest peace we have ever known. Even if He calls us to take our stand in the middle of a field and in the face of great risk and fear, we will know peace... we will know Him... and while we won't ever be safe in the way we have somehow convinced ourselves we should be, we will have true life... we will know love like we have never known it... we will have fought for the things worth fighting for. We will know our Creator and we will fight to love Him with everything we have. There is nothing else that we could ever need more than that.

So, get in the battle. With all that you have. Stand in the middle of the field and trust that God will bring the victory. You won't be sorry.

a prayer for community

2010-01-13T18:19:00.000-08:00

"All the believers were united in heart and mind. And they felt that what they owned was not their own, so they shared everything they had... there were no needy persons among them." The Book of Acts 4:32, 34

How can we even begin to comprehend a community in which there are "no needy persons" and people are one in spirit and purpose?

Oh, Father... my heart cries out for such a place. A place in which believers are brought together by their devotion and their intentional choice to be united together for the sake of You. What an example followers of Jesus would give to the world if we truly were marked by genuine love and compassion; if we did what what we said we'd do, or if, as Dorothy Day suggests, there was no difference between what we believed, what we said, and how we lived our lives.

Forgive us for failing to seek community, for failing to love each other, for failing to pursue hope amidst the chaos. Forgive us for not taking care of each other; for hoarding our possessions, our time, and our plans for ourselves, as if they were even ours to begin with.

Father, let us be marked by devotion... a kind of love that attests to the hope that You have given each one of us. Hope that cannot be found through empty wisdom, but from You alone. Let not our words be empty, but let them be matched by our community. Let us love others, and more importantly, let us love You. Amen.

remembering

2009-12-13T19:09:00.000-08:00

I am very much big on anniversaries, and dates, and memories. That being said, it's only appropriate to recognize that today marks the beautiful beginning of a journey that has only begun for me. One year ago, today, I said YES to God and boarded an airplane to Ecuador. Though leaving my job and the security I had in Lynchburg was never the plan I had for my life at the time, it was necessary, and beautiful, and everything I could have ever hoped for.

By God's grace alone, I am what I am today. God has healed so many broken places in my life over this past year, and it all began with a leap of faith into the unknown. I am beyond grateful for all of the precious things my God has done in my life thus far. This past year is only the tip of the iceberg, I'm sure.

Perhaps the most beautiful part of it all, is that I know that God is not finished moving in my life. The Old Testament words of Habakkuk 1:5 whisper a glimpse of anticipation and great hope for the future: Look at the nations and watch, and be utterly amazed, for I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.

How precious it is to belong to Him. My heart desires to be no other place.

love,
me

what is beautiful?

2009-12-06T14:24:00.001-08:00

seeing the hungry fed.

taking care of those who have little.

bringing the hope of Jesus to those who are poor in spirit.

the way the joy in a child's heart brings joy to your very own.

a young family who does everything to make it right.

a woman who fears the Lord.

an intimate conversation between friends.

the smile of a child who rarely does.

this journey of sharing life with others.

hope beyond what we can see.

We are blessed beyond measure by the beauty that is all around us.
Praising God,
me

donuts & leche.

2009-12-04T08:41:00.000-08:00

The people of Casa del Monte have stolen my heart. That is all.

welcome to the battle.

2009-11-27T11:04:00.000-08:00

I've never been much into Dunkin Donuts, though I love coffee and would drink it even if it squirted up out of a hole in the ground and I had to sift out the dirt with a drainer. You get the point... I really, really love the stuff.

But far beyond my love for coffee lies a greater love... a love that as I pen these very words, brings tears to my eyes. I love people. In particular, I love the people that the world rejects and glances over. I love people who are different than I am; people whose beauty far extends that which our world perceives as beautiful. Yes, these are the people that I love and want to spend my whole life serving.

This morning, I stumbled upon a Dunkin Donuts down the road from my house here in Baltimore. With nothing else to do, I decided I'd go in and see what all my West Palm friends find so wonderful about it. When I walked through the doors, my eyes were immediately drawn to the young, dark-skinned girl behind the counter; she may have been fifteen years old. Maybe. I stood at the counter and stared at the menu. I stared back at her. Then, I stared at the boy next to her, and then at the middle-aged man behind her. To the right of them, I saw an older woman with a young girl who looked about five years old. They were all family, a family from India, and to me, they were absolutely beautiful.

My eyes were fixed upon them, captivated by them, and though I was pretending like I was trying to choose which flavor of coffee I wanted, I was really thinking about them. I wanted to know their stories. I wanted to sit down at a table and listen to them, watch them, dwell in the fascination that their beauty had impressed upon my soul. I was so caught up in this moment that I didn't even notice the man who jumped in front of me in line. No, I just stood there and couldn't help but want to be friends with them, to spend time with them, to get to know what was going on in the heart and mind of this fifteen year old girl. Were they happy? Were they presently in need? Had they found what they were looking for when they left their home in Ghazibad, India to pursue a "better one" here in the States? Had anyone reached out to them? Loved them? Extended their hand to them?

I wanted the time it took for them to pour coffee into my cup to last forever. Maybe I should have ordered a more complicated drink, or perhaps fifty of them. And even after the young boy handed me my coffee, I tried to leave, but I simply could not. Eventually, they caught the glimpse in my eyes, and they all began to turn their heads in my direction. Each one of them, clearly intriguied by the fact that I had not taken my eyes off them since I walked into their store. I flashed them a smile, and I told them "thank you." Then, I left.

As I was leaving, I felt so torn. I began to wrestle with the concept of "what if." What if I had more time to spend here in Baltimore? My plane leaves at 8 AM tomorrow. What if I lived here? What if I had the opportunity to get to know this family? What if they trusted me? What if I started to come into their coffee shop and I taught them about God's love for them? What if listened? What if they believed? WHAT IF?

What if. What if. What if. What if we had more hours in our day? What if I could be seven different places at once? I would do anything for that to be true right now. A piece of me would be in West Palm Beach. A piece of me would be here in Baltimore. A piece of me would be in India, Germany, Pennsylvania, and Ecuador. The seventh piece of me would nomadically travel around the entire world, spending a few days in each city that exists, and I don't think it would ever settle down.

And so here lies my battle with the "what if's" in my life, the battle to know where I belong, with whom I belong, and when I belong there. Welcome to the battle. It's going to be a fun one.

finnish giggles.

2009-11-15T16:38:00.000-08:00

On my way out of downtown West Palm Beach the other night, I was awkwardly approached by a medium-height girl with bright blonde hair and Starbucks coffee in hand. We'll call her "Anni" for the purposes of this story.

Out of no where, Anni jumped in front of me. At first, I secretly wished that I was the 1,000th person to pass by the Starbucks store and was going to be handed her delectable cup'o'jo, but I soon realized this was not going to happen when Anni opened her mouth and with an accent I had never before heard said... "Can you... for us?"

I stared at the five giggling girls on the bench beside her, not really sure what she was asking. They just kept giggling, wide-eyes open, and giggling. They were adorable, these girls. There were six of them, all seemingly around my own age, and all crowded on a bench made for four. They did not care; they had each other, and their friendship, and of course, their uncontrollable giggles.

Anni then pulled her camera out of her pocket while repeating herself, "Can you...for us?" Duh, I thought. They wanted me to take their picture!

They probably had been giggling at me, or perhaps at Anni, whose attempts to communicate were quite flustering to witness. Or maybe they were giggling because my blonde hair and fair skin matched each one of theirs. Their smiles were contagious; so much so that I could not help but chuckle myself.

I grabbed the camera and waited patiently as each girl positioned herself on the bench. Anni tried to explain how her camera worked, pointing at the "POWER" button as the button I was supposed to press to snap the photograph. "Here," she said, followed by a motioning of her hands to demonstrate taking a picture. I nodded my head in agreement, feeling it would be a bit rude to correct her on how to use her own camera.

I went to snap the photograph, and called out the traditional "one...two...three," with my finger on the correct button of course. A photograph was taken, but the flash did not go off. With the girls all primply posed on the bench, I looked at the screen to find the button to turn the flash on, but all I could see were words in a language that I knew nothing of. Finnish. I stared at the screen, that is, until Anni grabbed the camera from my hands and clicked the POWER button herself to "take the photograph." When the camera turned off, there was both a hint of surprise and embarrassment in her eyes. Maybe that wasn't the right button, she realized.

I then grabbed the camera from her hands and motioned for her to sit down with her friends. I eventually found the flash button, and was able to successfully take their picture. Anni stood up from the bench, grabbed for her camera, and flashed me an awkward smile.

I could not help but wonder why these girls had come here to West Palm Beach, FL. After all, it isn't necessarily the most "touristic" place to visit. Had someone they knew been here before? Or had they simply closed their eyes, spun around, and in a moment of nomadic adventure promised to jump on an airplane to whichever place their finger landed? Finally, I decided I'd just ask them myself.

"Why are you here?" I asked Anni. All of the girls perked up on the bench, trying to incline their ears to our conversation. Anni looked at me with confusion in her eyes. Speaking more slowly, I began to motion with my hands... "Why" (with hands in the air) "are you" (pointing at them) "here" (fingers pointed to the ground). Anni stared for a moment, and then replied... "We have vacation. Three weeks. We just wanted to see the City Place!"

Her excitement was so adorable, but oh how desperately I wanted to know WHY they had chosen to come to West Palm Beach. Not like it mattered, but somewhere in my analytic mind, I just wanted to discover what makes people GO to the places that they eventually end up. What motive moves them? What motive led six Finnish girls to jump on an airplane to spend three weeks in our not-so-glamorous city? Perhaps deep down, I was hoping to find an answer for what my own heart was feeling, as I myself am prayerfully considering a nomadic, adventurous move of my own.

We eventually went our separate ways, yet I could not get our awkward, gesture-driven encounter out of my mind. If I do ultimately take this leap of faith and head out for yet another adventure, I will more than likely spend several months of my life gesturing as these precious girls had done with me. Gesturing and motioning, and of course acting as if I have all the answers when in reality I am telling others to "press the power button" to take my photograph. Overwhelmed by confusion, I will stare as they try to explain their world to me. And when I finally get a glimpse of understanding that the POWER button actually turns my camera off, I, with a hint of embarrassment and surprise, will think of these dear girls from Finland and I will count my blessings. Then, of course, I will giggle uncontrollably. Oh, God help me! =P

something is better than nothing.

2009-10-19T18:15:00.000-07:00

Would you believe me if I told you that this photograph was taken in West Palm Beach, Florida... just fifteen minutes from one of the wealthiest and most successful communities in all of South Florida?

I didn't think you would.

You see, the harvest is all around us. The needs in our midst are so great, and I pray that we do not fail to see that while our eyes and our efforts are focused on how the international world is suffering, there are those in our own cities who need us as well.

These are our neighbors, and I dare to say that we have not love if we fail to reach out to them.

Have you ever wanted to make a difference in the lives of others?

I encourage you to look around... find somewhere, like the trailer park where this photograph was taken, and pour out your life in service to them. Find a family who is hungry and bring them food. Find a child who is struggling in school and commit yourself to tutor him. Sacrifice twenty minutes of your day to simply listen to someone in your life who is heartbroken and needs a friend. Offer an art class to people whose talents may be entangled by a web of poverty and despair. Fill in the blank. The world is your oyster.

Do not be discouraged if your efforts are not large, in charge, and being broadcasted all around our media-frenzied world. No one has to see what you do, because you are not serving to be recognized, but instead to touch the lives of others in a real and practical way. Besides, God sees each and every thing that you do and He delights in your commitment, love, humility, and faithfulness -- no matter how "small" you think your acts of service are, and whether or not you ever get a "pat on the back" for what you've done.

So, I challenge you with the following question: What are YOU intentionally doing to serve those in your midst?

If your answer is "nothing," do not feel dismayed! Open your eyes today and look around for a neighbor in need. Get in the car and drive "downtown." Visit an elderly home and play checkers with someone who is all alone. Go for a walk, and ask God to show you how you can serve your neighbors.

You'll be surprised what He shows you, and when you see how big the harvest in your midst truly is, just jump in and do something... for something is better than nothing.

Be blessed as you serve...
-Me

the faces of people I have never met.

2009-10-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

I have never dreamed as much as I do now, nor have I ever so consistently woken from my slumber and had such a clear recollection of what had happened the night before while the world was quiet.

No, I have never been much of a dreamer, yet lately, the images I have seen in my sleep have so desperately stirred my heart that they have kept me awake throughout the night. There I remain, tossing and turning, staring at the clock, wondering why I cannot get the faces of people I have never even met out of my heart or my mind.

Some nights, I am confronted with images of brokenness; other nights, situations of desperation and poverty. Some nights, I wake up only to find that I had been holding an orphan in my arms and I loved how warm and comforting it felt. Some nights, I am walking the dirt-ridden streets of a village with nothing but the clothes on my back. There, I am paradoxically fulfilled and filled with joy; I wouldn't have it any other way.

When my alarm sounds at the glorious hour of 6' o-clock, I open my eyes and am overwhelmed with a sense of disappointment that I am comfortable, safe, and filled with hope when so many around the world are not. I get frustrated about the way that I am spending my days, all the while knowing that I am called to more than this. These feelings of frustration and disappointment are soon confronted with a flame of urgency in my heart that screams "What in the world am I doing here?"

I go to church and I hear stories about people all around the world whose lives are being completely transformed by the hope that God offers to all who will step out in faith to receive it. These people are so courageous in their faith. I hear about how God leads them to take the hope that they have received and in turn, offer it to others whose lives are broken. I so want to follow their example. They open their homes to children who have been abandoned, abused, and neglected when they cannot even provide for themselves. They live their lives, one day at a time, not knowing when they will eat or if they will be persecuted for the God they believe in. Most of them are.

I spend countless hours at a near-by trailer park here in West Palm Beach, and I see the impact that the mere concept of HOPE has on the inhabitants of the community. I watch as week after week, children run barefoot down the streets at exactly the hour we are expected to arrive to open the door to the club house. They come running with their arms wide open, because they know that in our midst, they have found a refuge, a safe haven, and most important, love.

My heart screams in urgency... "I want to do this forever."

I want to be there, wherever "there" is. If I told you what has been happening throughout these past few weeks in my heart and in my life, you would never believe me. God is moving, and more than ever in my life, I have no other response but to stand back in humility, awe, reverence, and peace. He knows what He is doing, much better than I. My position is to continue to learn how to live a life that is emptied of myself, yet completely filled with Him.

Until the beauty of His marvelous plan unfolds and leads me to that which is "next," I will continue to toss and turn, patiently awaiting the day when I will finally meet the people whose faces have kept me awake at night. I already love them.

love... as if I know how

2009-10-08T19:14:00.000-07:00

I am dumbfounded at how such a perplexing subject has been so impressed upon my heart tonight, but it just has been. I cannot pretend as if I know the first thing about unfailing love or how to give advice about love. All I know is what I have come to believe. By the grace of God, the lenses of my heart operate not through what I have experienced, but rather through what I have chosen to believe: Love is piercingly deep, and it is unconditional.

I am wrestling with this concept. I truly am, however I know that as long as I wrestle with it, I am wrestling with an inevitable truth that will not change. Love cannot be anything but deep and unconditional; it cannot be selfish, it cannot be rude, and it cannot be based upon how the recipient of our love responds to our actions. It just can't be.

I wish this were easier, and sometimes, I wish that love was what the "world" says it is... passionate, feel good, convenient, lovey-dovey, where everyone is happy and no one ever has to make sacrifices. If it were that way, it would sure hurt a whole lot less, that's for sure.

But love is not this way. It is heart-wrenching and it is so deep. It breaks down barriers and it brings kingdoms to the ground. It always tells the truth, no matter what will come as a result. It is sacrificial. It is unfailing, It is giving.

Love goes past the surface and pierces the soul. Love does not allow rejection, ungratefulness, or disappointment to change what it is. Love is everlasting. Love is revolutionary, and love can melt even the hardest of hearts. I am desperately praying that in my present circumstances, it truly does.

I need love to break down the barriers in so many areas in my life. I just do. I need love to pour out of me and into the hearts and lives of so many people in my life who just need to believe that it exists. So many of us have given up, and even in my present state as my head is pounding full of aching thoughts and questions, I must hold on to the truth that we do not love to receive anything in return. We do not love to make ourselves feel good. We do not pour out our love upon others so that they will esteem us or give us praise. We do not serve to be served, but to give our lives for others. Plain and simple.

We love because God has first loved us. We love because the love we have experienced is the deepest, most sacrificial, and most life-transforming love we have ever known. We love because of who Christ is and how He lived. We love, well... because love is everything.

Knowing genuine, deep, and unconditional love may require that we get involved in the lives of others more, and at times, maybe even get hurt a bit more... but I am confident that it is worth it. I am "preaching" to myself here.

May we serve others with a love that never fails and a heart willing to endure everything for that which we love, and for those whom we love. Though it's not the easiest way, it is most assuredly the most valuable.

love Him.

2009-09-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

I think I want to write this post, just for kicks. I have been here in Florida for a little over five months now, and for some reason, more than any other month... September has been the most difficult.

Why, you ask? I really wish I knew! This month has been filled with a whole lot of tears, lonely days, and yes, late night chocolate and ice cream binges. I'm not ashamed to admit that that's just what I do when "things go wrong." :)

But it's not really that anything has gone WRONG... it is more about my heart, and how I have chosen to respond to the circumstances that God has thrown my way. I have allowed myself to get frustrated, when I should have humbled myself and talked to God in prayer instead. I have placed my hope in people, and in dreams, and in potential... all to be reminded that it's not supposed to go there at all! People let us down. Our dreams may not be God's dreams. We must place our hope in Him and Him alone. Unfortunately, I had to (once again) be reminded of these things... and I confess to you that it did not feel all that great.

I know God has brought me to West Palm Beach for such a distinct purpose. It is so beautiful to see His plans unfolding, and though things do not always go the way I think they should, they are nonetheless "going." God is in control of my life today, just as much as He was around this time last year... just as much as He was when I was forced to pack up my wedding dress and empty an apartment just comfy enough for two. He is in control of my life today, just as much as He was when He called me to Ecuador, and just as much as He was when He opened up the doors and prepared the way for me to come to West Palm Beach. It is simply undeniable.

So, when things get "cloudy" or I start to feel lost, my mind wanders. My mind wanders, and it is so imperative that I remind myself of where God has brought me in this journey, and the simple fact that it is okay to not know what the future holds. It is okay to not have it all together. It is okay.

After all, who can comprehend the plans of the Lord? Who can direct His hand as He moves in our lives and in our world? Where were We when He laid the foundations of the earth? Can we command the morning? Can we bring the rain? Can we control death?

We are but dust... vessels in the hands of God, who will use us if only we allow Him to. That's up to us. We can choose to wallow in self-pity, or we can choose to trust that God is working everything together for good in our lives so long as we hold on to hope. When we begin to feel discouraged about the "what's next," let us be reminded that "no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him" (1 Corinthians 2:9).

These very words are a challenge to you, and to me... let us let go of OUR blueprints, focusing not on the circumstances before us, but rather on the very action that will bring all of His precious and glorious plans to pass: loving Him.

my ode to fall.

2009-09-22T17:39:00.000-07:00

So, apparently today is the official first day of the "fall" season. It's time for Pumpkin Spice lattes, outdoor hikes, stopping to admire the bright orange and red hues luminating from the trees, and, of course my personal favorite, cuddling up on the sofa with a great book in hand and no where else to be but there. Ah, how sweet it is to enjoy the fall season!

I guess us local Floridians completely by-pass the beauty of fall, given that it has been a steady 91 degrees since I arrived here last April. I wouldn't even have thought about fall had about ninety-nine people on Facebook not reminded me of how much THEY were enjoying the cool weather of the coming season. I think it about broke my heart today when I realized that Floridians do not even experience a hint or a hue of fall... instead, they get a whole lot of summer, and a season they identify as "Winter," yet only because around that time, in comes the mad rush of tourists who flee from THEIR igloos up north. I suppose that now that I live here, I must incorporate myself into this category as well. Know that I will do it, kicking and screaming all the way.

That being said, here's my ode to fall. I will think about you every day while I am stuck inside a cool, air-conditioned home... dripping with sweat, bursting with envy that the thought of wearing a sweater or a scarf is just completely out of the question, all the while wishing I could feel you. See you. Experience you. Step on some crunchy, colored leaves. Something. Anything.

Maybe I'll see you next year. Until then...

by your side...

2009-09-07T16:23:00.000-07:00

As I was heading home from publishing my previous blog post, something personal, I heard Tenth Avenue North's song on the radio, By Your Side. It is such a beautiful song, and I believe that it encompasses every word I wrote in my previous post. I encourage everyone to watch this video, and more importantly, listen to the lyrics of this song. They are so powerful, and so personal.

You can watch the video here:

Enjoy :)

something personal.

2009-09-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

There is something about the moon that always speaks to me. At night when it is dark, I love to search the sky to find its bright light, and when I find it, I love to fix my eyes upon the masterpiece that it is; the vast array of details that gives it its beauty simply takes my breath away, for more often than not, it shines its light in such a way that it seems as if someone painted it in the sky just for me to enjoy. Perhaps it is naive or selfish to think that God has placed something so beautiful in the sky just for me, but some days that's exactly how I feel.

The other night, in particular, I saw the moon in a way that I had never seen it before. The week previous to this encounter, I had been wrestling with the idea of what it means to be in a personal relationship with the God of the universe. Since I became a follower of Jesus over four years ago, that's what I have always been told: God wants to be in a relationship with you, and for that reason, Jesus had to die. Don't you see it?

At first I did... I truly did. When I was seventeen years old, God spoke to my heart about the way I was living and how empty my life had become. I remember so vividly the night when I realized that all of this "God stuff" was really true, and that maybe, just maybe, I could find hope to step out of the shame and the depression that had somehow come to define me. Little did I realize, I was stepping into a relationship that would change everything about who I was and how I viewed the world around me.

When I first met God, I began to talk to Him as if we were sitting at Starbucks on a blind date, just trying to get to know each other or something. I couldn't wait to talk to Him about my day, and I would ask Him questions about my life, how to get over my past, and more importantly, I would ask Him to help me learn how He wanted me to live my life as a new believer. The more I talked to Him, the more I wanted to know Him... and the more I learned about Him through reading the amazing stories written about Him, the more I wanted to please Him and do what He wanted me to do.

I had been touched by His love, and it was absolutely captivating. I was like a newlywed, basking in the joy of getting to know someone who loved me; someone who thought I was the most beautiful person in the world, and someone who was always there, just waiting for the next opportunity that we could spend time together. Have you ever experienced God in this way?

This particular evening when I saw the moon, I stepped out of my car and towards the doors of my house, and as I always do, I lifted my eyes to the dark sky and searched for its bright light. When I found it, it silenced me, and in the quiet, I realized something that I had somehow forgotten along the way: God sees me, and He desires to be in a relationship with me.

I broke down in tears, because there I stood... eyes lifted to the heavens, and I felt so unveiled; so broken, and so exposed. It was in that moment that I realized what had happened to me along my personal faith journey: I had forgotten that I had been created to experience God in a personal way; that He desired me, and He wanted me, and He had chosen me. Instead, I had chosen ritual over relationship, and had traded my newly-wed love for God for the mere image of being seen as a "super Christian." I no longer talked to Him like I knew Him, or even desired to know Him. I simply prayed when it was was convenient, or when I told someone I would, or at the very least, when I desperately needed something; surely He would still answer me, right?!

As I have realized over these past few days, if we fail to experience what it means to know God in a personal way, we are missing out on the joy and purpose God has for us. This is the very relationship we were created to be in, and it is the very relationship that your heart may not even realize it is searching for. Are you broken? God desires to put your life back together. Do you feel alone? His love will fill the depths of your heart when the world walks out on you. Do you feel like no one really knows you, or that you are unlovable? You have a maker who knows everything about you; every thought you have, everything you have done, and everything that you need. And guess what, He still loves you.

Please, please... do not waste your life apart from truly experiencing what it means to KNOW God in a personal way. He loves you, and He will continue to pursue you until you realize that He is there. There will come a day when you see that He has always been there, and that He has never desired religion from you, but instead, that He has desired YOU. Just you. All of you.

So, what do you say? Are you ready to encounter something personal?

Write me. Leave a comment. Or better yet, next time you are faced with the darkness of the sky, search for the light of the moon, and maybe, just maybe, God will meet you there and He will show you these things for Himself.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous-and how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God! They are innumerable!
I can't even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up in the morning, you are still with me!
psalm 139:13-18

august

2009-09-01T17:10:00.000-07:00

I cannot believe that it is already September! These past four months here in West Palm have been such a stretching experience for me, yet overall I can say that August has by far been my greatest month here to date. Here's why.

My parents spoiled me by each coming down to visit me on separate trips. My dad came first, along with my step-mom Kelly and her niece and nephew, and we spent three days at a Resort Hotel in Ft. Lauderdale. I didn't realize how much I missed and needed my family until reuniting with them after such a long time. My dad and I road-tripped down the coast, all the way from Ft. Lauderdale, past Miami Beach, and then finally to Key Largo, where we set sail on a glass bottom boat. It was simply amazing!

My mom came down two weeks later for my 22nd Birthday and her visit could not have come at a more perfect time! This was her first time in Florida, so we spent some time exploring West Palm, visiting City Place, seeing some of the beautiful beaches, and hanging out with the family and kids I live with. It was so great for her to get a feel of how my "everyday" life is here with the Apicella family, as sometimes, living with four kids can get a little chaotic :) She handled it well, and was so impressed by how much these kids cling to me. The entire experience was a simple reminder to me that I have been brought here for a purpose and should continue to love and cherish these precious little ones that God has placed in my path. It was also wonderful to have my mommy here in the house with me for three whole days.

If there is one thing that has "awed" me throughout this past month is how God has so graciously given me some really amazing friends here in West Palm. They are such a blessing to me, and their compassion and kindness has made such an impact on my heart. For my birthday, a few of these AMAZING people threw me a "birthday dinner" at my favorite water-front restaurant, "Waterway Cafe." My friend, who does not bake mind you, baked me a Peruvian style cake covered in strawberries and peaches. People showed up and loved on me that I didn't even realize would! Here are some of my favorite snapshots from the night:

This is Marcela, the mastermind behind the whole evening and one of the sweetest people I know. Ella es mi hermana de Peru :)

To make this short and sweet, here's "everyone." These are my brothers and sisters from Grace Fellowship, including my precious mamá. They are so amazing!

And... this is Lindsey, the sister I never had. I love her so dearly!

I feel so humbled and undeserving to have had such a great few weeks. God is so wonderful to have placed me in such a place of love, and purpose, and joy, and continual ministry. What I thought was going to be a rather difficult month turned out to be one of great blessing and peace. Though I often times find myself restless and confused, I know God has great things for my life. I cannot even begin to tell you how broken that makes my heart feel, knowing that I fall so short of who I should be, yet God continues to keep His hand on me. I am most definitely a testimony that no matter how far you fall, or what you have been through, miracles can happen and God can most definitely transform lives. Even from this time last year, God has done an amazing work in my heart, and I am blessed beyond measure to say that I am slowly, but surely, on my way...

Thank you, my sweet and precious Jesus, for an amazing August.
love,
me

He has been so good to me.

2009-08-18T17:42:00.000-07:00

I have once again picked up my "Streams in the Desert" daily devotional by L.B. Cowman. I bought it last July, yet in between leaving Lynchburg, Ecuador, and now settling in Florida, it somehow got shuffled underneath a pile of things that I promised myself I'd eventually "get around to."

I always find my way back to these things, especially books that have encouraged me or challenged me during a difficult time in my life. In fact, the last time I picked up this book was when I was praying about whether or not to pack up my life in Lynchburg and head to Ecuador. The pain was overbearing, yet there it was on October 27, telling me this... The strongest and greatest character is grown through hardship.

I want so desperately to tell you that the events of this past year have turned me into some type of spiritually-head strong superwoman. To be honest, they have shaken me in places I never realized needed "shaking." They have brought me back to the basics, a place where I must pray that God gives me hope for the future, or simply hope to make it through the day. I dare tell you that there are plenty of days, like today in particular, where I look in the mirror and wonder what in the world is going to become of my life, who is going to love me, and why I don't have a "five year plan." Truth be told, I don't even have a five month plan, or a five week plan; I just kind of "go with the flow," trusting that eventually I'll know more than I presently do.

With this in mind, imagine reading the following words: "Nothing that is not part of God's will is allowed to come into the life of someone who trusts and obeys Him. This truth should be enough to make our life one of ceaseless thanksgiving and joy, because God's will is the most hopeful, pleasant, and glorious thing in the world."

Ceaseless thanksgiving and joy... our lives must embody it even when we don't feel it; we must have an attitude of praise, even when we find our circumstances in shambles. Ceaseless joy is not condemning or selfish, but it accepts all things, both good and bad, as if they come from the same gracious hand.The more I learn about God as the days progress, the more I realize they truly do.

That being said, I can do nothing but thank God for this past year. My journey through grief and loneliness has surely not been an easy one, but I do trust that the One who holds my life does so with such tender hands of love. He is writing the story of my life and of my love, and though the tears come more often than I unveil to those around me, I wouldn't have it any other way. God's plan for my life is the most hopeful, pleasant, and glorious thing in the world. With clenched hands, I will cling to it, believe it, fight for it, and at the end of the day, I will rest in it.

I also want to thank so many of you who have gone to the trenches and bled with me throughout this past year; your compassion has meant the world to me. I am so thankful for the family and friends who have comforted me, prayed for me, encouraged me, listened to me, cried with me, dreamed with me, and even jumped on an airplane with me. I could have never done this alone, and I still can't. Your compassion and kindness has continually pointed me to hope in Jesus when I needed it the most. From the bottom of my heart, truly, I thank you.

My precious God is not finished with my heart, nor is He finished with yours.

Be encouraged by the following prayer... it has been the prayer of this season and has led me to a precious hope that I can never let go of. I pray it is the unceasing song of my life. He has been so good to me.

"O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever? How long will you look the other way?
How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day?
How long will my enemy have the upper hand?
Turn and answer me, O Lord my God! Restore the light to my eyes, or I will die.
Don't let my enemies gloat, saying, "We have defeated him!" Don't let them rejoice at my downfall.
But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me.
I will sing to the Lord because he has been so good to me."
Psalm 13

the beautiful truth.

2009-07-29T18:10:00.000-07:00

If I were to be honest with you, I would tell you that a picture does not always depict the entire story; a smile does not always indicate genuine and lasting joy. A label does not always encompass one's true identity, and personal convictions are not always so easy to stand upon.

Yes, if I were to be honest with you, I would admit to you that it is much easier to compromise, and it is harder to hold on when the storms surround you. Desires can be so crippling, and hearts do not always hold out for what is best.

It is not always easy to pray, and it is not always easy to believe in hope. Faith sometimes fades, and loneliness is too often all that remains.

If I were to be honest with you, I would admit to you that calling myself a "follower of Jesus" is perhaps the most difficult label I have ever chosen to bear. Too often the world looks at those who have faith as naive or weak, but I dare to say they are so much more. You see, Jesus asks us to die to ourselves for the sake of others; to empty ourselves of what we think we need, and what we have convinced ourselves we deserve. He does not leave us empty, no. We may experience seasons of emptiness or periods of loneliness, but He always fills us so that we can, in turn, pour out our lives to bring hope to those in our midst. What we fail to realize is that in order for Him to fill us with that which is good, and noble, and true... we must first empty ourselves of everything that is not.

Emptying ourselves hurts, because it requires genuine sacrifice. It means bringing our dreams, desires, convictions, hopes, and feelings into the light. It often times means admitting that our intentions have been wrong, or that we have not desired that which is beautiful and true. For many, it requires removing the mask we have been hiding behind in order to admit that we are standing alone and do not know which way to turn. It means stripping ourselves bare and telling someone, perhaps for the first time in our lives, that we do not have it all together.

Let's be honest, not many of us do.

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:13

For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.
2 Corinthians 1:5

embracing desperation

2009-07-12T16:59:00.000-07:00

About a week ago, I was "confronted" face on with the question of how a "good God" could co-exist with the concept of poverty in our world for the first time since my trip to Ecuador. A friend of mine and I were at a restaurant enjoying a late night snack when Jerry approached us. Jerry was a middle-aged man with roots in Madrid and Italy who worked at a furniture store. At this point, Jerry was already drunk and had sung countless ballads at the karaoke station. Now, approaching us, he wanted to know if he could buy us a drink.

Kindly refusing, we decided to use this as an opportunity to talk to the guy. Right off the bat, he asked us if we had been "friends forever." You know, "BFF's" from the Ya-ya sisterhood, or something. He claimed he could sense something "spiritual" between us that seemed to indicate that was so. He stared in confusion when I told him we had only known each other for a little over two months, and even more so when I explained that it was our common love for God that bonded us together. His response was the response that most people give when they hear something like that: "Oh, so you are one of those religious types?"

I personally love this question, because I love to see peoples' reactions when I tell them "no." You see, I am not religious because "religion" is a man-made thing; religion is about do's and dont's and keeping up an image. God, on the other hand, is not.

This might baffle some of you who have been led to believe that Christians put aside their "intellect" in pursuit of a desire to "become perfect and holy" and "crutch" through life. I plead with you that this is by no means the case. Some who call themselves Christians are unfortunately "religious," but they, like the rest of the world, stand on the notion that they are "doing fine" without God; that they are perfectly content and fulfilled in their luxury, materialism, personal gain, and pride. Little do they know that none of these things are any kind of solid rock to stand on. They all, at some point, crumble to the ground. I know, because I've been there.

This doesn't "click" for so many of us because we have lost any sense of what it feels like to be "desperate" or "broken." In fact, I would argue that many of us have absolutely no idea what it is like to be in genuine need. Maybe we "desperately" want a new flat screen or car, or we "desperately" want to be in a relationship with that guy or girl... but that is the extent of our knowledge of poverty and need. I am talking to myself here.

Better yet, we convince ourselves that "what goes around, comes around" and in doing so, we place all of our eggs in a basket that we "hope" will bring something good "back around" to us. Karma knows how to work itself, right? When we realize that it doesn't, we deposit one more "reason" into our bank of justifications for why God and the reality of the story of Christ simply cannot be real.

This is how Jerry felt about Jesus. He explained to me that "there was no way God would WANT us to experience poverty in our lives.'' In fact, Joel Olsteen had told him that if he followed God, he could become rich and prosperous (insert exclamation point here). Tears filled my eyes as I tried to reason with him that the poor of this world know something about genuine need that we never could. Before him and before God, I shared that I would do anything to understand what those who have experienced poverty grasp in their hearts and lives; I would do anything to know what it is like to have such a desperate need for God that my very survival depends on it. No pursuit of "get-rich-quick-in-Jesus" schemes; just a genuine need to experience and understand the love of God, and in turn, to share that love with others.

He said God "would never do that me," which I don't blame him for saying. This is what so many believe. We have somewhere along the way learned to pity those in poverty, all the while forgetting that God in all His greatness and love takes a particular liking towards the "least of these." Many of the people who sought out Jesus in the gospel stories were people in extremely desperate circumstances. Many of them had nothing. Their pursuit of Jesus was beautiful because it sprung from something within that was calling out that they really needed what He had to offer. As The Message explains in Matthew 5:3, they were people who were "at the end of [their] rope" and realized that with "less" of them, there could be "more of God and His rule." Less of us, and more of God. How simple, yet perplexingly beautiful.

Perhaps that is what is missing in our understanding of what differs a "religious person" from a genuine follower of Jesus. Religious people play a role, put a smile on their faces, and walk out of church feeling as if God was "proud" of them that they managed to get out of bed AND take notes during the sermon. Genuine followers of Jesus know they have no reason to brag; they know they cannot be perfect, nor do they strive to be. They weep before God on their knees and literally beg Him to show the world what it means to find joy and fulfillment in Him. They weep on their knees for you and for me, because they are a broken people who are moved by the difficulties in their own lives and in the lives of others. Genuine followers of Jesus move all across the world for the sake of others; they voluntarily take up residence in some of the most hostile places for the sake of love. Some die for this love, but regardless they hold onto the truth that it was worth the fight. They hold out their hands to those who reject them, yet they press on because they know God has done the very same for them. Genuine followers of Jesus are humble, they are persisent, and you all know that they simply will not leave you alone. They really do love people. Most importantly, genuine followers of Jesus are desperate and they know it. In fact, they embrace their desperation with joy and gladness.

God is not just a tee-shirt that we wear, or someone we call out to when someone is in the hospital and we think creating "Praying for _____" facebook groups are what is going to make the situation better. God isn't proud of us for attending church or wearing cross necklaces around our necks. Nor does He listen when we only cry out to Him when we "need something," as if we were children writing a letter to Santa at Christmas time. He just isn't.

What He wants is for us to be desperate for Him and to truly need Him. We cannot truly experience God until we realize this truth: WE NEED GOD, not just when we are in trouble, but every single day. Why? Because this world is all too complicated for us. Even our best efforts fail us. We cannot be "good" as much as we try. Our love is pretty selfish without knowing how God intended love and relationships to function. We would hold a whole lot of grudges without learning from God the beauty and freedom that forgiveness brings into our lives.

If we do find ourselves so blessed to be in a state of spiritual, emotional, mental, or physical poverty... I pray we are reminded of the poor, who have a great treasure that so many of us lack in our lives. They know what it is like to need, and when they find the very One who can meet their needs, they are desperate beyond reason. They give up everything, the little they have, to know God's story and His plan for their lives. Why? Because they have nothing else. End of story.

Some pity the poor, but I admire their desperation and can only pray that God would bring me to such a humble and broken place in my own heart and life.

In Him,
me

if tomorrow never comes...

2009-07-03T18:07:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days that you look back upon and just know it was wasted? I began reflecting upon this idea as I was standing in the kitchen late this afternoon, watching as the sharp bright rays of sunshine were quickly replaced with dark clouds and pellets of rain that fell from the sky. It had been such a beautiful day, one I had been planning to take advantage of for weeks now. I had unexpectedly been given the day off from work, and as I watched any opportunity of being kissed by the sun be briskly snatched from my very hands, my stomach turned. It was too late; I had wasted the very day that had been given to me.

Ok, confession. I took a two hour nap today, when I could have gone to the beach or taken advantage of the spa and pool in our very own backyard. For one who says she is tired of having 'cabin fever,' I cannot fathom why I did not step outside once today. I worked on homework, all the while convincing myself that I "had" to get it done today, or else. I avoided making phone calls I knew I needed to make. I watched TV. I drank endless cups of coffee and about six twenty-four ounce bottles of water. I played around with templates for my blog. I made Ramen Noodles, something I am not very proud of.

And as I am typing these very words, there is a sunset outside of my window that is turning everything in our culdesac a precious shade of bubble-gum pink, mixed with a gorgeous hue of purple and orange. I am missing it.

You see, if I were to die tomorrow, I simply cannot stand knowing that I could look back upon today with regret that I did nothing with my time that had even the sheerest hint of significance or value. That is why my stomach is turning and the tears are swelling up in my eyes, for if tomorrow never comes, there remains a laundry list of things I would be disappointed that I never did. There would be phone calls I should have made, and people that need to hear from my heart that they have meant the world to me. There would be conversations I needed to have with Jesus about the way I have been living, and about the people in my life who are hurting or have not experienced the love of God. There would be places I wish I had gone, and people I wish I had taken a few more minutes to listen to. Yes, that is why the tears are streaming down my face. I have wasted this very day, and as far as I know, my very opportunity to fulfill those deep yearnings and desires of this heart God has given me.

If there is anything that has been embedded into my life from my experience in Ecuador, it is this very truth: we are never promised tomorrow. To be honest, I am not quite sure why we always live believing that tomorrow is something that inevitably will come for us, as if we deserve it or are entitled to it. For most, tomorrow does come... but for a select few, the very concept becomes merely something that consumed their yesterday; a brief wind of hope, that although was supposed to spur them on into the future, became the very thing that robbed them of finding value and meaning in their lives, or even worse, their opportunity to bring value and meaning into the lives of others.

As I did this afternoon, so many of us live our lives believing that with "today" comes no sense of urgency or beauty; we have convinced ourselves that it is simply a stepping stone that will lead us into the days that come. Perhaps we are holding out for a dream that our heart has hoped for since forever, it seems. Perhaps there is a phone number next to a name on our "to-do" list that we are waiting to "get around to." Maybe there is someone we need to tell we are sorry, or a grudge that we need to let go of in our heart. Perhaps we have convinced ourselves that we will "get right with God" when we are older, or when it is time to settle down; surely He won't mind that we "enjoyed" a few years without Him. As long as we "eventually" come, it's okay... right?.

But what if tomorrow never comes? Will you, as I did today, wish that you had spent "today" a little differently than you did?

just 'Latinos?'

2009-07-02T18:51:00.000-07:00

I recently read a journal article* by Ph.D. and educator Margaret Curwen concerning the rise of Latino students in U.S. classrooms and how teachers can single-handedly make a difference in ensuring their academic and personal success. While she offered many practical suggestions that aided in classroom management and curriculum choices, each suggestion was rooted in a solution that I believe can and should affect each and every one of us as U.S. citizens. Her solution in a nut-shell was this (paraphrased by me): We as a nation should be less quick to judge Latinos and should intentionally learn how to accept them as a unique culture that is comprised of endless individual, multi-faceted, and nethertheless interesting sub-cultures. Adapting such a mindset, Curwen argues, has the potential to transform not only Latino students’ success in the classroom, but also our world as we know it.

Why this issue has “struck” such a chord in my heart, I do not know. All I can say is that I wholeheartedly believe that we as a nation have failed our world by rejecting and judging those in our midst who are different than we are. In our minds, we have formulated a stereotypical mold of Latin culture through which we have learned to place each and every Latino that crosses our path. As Curwen emphasizes, we are quick to label all Latinos living in the United States as “illegal immigrants” or “migrant workers,” all the while ignoring the fact that in 2006, the U.S. Census Bureau estimated that as much as sixty-percent of the forty-seven million Latinos living in the United States are in fact considered native-born. The Bureau also depicted that the percentage of Latinos in the U.S. holding “professional jobs” precisely mirrored the percentage of Latinos in the typical “service” job that we generally view them in. It does not faze us to assume that all Latinos in our midst are “Mexicans,” when in reality there are hundreds of Central American, South American, and European countries represented within the Latino culture as a whole. This concept is one that I saw very clearly during my four-month stay in Ecuador this past December of 2008. When asked what the “typical” Ecuadorian was like, I struggled to portray an image that embodied the diversity and beauty that existed throughout Ecuador’s many different sub-cultures and people groups. For example, farmers make their living in the mountains, while businessmen roam the capital of Guayaquil in search of success. Indigenous women wear hand-woven, bright colored skirts and wrap their hair in long belt-like sashes; women in the capital city dress as if they have just stepped out of a Miami fashion magazine. Spanish is the majority language in Ecuador, however many diverse dialects exist inside its borders. Each person I encountered had a story of his or her own; each inspired me in a way no one else I encountered before had. For me to label every Ecuadorian as if he or she fit some type of mold would have single-handedly robbed each individual sub-culture of the beauty and the influence that it brings to the country of Ecuador as a whole.

What is my point? The Latino culture cannot break the mold and rise above the statistics that label them “at-risk” and “out of place” without our help. I firmly believe that if someone communicates to a person long enough that he is undesirable, unwanted, or not worthy of success, it will eventually become a part of him and he will have no choice but to model his life after what the world tells him he is. Have we forgotten that he is a child of the living God and has been created for a distinct purpose, just as we have? Instead of scurrying to protect a United States “culture” that I cannot say I believe even exists, let us focus our efforts on cultivating open and nurturing hearts towards a people group that will inevitably rise to a projected 102 million people and will encompass nearly ¼ of those residing within our borders by the year 2050. We must learn to love them. May this be a challenge to you and to me to not settle for simply viewing all Latinos as “the same.” May our eyes be opened to the unique, multi-faceted, and beautiful diversity that exists within their culture, and more so as each day passes, in ours as well.

*If you are interested in reading Margaret Curwen's article in full, it can be accessed from the following reference: Curwen, M. (2009, June). Visiting Room 501. Phi Delta Kappan, 90(10), 756-761. Retrieved June 30, 2009, from Academic Search Complete database.

when tragedy strikes.

2009-06-28T15:50:00.000-07:00

As I am typing these very words, there is a family at Grace Fellowship Church grieving the tragic loss of their three-month old baby boy. Such tragedies are not things we particularly like to reflect upon, however the reality of this specific story has taught be a valuable lesson I am hoping to never forget.

I remember the evening that I first heard about the loss of Brooke and Rick McDonald's precious little boy, Gavin. Before worship last Wednesday evening, one of the leaders at Grace asked us to break up into small groups to pray for the hearts of those affected by this tragedy. Though I did not know the McDonald family personally, I could tell by the grief-stricken faces of those around me that this was a deep and desperate situation. I bowed my head along with the others and said the only thing I could think of: Lord, do something glorious through this. We know that you will.

Others in my group prayed for this situation and soon-after, we concluded with an "amen." Several other groups around me continued to pray, and though I could not hear the words that they were saying, I could sense their feelings of urgency, the tears in their eyes, and the unwavering hope resonating from their hearts. They were pleading with God with a sweet and genuine belief that this family could somehow be restored in spite of what has rocked their world. They were confident, somehow, that the beauty of Christ would be miraculously displayed through their sorrow and their tears.

As my eyes surveyed the room, I could not help but recognize something about followers of Jesus that I had never seen so clearly before: When tragedy strikes, they lift their eyes towards heaven and their hearts cling to a very real hope that has been promised to them; even if they do not see such hope in the moment, their feet can remain on the path because their know that it is coming. Even in the most impossible of circumstances, they continue believing that reconciliation will come.

I began to reflect upon my life before hope, and while I have not experienced anything close to what the McDonald family has now experienced, one tragic circumstance stands out to me thus far in my life. I first heard the news when I was in Charleston, South Carolina visiting the campus I would soon call my own after my high school graduation in the months that followed. I did not always want to go to the College of Charleston, but the way I was living my life at the time convinced me otherwise. When I got the phone call, I was doing what I knew how to do best: partying, getting drunk, and convincing myself that I was "living the life." That is, until I heard the news: Alex Everhart, one of my best friends from middle school, had been tragically killed in a car accident. Just like that, she was gone, forever.

And then "that feeling" shot throughout my entire body; you know, that feeling you get when you are driving and you nearly hit the car in front of you? Or that feeling you get when someone looks into your eyes and tells you that it's over? Yea, that feeling, that tingly feeling that rushes through every limb in your body and does not go away until you do one of two things: you accept that tragedy has struck you and you begin the process of handling it, or you choose to deny the reality of the situation and fix your eyes elsewhere. In this particular situation, I very intentionally chose the latter.

Screw this, I screamed. Let's drink up, because life is short, I proclaimed. My depression worsened. My desire to control something about this situation poured gasoline on the already lit fire of an eating disorder whose flames had spread all over my life. I intentionally used this tragedy as an excuse to go deeper, to be a little more reckless, and to continue to hide behind the masks of destruction I thought were keeping my heart protected from pain. I continued to "stuff" my life with these things because I didn't want to admit that I was hurting. I didn't want to admit that I had no hope to move forward.

The picture of hope that God painted before my eyes amidst the McDonald tragedy is one that has opened them in a very real way. To see followers of Jesus rise up and believe that God is still good despite what happened to Gavin screams to my heart that hope is a choice that we make. When tragedy strikes in our lives, we are met with a fork in the road. We can choose to cling to hope in Jesus or we can continue to hide behind the things we have somehow made ourselves believe are what can save us. As we live our lives in a world ridden with pain, where does our help come from? We lift our eyes to the Lord, the One who has created us and the very world that we live in [Psalm 121:1-2]. We believe in the steadfast love of a God who never changes; a God who can make all things new, if only we let Him. When our world crashes down around us, we hope in Him. We lift up our eyes and we choose to cling to a promise that God has made to those who believe. These trials cannot consume us; they can only make us stronger. Sometimes we don't feel hopeful, but nethertheless we make the choice to hold on because we trust in the One who is in control of all things. I can't explain it, but we just do.

What about you? When you encounter difficult times in your life, can you truly say that you possess hope to get through them? If your answer to this question is 'no,' I admit to you that I know how it feels to live each day in hopelessness; I have felt the deep, wrenching pain of feeling as if death would be easier than processing through the difficult realities you are facing. I have spent years of my life in search for something to make the pain go away. A drink here. A relationship there. A new wardrobe. Anorexia. Bulimia. Even engulfing my life in my studies. Trust me, you are not alone; you are not alone when after everything you have attempted, you lay your head on your pillow and in the lonely silence of the night realize that your heart is still hurting. The pain is still there, yet you rise up the next morning and do it all over again, because, well, that's just what you know how to do best.

This is the very reality that brought me to Jesus. I didn't want to search anymore. I was tired of coming up short and feeling empty. I was tired of hoping in my own ability to make the pain go away by performing. I wanted hope so desperately, up until the point that I realized that I needed hope to survive. That is when I chose to give my life to the only hope that I have ever been able to truly rely on, the One who promises that there is more to life than the tragedies that attempt to swallow us up here on earth, and the One who has yet to fail me and make me feel as if I have hoped in vain: Jesus Christ.

How about you... when tragedy strikes, what do YOU cling to?

thunderstorms.

2009-06-23T18:24:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to a loud and thunderous boom that felt like it shook the entire house. This boom led me to jump out of my bed and pull back the blinds of my second story window. Outside, I saw heavy winds swaying our palm trees in each and every direction. I glanced to the west to see if there were any cars flying in the air like I had seen storms like this do in movies like the Wizard of Oz. No, no cars flying. Even so, I was certain I was standing in the middle of a hurricane, and let me just say that I was terrified.

I ran downstairs to see if anyone else in the house had heard the thunder crack open the sky like I did. I run up to the parents in the house and ask, "What in the world is going on! Is this a hurricane?!?"

They stood silent for a moment and then chuckled amongst themselves. "Really, Shelly? You think this is a hurricane? Sweetie, this is only a thunderstorm!"

How was I supposed to know? I've never lived in Florida before. I've never experienced what a "normal" Florida storm is like, and this one seemed so powerful and reckless. The winds were taking over our outside surroundings, knocking over the plants in our garden and our trash cans left and right. While nothing was being uprooted or flying in the air around me, I was fearful of the storm, for it was like none that I had ever experienced before. My frame of reference limited me to view my present surroundings as much more terrifying than they actually were. What I viewed in my mind as a hurricane, was in reality a mere thunderstorm.

I stood by the screen glass door for a few minutes, reflecting upon the concept of this "storm." I couldn't help but think that my perceptions of this thunderstorm were a lot like our perceptions towards the "storms" we face in this life. We lose a loved one. We get a bad report from the doctor. We are heartbroken over a failed relationship. We lose our jobs. We struggle to find meaning and significance. We experience loneliness, but do not know how to escape it. All of these are "storms" that more often then not break us from the inside out; they indefinitely cause us deep pain and heartache. The inevitable truth, however, is that everyone in this life will experience these storms regardless of who they are or what they believe. The key to finding victory amidst the storms has everything to do with how we react and respond to the impact of their winds.

Do we remain faithful by taking a step back from our heartache to cling to the truth that we have a God who never abandons us? If we do, we are somehow able to find the peace to survive them. When we realize that the winds cannot destroy us and that the very hands that allowed their existence cares about our innermost being, we somehow find victory; we somehow find hope, no matter what faces us. Why, you may ask, would a "good God" bring storms into our lives? Because we all know that we stand much taller and stronger after we have victoriously conquered something that at one point seemed impossible. The storms of this life sharpen us, they change us, they reveal our purpose more clearly, and they make us who we are. More importantly, they bring us closer to God.

Or, perhaps you are like me... you are faced with a storm that seems so big that you are certain you are going to be swallowed by it. The heartache seems unbearable. You just cannot let go of "what was." You have forgotten how to dream. You do not know where to go "next." I'll admit, I often times live my day-to-day life as if the thunderstorms that come my way are hurricanes. I get scared. I get anxious. I run for cover. I forget that there is a God who promises to protect me through them. I forget that there is a purpose for the trials I face; they can only make me stronger. Sometimes, all I can hear are the thunderous booms that crack open the dreams of my heart and the plans I thought would carry me into the future. Sometimes, all I can see are the winds, chaotically pulling the circumstances of my life in each and every direction until they finally fall to the ground in defeat.

I am comforted to know that even followers of Jesus in the New Testament felt like I do today. It is written in Matthew 8:23-27 that they encountered a storm, and when the winds and the waves swamped over their boat, their reaction went a little something like this: "Um, excuse me Jesus? Why are you sleeping? We're about to get swallowed up if you don't do something! Don't you even care about us? Hello?!" Man, have I been caught saying this more times than I'd like to admit!

Stated clearly, it is easy to view the thunderstorms in our lives as hurricanes if we refuse to trust and believe the God behind them. We do have a God who loves us and who will never allow anything to swallow up His children in defeat. Though the winds may sway the circumstances of our lives, we will never fall. Just as Jesus responded to His followers who became fearful in the storm, so He responds to us: "Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?" We must trust Him as the solid rock we stand upon; a God who never changes. A God who calms the storms, no matter how fierce they may seem.

May we trust Him always, regardless.

-me

reflections of a servant.

2009-06-18T19:52:00.000-07:00

"Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve and to give His life as a ransom for many." Matthew 20:27-28

First thoughts: this is a revolutionary concept that has the ability to turn our world upside down if we actually applied it to our lives. Think about it. If we learned to place our own desires, thoughts, and satisfaction second to the well-being of others, without demanding a thing in return, I am fully confident that our world would never be the same. More hungry would be fed. Less children would be aborted. Genuine joy would become the norm, rather than the exception. Less hearts would be broken. More lives would be healed. Less suffering people would lose hope and take their own lives. Yes, I am fully convinced that if we placed others before ourselves, not only would those we encounter be transformed, but our very own hearts would be changed for the better as well.

Dare I say that this is an easy thing to do, because it's not. If it were easy, we would do it... but truth be told, we don't. Instead, we talk about serving others, loving others, changing the world, and bringing joy to the hopeless. At least I do. Our hearts melt at photographs of orphans and we find joy in associating ourselves with organizations that are doing something positive to change our world, not because we have done much to truly serve the broken ourselves, but because it makes us look and feel good. We care more about our image than we do people, and that's a pretty frightening reality. We forget that the majority of our world is living in a very REAL state of physical, spiritual, and emotional poverty as we sit comfortably with roofs over our heads and an abundance of food on our plates, complaining about the weather, the new model of the iphone, or the symbolism behind Obama's infamous swatting of a fly. My goodness, are we so incredibly vain.

Truth be told, we have no idea what it's like to give our lives for the sake of other people the way that God asks us to. The more I pen these words, the more I realize I am pointing the finger at myself. I have no idea what it's like to serve others and expect nothing in return. I serve in a "checks and balances" kind of way: I serve you so I can get a thank you, or so I can "feel good" and brag about it to others. When I often times feel let down for getting nothing in return, I grumble in my spirit and serve with a bitter and sometimes demanding attitude, for surely my 'gracious works' should be praised. I bleed with passion over so many things, but I admit that sometimes my passion can be pretty empty and unaccompanied with works to back it up. Empty passion, Donald Miller argues, "is like pouring gasoline into a car without wheels... it isn't going to lead anybody anywhere." In modern slang, it's all talk, no game. A bunch of BS. I don't know about you, but I surely don't want to lead others to a place like that in their own lives. Ever. I fear that too often I do.

So where do we go from here? I believe the answer is pretty simple, yet extremely difficult at the same time. We believe, and in turn, we act upon our belief. If we believe that it is unjust for the world to be dying of hunger when so many are drowning their sorrows in boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and double Whoppers, then we do something about it. We get involved, practically. If we truly believe that a child becomes a living being at conception, then we plead our case, not to win an argument, but to win over the hearts of others. If we believe that those who do not believe in Christ will suffer in hell for eternity, then we share the love that we have experienced with everyone that we can. We love them to Jesus, just as they are. I have heard so many people outside of the Christian world say that their main problem with Christianity is that they don't even know if Christians believe what they are saying... as in, "if those Christians actually thought I was going to burn in hell without their Christ, why wouldn't they try harder, love more passionately, and do what their Jesus tells them to do?" I am so guilty, because I don't live like this. People can tell when we are pleading with empty passion and words because genuine passion is contagious; it touches the heart in a way that even if people do not fully agree with where we stand, they will see that we genuinely believe.They just may get a glimpse of a heart that has learned how to empty itself for the sake of others; a heart that loves, and is willing to own up to the responsibility that true belief demands. This, more than any argument or word that can come from our mouths, will make all the difference in the world around us.

My very own words convict my heart, for I realize that I have no idea what it means to lay down my life for others, nor do I believe that given the opportunity, I truly would. I find myself frustrated, because though I desire to serve selflessly, all too often I find that I cannot take my eyes off of myself and the bubble that I live in. I weep over the reality of poverty and brokenness, yet do nothing to serve the broken around me. I talk the talk, but a lot of times, I don't walk the walk because the walk demands that I own up to what I believe no matter what consequences or sacrifices it brings to my life. Sacrifice is hard, because it demands that I be selfless; it demands that I give of myself even if that means I stand in last place. I forget that Matthew 20:27 says that those who are last will be first, a verse that is easier to read than it is to apply, let's be honest.

This is why I am so thankful for the power of God in my life. I cannot truly love and serve others in my own strength; no one can. No matter how hard we try to do good, we fall incredibly short because we are a broken people, completely and utterly in need of God to be, as so many quote, "the change we wish to see in the world." Can we change the world? Yes. Can we do it in our own strength? No. This is why I strive to follow the example of Christ, because He came not to be served, but to serve to the point of deepest rejection and eventually His own death. I want to love that way; I want to serve others sacrificially. I want to actually care about the issues in our world and be bold enough to do something about them. I want to believe with my whole heart, because as I mentioned before, if we truly believe in the things we say we stand for, we whould be willing to follow such an amazing example like Christ. If not, then we shouldn't say anything at all, my own self-seeking heart included.

-me

twenty-something.

2009-06-09T19:56:00.000-07:00

It amazes me how much truth can be found in the well-known cliche that twenty-somethings are in the process of "finding themselves." I experienced this first hand tonight as I was enjoying "Shelly time" during a sunset walk around the neighborhood.

Here's a little of how this went... Wow, it's beautiful here. And so quiet. I love the silence. I can't believe I'm here. I wonder how long I'll be here. Man I miss Ecuador. Why did I have a dream about Ecuador last night? I love it overseas. I don't feel like I belong in the States. I wonder where I do belong. I wonder where I will eventually end up. I sure do miss my jeans with the holes in them... Yea, I'm known for being quite the scatter brain lately.

I used to get defensive when people classified me as one of those people who was flighty and didn't know what they were going to do with their lives, even though they had just graduated from college and were supposed to "have it all together." I used to be quite the planner... that is, until God uprooted my blueprint and dreams and told me to start over again. Today, ask me what I want to do with my life and I'll belt out a handful of different things that are spread out across the board. People with Palm Pilots, life plans, and schedules cannot stand this new Shelly. Trust me, I know... I used to be one of them.

I'd pay someone to let me be involved with orphans somewhere in the world. I'd love to get down on my hands and knees and love them with the love of God in a way that changes them and restores their hope. I'd love to be their voice in the world, educating others about what is really happening outside of the American bubble. I'd love to write a book and fill it with photographs that capture the sweetest moments of my journey. I'd love to teach little ones and could absolutely see myself with my own classroom someday. I would love to counsel women who have been battered, abused, neglected, shamed, rejected, or forgotten. Put me in front of a group of teenage girls and I'd share my testimony of God's work in my life until I cannot speak any longer. I'd love to educate people around the world about the effects of eating disorders and the media's detrimental influence in the lives of young girls today. Yes, I guess you could say I'd love to do it all.

The neat thing is that I see a common thread in what makes my heart beat... at the end of the day, I want to know that I am involved in something that truly matters. Don't we all? For me personally, I do not want to simply be known as a "social activist," but rather someone who loves sacrificially in a way that honors God and brings the blessing of "true life" to those I encounter on a daily basis through what I do. I pray that God brings this dream to life wherever I find myself -- both in my present life, and in the future.

I guess it's not so bad to be in the process of "finding yourself." In fact, it seems to be quite a gift. I don't have to have it all figured out and neither do you. Live a little! My life is an open book and I have no agenda, no plan, and no blueprint to follow. I am free to live each day, explore my passions, get involved with what I love, and intentionally explore what that "next step" may be in my life... whenever it may be. Let's just say... for the first time in my life, I am proud to be a twenty-something, and if you are, you should be too!

thirst.

2009-06-09T18:49:00.000-07:00

I have been reflecting quite a bit lately on the concept of thirst and what it means to experience thirst in one's soul. It is an aching feeling, really, when we find ourselves so sun-scorched by the rays of life that we feel weak, tired, and unable to function as we are supposed to. Have you ever felt like this? As if the difficulties of life were too much, and that with each beat and blow, you find yourself feeling even more defeated? Better yet, where do we go when we find ourselves in such a place? Who or what can rejuvenate us?

My story begins in Psalm 36:7-9... a passage of Scripture that says that God's children feast in the abundance of the house of God, and are given drink from the river of His delights. It also says that with God is the fountain of life, the place from which all life begins and is said to flow. He is the ultimate source of joy, peace, love, and satisfaction. He is the source we are supposed to run to when we are thirsty.

I read these verses a few mornings ago and found myself feeling a bit "stuck." In fact, what I realized through reading them was that I was experiencing a drought in my heart and really needed a little bit of this rejuvenation I was reading about. You can only go for so long before the reality of disappointments, unfulfilled desires, broken dreams, and failed relationships zap the very soul out of you and leave you feeling dry. I'm sure we've all been there more often than we'd like to admit.

I closed my Bible because I wasn't "feeling anything." Shame on me; no matter how hard I try, it's usually all about me anyhow. What I surprisingly found, however, was that in going about my day, I was reminded quite often of the concept of thirst and more specifically, what it meant that I felt thirsty in my heart. I knew the drought was heavy and that I needed to experience love anew... I just wasn't sure how to let God be that provider in my life who could bring me to life again. At this point, these were just sayings on a page that I couldn't wrap my mind around.

And then it happened... right before my eyes. I had taken our Jack-Russell Terrier out for an afternoon walk and upon my return, found myself face to face with two of the construction workers who had been slaving for the past week to perfect the outside patio where we live. I knew two things about these men: they were immigrants from Cuba and they were very hard workers. When I encountered them outside by the patio, they were lying on the ground with faces a shade of red so deep it looked like it hurt. I could tell they were absolutely drained.

Naturally, I strike up a conversation with them in Spanish. We talk about how miserable the sun is amongst other random, insignificant topics before I make my way towards the air-conditioned, million dollar home that awaits me behind one small door. I glance back to say Adios, and something catches my eye... their water jugs were empty. They were exhausted of thirst.

Shelly... my sweet child, be My hands and feet and fill them. Without saying a word, I grab the workers' water jugs and take them inside. I fill them both with water and supplement the jugs with ice. Cold water. I take them outside and the men glare into my eyes as if I had just completed the entire work on the patio myself. No, solamente agua... just water. I know you must be tired and thirsty, and I'm sure this will help. They could not believe it. Water. Who knows how long they had been sitting on the ground, waiting for the moment in which they could find enough strength to stand up again. They grab the jugs out of my hands and they thank me over and over again. Muchas gracias... de verdad, muchas gracias. I suppose I had no idea how much such a gesture would mean to them.

I cried after this encounter, only because I watched God bring a verse of Scripture to life right before my very eyes. That very morning, I had been awakened to the concept of thirst and to the person of God as the very One who fulfills that necessity in our lives. Even so, I still felt "stuck" because of the condition I was experiencing in my heart and wasn't sure how to approach God as the fountain of life. That same afternoon, God used two construction workers to teach me how simple this truth really is. We need water to survive, so when we find ourselves thirsty, we find the water and we drink it. When the water is not accessible, God brings it to us... often times in the most unexpected and unlikely places. Even when we do not have the strength to ask, God fills our jugs with all we need to get through the tasks He has placed before us. He will never leave us thirsty.

These men thought I was simply filling their water jugs, while simultaneously, God was beginning to fill mine. He was breaking through a season of drought that had taken up residence in my heart for way too long. Splashes and sprinkles brought rejuvenation and a sweetly renewed sense of hope to my soul. God was affirming His promises in my life that He would never leave my soul to dry out. He would never leave me thirsty. He was the fountain of life... the very joy I needed to find satisfaction and passion in my soul once again. If I struggled to find what I needed to replenish my soul in Him, He would bring it to me in His own precious way and timing. He would fill my water jug once again... only this time, I knew with confidence that He would bring it to overflow in a way I had never experienced before.

the dance.

2009-05-28T07:50:00.000-07:00

Everyone who knows me knows that I love to dance... around the house, down the street, in the car, or with a group of friends. It all started when I was three years old and my mother so graciously decided that I was going to become the world's next ballerina star. Turns out I only affirmed her dreams for my life when I took the stage in a tutu at age four and apparently made up my own dances in place of those I had been taught. I simply listened to the music and found freedom in moving whichever way I could. What can I say: I was a free-spirit, and undoubtedly still am today.

That's right... I love to dance. One of my favorite parts about spending four months in Ecuador was having those rare, few-and-far-between nights when a group of us went out to a salsa club and just moved. It felt as if I was constantly begging my friends around me come dancing with me, despite the fact that I could hardly move my hips the way most Ecuadorians could. Did that stop me? Absolutely not! For me, it wasn't about perfection. It was about letting go of my inhibitions and learning how to just be. Whether I knew the right moves or not was irrelevant. I simply listened to the music and danced without a blueprint for my feet, just like I did when I took the stage as a preschooler.

Unsurprisingly, this same desire followed me to West Palm Beach, so when I finally was blessed enough to meet some friends even semi-interested in going salsa dancing with me, I jumped at the opportunity. My friends were going to take me to City Place, which is known for its booming night life and crowds, especially on a Saturday night. Our plan was to go to a place that was a bit more sophisticated; one that was not filled with drunken perverts trying to hit on you or barely dressed girls bearing it all in hopes of gaining something for their souls. We wanted to go and dance, not immerse ourselves into an environment that so many of us knew we had no place in being.

You see, the majority of my teenage years and well into my college years, I was a part of the "night-life" scene. I am a redeemed party-girl, one who has pursued life in drunken chaos and mini-skirts, only to find out the hard way that it does not exist. For me, the glitz and glamour of getting drunk every weekend faded as time went on. I did not realize this until my freshman year at the College of Charleston when I lost everything I thought was my life and was left alone to process the pain. My "party buddies" did not care about my heart condition, for if I was not the life of the party, I was nothing to them.

People say that it is during these moments when God's grace can be seen most profoundly in a person's life. I can testify that this is the absolute truth. I cannot tell you how many nights I spent weeping on my dorm room floor during this season of my life, wondering if I should just end it all to make the pain go away. I remember thinking to myself, "If God really loves me, where is He? Why would He let me fall so far and then leave me here to suffer alone? Maybe it's all a lie. Maybe there is no God. There can't be.". If I chose to believe in God, I somehow had this belief that if I was not worthy of being loved based upon my actions, then He wanted me to suffer and pay for it. I thought I deserved pain because of the decisions I had made and who I had become. I did not know that God held out His hand to prostitutes, murderers, and adulteresses; I thought He loved only those whose lives could be wrapped in a box and tied up with a pretty perfect bow. I thought He only loved those who went to church and had never said a curse word. Damnit...my messy, sinful, shameful life had no place in the kingdom of God, and I was sure of it.

If you know my story, you know that God's grace finally did lift me up off of that dorm room floor and it pushed me to become the woman I am today. The love of God turned my hopelessness into a mustard seed of faith that led me to consider what my life would be like if I chose to let Him love me. I chose to stop viewing myself as damaged goods. I began to pursue good things: honesty, purity, and love. The most imperative part of my journey was when I made the choice to set myself apart from the life and the environment I used to "belong" to. While this may not be what every person needs to do, I knew that in order for my heart to heal, I had to let God show me that I indeed had an identity apart from being a party girl. I wanted to believe that this was possibly, and so for the sake of my heart, I broke free from these places and pursued hope in brand new ones.

With all of this in mind, let's backtrack. My friends and I decided to go dancing, so tell me how I could possibly end up in a night club with barely-dressed showgirls running around and serving champagne at the sound of every beat? Our innocent desire to dance had quickly catapulted us into an environment whose elements felt like spiders crawling on my skin. From the moment I walked through the doors of this place, I knew in my spirit that I had no place being there. I was surrounded by my past and saw reflections of my former self in the faces of those around me. The emotions were stirring while quick swift reminders of the baggage I used to carry were rising to the surface and being thrown into my face by my own conscience. Words that had been spoken to me at the College of Charleston were being rehearsed in my head: You'll never be more than who you were. You'll always be that girl. You are not worthy enough for true love. For the sake of my heart, I knew I needed to leave.

We left the club and headed towards the parking garage. I remember feeling so small in those streets, surrounded by groups of people who seemed to be having the time of their lives, as if they had never been happier and were truly fulfilled in who they were. Perhaps some of them were genuinely content; I truly cannot say. For me, I knew better than to be moved by the apparent glitz and glitter of this environment; I knew how empty it was when I attempted to find my security and worth in it. What I thought would make me secure, fulfilled, and happy left me scarred, shamed, and without hope. Perhaps for the sake of my heart today, I needed this to happen in order to be reminded of this piece of my journey and how far God has brought me from this season of my past. I have by no means reached perfect or the heights of awareness about my self worth and security in Christ today, but I can say that God's grace has brought me a very long way.

Needless to say, I never truly got my dance that night. Something that had been done in such pure intention had quickly evolved into a slippery-slope of actions and thoughts that led most of us to discomfort and uneasiness with not only where we were, but also who we were. Do I dare say that these places are wrong for everyone? Absolutely not. If someone can be in these environments and not be affected or moved by them, more power to them. I have met people who minister in strip clubs and gay bars for the sake of love and hope. How could we possibly say that Jesus would not have been in these places, reaching out His hands to those who cannot see that they have an opportunity and a calling to become something more than this, something truly beautiful? Tell anyone from any background or system of beliefs that they have an opportunity to become a part of God's story and they will undoubtedly rehearse the many reasons why they don't "deserve" heaven, or to be loved, or to attend church. I'm too awful to go to church, they argue. Actually, we are too awful not to go to church. Thank God that His grace is real, and as depicted in my story, it has nothing to do with who we are and what we have done. If we let it, it can pour into our hearts and change us. It can take the old and make it new again. It can bind up wounds and reduce the appearance of scars. It can give us new passions and new dreams; new direction and new hope. Who in life does not need such a transformation?

I began this post in conversation about dancing to share with you this very thing: Sunday morning during the 11 am service at Grace Fellowship, I finally got my dance. Let me just tell you that I am not generally one to be found dancing during a church service. Somewhere I learned that you are "supposed" to close your eyes, fold your hands, and meditate upon the words of the music being sung; worship God in reverence and humility rather than make noise and make a scene. Let's just say that this particular morning, something came over me that I simply cannot explain. Maybe it was because I was wearing a long, flowing dress that looked like an African tribal dress. Who knows. Whatever it was, it was as if every note being played or sung was flooding through my soul and pouring over into every limb in my body. I had no choice but to move. I remember thinking to myself, I should probably stop dancing or else these people are going to think I am extremely weird. Think about it, I was brand new to their congregation and had just come from Ecuador, and here I was dancing in the middle of their service next to my new friend's entire family, and a few sets of grandparents to the right of me. For a brief moment, I imagined in my mind that the set of parents behind me were glaring in my direction and burning wholes into my feet with their smirks; or perhaps they were covering their children's eyes and whispering in their ears that they should not grow up to be one of those people who spins around during worship. Needless to say, these thoughts did not captivate my heart for long. I was simply caught up in grace. I closed my eyes and forgot that there was a crowd surrounding me; I was dancing in complete and utter freedom, for God had given me my dance.

While I realize so much has been discussed in this post, I would like to end with one important truth: God is real. His grace is real, and it truly does change lives. If you are skeptical, I will continue to bear my soul and share with you how much of a mess I was before I knew the love of God in my life. If you don't believe me, I'd be more than happy to tell you of the many stories I know of others who have been transformed by this love. It may not happen "all at once," but if you begin to open your heart, you too may be able to experience what it means to dance with the Creator of the universe in a way that frees you to be more than you ever imagined you could be. I sure have.

serving you in Grace,
me

reflections on joy.

2009-05-22T21:50:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot about joy lately; maybe because I have been reading John Piper's "When I Don't Desire God: How to Fight for Joy," or maybe because I have yet to grasp what I am supposed to do now that I feel like my joy is fading. John Piper argues that we are to fight for our joy in God; reach for it, scramble for it, kick and scream for it no matter what obstacles we are faced with. But here is my question: what do you do when you just don't have the strength to fight? What do you do when you don't know where your passion has gone, but you just don't desire the fight anymore?

If there is something that I have known in my life, it is passion. Real live, heart-throbbing, jump-out-of-your-seat, talk-for-hours-upon-hours passion. In my life, I have loved more than I can even put into words. I have been moved by love, and I have gone to great depths for this love. I have moved across the world for this love. I have sacrificed my security for this love. I have forgiven those who have torn my heart apart for this love. I still remember returning from Young Life Camp in Lake Champion, NY at age sixteen; it was there that I had had my first real encounter with God. I knew it was real, for all the sudden I had new desires, new dreams, new pursuits, new passions, and most importantly, a new love that had changed me from the inside out. I was completely in love with God, and everyone knew it.

There comes a point, or a season perhaps, when we find that our passions have run dry and what was once the love that fueled our soul has somehow become mere routine or regulation. Perhaps you are a mother, for example, and you find that you have simply accepted your role, rather than embraced it; perhaps you are working in a job that you find is mundane, however you remain in chains for the fear of being uncomfortable with change; or perhaps you are like me, one who has found that the object of her passions that at one point brought her alive has somehow stirred up a battle in her heart. What was once the air I breathed has now left me struggling to breathe; what was once my everything has somehow been pushed aside and traded for less-significant things.

To both see this in my life and to admit it, let's be honest, is surely difficult. We love to have it 'all-together,' and while I do not like to admit that I am wrestling, I do it because I want to fall in love with Christ all over again. I want my faith to be real again; I want the delight of my heart to be Him and Him alone. I have tasted and I have seen. I have been radically changed by His love. I was once such a broken, scarred, and insecure girl with wounds all over my heart and life. God reached down into the depths of the pit and lifted me up with His own hands; had He not, I'd probably still be there today and I guarantee I'd be in a much worse condition. God's grace is beautiful, and in response, I want to move my feet because God alone takes my hand to the heights and the depths that He calls me to walk through. Because I have experienced God in a real way such as this, it makes it all the more difficult to 1.) accept that my joy is fading and 2.) find that it is a struggle to obtain it once again.

So what do we do when joy cannot be forced? I believe I was given a brief example of how this is possible when I found myself deep in conversation with a new friend over Starbucks tea in downtown West Palm Beach. We were not supposed to end up in this place, however we began to share our stories and I am confident these moments were divine. My friend had boldly encountered Christ and responded by leaving his life in Spain to come to West Palm, where he now serves in the church, leads worship, and has started an after-school program in one of West Palm's poorest and most at-risk communities. He shared so many encouraging things, yet more than every single word that he said, what spoke the loudest to my heart was the fact that he radiated with genuine joy in the Lord. I'm not talking phony or religious talk about delighting yourself in God; I'm talking genuine, heart-felt, life-changing hope, passion, faith, and joy. He was like a sponge, wanting to soak it all in; this summer alone, he is planning to go on missions trips to India and Nicaragua. Why? He says his life means nothing else than to do work for God. I needed this fresh encounter with someone genuine; I needed to see someone else in love in order to remember how beautiful this love truly is. God so clearly used this friend and his story to open my eyes; I saw so much of myself in his passion, and it reminded me of the joy I used to know so deeply in my own heart. The joy of the Lord was so clearly emulating from His life and from His testimony. I found myself achingly jealous of it, so much so that I was led to this post and a clear opportunity to process all of this in ink.

We can only fake it for so long, and then there comes a point when you realize it is simply not there like it used to be. When we find ourselves in this place, we must allow God to transform our hearts and solidify that we will continue to fight, whether the desire is there or not. The fight is everything, because without joy, this life is mundane. Without knowing God in a real and genuine way, we can never experience the fullness of what it means to truly live. Though we try, we still feel empty; maybe we hit rock bottom, as I have done so many times in my journey, and we find that the only one who has not abandoned us is God alone. We reach our hands to the sky, not knowing what we are asking for, and we speak a few simple words: If you are truly there, God, please help me. The blessings that we find are that He is there, and He will respond to our tears because that's just who He is.

See David's prayer in Psalm 51:12 - "Restore me to the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit." His joy needed to be restored, so what did he do? He asked God to restore it. If I sit here tonight and simply accept the fact that I am in a season of joylessness, I will never fight for that which is better. I will somehow find an aching, yet numb comfort in this state of being. The key is determining in my heart that I will not settle; I will get on my knees even though it hurts, I will love others even when they reject me, and I will fix my eyes on God, even when they seem to desire that which is in their surroundings much more than that which is perfect and divine. For these things, I will fight.

As Piper explains, true joy is not based upon facts, but upon the beauty of the facts. It is having a pleasing sense of Christ's beauty. Genuine love for God and for others. Sacrificial love. Life-changing and beautiful truth, that like my dear friend, emulates from our hearts and pours out upon those we encounter.

Take this as my promise that I will fight. Joy will fill my heart once again; I am confident.

until next time,
me

one month.

2009-05-17T14:34:00.000-07:00

I just realized that today marks "one month" since I have been in West Palm Beach, FL. It feels like just yesterday I was saying goodbye to Guayaquil and making my way to Lynchburg, VA, where I was met by my dearest friend Ashley who drove three whole hours in the middle of the night just to come pick me up. We made a stop at 7-11, my first re-entry experience with ridiculous prices (compared to Guayaquil), and made our way to Lynchburg from 2 am - 5:30 am, all the while just chatting about all that God had taught us over the past four months since I had been away. Ashley too was about to take a bold move away from Liberty and onto Australia for a DTS program with YWAM. It's been her dream, since....well....forever it seems. I am thrilled for her :)

Anyhow, today I attended the Spanish service at Grace Fellowship and let me just say that THOSE PEOPLE CAN WORSHIP. I was reminded so much of the faith-filled genuine worship I witnessed at the house churches in Guayaquil two years ago. These people just get it; they weep, they kneel at the altar without being told to do so, and they praise God with loud voices and sing with their entire hearts, exactly as we should. It's amazing to see God moving amongst these people. Their faith is truly contagious!

After service, me and a few friends went to a Cuban restaurant, where we just talked about our travel experiences, our favorite music, and even danced a little in our seats to the latin grooves :) Turns out one of the guys with us was from (drumroll please).... GUAYAQUIL, ECUADOR. What a sweet blessing to talk about our favorite places, foods, and customs in Ecuador. He knew exactly where I had lived while I was there, and it felt good to have a fellow 'hermano' who could relate to the place that has changed everything about who I am. Next on our list is SALSA dancing! I seriously can't wait. International music just does something in my heart I can't explain.

This is a short post that is a lot different from all the others. Less serious, I suppose. I guess I just wanted to take a minute to 'mark' this one-month period and say that God is doing a lot in my life. He has brought me to this place that I am starting to call 'home.' I assumed that I would not find any culture here in West Palm, but God has surprised me completely! I find more and more opportunities every single day to meet people that bless my life.

In the spirit of 'dancing,' I thought I'd attach a sweet memory of my friend Maike from Germany and I 'breakin-it-down' in the streets of Ambato, Ecuador about two months ago. The guys reaction to the right is unfortunately not uncommon and one we got pretty used to! :)

hasta pronto,
me

taken by surprise.

2009-05-14T19:51:00.000-07:00

Have you ever walked into a room and just felt loved? It really is a bizarre yet divine feeling and one I most certainly did not expect walking into Grace Fellowship's young-adult service last Wednesday evening.

You see, if you read my previous post, you'd know I was looking for a little connection here in West Palm; a church home to call my own, passionate and caring friends, someone to walk beside me on this journey towards knowing God and learning how to enjoy life without wearing a mask of perfection. After my Panera incident, I promised myself I'd just let things happen on their own. To my own surprise, they actually would.

I had ventured out with my two year old, Gianna, for a fabulous Monday morning at Walmart (ever try sticking to a mental list and trying to make decisions when you have a toddler flooding your cart with maxi-pads she decides to use as a giant seat?) I really am not familiar with much of West Palm except for the essentials: Walmart, Target, Panera Bread, Barnes and Noble, and more recently, the Wellington Community Center where I take the toddler for her swim lessons. After all, my GPS (Betsy, as the girls and I have named her) tells me where to go, and I just follow; no questions asked.

On our way home, I had made a wrong turn onto a road called 'Okeechobee' and Betsy immediately started yelling at me to make a U-turn when possible. I had every intention of doing so, except for the fact that half of me was vicariously living through the Cinderella movie playing in the back seat, and the other half of me was trying to make sure I stayed on the road and did not fall into a ditch trying to maneuver a mini-van the size of a tank. Definitely not my VW Cabrio. Before I could reach an off-ramp, a small sign off to the right caught my eye: Grace Fellowship Church. Services at 9:15 and 11:15 am. Spanish Service at 9:15 am. Wednesday Night Bible Studies. Berean Christian School.

I can't really explain why, but I was immediately drawn to this church. Perhaps it is because the only real "home church" I have ever really known shares the name of Grace Fellowship. Perhaps it was because of the Spanish service, or because it was new to me and had not even been considered on my list of churches I had been planning to visit in the next few weeks here in West Palm. For whatever reason, I could not get Grace out of my mind or my heart.

Being the go-getter that I am, I rushed back to our house in Wellington, put my already snoring toddler in her bed, and jumped onto my computer to find the church's website. I was really excited and I wasn't even sure why. I checked out the churches ministries: Young Adults, Spanish Ministry, A missions minded church who is passionate about people and the world.. I wanted to know more, so I filled out one of those "contact me" forms and shared a (very brief) part of my journey and how I ended up in West Palm. Soon after that, I received a very warm, welcoming, and open email from the Young Adults Pastor at GF, who also happened to be a soon-to-be LU Seminary Grad. Turns out, there's more LU alumni here than I even knew about; what a blessing to my heart! He invited me to their Wednesday night gathering for young adults and for the first time in a long time, my fear about visiting a new church and being in an unknown place left me. Se fue. What I had been so nervous about before had transformed in my heart into a boldness and excitement that enabled me to be ready to embrace yet another opportunity to "put myself out there" and make the most of this experience God has provided for me. In this process, I recalled more than once the precious words of my six-year old Mikayla when recounting how she mustered up enough courage to stand in front of a restaurant full of people and sing an acepella song about how God is her Father and loves her: "I knew God was by my side, and that's how I had the courage to do that. He's always with me, and that's how I know I can do anything." Ever been humbled by the faith of a six year old? Child-like faith is such a beautiful concept, and with that in mind, I decided in my heart that I was going to the service on Wednesday...even though that meant I was going all alone into a sea of faces that I assumed would not even notice that I did not quite belong. For me, it was sink or swim. I was choosing to swim.

Sure, I was nervous, however to my absolute surprise, I was overwhelmed by the kindness and the hearts of those I met at this service. People came up to me and introduced themselves, they introduced me to their friends, they flooded me with phone numbers and email addresses, and before I knew it, I had been invited to every single event and small group and get-together that their church and ministry offered. My fear of being the "new girl" was overtaken by their compassion and genuine love. People cared that I was there, and person after person went out of their way to make sure that I knew that.

What blessed me the most was to be reminded of my recent undergraduate Acts class and how the early-church existed in complete love and in unity. While I do not yet know this group in depth, that's truly the impression I got from them. They loved God. They were growing together. They understood outreach. They welcomed 'outsiders' with open arms, which obviously in this context, meant the absolute world to me. I was drawn to their genuine natures. I even saw a few people with care-free holes in their jeans. Made my heart skip a beat! I reckoned in my mind that there was simply no way I could not return the following week for fellowship. However I knew it, I simply knew that this a place where I wanted to be.

This being said, I am excited, more than ever, to watch as God unfolds His perfect plan for me here in West Palm Beach.
No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him (1 Cor 2:9). My heart rests in this precious jewel more than ever today as I watch Him continue to write my story with a pen that my mind cannot even begin to grapple with.

oh, and P.S., if anyone is wondering, I wore my muddy sandals :)
oh, and here are two pictures that have nothing to do with this post, but are sure to make you smile!

hasta pronto,
me

the church will find you.

2009-05-13T20:02:00.000-07:00

So, minutes after I posted my last post the other day, I proceeded to drink my hazelnut coffee at Panera and flip the page of my Genesis textbook... only a few more chapters until I was done, I reminded myself. I had a mission and a plan... I had to finish this assignment.

It amazes me how often God uses 'interruptions' to speak to me. Let's be honest here... my first reaction to someone or something interrupting me when I have a 'plan' is to get frustrated or stomp my feet like a child. This day in particular, I'd get a lesson in humility and how to stop and listen to those around me, because more often than not, God has put them in my path for that very purpose.

I remember the man's voice was gentle... very subtle, almost muffled beneath the families gathering around us for morning brunch and coffee. He was a short little man, sitting at a table by himself right next to me. When I realized he was asking me a question, I turned in his direction.
"Are you still studying?" he asked.
I sighed... (admittedly frustrated, in my 'plan, gotta-get-this-done-asap-mind').
"Yes, I am," I replied, "I am studying at Liberty University."

Now, what I have learned is that once you drop the Liberty name, you are always bound to get into an interesting conversation, whether it's "Where's Liberty and how you'd end up in a small town like Lynchburg?" or "I know that man Jerry Falwell who hates the homosexuals and the teletubbies and blew up the political scene with his overly-blunt comments," or, as this gentleman simply stated, "I love Liberty. God is really moving in that place."

What a blessing to be reminded that Liberty, while it may have a negative reputation amongst some circles, overall, is making a wave amongst mainstream Christian circles, and even now, in the secular world. With the rise of publicity from Kevin Roose's book, The Unlikely Disciple, people are buzzing to understand what Liberty is all about and how there can possibly exist a place where twenty-somethings really, I mean really love God and want to live for him. For the first time in long time, I was proud to be able to say that I was a soon-to-be Liberty graduate, which was made perfectly clear by the smurk on my face as I held up my school textbook. "Genesis," I bragged.

We talked about West Palm, and I shared my frustrations about finding a church and fellowship. He told me he had been involved in missions work in Honduras and was part of a Southern Baptist church here in FL. A few minutes later, we shook hands and he slowly stepped down from his seat and snailed his way towards the door. An eighty-seven year old can mobilize himself like I can. I watched him and smiled as he walked away, so blessed by even a moment from someone who cared enough to say hello. Then, I saw him stop in the middle of the street and proceed towards the doors of Panera once again. He opened the doors, walked right up to my table, looked me right in the eyes, and said this...

"I know you're looking for a church and for other things, but I promise you one thing... you are not going to find a church... the church is going to find you. Gotta love God, and move forward....that's all I can tell you."

I sat there in silence, as he seemed so passionate about what he returned to share with me, as if he had a message for me and felt it absolutely crucial I hear him out. Just love God, he said. Chill out. Just focus on the blessings. Don't try to maneuver your life around. God brought you here for a reason, and He WILL provide for you. My heart wrestled, but upon hearing his words, I begun to see for the first time in a long time. I reckoned in my heart to wait for God to open doors and show me how He wanted me to use my time here in West Palm, even though I knew it meant loneliness, waiting, confusion, and even sometimes bitterness and frustration.

God works this way in my life more often than not. A simple word here, a song in the car on the radio, a conversation with a stranger, an 'inconvenience' turned into a blessing. My journal from Ecuador is filled with these moments... some of the most precious to me being conversations with strangers on the streets or in the markets who had no idea they were pouring into my life during my time of greatest need. I will never forget these moments, as they are etched onto my heart like nothing has been before.

I left Panera that day, encouraged to allow God to bring exactly what I needed into my life in His perfect timing. Even though I had been struggling to understand why I had come to West Palm, and when I was going to find a church and make friends, I was confident God knew what He was doing. After all, my God does not make mistakes for He who began a good work in me will perfect it until the end. (Phil 1:6)

Love,
me

hope, just a word.

2009-05-10T07:08:00.000-07:00

What do you do when hope has become just a word, and faith nothing more than a feeling? How do you pick yourself back up again and find what you need to persevere and move forward?

In Ecuador, I lived amongst perseverance. I lived amongst people in destitute situations, must worst than my own, yet somehow and somewhere, they found exactly what they needed to muster up enough courage to take a step in some direction. Me, on the other hand, I find myself pretty dormant, not knowing where hope truly lies, and not able to see purpose in all of my circumstances.

I find myself wanting; longing for something that has never been mine, yet convincing myself as each day passes that perhaps it someday could be, or even will be. I find myself hopeless and afraid; like a scared little girl who has been beaten down to the ground by a force much greater than she is. I know this place all too well; it's the story of my past, and a mess that God has had to bring me out of more times than I'd like it admit.

As I am writing these words, I cannot help but be in a bit of shock at the implications of what I am verbalizing. What happened to my hope? What happened to my boldness? I remember being on my flight away from Guayaquil, Ecuador while tears streamed down my face as I cried over and over again that I never wanted to forget the person that this place made me. I never wanted to forget that feeling. Somewhere amongst my chaotic re-entry, becoming acclimated to life in the US, and scurrying to start a new adventure, I lost it, or as they would say in Ecuador, se fue.

My heart se fue. My hope se fue. I won't say that I thought this would be easy or anything; I guess I just never realized the state of destitution leaving Ecuador would create in my heart. Destitution, indeed; that's a perfect word to describe the state I am in, and though my knowledge of destitution cannot even compare to that of other people less fortunate than I, it still feels pretty empty.

I say all this to reiterate my question in the beginning of this post: what do you do when hope has become just a word, and faith just a feeling? What do you know when you "know" what to do, but you cannot find the strength to do it?

Usually at the end of these kinds of posts, I offer up some kind of hopeful solution to the pain. This time, I'm stumped. There is no cookie cutter answer that I can slap over this one; no superficial quote or witty saying that can make this feel better. It's deeper than I realize; very real, and very difficult to be admitting. I believe it is also one that more people than just myself are experiencing. I pray that my honesty can help others to admit they are in a similar state of being. If not admit, maybe they could begin to ask themselves these very questions and seek the answers their hearts are longing to find.

We can't do this alone, I'm confident, and for that reason I write and continue to bear my soul.

muddy cargo pants and rugged sandals

2009-05-06T20:13:00.000-07:00

Today, for the first time in a little over three weeks, I pulled out my green, dirt-soiled cargo pants and my rugged strapped sandals. This may seem like an insignificant incident to most, however to me, it reminded me of four blessed months spent in my sweet Ecuador... months in which freedom was the stirring of my heart, and not once did the pressures or the voices of others insist that I fit in or even "make sense" to the world around me. You see, I loved bumming around the streets of Ecuador in my cargo pants and a messy bun; in fact, I fell flat in the incan-mud in these pants and to this day, have a stain down the right leg of them. I'd rather they stay that way for the sake of not forgetting the moments that taught me to let go of the fear of "not having it all together." Such a valuable lesson, I believe, yet I will be the first one to admit that I took complete advantage of its implications in Ecuador, in that a few times, I "forgot" to brush my hair or care to match :)

These sandals, I have had since middle school. I remember packing in December for my trip to Ecuador when I came across this pair of old and rugged, yet equally fierce sandals that looked like they could trek their way through the mud and not even care. Now, I love them because, well, they are just "me;" the transformed me, perhaps. They made their way through four months in Ecuador and now, I am certain they do not belong anywhere else and most certainly not in West Palm Beach, FL. I got a few glares down at my feet today, and I'm pretty sure it had less to do with my bright Barbie-pink toenails than the fact that I was wearing ugly, muddy, non-name brand sandals. I guess that's why I love them. I've never been one to "fit the mold" anyhow.

On a side note, yet related all the while - all of this talk about freedom, dreaming, graduation, the future, embracing life, and living freely have really got me thinking: what would I do in this world if money could never be a hindrance? That's where people say our dreams are born, when we let go of the word "no" and truly let passion, not "what-ifs" guide us as we strive boldly for our dreams.

John Maxwell, Teaching Pastor at Christ Fellowship Church in West Palm Beach, FL SPOKE to my heart this past Sunday. Here is what he had to say about dreams: "We should never let someone talk us out of our dreams, but we should also never let someone talk us INTO our dreams." We need to make sure our dreams are OURS and OURS alone. That's a revolutionary concept, especially for the ones of us who are graduating and find ourselves relying on what we "should do" according to tradition, or what someone else thinks we should do instead of what we, in our hearts, know to be our passion and desire.

My real dream, as everyone knows, is to travel the world and capture culture and life with my words and my camera; maybe not even in a professional manner. I'm actually not very good at either, but both are what make me come alive. Isn't there a quote about this concept? "Don't ask yourself what you can do for the world, but rather ask yourself what makes you come alive, because what the world needs is people who have truly come alive."

Honestly, I'd shine shoes for the rest of my life if I could just experience a glimpse of what I experienced during my time in Ecuador. Since no one is jumping at the opportunity to pay me to play in the dirt with little children and have tea with indigenous women in any market overseas, I need to find a practical channel for my passion. Practical? Scratch that. I know it's going to break the mold. What I meant to say is that I am waiting for God to show up and lead me in my life as I continue to test the waters and take bold steps forward into the adventure He has for me :)

Who knows, maybe sooner, rather than later, these rugged sandals will know the soils of yet another beautiful country that will scar my heart and life for eternity... or perhaps, they'll make their mark here in West Palm until it's time to trek elsewhere.

until then, I'll keep trekking and embracing the journey in the process.

love,
me

gratefulness & waffles.

2009-05-05T07:42:00.000-07:00

This morning, I had my first real encounter in a while with ungratefulness. Mind you, my encounter was with a four year old, and while I realize she is young and has not seen the poverty that exists in the world enough to realize how blessed she really is, I have to be honest it kind of shocked me. I realize I should not expect a child to understand what I have seen and how it has impacted my life, but nonetheless, the situation stirred something in my heart that I didn't really realize was there.

It all had to do with waffles. Yes, waffles. 7:30 AM, and there I was, making sure that the girls were well-fed before getting off to school for the day. I thought I would do something a little 'extra' for them by making waffles. Waffles in the toaster, check. Syrup AND whipped cream on the waffles, check (mommy would most likely not approve). Pass the butter knife and fork to the six year old, check. Cut up the waffles for the two year old and four year old, check. Everyone was happy, or so I thought.

Turns out, the four year old didn't WANT her waffle cut. Her response was to put her head down on the table and refuse to eat it. At first, I told her to leave the table if she didn't want to eat, and proceeded the make the girls' lunches. Within four minutes of her pouting, I knew I had to respond. I walked over to the table and knelt down beside her. Something in my heart just snapped. I looked her dead in the eyes and said this: "There are little girls in Ecuador who would do anything for that waffle, even if you threw it in the dirt and stepped all over it. You need to be thankful. You are making me really sad and I expect you to eat this waffle or else you will go to school hungry like they do."

She ignored my comment and proceeded to pout. It wasn't important to her, and long story short, after a few more minutes of pouting, a time out, and an intervention from her parents, she was eventually given her un-cut waffle, just as she wanted. Lesson shot. Wasted words. I decided in my heart to remove myself from the situation and just accept what had happened, seeing that the point I was trying to make could not stand against a pouting four year old. The mother understands this concept, but I suppose at 7:30 AM, it was just easier for everyone if we just forgot about it and gave her what she wanted.

What I have taken from this experience is that concepts such as gratefulness and gratitude can only arise from knowing concepts such as destitution, poverty, and great need. I am fully convinced, and have certainly seen, that you cannot teach these ideas in a text book or through mere words. I fully believe that you have to know the depths in order to see how wonderful the heights are; in the same way, someone who has known great heights will experience their lows in life a little harder, knowing in their hearts that the places from which they have fallen were ones of great blessing and most certainly worth the fight.

I am over the situation, for I realize it is not one that I can win. I cannot change the world by trying to convince everyone that there are people who live with next to nothing. I cannot make anyone understand poverty, or care to reach out to those who are in need. I cannot make anyone love their neighbors or befriend a foreigner who lives in their midst. Only God can open someone's eyes and heart to respond in such ways, not I.

I am blessed by dear friends and the few people I know who understand this, or at least try to. It is not something the world wants to understand, because it is uncomfortable. It makes you care a little more, conserve a little more, and love a little more. It makes you self-indulge a little less, which is most certainly NOT the message our day and age feeds us.

Maybe we'll try waffles again tomorrow, and I will remind them once more of how blessed they truly are.

Until next time,
Shelly

new beginnings.

2009-05-02T14:20:00.000-07:00

I should be writing more. So much has happened since I left Ecuador on April 3, and in fact, it has all gone by so quickly that I fear I have missed so many of the lessons I was meant to learn. My decision to leave was not an easy one. In fact, before I made the decision to head back to the States, I had just been approved for an eight-month Visa to remain in my photography class and possibly get a job in Ecuador. Funny how God works, I suppose.

I am not going to take the time to elaborate on my perspectives of re-entering the United States once again. Let's just say I was hit smack right in the face with a whole lot of prejudice and ignorance very quickly. One month later, even today, I struggle with similar mentalities and attitudes. The way our country rejects people of other cultures and beliefs breaks my heart in a way I cannot even put into words. I will save these emotions for a later post, in which I explain the prejudice I both witnessed and even faced myself within ten minutes of stepping onto US grounds.

Anyhow, my main focus of this post is to "update" everyone on my whereabouts and the new journey God has placed before me. Long story short, About two months ago, I joined an Aupair website in an effort to find a nanny position overseas in a country. I was looking for yet another opportunity to embrace a new culture, use my Spanish language, and of course continue to love on kids. I never really expected much to come of this, however before I knew it, I had come in contact with a family in West Palm Beach, FL. Obviously my first reaction to this opportunity was a conflicting one-- I had lived in poverty and had seen the way people were suffering as a result of being in physical, emotional, and spiritual need-- how could I possibly go live in riches?

Over the course of the next few weeks, I remained in contact with the family and we discussed the options of me coming to Florida. They were a beautiful, fun-loving, and cultural family with three girls (5, 4, and 2), with one on the way. Both the mother and father were doctors and had their own family practice. They were passionate. Driven. They desired that their children be influenced positively and led spiritually. They wanted their girls to understand culture and learn gratitude. They wanted their girls to learn Spanish. So many of my passions combined into one. I began to consider the opportunity, until March 9 when I wrote them and told them I had decided to stay in Ecuador. I thought I was making the right choice at the time, and left it at that.

She responded stating that this was unfortunate news and that they had felt pretty confident about me as their nanny, so they'd be in touch if something did not work out with the person they eventually chose. Then, they attached a recent picture of their family, taken by a family friend in the West Palm area:

I opened the photograph and my heart dropped. There I was, in Ecuador, amidst so many blessings and opportunities, yet for some reason I could not understand why I had made the decision I did. I remember turning to Leeana (my dear friend from Pittsburg who fortunately has been a part of so many of my rants, raves, confusions, etc) and I showed her the picture. I'd like to say my heart decided then and there; I'd be packing up my things and heading out onto yet another adventure.

My reasoning was this: I was about to graduate college and I knew that I could easily get caught up in the mindset that once a person graduates college, life needs to "settle down." So many people forget the adventure; they forget to take chances and take advantage of God-given opportunities that are placed in their path. I settled in my heart that I could never conform or do something "just to do it." I wanted to experience the freedom, adventure, and heart-beat that I had experienced in Ecuador every single day of my life after I left that soil if I could. While I realize some things in life are going to be mundane or ritual, for the most part, I'd like to be able to look back and know that I made the most of these years and truly found my passion in the process.

How crazy to think that just a few short months back, I truly believed I needed to settle down. I believed I needed to have it all figured out in a pretty little box with plans, schedules, and timelines. These days, I'd be lucky if I knew the date or even carry my cell phone or watch. I truly am living an adventure... an unpredictable, fun, spunky, adventure. I'd be lying if I said this was the easiest thing I've ever done, but I am learning nonetheless. There are times when I feel alone, times when I miss the places I have been and the people who have meant so much to me, times when I wish I knew more of what the future held, times when I wish I could just grab my backpack all over again and travel unknown grounds.

For now, I am here... sometimes barely hanging on, but for the most part doing all that I can to enjoy this beautiful experience God has given to me for His purpose. I have much more to say, but for now, I will close with a picture of me and the three girls who have stolen my heart.

Blessings,
Shell

capturing their stories...

2009-03-15T08:24:00.000-07:00

Today along with my photography class, I went to a small little town about 30 minutes away from Guayaquil called 'Nobol.' This is a very unique town, known for being the place where "Narcisa de Jesus" was born and is now laid. While I do not know much about her life and what she accomplished, I do know that the people in this little town are fanatics about this woman and give all of their time and energy into worshipping her. Stores are named after her, there are shrines of her old clothing in sealed glass displays, there is a fountain of pouring water that people believe is blessed by her, and her actual body is lying front and center of the sanctuary in the center of the town. Yes, her actual body! Imagine the look on my face when I asked who the replica was in the coffin in front of me; there she was... the woman this town worshipped. This was a very interesting and eye-opening experience for me! Here's a little of what I saw...

Overall, I found this town to be extremely friendly and warm-hearted. Everyone came to know our group and were so amazing about letting us take pictures. I took over 350 pictures in this town, with about 50 that I want to super-size and frame on my wall right now. I loved each and every person that I met. I didn't feel like I was just doing my "homework" for a class. I felt like I was getting into their world a bit... that's exactly what I think a photograph should do: tell a story. I'd like to share a little of my experience (through photographs) so you can see what I mean.

When I see these pictures, I am amazed at powerful they are in significantly different ways. This woman was a precious jewel who sat on the streets of Nobol with a display of jewelry wrapped around her neck and religious candles in her hands. When we asked if we could photograph her, she hesitated at first, but began to smile and let us into her world a bit. I found this man, on the other hand, standing in the back of a truck with a teeshirt wrapped around his head to keep the sweat from dripping down his face. I could tell he was a hard worker, and his eyes are proof of that. I cannot look at them without knowing he has a story of pain, and what I hope, triumph.

This woman had to be at least 85 years old and about 4'8'' tall. We found her standing at her window, watching as people passed by. When I saw her, I just knew I had to photograph her. She captured my attention. Me and one of my classmates approached her and she said we could photograph her, as long as we knew she was "going to look so ugly" in the pictures. I assured her the opposite was true... the lighting was perfect; I imagined that each wrinkle so deeply embedded in her skin was a memory of her long, lived life. She was absolutely stunning! After we spent about five minutes with her, my classmate took a picture with her at my side, and she handed us a bag full of fresh mangoes as a gift. This was surprising, as people very rarely give gifts on occasions like this; actually, as a foreigner, I have never before been given something for no reason at all (usually people ask me to BUY their mangoes). I was surprised and completely humbled; she had so little, yet her gift meant so much to me and she had no idea!

These little girls actually asked ME to take their picture! I assumed they had already been photographed by other students, so I figured I'd play along and then let them see their picture on the screen. They had a blast, and were adorable to photograph. Only problem was that after this, they began to follow me around and wanting me to take their picture in every single place in Nobol. You have to admit, their persistence and spunk is inspiring and irresistible!

This man I call "Sandilla Man" which means "watermelon man." I found him when we were walking out of the church and he just so HAPPENED to be standing in the perfect light. The moment was going to pass me by, so without even asking, I got extremely close to his face with my camera and began shooting. Surprisingly enough, he did not seem to mind! He was so excited about life and just loved his watermelons. His smile was contagious; I had to keep telling him NOT to smile so I could get some pictures with "attitude." Most ended up with his BIG, toothless smile... but what I learned is that you cannot photograph who you want a person to be (no matter what you professor says); you have to photograph them for who they really are... let them be, toothless smile and all :)

I'm not sure I'll ever fully understand this man. I found him in this awkward position and told him to STAY THERE so I could take his picture. I'm sure he thought I was JUST as awkward for asking such a question (he obviously was not comfortable). Again, for whatever reason, he was a sweet reminder of how simple life truly is. How being ourselves is a gift; how masks are not meant to worn, and how moments are meant to be lived. His mystery reminds me of how mysterious life and the world around us really is. It makes me WANT to know his story, which again, is why I think we take pictures in the first place.

After spending about 2 hours in Nobol, we decided to take a canoe down the river to see what we could find. Here's a picture of my classmates in the canoe, and me, being a tourist and looking pretty cool in my bandana :)

In the canoe, we saw little villages that seemed nearly inaccessabile by land. We passed by, and children would come running to the edge of their land to wave at us and scream "CANOA!" It was as if the outside world was something they did not know very well; perhaps I'm exaggerating (considering they do not live in the depths of the Amazon or anything), but that was surely how it felt.

We passed by this little 'pueblo' and our photography professor asked them if we could "climb up" (basically this consisted of stepping your shoe into ankle deep mud and pulling it out, over and over again until you reached the top). It was WELL WORTH IT. This family was so sweet and everyone in the surrounding houses came running to be a part of all the "fun." They were especially surprised to see me, a foreigner, on their river-side home. They didn't say much, but you could tell they enjoyed having company. Here are a few of the last shots I'm going to share... (for now). This first one is probably my favorite shot of the entire day...

Afterwards, we got back in our canoe and headed back to Nobol, where we said our goodbyes and drove back to the city where we came from.

Truly this was an amazing day! I keep thinking how much I wish that I could just travel around the world and get paid to capture these moments, meet amazing people, and show them that someone cares about them... definitely a dream that's worth dreaming :)

hasta luego.
enjoy :)

-me

give me a set of fresh eyes...

2009-03-10T22:13:00.000-07:00

It truly amazes me how each of us have been given such a distinct pair of eyes to perceive the world around us, and in turn how this perception is impacted and inspired by things that in an instant have the power and ability to change everything about who we are.

I want to share a story about my dear friend Leeana (below), who just got back from a week-long trip to the Galapagos Islands here in Ecuador. When Leeana left, I assumed that she would come back to Guayaquil with beautiful island snapshots, a bikini line to show off the tan she got, and tiki-hut souvenirs of her cruise ship and of all the wonderful places she visited. While she did come back with such things, truth be told, I never really imagined that she would come back the way she did. She came back with a piece of her heart completely transformed; she came back with a story that would not only change her life as she knows it, but one that would inspire the world around her to step out and dare to see their world with a fresh set of eyes.

When she arrived back to Guayaquil, she struggled to find the words to tell me how she felt; all she could say was that she felt "full." I scrambled in my head to try to understand the many things this could mean... full of delicious island food (doesn't sound too bad to me!), full of joy, full of life? It wasn't until I read her recent blog entry that I truly grasped what she meant by this statement.

On May 10, she reflected in her blog about how much being on those islands had opened her eyes; how beautiful they were, and how they taught her to truly appreciate what she had been given in her life. I was so blessed to read her thoughts and to be even the smallest part of her journey. She was experiencing for the first time how being in a new and unknown place has the ability and the power to change you from the inside out. Living abroad absolutely changes everything about you. For some, such changes take place when they see the dirt-ridden streets and are convicted of their own selfishness and gluttony; some see the sun rise in shades of purple and pink that whisper inside their hearts that there is 'something more' to this life; some, like my dear friend Leeana, walk upon sandy white beaches and swim in clear blue waters, only to find themselves face to face with a sea lion that rejuvenates the sense of child-like wonder and joy that has somehow been lost in the busyness of life and conformity. Now that is what I call living.

You see, I am fully convinced that our lives were meant to be lived in this way... with open eyes and open hearts, allowing change to happen where it needs to happen, allowing what has been somehow lost to be fully restored. Perhaps when we take risks in our lives, we are surprised to be restored in ways we never realized we needed. We are surprised to be given gifts that we never knew we had lost along the way. Like being given the gift of knowing that we were created to smile, to be filled with joy, to take off our shoes and skip through the streets and stop for moment to talk to our neighbors; that we were created to get dirty, to get down on the ground and roll around with precious little children, to grasp their hands and remember what it was like to be careless and free from the opinions of others; that we were created to take risks, to jump off of bridges and to climb to mountain tops that leave our hearts wondering; that we were created to be changed by our surroundings; that we were created to see beauty and to know that beauty has been created by the God of the universe who has given us all of these things to make us feel exactly what Leeana said: completely and utterly full.

I will end with one more reflection that speaks louder than any word I have written; Leeana wrote, "The grace of the Andes mountains, the feeling of jumping off of a bridge, and the beauty of the coast have all renewed feelings of overwhelming wonder and awe. Every day is full of the opportunity to discover something new and precious and glorious...It makes me want to cry thinking about how much this experience has changed me. I feel so different, in the best way possible. I feel like before I was holding myself back. I can't say how, exactly, but I just know now that I am different. I am stronger."

What a precious reminder of how we were created to be affected and inspired by that which surrounds us. What a precious reminder that God has not left us aimlessly in this world; He shows up, sometimes in places in which we least expect to see Him. He shows up because He wants us to live lives of fullness and contentment. All we have to do is allow these changes to take place, and before we know it, there will come a day in which we will open our eyes only to realize that we do not see the world in the same way as we did the day before. The sky appears much bluer, inconveniences seem to be less inconvenient, we intentionally leave our watches on our dressers, and we are in less of a hurry to 'make something' of ourselves or please those around us. Instead, our hearts learn to beat and we learn to be ourselves in a world that tells us we should be nothing but.

Such lessons, I am certain, are lessons we were created not only to learn, but to seek after with our whole hearts. May this be a challenge to us all to risk it all to have the blessed opportunity to see the world with a fresh set of eyes that never leave us feeling the same.

be blessed,
me

remaining in the 'not yet'

2009-03-09T15:02:00.000-07:00

This is the second time in three months that I have watched the clock tick, right into the hour that I was supposed to get on an airplane and leave Ecuador. This is the second time in three months that I have stayed behind, wondering what is next while calmly resting in the unknown of being in this desert place.

You see, my life doesn't necessarily "make sense" to those around me; it is not about the plans or about doing what people my age 'should do.' When I was considering leaving Ecuador today, one question was on the minds of nearly everyone I spoke to: So Shelly, what is next? For far too long in my adolescent life, I have believed that conformity would make me who I am; it would keep me safe and ensure that I had the life that I have always wanted. I felt that not only having a plan indicated success, but that having a plan that everyone agreed with would get you most out of life. What I have realized through far too many 'downfalls' is that the exact opposite is true. Life was meant to be lived. Sometimes, organized plans must be forsaken and we must press forward in confidence that God has intended for our lives to be an adventure. In this adventure, we will far too often fall to our faces only to realize that we cannot make it up past our knees; so there we remain, lifting our voices to heaven and crying out that God would be real to us and near to our hearts. There, and only there, is where we must remain until He lifts us up and calls us to move forward.

If I have learned anything throughout this journey thus far, it is that knowing God has nothing to do with religion. To truly know God is to know that your heart is beating; that there is something 'bigger' out there that determines your very essence and being. It is the air you breathe, the power that gives you eyes to see the world around you, and the love that enables you pour out your life on behalf of others. It is something real; something you see when the sun sets in the sky, when the wind sweetly whispers into your ear, and when the arms of a suffering child wrap themselves around you and somehow help you to remember that there is hope in this life. It is something that is best manifested in lives that are willing to risk it all; lives that are willing to step out and take the time to seek Him in ways 'religion' doesn't understand and in places where many aren't sure He can be found. It is something genuine, something powerful, something completely life changing.

I am blessed beyond measure to be on this journey and have such an opportunity to grow and to change. It is by no means easy, but I know with everything I have inside of me, it is well worth it to remain in the 'not yet.'

how is that for an 'update?' I am planning a sola 'get away' to the beach this week, so I'll be sure to write afterwards since I will have a lot of time to write and reflect.

until then,
-me

life is messy

2009-02-11T23:30:00.000-08:00

I realize I have not published anything in over a month; this does not mean that I have not been writing. I guess what I have been writing has been pretty personal, pretty raw. Last night, I decided to let it out and just upload it here for no other reason than to just share a little of my heart with the world. I realize it doesn't make much sense and my thoughts seem scattered, but they are what they are--very real.

Too often in my life, I have responded to the question of pain with a rather cliche answer that I may have believed in my head, but perhaps never truly felt in my heart. "God is good," I would tell myself... "He will never bring me more than I can handle." Throughout these past few months, I have been bombarded with statements such as, "God has a plan for you, Shelly" and "He will bring beauty from your pain." While somewhere in my mind I knew that what these people were saying was true, I couldn't quite seem to reconcile such statements with my present feelings of abandonment, pain, and even hopelessness. The questions kept me tossing and turning:

Where is God when all is lost?
Where is God when it hurts?
Where is God when the unthinkable happens?
Where is God when you don't know what to do?
Where is God when you don't have the answers?
Where is God when your world falls apart?
Where is God when you are tired of playing a part?
Where is God when you are tired of religion?
Where is He?

Is He here, in this 'mess' that we call life, a world that is filled with pain and suffering? Is He here when those we trust and love turn their backs on us? Is He here when we have no where to turn and find ourselves flat on our faces, poor and weary? Where is He?

What about when we don't 'feel it?' What about when we feel like everything has been a lie and we are tired of playing a part? What are we supposed to do then? Do we keep playing along, saying all the right things and communicating to everyone around us that we are holding on and doing ok?

Perhaps tonight I realize the weight of all that has struck me over this past year: what it means to experience loss, what it means to leave a life behind, what it means to watch everything that was once a dream turn into a complete nightmare and leave your heart with a scar that can never be fully healed. The truth is, I don't know how I have held on for so long. I am realizing today that such experiences cannot, and I mean absolutely cannot, leave you unchanged. When your world has been turned upside down, there is no possible way that the course of your life and your entire outlook is not drastically affected. I don't know, I guess I thought somehow that I could continue as I was, sad in the silence yet 'moving forward' when all eyes were on me. Truth is, I just don't have it in me... my hope to press on as I was has come and gone, and at times I question if it will ever return.

And, in the silence, I question... Where do I go from here? Do I 'press on' as if I still believe? As if I can package all of these feelings in a pretty little box and stand before God, confident that He will just take them all away and replace them with something beautiful? I am taught that then, and only then, can I press on and be the woman God has created me to be. Really? Do I really believe that? These feelings are very real and very raw; I am left to deal with them every single day and if I had to guess, most people in our common Christian circles wouldn't know what to do with some of the things I am experiencing. I have no facaded smile or glimmer in my eye that whispers to the world that everything is going to be okay in the end. Perhaps I am writing tonight to simply be real with myself for the first time in a very long time. Life is a mess, and yet at the same time, deep down I am confident that I cannot stray from God's love. I will not say that I 'understand' what the future holds or that I can muster some hope for what may come, however I do realize that I am on a journey towards something that is going to change me in a significant way. I may not see it for a very long time and in fact, I may never see it... all I have are entries like these to remind me exactly where I was in this part of my story, the story that is making me more of who I was created to be.

This moment is bitter sweet, for I know I would not be here in Ecuador if such experiences were not a part of my story. Sometimes when it is quiet, I try to understand what in the world I was thinking when I made the decision to come here. You see, I love Ecuador and at the same time, I hate it with everything that is inside me. I hate it because it is a place that demands that I grow; it demands that I stand face to face with heart-wrenching questions. It demands that I rid myself of the fears crippling my heart and at least open my eyes to even the smallest glimmer of hope to move forward. The experiences it brings me scream loud and clear that I cannot remain as I am; they pour salt onto my wounds and tell me that I must adapt, I must grow, I must change, I must find the beauty in the ashes that remain.

Truth is, I don't have a clue why I am here and why I feel the way I do right now. I am simply living and trying to understand the depth of all of this. I have no wisdom to offer about the pain of suffering and loss, for when I open my eyes I realize more than ever that I am standing in the midst of it. Perhaps that is where I need to be... realizing that I do not have the answers and accepting my feelings for what they are -- very messy, and very real. They may not 'fit' with what one would expect a 'God-fearing woman' to say or think, however I don't really think God wants us to hide who we are or what we are feeling. I have found in my life that I feel most refreshed when I hear someone say something that I myself was too afraid to let come out. Somewhere in the confines of religion and rules, we have lost our genuineness; we have lost our emotions, and even more so, we have lost our ability to truly feel.

We must embrace every step of the way--sometimes we have hope, and other times we don't. Sometimes we cannot see Him, and other times we could not deny His presence if we tried. Sometimes, just sometimes, we are filled with emotions that we cannot explain... we search for an anchor, and find ourselves falling to the bottom of the ocean floor. Sometimes it is there, and only there, that we can make sense of all that makes us who we are. Maybe someday I will find the strength to lift myself from this place with enough faith to move in some direction, any direction, that will change what has been.

Until then, here I remain... accepting moments like this one, no matter how messy, no matter how undelightful, no matter how painful...for they are the pieces of my story that make me who I am, and someday, will be a part of the story of how God made me who I was supposed to be...

hasta luego,

michelle

survival...

2009-01-13T08:07:00.000-08:00

At times I feel dry, as if someone took a shovel and scooped out everything from inside me that brings me life; now, I am left alone to try and survive as best as I can. When I think about "survival," my first thoughts go to those of physical life--breathing, moving, properly functioning organs, moving lines on a screen that alert those around it that the person connected to it still has a heart that is beating. Yes, these are "signs" of physical life... signs we view as precious because they encourage us to press forward in hope that the prospect of life and living is ours...

What happens, however, when lines on a screen cannot depict the heartache and pain that is a person's heart is feeling? How can we see that a person is failing? Even more so, what can that person do to survive?

When I first thought of this analogy in relation to my present life, I thought it a little bizarre; however now that I see it spelled out before me, I realize that I am precisely in this place. There came a point in my recent journey when all of my dreams were snatched away from me before I could even blink an eye or reach out my hand to grab hold of them. It was as if while I was sleeping, God changed the course of my life so drastically that when I opened my eyes in the morning, everything was different. It was as if I opened my eyes and found myself lying paralyzed in a hospital bed; I could see people around me, but I could not hear what they were saying. I could tell by the expressions on their faces and the way that they held me that they were speaking precious words of love and encouragement to me, yet not a word resonated in my mind or heart. I knew that my heart was still beating, yet I could not feel its rhythm; in fact, I could not feel anything. I questioned if what I was experiencing was a dream. I kicked and screamed and wondered when I would wake up to all the good that "had been." Day after day and month after month, I woke up to the same heart-wrenching truth: this is your life.

You better believe I wrestled with so many different emotions and questions that drained my soul. I cried, I got angry, I cursed, and when I felt like it was time to "get my act together" and believe God had a purpose for all my mess, I found myself so deep in anguish that I could not pick myself up out of it. Why, I asked, does God allow such pain and anguish in our lives? Doesn't He see that I cannot move? Doesn't He care? For the first time in my life since I began my journey of faith, I had no choice but to allow these emotions to spew out from my heart and onto the surface; they were so raw, so painful, so real. They demanded that I let go of my previous conception that those who walk with Christ must always be "put together" and be able to recite Bible verses in the brief seconds that they are able to lift their faces from their tear-soakened pillows. The tears came; many times, my heart was ugly. In my performance mindset, I never wanted to be seen as such a weak and struggling person; truth be told, the pain just came and I had no other choice but to walk through it. It didn't matter who was watching. I could not hold it back.

What a beautiful, yet heart-wrenching truth... we are so weak, and often times, we get so caught up in "looking right" that we do not allow ourselves to truly process our pain. Stepping away from the environment in which the deepest cuts to my soul have occurred has given me a perspective that I am still trying to assimilate into my heart, faith, relationships, and day-to-day life today. This past month has been a tiresome month, and although I still am carrying quite a heavy pack on my back, I know that small pieces of the load are beginning to be lifted. For the first time in my life, God has blessed me with an opportunity to simply be. I am free to be, free to love, free to grow, and free to make mistakes if that is what it takes for my heart to beat again. I am tired of performing; I am tired of religion; I am tired of spending my energy trying to do things that make those around me see me as something wonderful because truth be told, I am everything but. There has always been something about this place that whispers to my heart... be who you are, sweet Shelly; let your messy life be as it is. I can leave my dress clothes hanging in the closet and I can roam the dirt-trenched streets of Guayaquil in holey jeans and a bandana; I have never felt such freedom. I can take the time to get down in the dirt with precious children and smile at them as if they are the most beautiful beings in the whole world; most of them truly are. I can wake up with the sun and stand in its rays for hours, not once feeling the pressure to glance at a watch; I do not even wear one anymore. I can spend the day by the river, sitting on a bench and catching a glimpse of the joy that radiates from the laughter of the families around me; they do not even realize how their smiles are healing my heart. I can stay awake at night, listening to the sounds in the streets around me, the profound noise that silence makes when you take the time to stop and truly listen. Yes, I am truly free to be.

Free to love; free to stop for a moment and appreciate life for what it is rather than what I think it should be. This is reality and I am embracing it. My life is messy. My thoughts are scattered and I have too many "off" days than I would like to admit. Too often, my fears hold me back and I do not go after what I want. Some days, I sleep the day away and refuse to see the sunlight. More often than I'd like to admit, I could not find the words to pray to God no matter how hard I searched. My faith has been shaken and it is slowly being built again. My heart knows that I am tired of performance and religion; I am ready for something real. I do not have all the answers, and some days, I do not have the energy or the desire to ask the questions. Yes, this is my reality... the reality of what it means to simply be... to allow my life to be messy, knowing that God can and will turn it all into something more beautiful than I could ever imagine. The challenge before me is not a matter of mere physical survival. No; I dare tell you that it is something much more difficult. I must survive in a world that demands that I "get my act together" before it's too late. I must simply be as I am. Let my hair down. Play in the dirt. Embrace the moment. Smile at the rejected. Listen to what people say. Listen to what they don't say. Appreciate the beauty of it all. Yes... my heart shall beat again, and that is the most beautiful truth I can cling to.

una noche linda...

2009-01-07T23:00:00.000-08:00

Tonight was what Ecuadorians would call a "noche linda." The Sisalema family remembered that I had said my three favorite things in the world are coffee, bread, and icecream. After lunch, we all headed to the corner store and had icecream sandwiches. What a sweet blessing from them and from the Lord. Afterwards, we went to the Sisalema family's church to prepare for their Wednesday night Bible study. Pastor Sisalema was beginning a new series on Philippians and we were beginning in chapter 1. I have to admit that I felt a little out of place there not knowing anyone, however the Lord really used this time to refresh my spirit and remind me to rejoice in Him despite my past and present circumstances. A hermano in the church played the guitar while we sang from a song book. "Cantare de tu amor" (I will sing of your love) was such a beautiful song... I need to find the lyrics and write them to remind myself of what we sang. I know it was beautiful and it reminded me of how often I "look" in the world for what my heart is crying for, and how I can only find the answers in God Himself.

Javier... a new believer, just accepted Christ tonight during prayer time at the Bible study. After the service, I approached Javier and told him "felicitaciones" for his decision. I laughed at my broken attempt to congratulate him and he smiled, assuring me that my spanish was understood. What I gathered from Javier was that he is currently 27 years old, and from the icon on his shirt, he works for General Motors (GM). Pastor told me later that he had come to Iglesia Nueva Vida two times before tonight. He mentioned to another hermano that he felt like God was calling him, or as Revelations says, "knocking on the door" of his heart and his life. Tonight, he has chosen to give his life to Christ. I could tell by the look on his face that he was experiencing an array of emotions... excitement, fear, feelings of uncomfort, wonders of what is to come in his life... As another hermano told him, "his life is never going to be the same." Que lindo this story. His courage inspires me and reminds me of the days when I first learned about Christ's love for me. Everything was new... the Bible was exciting, meeting brothers and sisters in the church filled me with joy, I was on fire... yes, the passion was real. I am reminded of another hermano I met in the church. I cannot pronounce his name, but I will never forget His story. He is originally from Mexico and lived in California working as a handy-man. He told me that He felt like God was calling Him to Ecuador, so he told all of his things, bought a plane ticket, and came. As he was sharing, I chuckled because I could relate to so many of the things He was sharing. He asked me to pray for guidance in His life, and for confirmation of how God wanted Him to use the many gifts he had given him. He also asked me to pray for his wife (an ecuadorian woman he married after coming to Quito) and for his child on the way. As he told me, he never imagined that he would be where he is today and when people ask him what he is doing here in Quito, he responds with, "I don't know. Ask God."

I am blessed to be here, if even for a short period of time. Pastor Hector and Nancy are such caring people. Tonight, they sat for a few minutes wanting to hear more of my story and how God had called me to Ecuador. I shared with them the pain that caused me to live for five unbearably difficult months questioning the Lord and His plans for my life. I shared with them how God had used the recent pain in my life to confirm who He is and what He is calling me to do. I shared with them how bitter sweet it was to leave and how confused I am about the future. They listened with such caring hearts and then prayed for me. I am blessed to be surrounded by such a beautiful, Godly family. I am thankful for the ways they have opened their doors to me and how excited they are to have me here. Even if I stay for a week, I will have been blessed to know them and have seen the love of Christ being manifested in their home and community.

sorry to burst your bubble...

2009-01-06T22:30:00.000-08:00

It's 7:32 am and I am on a bus heading to Quito. I tried to begin this journal entry by making note of the date, however I quickly realized that I had no idea what day it was. It's the 5th, or maybe the 6th. I'm really not sure. For a moment, I even forgot that it was January. The climate here in Guayaquil is so humid and sticky, constantly bringing to my mind reminders of June, July, and August in the United States. I spent Christmas and New Years Eve without once encountering a cold front. The only snow I saw was on the dinner place mats that Mami Patti hand-painted and on the snowmen that had been placed in just about every shopping center window here in Guayaquil. Spread the Christmas cheer, they thought. To be honest, I have yet to feel as if Christmas even happened. It was here like I had never experienced it, and then it's "hype" quickly faded away. Mami Patti took her tree down soon after the new year came, stores stopped playing "Feliz Navidad," and for the first time in my life, the floor in my room was not covered with piles of gifts that I could brag about to my friends. No, it was not like that. In fact, no one asked me what I got for Christmas. If they did ask, however, I would tell them I got more than I could ever ask for: the opportunity to experience Christmas apart from the confinements of materialism, an image of a family union that is built upon love and sacrifice, more hugs and kisses than one could imagine, an life-altering conversation with an amazing friend, stories told by a missionary family that were medicine to my soul, and most importantly, both the opportunity and the challenge to "just be." These are gifts that cannot be wrapped in a box; these are experiences that cannot be captured in film. I keep them close to my heart and try my best to interpret their powerful significance into words. In light of my comment of feeling as if "Christmas" never happened, I would not trade these experiences for what we see as "Christmas" any day.

Writing for me is a sweet escape from the life happening around me. It allows me to step back from it all and truly learn to appreciate things as they really are. It does ask me to dream about what could be or how I want things to be; it simply asks that I open my eyes and appreciate the beauty of what already is. I am on this bus heading to the mountains, yet I have no idea what will happen when I step out of it's doors. My mind can try to imagine some things, but the reality of it all is that I have no idea what God is doing. Tears fill my eyes as I write that statement. I know that God is still God despite the clouds around me and all of the difficult lessons I am learning. I fear for one that I have missed what it means to truly love people and live a life of freedom in Christ. Somewhere along the line, I have made the choice to believe that I must live a certain way and acquire certain "things" to be a "good Christian." You need these things to be a good person, Shelly. You must do these things to be rightly serving God in ministry. How does one arrive at such a place as this? I believe that throughout these past few years, I have been confronted with certain pressures that I have shaped my life around...You must be leading bible studies and leading people to Christ to be making a difference. You must give your life to full time ministry. Secular jobs are not good enough. The secular world has nothing to offer you. Those who do not have Christ have no wisdom or beauty to add to your life. You must meet your husband at a Christian school or in a church. He should probably be a Baptist, and he most certainly should not be reformed.

The truth is, I have learned more about living in these past three weeks than I have ever learned living in my comfortable, Christian "bubble." I must learn to be who I am in all environments, whether I am comfortable or uncomfortable, whether I walk with brothers and sisters in the faith or walk alone, whether the road is easy or the road is difficult. Here, I have been spending my days with some of the most beautiful, caring, and gracious people I have ever met. So many of these people believe in God and live their lives prayerfully and gratefully. Through their lives, I see so much of what I want. I am tired of living in a box. Like them, I want to learn to truly live... serving others, loving those I come in contact with, giving of myself for the benefit of those who are less fortunate, persevering through life's difficulties, and having the courage to do whatever it takes to move forward. Too often, I find myself getting caught up in rules, pressures, and the opinions of others. I find that I too often am the one who keeps myself in bondage and far from experiencing the abundant life I am supposed to be living. This is what I want, but what if it's not what God wants? My dream is this, but what if I'm wrong? One day over breakfast, Mami Patti asked me what I really wanted in life and why I was afraid to go after it. "I'm really not sure," I responded, "I guess I'm afraid that I'm going after the wrong thing." She reminded me that we cannot live our lives always saying "maybe." There must come a point when we go after what we want with everything that we have, not being afraid to grab hold of the very thing that makes our heart beat. Are we truly living if we allow ourselves to remain dormant and afraid to move because we fear we are going to "step out of God's will?" Does God want us to sit around and wait for Him to map our lives out in the sky?

No. God wants us to live each day to the fullest. Make the most of the opportunities He has placed before us and not be afraid to take chances. How does this wrap into the fact that I am currently on a bus heading 8 hours away from my life in Guayaquil? I guess you could say I am "exploring" what God has for me. Before I made the decision to come to Ecuador, my "plan" was to spend 2 months in Quito staying with a Pastor and his family, serving in their church, and helping an IMB couple with their ministry in the city. While all of these things are wonderful opportunities, I must truly question whether or not God has brought me to Ecuador to fill my schedule this way. To be honest, I feel as if God is asking me to let Him do more IN me than THROUGH me. For me, this challenge from God to "just be" before Him is a lot more difficult than answering the call to serve Him through projects, bible studies, and children's programs. I will arrive in Quito later this afternoon. For now, I must rest in what is, and maybe by this time tomorrow, I will be that much closer to understanding all of this a little more.

making the choice to live...

2008-12-18T09:38:00.000-08:00

Could I ever have dreamed years ago that God would have me in the place that I am today? I do not mean physical location - although being in Ecuador thus far has been quite the experience - but rather, the place in which I find my very heart beating. How can I explain it? I am in Guayaquil, Ecuador... my body scorched from the Montanita sun, my legs bitten from the mosquitos that enter through the window of my room, surrounded by unknown faces, confronted by so many who have never experienced God in the way He would desire them to... and yet even so, I find myself smiling. Yes, a genuine smile; one that I cannot explain with mere words. It is as if in the midst of all the unknown and the chaos, God is causing my heart to smile. Have you ever felt that way, as if the world around you was crashing down, yet somewhere inside of you, it's as if you have a reason to feel peace and joy in the midst of it all?

This past week, Ashley and I went to Montañita, known to be one of the most multicultural "hotspot" beaches in Ecuador. People come from all over the world to experience the waves, the night life, and the mezcla of cultures that can be found in this unique place. I'm not quite sure Ashley and I knew what we were getting ourselves into when we decided to go to Montañita. Numerous people warned us of the "crazy lives" of the people who lived and visited this place, yet even so, we boarded a bus on Tuesday afternoon because we wanted to see for ourselves.

Oh, the precious joy of "seeing for ourselves." Though Montañita contained a little bit more than Ashley and I were prepared to handle, God so graciously allowed me to see this place through His eyes. Montañita is a "party" town where people do not come out until dark and do not go to sleep until morning. When they finally wake up the following day, they bum around the beach until it is time to do the same thing all over again. I found myself not desiring to run from this kind of environment, but rather to embrace and love these people with that which only Christ can give. I wanted so much to show them that they have a Father who can take care of them. Without a doubt, I am confident that God is going to raise someone to come to this place and courageously face the Montañita culture for the cause of Christ. It would be quite the adventure, but I know there is someone who will come for these people, for if they don't, they will surely perish.

Let me share a little bit about the kinds of people that we encountered in this place. Though crazy in nature, I was so drawn to the culture in this small town. In Montañita, we met numerous poor surfers who had come to make a living by designing and selling jewelry. We met a guy from Brazil, one whose dreadlocks and deep tan told us that he had been there a very long time. His friend had come from the jungles of Peru to live in Montañita; in his broken English he explained to us that he used to live with the monkeys and accompanied his story with the sounds that the "monos" make in the jungle in case we did not understand him. We met Juan, a guy who was traveling around the world from Uraguay and had decided to stop in Montañita with nothing but his display of handmade jewelry and a small backpack. Juan was quite the character and though he spoke very little English, he still managed to communicate to us that whichever piece of jewelry we picked up was "perfect" for us. He prided himself in his work, for it was all he had to cling to. If he did not wake up in the morning to make jewelry, then he simply would not survive. If he did not spend each day standing in the streets with his display of pieces in which no two were alike, he simply would not eat. If he did not spend his nights amidst the loud music and chaotic drunken crowds, he would not be able to live. What amazes me is that not once did I hear Juan complain, or even hint that he was angry about his circumstances. Juan just kept smiling... he kept selling... he stood outside for long hours, persevering like I believe many of us would not be willing to do. This poor, traveling surfer was seeking to find life in the midst of his very difficult and complex circumstances; yet he did not run from the difficulties, but rather embraced them with his whole heart, for he had no other choice.

Such is the mentality of the people I have encountered here in Ecuador thus far. People realize that they need to work hard for what they have, and instead of complaining about their circumstances, they get up and do what it takes to live. I am reminded of the indigenous Quichua woman that we pass every single day on our way to the bus stop. It never fails that as we turn the corner, there we can find her with her baby on her lap and her cart full of gum, fresh fruit that she slices for those who pass by, and many other traditional Ecuadorian snacks. We have seen her there at 9 AM and we have seen her there at 11PM. Why does she remain? Because she has no choice but to choose to do what it takes to live. Among her stands men and women who wake up each morning to sell lottery tickets in the streets, bottles of water, sunglasses, magazines, etc. I am reminded of Mami Patti, my house mother who selflessly works day and night around the house to ensure that her family is well taken care of. I am inspired by these precious faces more than I can explain.

How could I be so selfish and lazy to not see that we must make the choice to live and press on? Even more so, I am convicted of how often I complain about the "storms" that come my way. So often in my life, I wait for a handout, an easy way to move forward, or even a reason to press on. I wait for God to provide or to release me from the storm, yet forget that making the choice to truly LIVE is quite often the most difficult decision we must make. When our circumstances bog us down, we must choose God--we must choose to walk with Him--to rest in His promises--to rely on what He has said to us--to believe with our whole hearts that there is always a resurrection and the hope of new life. When the storms surround us, we cannot give up; we must trust in our hearts that we can smile amidst them with the hope that only Christ can give us. God has such a beautiful purpose and plan for our lives. He has such a unique way of using our circumstances to mold us and teach us how we are to live. When such challenges arise, they are not to harm us; they are simply God-given opportunities for us to rise and embrace what it means to truly live. If we are children of God, our hope is not in what we see, but rather in what we cannot see.

I pray that like those I have encountered, God would give me the strength to choose life in the midst of the pain and chaos. Pray for these people... for those in Montañita, for those in our neighborhood in Guayaquil, and even for those in YOUR neighborhood who you may or may not notice are suffering, yet persevering with such gentle and quiet strength. O, how sweet to trust in Jesus... He never fails, no matter how heavy the storm. May we press on in hope...

Tonight, we head to Quito on an overnight bus. In the morning, we will wake up one step closer to "la mitad del mundo," the middle of the world! :)

"Therefore, we do not lose heart; even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal." 1 Corinthians 4:16-18.

Hasta pronto,
Michelle

authentic examination demands courage.

2008-10-21T19:03:00.000-07:00

This past week, I began an eight-week undergraduate course titled "Philosophy and Contemporary Ideas." To be honest, I was absolutely dreading the thought of taking such a class, simply because I had heard the "moans" and "groans" of others who had endured the "torture" of it themselves. To my surprise, this class seems to have come at a most appropriate time in my life. I am learning about what it means to question, to think, and to truly consider what I believe and why I believe it. Yes, some lectures, memorizations, and concepts are mundane and frustrating; however I realize tonight that I am blessed to be encouraged to think critically and authentically in a world that convinces you to behave like a parrot and merely repeat what you have heard...

Socrates stated that "an unexamined life is not worth living." Ergun Caner, President of Liberty University Theological Seminary, revised Socrates' saying and said this: "an unexamined faith is not worth having." Either way, I believe the point is the same... we must "know that we know that we know," and more importantly why we "know it."

Have you ever experienced a "crisis of faith" where nothing made sense and you could not gather your thoughts for one moment to even consider what you believe to be true in your life? To my own surprise, I can answer that question with a "yes." I never imagined that I would currently be in a place of such deep questioning and confusion, however I am learning that my experience with crisis is more of a blessing than I can even describe. I have been walking with Christ now for a little over three years, yet not once can I look back upon my years of faith and say that I ever questioned who God was and what He was doing in my life. Through my salvation experience and the times of great inner-healing that followed, I watched God move in such radical ways that I simply COULD NOT question Him. There was no other explanation to myself or to others for the radical transformation that took place in my life other than GOD DID IT. I could see Him. Others could see Him. I did not dare question, for I had experienced for myself what it meant for God to reach down to the "least of these" and dare touch a daughter who had been scarred, shamed, and broken.

And what about now? What has brought me to this place of questioning? Perhaps it is because I feel that He is no where to be found. I fear my God is far away from me. I fear that the Father who once looked upon my shame with compassion has chosen to look away. Surely, that's how it feels, and surely these are the questions I am raising as I sit here among the ashes of broken dreams, hopelessness, and a heart that desperately needs to be healed.

if you love me, please love me today.

if you are One who truly heals, please heal me today.

if you guide, God lead my steps today.

if you listen, God hear the cry of my heart today.

if you answer, God speak to me today.

Such simple prayers, but I am asking God to show me who He is once again. Carrie McDonall, missionary survivor of an Iraqi terrorist attack that killed her husband, said it best... she explained that after her crisis of experiencing what she experienced, she had times of such deep turmoil and darkness that she HAD to go "back to the basics" with God in order to get up from them.

Back to the basics with God, and yet I see so clearly that such authentic examination will demand great courage. My heart's desire is to live a life of authenticity. I cannot fear the questions, the wondering, or the days when I simply cannot believe what I have always believed. I must embrace these things in order to move forward....if this is the place that my "crisis" has brought me to, I must embrace it. I must move forward. God, move with me...

there is hope.

2008-10-12T14:39:00.000-07:00

Two years later, and I have actually created this blog. Many have encouraged me to do so much sooner, however I suppose "life" sometimes gets in the way and does not allow us to do what our hearts scream is ours... write, dear child. Just write.

Here I am... beginning one of the scariest, yet most exciting journey's of my life. I am not alone. Though I may have never chosen my present circumstances, I know without a doubt my God knows exactly He has planned for me through them. Though the pain, confusion, and loneliness are all so very real in my life, I am confident that my God has great plans for the portion He has given me today.

there is hope.

Not a very profound statement for most, however for the first time in months, today, I decided to pack away my "hopelessness" and believe God's promises that all is not lost. Perhaps I have realized that only when I choose to listen can I really hear God speaking... dear child, all is not lost. I have chosen you. Don't give up. Don't lose hope. I am with you...

easier to SAY than to believe. Truth be told -- I am a work in progress... nethertheless, I am HIS work in progress.

The journey is long and arduous before me... dear Father, please give me hope to press on.

Jeremiah 31:4... "again I will build you, and you shall be built..."

Father, rebuild...