Capturing This Lifesong

the visitor's center

2011-12-20T10:11:00.000-05:00

In January, I made a goal to read 25 books by the end of this year. Reading is a hobby I had to give up almost entirely over my college years and I’ve been enjoying picking it back up.

Earlier this week, I finished my 24^th book since January, putting me only one book away from my goal. I shuffled through stacks of books looking for the perfect one to finish with and settled on “Just Courage,” by Gary Haugen.

My logic for choosing the book was shallow. First, and most important, it was short. Less than 150 pages. Second, I’ve wanted to read it for a long time. And third, I didn’t expect it to contain anything very… convicting. I thought I was familiar with the author and the book’s purpose. Which meant I would be able to finish it quickly, because I wouldn’t need to spend long processing its contents.

Well, I just finished the first chapter, and this is one book I misjudged.

The author begins the book by telling the story of a day when he was ten years old. His father loved to take him and his brothers hiking—they lived near a beautiful mountain. His older brothers were strong hikers, but Gary was slower and weaker. His father would always hike more slowly with him, encouraging him and helping him along when he needed it.

One day while hiking together, they came to a visitor’s center. It marked the end of the tourist’s trails and the beginning of more dangerous trails used by experienced mountain climbers. Gary’s father and his older brothers wanted to continue on for a bit, hoping to reach the first base camp mountain climbers used before they headed to the summit.

Gary didn’t want to. He was scared. Hiking wasn’t really safe, and the sign marking the beginning of the trail his father wanted to take had a long list of the horrible things that could happen to you if you chose to take it. Never mind that the most beautiful stretch of the journey was beyond that sign. What if he couldn’t make it and had to turn around? What if it was just too much? What if it really wasn’t as beautiful as his father thought?

So, instead of following his father and brothers up the path, Gary chose to spend the afternoon in the visitor’s center. It was safe… and boring. There was no risk, but there was also no adventure. Gary missed his dad, and when his father and brothers returned with the thrill of the climb sparkling in their eyes, Gary knew that though he’d been safe, he had missed out.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that I’ve been choosing to walk around a visitor’s center in my life instead of choosing to continue climbing. These past several weeks of support raising have been hard. Support is coming in slow, and I’m learning that once I reach a certain point of discouragement, I lose a lot of my motivation.

I start to anticipate failure, and I stop climbing the harder trails. Out of all the calls I made last week, only two people picked up the phone and none were able to meet with me, I tell myself. It doesn’t matter if I call this week—it’ll just be more of the same, because it’s the holiday season.

That’s a lie. But it’s usually a lie I don’t catch until a week has gone by and I never picked up the phone because I convinced myself no one would answer.

The point of Gary’s story was that he didn’t need to be strong to make it up the trail—his father was going to help him the entire way. He wasn’t alone. The only thing he needed was to trust his father enough to move out of the safe zone and begin the adventure.

It’s the same in life where I’m at right now. “Jesus beckons me to follow him to that place of weakness where I risk the vulnerability of a child so that I might know how strong my father is and how much he loves me,” Gary writes. “I think he simply wants us to take a more demanding climb, where we will actually need his help, and where he delights to grant it.”

If nothing else, this chapter was a solid reminder that I need to stop sitting in the visitor’s center, hoping that the next time I look out of the window the mountain will be smaller. This is the mountain I’m called to for the time being.

I need to get out and start climbing, trusting that my Father is with me in each step—and when I move out of situations that I can handle on my own and into places where I need Him to show up, I can trust that He’ll be there.

Climb with me? :)

treasured in her heart

2011-12-14T22:26:00.002-05:00

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart…”

Mary rested, curled up against Joseph’s side. She was exhausted. Next to her, Joseph’s breathing was deep and even, and he slept with one arm wrapped around her protectively. After delivering her firstborn son, the muscles in Mary’s body seemed to object to every movement she made. They groaned as she snuggled closer against Joseph’s chest, but she ignored them, shifting slightly so she could watch her sleeping baby.

She took in her birthing room. A cave. Where animals lived. The air smelled of manure and urine; there was hay strewn about the dirt floor and piled against the walls. Cows and sheep and goats had witnessed the birth of the baby. Her baby.

After the delivery, when the baby finally drifted off to sleep, Joseph lined the animals’ feeding trough with hay, and Mary settled Jesus snugly in his makeshift bed. Jesus. She mulled over the name in her head. The supernatural events surrounding His birth. How much had happened in the last months!

Joseph snored softly next to her, and Mary’s mind drifted back to the very, very beginning. The day Joseph had picked her. Well, he’d asked her, actually. But, of course she’d said yes. Joseph was an honorable man. He was a hard worker, and he was strong. But he was also gentle. Those two qualities could be difficult to find together. What girl wouldn’t have said yes? In the shadows of the stable, a sudden grin lit Mary’s face. Poor Joseph had no idea what he was getting in to when he’d asked her to be his wife.

And so, they were engaged. She was looking forward to their wedding. And then one day… in one day, everything changed. Forever.

She’d been working, just like any other day. She was a hard worker. But on that day, her work was interrupted by a visitor. Visitor wasn’t exactly the right word, she mused. The man was a messenger from heaven, and he had nearly frightened her to death. After all, seeing messengers from Yahweh face-to-face was just a tad out of the ordinary for a teenage Jewish girl.

But the words the angel spoke to her were even more out of the ordinary. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. Mary’s eyes slid shut as she remembered that sentence. The words that had turned her life upside down. And yet, she could not remember the effect the words had on her life without remembering the supernatural sense of peace that had settled over her heart after she’d heard them.

Yes. This was her purpose. This was the life Yahweh had called her to. That much was absolutely clear. Never mind that it was humanly impossible. Never mind that she was a virgin and had never been with a man. If this were Yahweh’s design, then it would come to pass. Of this she’d had no doubt. And so, she’d said yes.

I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said. With those simple words, Mary’s life was forever changed. Even as she rested in the stable, her eyes fixed on her baby boy, she had yet to understood the magnitude of her choice. The impact had been obvious up to this point. Very soon after the angel’s visit, she had traveled away from home to visit her cousin, Elizabeth, who, the angel had informed her, was also expecting a child.

The visit was a marvelous one. The Holy Spirit had informed Elizabeth about Mary’s pregnancy… and Mary was sure this trip would be the last time she would be able to visit family comfortably. She was not far off in her assumption. After staying with Elizabeth for three months, her pregnancy was beginning to show. A pregnancy her family was unaware of. A pregnancy that would be regarded by all who knew her as infidelity to Joseph. But, unable to put it off much longer, she’d headed home.

At the memory of the days surrounding her return, Mary quickly shut her eyes… but not before a few rebel tears escaped and ran down her cheeks. She sniffed quietly. The words that had been thrown at her upon her return seemed to be permanently imprinted in her mind. The accusations. The questions. The explanations she’d tried to give. More accusations. The looks she’d received.

“Why the tears?” Joseph asked softly.

She quickly brushed them away, and looked up at the man who had been through so much with her. His eyes searched hers.

“I was just remembering,” she answered. “I was remembering the days after I returned from visiting Elizabeth.”

Joseph gave a dry chuckle. “You mean the days your father considered beheading me?”

“Beheading you?” Mary giggled. “It was I who was going to lose my head!”

They were exaggerating, of course. But the implications of Mary returning home carrying a child in her womb were serious, indeed. Her parents had pressed her, questioning her over and over. Who was the child’s father? Where was he? Had she been raped? And her answers, though truthful, had not exactly reassured them. How many women who bear children out of wedlock claim to have been supernaturally impregnated? That’s right. Not many.

She’d been quick to clarify that Joseph was not responsible, hoping to avoid involving him in her shame. And it would have worked, had her heavenly messenger not paid him a visit as well. Still unsure of Mary’s story, Joseph had planned on divorcing her discretely, hoping to avoid bringing her more public disgrace. But before he had done so, the angel visited him and explained what was going on. The angel left him instructions, which he followed – he took Mary home to be his wife.

Soon after, Caesar Augustus issued a decree. A census was being taken of the entire Roman world, and in order to register, each family had to return to its own town. Joseph was from Bethlehem, about 80 miles from Nazareth. And so, they had traveled…

Mary reached up and placed her hand on Joseph’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing me with you,” she said softly. “I know the law didn’t require me to be here, and I know I slowed you down. But thank you for not leaving me in Nazareth.”

Joseph smiled. “I wouldn’t have left you behind for anything. I would have missed the birth of our baby, and I would have missed you. Too much.”

“Do you think people will see us any differently when we get home?” Mary asked.

“Maybe,” Joseph answered. “And maybe not. Either way, this is the course Yahweh has set our lives on, and we’ll continue on it regardless of what other people think. Yahweh’s people often misunderstand Yahweh’s servants, but true servants don’t give up. We won’t either.”

The couple sat in silence after that, each pondering the events that led them to this point. This path of life. This baby.

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart…”

when you don’t feel like giving thanks

2011-11-23T00:34:00.005-05:00

These past months, for the first time in what seems like a while, I didn’t immediately shake my head and ask God where He was when things happened that I didn’t understand.

I said goodbye to my horse and my grandma and started on the hardest season of my life to date—raising missionary support—all in the span of a few short weeks. And I often curled in a ball on my bed with a pillow and my blanket and cried hot tears but I didn’t ask God where He was.

Because I knew. As much as it hurt, I still knew He was there.

He placed the people around me that I needed to walk through those weeks of hard goodbyes. And so I kept walking forward.

Four months later I’m in the middle of this support journey… and in the middle of a week of frustration and discouragement and tears and more tears, I turned to ask God where He was and didn’t hear an answer. Just quiet. And my sniffling.

And I was angry. Because how could God not answer if He’s called me to follow Him to a specific place and the path to get there is the hardest I’ve ever walked? How could He not scoop me right up and comfort my heart when He knows in the middle of this I’m walking into a first holiday without my grandma and I just ache?

And of all holidays, it has to be Thanksgiving.

Why couldn’t it be Christmas or New Years? Difficult holidays without a loved one, yes, but not days that demand thanks by their very name.

Thanksgiving.

My newsfeed on Facebook is full of friends’ thanks. Thanks for a hot supper… for an evening with friends… for safe travel… for a weekend with family… for a child. I don’t add to the list, because I can’t seem to find any thanks.

And the worst part is that I look at my life and there are many things to be grateful for.

I have food.

A warm house.

Cozy flannel sheets.

A job.

A purpose for my life.

And so many more things I should be able to speak gratitude for, but when it comes from my mouth and even when I type it out, the words sound hollow. I’ve almost stopped speaking them altogether, because I don’t like empty words. God’s given these things, and the simple truth is that I am not grateful. I don’t care. I don’t want them.

My heard aches for other things—things I can’t have right now—and for some reason these everyday thanks no longer fill that ache.

I want my grandma back.

Some semblance of order to everything that’s going on in my life.

My support to be finished.

Pieces of this life puzzle to stop falling apart and start falling together.

And in the middle of this I turned to ask God where He was… because my heart was hurting to a point where that really was the last place I could go. All I heard was the sound of my own tears.

And Thanksgiving is in two days.

Friends, please keep me in your prayers. It's been difficult for me to write lately... I don't like to end posts with questions and sadness, so I don't write often when I'm in the middle of hard life seasons. I like to write when I can wrap things up neatly. But I have no neat ending here, other than to ask you to keep me in prayer.

Mentally, I know that God has not left me alone in this season—He is with me and He will provide. But emotionally, this last week has been very difficult, and I feel like I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t feel His presence here and I don’t see His hand moving… I just ache.

Maybe I’m not as far along in this process of grieving the loss of my grandma as I thought I was… maybe the enemy is just trying to discourage me… maybe I’m just tired… maybe it’s a combination of all of the above. I’m not sure. What I know is that this week I came very close to just giving up… and I don’t want to do that. I don’t doubt that God called.

I’m really not even sure exactly what to ask you to pray for… I just know I’m in a place where I need other people to carry me to Jesus because I’m not feeling strong enough to follow Him on my own.

Thank you, sweet friends. I’m grateful for you.

family. fall. fun. {in pictures}

2011-10-30T21:17:00.001-04:00

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
~ Anthony Brandt ~

So grateful for…

family.
calling a baby by name, even though he’s not here yet
hugs from little boys
brownies with frosting and sprinkles :)
pumpkin carving
that God is in the midst of all of it
that no one fell off the log bridge :)
warm soapy dishwater and piles of dishes after we eat together
hay stuck to my sweater after a hayride together
the way we laugh together and it makes everything okay

stomping on lies

2011-10-22T13:39:00.002-04:00

I sit at a round table with seven other new staff friends I met at new staff training this summer. (If you missed the beginning of the story, see here.) There’s a huge white sheet of paper covering our table, and Jessica traces words on it with a big blue marker. The paper is divided into four quadrants and together we’re writing down lies—the lies we so often believe about God, people, and ourselves during this raising support process.

“I often believe God wants me to earn my support,” Lara says. “He won’t work if I don’t work.” Jessica’s marker sets her words to paper. The list grows.

God blesses based on performance.

He’s disappointed in me.

When I call, no one will be home.

People will think I’m begging.

I’m too sinful for this job.

My ministry isn’t as important as other ministries.

We’ve been processing many things these past days at the conference. If I’m honest, I didn’t want to come, but it’s been exactly what I needed. A lie is swirling around in my head, but I’m having trouble pinning down the words to describe it.

“God will do big things for other people, but He won’t do them for me,” I finally say. Several people at my table nod in agreement with this lie we’ve all wrestled with.

There are several people sitting in the room with me who can testify to the big things God did in their journey of raising support. Jane saw the last 60% of her support raised in three weeks, mostly through people she didn’t know. Allison had two supporters call her in one day, and together they paid off every penny of her student loans—all $35,000 dollars of them. God is doing big things.

But I don’t think He’ll do them for me. So I don’t ask.

I don’t pray specifically for big things. When it comes to prayer for myself, I’m beginning to realize that I often only ask for things I can do on my own, so if God chooses not to, at least I still can. And I rarely pray for specific things for myself (another thing one of our speakers challenged me with), so I’m not disappointed if God says no. I’m still realizing what a skewed view of God’s provision these lie has given me, and how little faith I really have in His character.

I want that to change.

This week I realized that more than anything, I want to see God’s hand in my support journey in a way that can only be attributed to Him. Regardless of whether God says yes or no, I want to have the boldness and faith to ask Him for big things and trust that they are completely within His ability to provide.

So. One night while the rest of the girls in my cabin were sleeping, I sat cross-legged against the wall in the hallway with my journal, and I asked God for something very specific and very big. I haven’t told many people, and the ones I have often look at me like I’m slightly crazy.

Maybe I am.

But the only way I know how to let go of my tendency to ask God only for things I’m capable of controlling is to ask Him for something that is totally outside of my own strength.

I prayed that God would provide my support by the end of November. At the rate it’s going, I should see it in by the end of February. I call the latter goal my “realistic goal.” The former is my “super-faith goal.” :)

I want to ask you to pray with me for the end of November. If God’s plans are for me to be finished later, I’m okay with that… but I’m still asking for the super-faith goal and trusting in faith that God is more than able to provide within that time.

At the end of our last session at the follow-up conference, all the sheets of paper filled with the lies we often believe are spread on the floor near the doorway. On my way out, I stomped on them.

you're not crazy.

2011-10-13T22:10:00.002-04:00

We walk together, down to the lake behind my office, my friend and I. She’s in jean capris and flip-flops and I wear a short-sleeved purple shirt, and we’re enjoying the balmy air left by this year’s Indian summer. It’s even sunny today. We stop at a bench and sit, me sitting cross-legged and her munching on her bagel from Starbucks. We laugh together and catch up on life since last week when we met.

We met my first semester in college and were in Survey of Math together. We both hated math, and this destined us to be friends. :) I was supposed to be in her wedding in a few weeks, in a floor-length mocha-colored gown with my hair swept up. But a few weeks ago she realized she couldn’t go through with it and now there is no wedding and she’s still trying to pick up pieces.

“I had a plan, and now it’s gone,” she says. Yellow leaves sink to the ground around us. “And I’m realizing that it’s now—when my plan is gone and there are question marks everywhere—it’s now that I actually have to rely on God. I need Him. It makes me kind of want to keep the question marks for a while. When I had my own plan worked out, I never even thought about staying close to Him, you know?”

We sit for almost two hours, verbally processing and bouncing questions back and forth. “I feel like I’m crazy,” she says over and over. So much of her life is shifting and changing from what she expected it would be, and though I’ve never been engaged and called it off, there have been seasons of life that tilt and spin faster than I can keep up. I can’t count the number of times I assure her, “You’re not crazy.”

And sitting there, I realize that sometimes we need that more than anything—more than an answer, more than someone’s ability to relate to a particular season of life. Sometimes we just need someone to remind us that God is still at the helm of this sometimes-wild ride even when it’s full of question marks, and life will go on and we aren’t quite so out of place as we might feel and we aren’t crazy.

sharing stories

2011-10-02T21:42:00.001-04:00

Hello, my friends! I pray you had a restful weekend, one full of reminders of God’s grace. I want to ask you to do me a favor, please. This post is out of the ordinary for me (and it's longer than usual), but I ask you take a few moments and read it anyway. :)

As some of you know, last summer I spent 10 weeks interning with Campus Crusade for Christ as a missionary journalist in Orlando, Florida. Writing runs in my blood… I studied journalism in college to further that skill, and through this internship, God began to reveal why He’s given me this love for words. By the end of the 10 weeks, I knew God had called me to serve in missions as a writer, and I’ve been accepted to return to Orlando as a missionary journalist.

As I write this, I’m sliding back and forth in my Grandma’s glider that sits by a stretch of windows in the living room. I’m a missionary, yes, but my first assignment starts from home. I make phone calls, write letters, meet with people to share where God is calling me and how they can be involved, both financially and through prayer. I must raise full-time missionary support before I can report to my assignment.

Right now, I’m looking for the people God has already chosen to be part of my team. He’s called me down this path, and He’ll provide what I need. But recently I realized that as I’m busy contacting all the people I know face to face, I’d forgotten about this community—the ones I’ve met through the written word, which sometimes goes much deeper than face to face.

So. I want to share with you how God called me into ministry. I want to share specifically what I’ll be doing and why it’s important. I want to give you a bit of background information about Campus Crusade. And I want to share how you can be involved, if that is something God is laying on your heart. Please pray as you read… I know this is where God is calling me, and that He’s already picked out my team of supporters. Maybe you’re one of them? :)

THE CALL

We sit at Subway, Amanda and I. It’s dinner time, and my sandwich sits untouched in front of me as I talk. Amanda has been my mentor all summer, and tonight we’re processing a question together: what does a lifetime of ministry look like for me? Not just ministry while I’m in college, or ministry for the summer. What will my life’s ministry be?

I'm on the far left, and Amanda is on the far right. In the middle is Laura,
a lovely friend and housemate from my summer internship in Orlando.

She’s just asked me that question, and I’m verbally processing. Listing, listing, the things I could maybe see God doing through me. In my mind, none of them connect, and I tell her so when I’m finished. She smiles. Oh, but they do, she says. They’re all centered around writing. Writing is your ministry.

Looking back on it now, it felt like a light bulb went off in my brain. And we’re talking about a 500-watt light bulb, if such a thing exists. I’d always only looked at ministry as something I left my regular life in order to do. Construction trips to help build churches. Vacation Bible Schools for children who’d never heard Jesus loved them. Important things? Most definitely.

But I never thought my regular life could all be ministry, too. My work—this skill I’d been given and developed and loved—this skill could point people back to God, could tell people that there’s a Savior who loves them to the end of the earth and back, could remind them that even though we don’t always see it in our backyard, God is moving.

So, I prayed. I spoke to mentors. I think God is calling me to serve in missions as a writer, I told them. We could have told you that years ago, they answered. :) Amanda probably didn’t know how pivotal that conversation would be in my life, but God used her to speak to me. Before my internship was over, I’d begun the interview process to go back. I was accepted on staff early this year and spent this past summer in Colorado, going through new staff training.

THE WORK

Think of the role of a journalist. Their job is to tell whatever is newsworthy, whatever we need to know. Most often this includes things like flooding in New York, riots in London, hurricanes coming up the coast, a shooting at this school and bombs going off in that city. These things are happening in our world, and we need to know. We live here.

But other things are happening, too. There is a tribe of people in Africa who just heard the Gospel in their own tongue because of the JESUS Film, a ministry of Campus Crusade. Hundreds came to know the Lord and many churches were planted.

There is a man in Guatemala, Oscar Tiul, a chicken farmer, who visits the remote villages of the Sierra de las Minas to share his love for Christ. He has planted 22 churches in just over two years.

In Liberia, a soccer player, George Blamoh, uses his platform as a national athlete to tell others about Christ. In Colorado Springs, a church reaches out to a homeless community, mentoring children and sharing God’s love in tangible ways. In Kompong Cham, Cambodia’s largest province, a woman who contracted HIV from her husband does all she can to tell the Gospel story to others, mentoring new believers and leading small groups.

And there are more. Stories like these happen every day, all around the world. We just need people to tell them. They somehow get lost amidst the hurricanes and riots, but they are the stories that point people back to the Lord. They remind us that even when we can’t see God’s hand in the midst of the hurricanes and earthquakes and riots and shootings, that even then He is still active. Still moving. Still changing lives and bringing people into relationship with Himself.

That is where I’ll come in. I’ll be working with a team of writers. We’re called missionary journalists. Our job is to find those stories of God moving around the world, and then tell them. To encourage people. To point them back to the Lord. To remind them that He is here.

We write primarily for a magazine and two websites, but we collect story ideas for other places as well. One of the websites is internal, designed for the 25,000 missionaries on staff with Campus Crusade. Another is external—the corporate site for Campus Crusade. The magazine, Worldwide Challenge, was designed for ministry partners of missionaries on the field. All the missionaries on staff with CC have ministry partners who support them financially, usually somewhere between 50 and 100 of them. Worldwide Challenge is for them, to encourage them, to remind them that they’re part of something so much bigger than themselves.

THE PLACE

Campus Crusade for Christ International was started 60 years ago by Bill and Vonette Bright. It began on the campus of UCLA, but what started as a mission to reach just college students has expanded to include ministries in every segment of society and every corner of the world. CCCI is now present in 191 different countries and has about 25,000 missionaries on staff. Its mission is to build spiritual movements everywhere so that everyone knows someone who truly follows Jesus.

I’ll be primarily working at Campus Crusade’s International Headquarters in Orlando, though some of the stories I cover will include travel. Headquarters is where much of the behind-the-scenes work takes place that allows the rest of the missionaries to stay out in the field. About 1,000 people are on staff at this location.

THE NEED

Campus Crusade has no central funds for paying salaries and ministry expenses. Like many other mission organizations, it depends upon the consistent financial support of concerned individuals and churches. These contributions are used to fund the ministries of staff members like myself.

Before I can report to my assignment as a missionary journalist, I need to find a team of people who will partner with me in ministry, both financially and through prayer. Would you prayerfully consider being part of my team?

If this is something the Lord is prompting you to do, let me explain a bit of how it works, as well as how you can get in touch with me if you have questions. :) I am primarily seeking monthly support, which will cover things like ministry expenses, benefits and my salary. I am also raising one-time support, which will cover one-time expenses. If you have questions, or if you feel God is leading you to support me, please feel free to email me at evinson@rc.edu, or visit this link.

I also need people to be praying for me. Each month I send out a prayer letter sharing where I’m at and any specific prayer needs I have at the time. I’d be more than happy to send them to you! If you’d like to receive them, please shoot me an email at evinson@rc.edu with your address. :)

Oh, friends, I know this was long… thanks for bearing with me. You are a community who reads me, and I didn’t want to miss sharing this aspect of my life with you. Thank you for reading… and if you know people who might be interested in hearing about where the Lord is calling me, please feel free to pass this page on to them and have them contact me if they have any questions. This is how much of my support will come in... friends telling friends telling friends. :)

And thanks, dear friends, for the encouragement you are to me on a daily basis.

leaning into Him

2011-10-01T20:40:00.002-04:00

It’s a sunny Sunday morning and I’m in the nursery, spending time with sweet babies so their parents can spend some uninterrupted time hearing from the Lord. It’s fun to watch them interact—to see how some spend a few minutes in sadness after their parents leave, but a hug or a toy will usually brighten them back up.

Some take the change harder, standing behind the gate that blocks the door out to the lobby. There are no violent screams or tantrums with these… just silent tears. I scoop up one little boy who’s missing his mama. We sit cross-legged on the floor and I rub his back and he leans against me, a sniffle here and there betraying his quiet tears.

And then there are those who push back more vocally. A mother heads to the service, and the little redhead by the door bursts into tears. His comfort is gone and he refuses to be consoled.

I feel like that with God sometimes. Change happens and inwardly I arch my back and pound my fists. Never mind that He loves me, that He made me and called me and is with me during every season. (Isaiah 43:1-4). This wasn’t what I wanted, and in the moment, that’s all that seems to matter.

This Sunday morning, I reach down to scoop up the redhead, the one who sobs for his mama, for security and comfort. We rock back and forth, again with the back-rubbing and soft words. Gradually the sobs turn to whimpers and hiccups.

In a moment of surrender and exhaustion, he lays his little head on my shoulder and sighs.

No more fighting.

His downy hair is beneath my chin, and I rock with him, back and forth, back and forth.

I wish I could learn this surrender—learn it before I get angry, before I’m worn out from fighting and pushing against Him, before I’m worn out from asking “why?” Learn to trust that life happens in His time, not mine—that He alone is my comfort and security.

Learn to lean into Him and rest just where I am, safe in His arms.

what might have been

2011-09-10T12:37:00.000-04:00

white water

2011-09-08T23:30:00.002-04:00

I step into our blue raft, jamming my right foot into a small space beneath my seat and my left foot under the seat in front of me. We might be heading for white water, but I’m not falling out of this raft.

I’d been nervous about this trip all week. I love water, but every time I thought of white water rafting I remembered an interview I once watched in the special features of The Two Towers extended edition. (Yes, I’m a bit of a nerd like that.)

The interview was with Viggo Mortenson, who played Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. During one scene in The Two Towers, Aragorn floats down a river after falling off a cliff during a battle with orcs and wargs. (If you don’t know what wargs are, Tolkein describes them as “gigantic, bloodthirsty race of wolves from the north.” From the north of what, I don’t know. Just from the north. And if you don’t know what orcs are, I’m afraid you’ll just have to read the books. They would take too long to describe.)

Anyways. When we see Aragorn floating down the river, everything looks peaceful and safe. In reality, the first time the scene was shot, Viggo went over some white water and was caught in a current that pushed him to the bottom of the river, trapping him until he could find some leverage to push himself back to the surface. In real life, he almost drowned. The difference, which of course I keep forgetting, is that I’m wearing a life jacket and he wasn’t. People in movies rarely wear life jackets.

Our raft pushes off from the shore, complete with eight people and a guide. The trip will take us down the river for 26 miles through rapids classed two through five. To put the numbers in perspective, a class seven rapid is labeled as “imminent death.” My dad turns to grin at me. “You know they say people should write out a will before they do stuff like this,” he says. I don't have a will written out.

We’re sliding down the river now, learning paddle strokes and the commands our guide will use. There’s not much time for practice; our first stretch of white water is just around the bend and my stomach knots while I wait for it.

But with the first rapid, I’m hooked. For the seconds it takes to fly through a rapid, it’s as if the raft and the river are filled with the same life and I’m filled with that life, too. We sync our strokes to the speed and direction of the water, leaning into its rolling and turning and walls of icy-coldness.

The raft jerks around a boulder at the same pace the river does, running into a new current and dousing us with 40-degree water. We dig into this current with our paddles, preparing for the next series of bigger rapids and I’m thankful for our wetsuits and I’m not scared. The raft becomes a live thing, leaving the water sometimes and bouncing us out of our seats.

By the time we stop for lunch, my feet are completely numb and white and my face is burnt, courtesy of my forgetting to apply sunscreen before we left. But after a bit of time to eat and thaw out, we’re back in our rafts, the best of the rapids still coming. When we’re finished, I’m tired and sore—but I’m so happy and you can bet on the fact that I’ll be doing it again.

anyway

2011-09-07T23:11:00.000-04:00

This always happens. I get ready for sleep, and then words come. Dark falls and the house quiets and I’m feeling thin and stretched, but that’s when words come.

I saw God’s faithfulness today. Like the sun rising and setting, regardless of what I do, it was a reminder that His faithfulness is not dependent on mine—because if there were days I didn’t think I deserved Him, today would have been one of them.

I was tired and sore from an impromptu 21-mile bike ride last night… but it was still a productive day.

Today the clouds covered the sun and rain drizzled down for hours. I am a sunshine sponge… and just when I thought I couldn’t go another minute without some sun on me, a close friend called to say she was in town for an hour and had a hug with my name on it. I dropped my work and was out the door in as much time as it took to tie my shoes, and her hugs and laughter were like tangible pieces of sunshine on my skin. I needed them.

This evening was a phone evening. In this process of raising support, the first step is calling people—and seven to nine p.m. are prime calling hours. Tonight I didn’t want to call anyone. At all. I wanted to curl up in my bed and cover my head and wish the calling part could be over. And the rest of it too, for that matter.

Last week was full of evening appointments that came from these phone calls, but I only had one appointment scheduled for this week. When I finally sat down tonight to begin calling—this is the hardest part of raising support—I prayed that God would fill the rest of my week with appointments through the calls I made… though even after making dozens of calls, it’s rare to schedule more than a couple appointments per calling session. Tonight I scheduled five. The rest of this week is full, and several are already scheduled for next week.

God is good, and He is faithful. And even when it’s hard for me to remember, I’m so thankful that He isn’t dependent on me.

His goodness isn’t dependent on whether I deserve it. I don’t, but He’s good anyway.

His faithfulness isn’t dependent on whether I am consistent. I’m not, but He’s faithful anyway.

His love and grace aren’t dependent on whether I’m in a good mood or motivated. Today I wasn’t, but He loves me anyway.

being held responsible

2011-09-04T19:34:00.000-04:00

changing seasons

2011-08-30T23:16:00.001-04:00

We sit on the floor skimming through her cookbooks, my cousin and I. I open one to find my grandma’s handwriting carefully traced next to a recipe. My cousin finds the same, a recipe where my grandma noted that the finished product tasted better if you substituted chocolate chips for raisins. I’m a fan of chocolate chips substituting for raisins. :)

Grandma and I at camp together one year when my mom worked as the
camp nurse. This was the year I aspired to be a nurse, as you can tell
from the stethoscope dangling around my knees. :)

We go through piles of cookbooks, splitting them up between us, and I wonder how this happened. How we got so old. How in the world we’re adults. How life changes over time, and how it sometimes changes so fast when you don’t expect it.

While I was away this summer, my grandma unexpectedly got very sick. After a brief battle with her illness in the hospital, she passed away. I got home just a couple weeks after she went to be with Lord and even though lots more weeks have passed since then, I still feel like I’m just trying to pick up pieces and keep moving forward.

Today, picking up pieces means sorting through some of Grandma’s belongings: the cookbooks. She was a wonderful cook, and in past years, we always anticipated going to her house for meals.

Christmas cookie baking with Grandma and the four cousins.

Grandma lived with my family for the past year. After several surgeries in previous years, she wasn’t strong enough to live on her own anymore, and we converted our downstairs living room into a cozy apartment for her. She ate meals with us, talked and laughed with us, lived life with us on a daily basis. Though she’s always been an incredibly special piece of our family, we became much closer in the past year.

She and I often did dishes together after dinner, since this was a household chore she could manage and loved to help with. Our family would play games together or watch movies together sometimes in the evening, and Grandma would join us.

Whenever I think of her, my memories always circle back to the same place. When I’m a Grandma, I hope I’m like her. Grandma always played games, always smiled, never complained. She listened—she liked to hear what was going on during our days. She was a joy to be around and to spend time with.

And I miss her. A lot.

The cookbooks remind me how much. And they’re a tangible reminder of how much life has changed. I look at my cousin and wonder out loud how we got to be so old, how life went from feeling full of her to missing her everywhere. How we went from sitting at Grandma’s table eating dinner with her to dividing up her cookbooks between us—a piece of her that we’ll be able to use regularly and remember her by.

I finished a book a couple days ago, and one of the main characters said, “Life is always changing, always flowing forward like a stream.”

It is. This summer’s part of the stream flowed faster and harder than I thought it would. When I said goodbye to my Grandma the day I left, I didn’t think that was the last time I’d ever hug her.

I’m still working on acclimating to this new change in life. Some days are better and some are harder. It’s a process, and I’m still working through it…

And lately I’m thankful that I serve a God who isn’t surprised by the sudden changes that surprise me. I’m thankful that I serve a God who is bigger than these changing seasons, and One that is unchangeable in the midst of them.

the voice of courage

2011-08-18T07:26:00.000-04:00

on my way back

2011-08-09T16:56:00.000-04:00

I’ve been absent from the blogging world for a while now… but I think I’ll be back soon. So much has happened in this past month. There have been several weeks where I sat down at least a dozen times to try to write, but I just didn’t have the words.

I think they’re coming back though… slowly but surely. So, to those who came looking for words anyway, thank you.

I appreciate it so much…

I’m excited to share what God’s been doing…

I’m excited to have words again…

And I’ll be back before too long…

For real. :)

roll-over reliance

2011-07-10T17:43:00.000-04:00

If you didn’t already know, I’m an introvert.

I love people, and they tire me out. I love life, and life tires me out. I think it’s because life is full of people. And sometimes, life is just life, and it's bigger and taller than you think you can handle... and everybody’s tired. :)

Sometimes, in the middle of loving life, I just want it to freeze for a day so I can catch up with it. Everything is moving fast and loud, and sometimes I want to catch life by the shoulders and say, “Shhhhhh….. be still. Just be still.”

Life becomes a balancing act between how much work I can do and how much time I can spend with people before I need to rest. And by rest, I mean quiet.

Hear that sound?

{silence}

Exactly. So nice. :)

When I do feel like I finally have things balanced, it doesn’t last long. For a day or so – maybe – I’ll feel like I’m juggling things well, enjoying people, crossing enough things off my lists and finding enough time to be quiet so I can go back out tomorrow to do it again...

I think that’s the problem. “I feel like I’m juggling enough things well… crossing enough things off my lists… so I can go back out tomorrow…”

And where was God in all of that?

Correct. I think I forgot to include Him in that part of my day… which, in a sense, was all of my day…

It’s not that I forget He exists. I most definitely don’t. I'm living at the base of mountains this summer--His beauty is everywhere here.

I spent the last two weeks in theology classes soaking up more of Him. Thanks-for-the-sunshine and Please-be-with-so-and-so prayers are ongoing, in class and with friends and in quiet and while I stop and stare at that friendly squirrel on my way to lunch every day.

But I think sometimes I forget that the everyday strength I need isn’t solely up to me. He’s got that, too. I don’t have to do it all on my own. Oh, I’ll remember every once in a while – like, for that one day when everything was balanced.

Maybe that one day was balanced because that was the day when I stopped using the strength I had, and then relying on God for the rest of what was needed once I was already tired out. Maybe that was the day when I gave up on my own strength and relied on God for all of what was needed.

Reliance. I like to do things on my own, but I’m not sure why it takes becoming overwhelmed with life to remember that I’m not strong enough to do life on my own. Everyday. Everyday I’m not strong enough.

Regardless of how self-sufficient I like to be, relying on God needs to start over again every day. It needs to be constant and continual – re-relying, re-committing, re-surrendering, as if it had never happened before.

It’s not like a cell phone plan, where finally, I have all the reliance I need, and if I dole it out correctly, there will be enough and I’ll be fine on my own. No. Just like surrender and my alarm clock, it resets every day, as soon as I toss my covers back and my feet hit the floor. New day. New trust. New surrender. New reliance. {On God. Not on myself.}

Remember. Just like cell phone minutes. No roll-over reliance. :)

Edited and reposted from the archives.

summer update :)

2011-07-07T00:38:00.001-04:00

Hola! :) Here’s a little update on what these past weeks of summer have looked like.

My training schedule has slowed down from its whirlwind pace that swept up the last two weeks, which I’m so thankful for. After a first week of orientation, we spent two weeks in two theology classes, Intro to Christian Theology and Bible Study Methods.

The last class ended this past Tuesday with our final exam. Today was a full day of orientation that covered things like health insurance, how to correctly file our taxes, reimbursements, etc. My schedule is pretty clear tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to a little extra sleep, some time at the gym, and checking some details off my to-do list.

Now that classes are over and we don’t have any more homework for the time being, it’s been great to be able to connect more with the other new staff that are out here. I feel like I finally recognize most of the people I see (even if I can’t remember their names), and many of them are becoming good friends. :)

Following this week, we begin a week of Ministry Partner Development training—or, in other words, our support-raising training. Today’s information was kind of overwhelming as I look ahead to raising support, and I have to keep reminding myself that I only need do my part and trust that God will provide for me. Trusting is my job; providing finances is God’s job.

This evening I found a quote I saved that applies well to raising support. I don’t remember where it’s from, but enjoy… :)

empty-handed enemy

2011-07-06T02:41:00.001-04:00

I stand at my table in the cluttered science lab, our Bible Study Methods breakout classroom for two weeks. There are over a dozen of us, students of the Word instead of students of biology. We spend hours together digging into Ephesians 2:1-10, one of those passages that sums up God’s redemption so clearly.

But before that part of class starts, we discuss together a chapter from Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ by John Piper. On this particular day, our chapter discusses why God chooses to leave Satan in the world and rescue sinners from him, rather than removing him from the world.

It was one of our longer discussions, and though there is still more to be processed through in my mind, my favorite part was when our instructor, Todd, asked, “What are Satan’s most powerful weapons in our lives?”

It didn’t take long for an answer to surface.

“Our guilt and condemnation,” a classmate said. It’s true. So often we live with guilt and condemnation weighing heavy on our hearts, when in reality we’ve been freed and redeemed by Christ’s sacrifice on the cross.

Our guilt has been taken away. It’s gone.

“So, in reality, it’s as though Satan is holding his hand underneath his jacket like he has a gun,” Todd said. “But he has nothing. No weapon is there.”

Too frequently I stand before an empty-handed enemy and fall for the same trick over and over and over. He pulls out a hand from underneath his jacket, points his fingers in the shape of a gun, and I jump back and surrender. I immediately accept a burden of guilt, inwardly disgusted with myself, when in reality I’m waving a white flag to an enemy who isn’t even armed.

I’ve never though of it this way before, and I scribble notes in my back row—I don’t want to forget this. The question is raised, “How does this happen? How can we shift from the saving work of Jesus which destroyed our condemnation to accepting back as a burden we must carry on our own?”

It’s our focus. My guilt and my condemnation is about just that—me. It is self focused, instead of Christ-focused. When my focus is stayed on Jesus and what He did for me on the cross, it becomes difficult to condemn self—self becomes smaller and He becomes greater.

experiencing God

2011-06-27T21:37:00.000-04:00

“God made us for Himself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Him.”

I sat in church next to Jan and Mark, my adopted family for the summer. We’ve gone to church the past two Sundays, and I love going to church all together.

This morning, we begin with one of my favorite songs, Our God, by Chris Tomlin. The message was about experiencing God.

Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Him…

To experience God, the pastor explained, we need to be fully in the present moment. Not stuck in the past or always anticipating the future, but completely awake to the moment we’re living in right now.

This is a lesson I’ve been learning (slowly, and not very well) for the past year. It’s very easy for me to live in the future, planning and preparing for what’s coming next. It’s work for me to slow down, consciously being present and aware of the minutes I’m living in and the people I’m living with.

But it’s not worth missing the present for a future that isn’t here. I can only make use of the present; that’s all the life I can live at one time. These moments and these people. Regardless of all if my thinking ahead and preparing for the future, I can only make use of the present, because that’s the only place I’ll ever be.

But there’s another reason living in the present moment is so important, and I scribbled in my journal as the pastor spoke the words I didn’t want to forget. This is where God is. The present. He’s the I AM, the God of the present, not the I WAS or the I WILL BE.

When I slow down and live in the present, just as I can experience life more fully and invest in people more fully, I can also experience God more fully.

Thankful for...

sunny mornings, even when they come early
restful weekends
familiar faces
tea and cupcakes
late-night laughter over games
God's grace... oh, how I need it

unveiling idols

2011-06-23T21:05:00.002-04:00

Fay and I sat against the wall in the cafeteria, her hands covering mine as she prayed over me in the midst of the mayhem that happens in that room during mealtime.

Tears ran down my face and for once I hardly noticed the dozens of conversations happening around me. Only minutes earlier, God tore the veil off an idol I’ve been actively building in my life for the past several years. I melted when I realized how huge it has become and how ignorant I’ve been of its presence.

It is the idol of academics.

I’ve always been a good student. I’ve earned straight A’s for as long as I can remember (with the exception of 6^th grade P.E., but that’s another story), and I graduated with highest honors and a GPA of 3.967. I’m not trying to blow my own horn—this is just a fact.

I’m very driven and motivated to do well, and school has always come easy to me. What I didn’t realize was that I’d become more concerned with the grade I received on assignments than with what I was actually learning, or whether there was any semblance of balance or growth in other areas of my life.

This week has been one of intense schoolwork. I’m in two masters level Bible classes as part of my training for Campus Crusade, Intro to Christian Theology, and Bible Study Methods. I love them. I’m learning things about God and His Word that I never knew, and I’m being trained to dig deeper into Scripture and learn more about Him.

On this particular day, I’d left class very frustrated. To understand the structure and meaning of verses in Scripture more fully, we spent two hours diagramming sentences. Two hours. Diagramming sentences is the bane of my existence. I’m serious. I can write, but grammar was never my thing, and I grew more and more frustrated as our coach picked direct objects and other grammatical language I don’t remember out of sentences in Ephesians 2.

I left class very frustrated and anxious, even though we completely finished the assignment. All my brain would register was the fact that in one afternoon I still had significant amounts of homework to do for two masters level Bible classes: three more chapters to read, a study guide to fill out, and a research project to make significant progress on that is due Friday morning. How was I going to finish this work? And what if I didn’t do well on the assignments?

“Can I share something wise with you that I was told last night?” Fay asked. She went on to remind me that the purpose of our training and these classes was to draw us closer to God. We are here to get to know God more deeply so that we can share Him with others.

Through our conversation, God very clearly reminded me that if my drive to get good grades is overshadowing my ability to enjoy God and draw close to Him, then the work I am doing is useless. It isn’t serving its purpose.

For a minute, I thought my soul-examining session had ended. So, I need to make sure I don’t care so much about getting good grades. Great. Moving on.

“Emilie,” God said gently. “You have lived with this idol in your life for many years. During your years in college, you built it with your own hands. You sacrificed time with Me, relationships with your family and time with your friends on its altar for marks of achievement that will ultimately mean very little.”

This was when I stopped short in the middle of the cafeteria behind Fay and tears and regret started pooling in my eyes. How could I have lived this way? Oh, it must have broken God’s heart…

But He wasn’t finished yet.

“You so often draw your identity from the fact that you do excellent work and not from the fact that you are a daughter of mine,” He continued. “But this is not who you are. Your identity must be found in Me and Me alone. You are mine. I chose you and I love you and I died for you and I have forgiven you. These truths have nothing to do with your performance, either in school or in any other area of your life.”

And so Fay and I huddled against the wall in that crowded, noisy cafeteria and prayed for God to forgive us for placing this idol of performance before Him. I cried over its hugeness and how much time and life-balance I’ve been willing to sacrifice to it. We prayed that we would use this class time to draw close to His heart and not base our successfulness on the grades we get.

This is an idol I’ll probably be tearing down for a long time. What frightens me is the fact that it’s been standing in front of me, filling my planner and cluttering my desk for years, and I never saw it.

How many more idols are standing in my life, am I building with my hands, that I don’t even realize are there?

the beginning of community

2011-06-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

I’m driving, a little speck of burgundy beneath the mountains to our right, and the five of us are on our way to Wal-Mart. Jess is riding shotgun, helping me navigate, I can see red-headed Kate smack in the middle of my rear-view mirror, and Fay and Katie sit on both sides of her.

We met in the registration line last Tuesday, the room where it felt like chaos was happening and some of the oh-my-goodness-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into feelings surfaced. These girls have become the beginning of my community here.

I think I forget how important community is until I step out of the one surrounding me… and in the middle of this week that was so emotionally draining, pouring what was left of myself into the people around me felt almost dangerous.

(Don’t get me wrong… God clearly marked this as my next step and I’m so glad He did. I’m so excited to begin this next chapter… this first week has just been a bit rocky.)

But I also forget that when my heart is hurting and I’m feeling very thin and stretched, true community isn’t there to break me or to suck me dry when I’m already drained. It’s there to fill me and hold me together.

God designed us to live in community with each other as a family. Ephesians 2:19-21 says, “So now you Gentiles are no longer strangers and foreigners. You are citizens along with all of God’s holy people. You are members of God’s family. Together, we are his house, built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets. And the cornerstone is Christ Jesus himself. We are carefully joined together in him, becoming a holy temple for the Lord.” (emphasis added)

So, yesterday a good friend and I went out for coffee. In the evening, the beginning of my community went out to dinner and to Wal-Mart. Today a married couple adopted me for the morning, and we worshiped together at a local church. This evening I went to dinner again with my girls from registration.

It’s not always easy and sometimes the introverted part of me just wants to run and find some quiet space, but I’m going to need this community and they’ll need me. I’m not the only one who will have thin, stretched days or feel like I’ve been all poured out. This group of Jesus-followers will become His hands and feet, holding each other together, supporting, offering a safe place or a hug on the days when we’re feeling tired or less than whole. A community.

Community Thankfulness…

356. nearby drug stores

357. “let’s have dinner together!” texts :)

358. tummy-aching laughter

359. a cafeteria with lots of options and new friends to sit with

360. fresh fruit at every meal

361. hot tea and honey for a sore throat

362. an extra cozy blanket

363. naps and a day of rest

364. a polka-dotted umbrella for the rain this afternoon

365. real hugs

366. splitting Thai food with a new friend

367. auto-recovery on my computer, so I didn’t have to re-type all this when it unexpectedly shut down in the middle :)

And my sweet friends, if you could pray for me…

- For strength and energy for this coming week. Tomorrow we begin our two classes from the Institute of Biblical Studies. We’ll have four hours of lecture each morning and then the afternoon open for homework.

- For health. I started getting a sore throat yesterday and today I’m well on my way to having a full-blown sinus infection. This sickness is fairly routine for me, but it almost always turns into a bacterial sinus infection and bronchitis… which would possibly mean a trip to an urgent care around here for some antibiotics. Pray that my usual home remedies would work this time and I could be back to my healthy self in a few days. :)

- For friendships. Pray that I would develop some close friendships while I’m here, and that I would be able to support those around me as well.

overwhelmed

2011-06-16T00:56:00.001-04:00

This has been a full week, to say the least. And it’s only Wednesday!

I arrived in Fort Collins for New Staff Training yesterday morning (without getting lost! :)) and moved into what will be my dorm for the next six weeks. Yesterday afternoon was registration and beginning to learn my way around… to the cafeteria, to the school where our classes are, to the information desk, etc.

If I could sum up the past two days into one emotion, it would be “overwhelmed.” As much as I know this is where God wants me, and as excited as I am to be here, this has been an overwhelming week. Very good, just very overwhelming, too.

I’m thankful that God has so clearly had His hand in this new chapter of life and that none of the stuff that surprises and overwhelms me surprises or overwhelms Him.

This afternoon I learned that while I was out of state last week, my horse died. (I recently wrote about her here, if you’d like some of the back-story.) I was able to go visit here a few days before I left, which I’m so thankful for… she was as perky and sassy as always, and I’ll miss her so much.

So… keep me in your prayers please, readers… I appreciate it more than you know. :)

let the mountains move

2011-06-12T01:15:00.001-04:00

I sit curled in the back seat of our solid brown Ford truck watching the Colorado scenery roll by out the window. Mountains. Rock formations. Rivers. Beauty everywhere I look.

The mountains here fascinate me. They have a rugged beauty all their own, some still snow-capped in June, others letting snow rush down their steep sides in icy white waterfalls.

If you look, you can find such delicate beauty here. Flowers line bike paths and hiking trails and even grow out of crevices in the rocks. Swallows are constantly diving around you, collecting material for their nests.

But the beauty here is just as much deadly as it is alluring. The mountains aren’t forgiving—they’re huge and tall and hard and unpredictable.

Signs warning about falling rocks line most roads. At home if I was to drive off the road, I’d fall into a ditch. A big one maybe, depending on the road, but still, a ditch. Driving off the road here is often the same as driving off a cliff.

Today we’re on our way to hike up to Bridal Veil Falls, twin waterfalls that run high up in the mountains. The truck downshifts to climb another pass through the peaks, and I hear a song on the radio that God must have known I needed. I rake through my purse for a notebook before they slip away.

If faith can move the mountains, then let the mountains move.

We come with expectation, waiting here for you. I’m waiting here for you.

I look out my window as we drive through another pass. Even in their beauty, these summits make me feel so insignificant, so tiny.

Life does that too, sometimes. And there are life-mountains coming. Some I know of, and some I don’t. Some will feel bigger than others, and some probably look bigger right now than they actually are. Life-mountains can be unpredictable and hard and you do the best you can, but even your best sometimes feels like you’re driving over a cliff.

But maybe I’m looking at it backwards? Maybe I should ask the God of the mountain to move it for me, instead of asking Him to save me as I’m plummeting over the edge on my own (although I’m thankful that He’s ready and willing to save).

I guess I never expect that they’ll move. They’re mountains, and so I plan and schedule and map my way over and around them on my own. But He says it Himself:

“You don’t have enough faith,” Jesus told them. “I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it would move. Nothing would be impossible.” ~ Matthew 17:20

Forget mapping my own way over the peaks. I want to see mountains move. I’d like to have faith that expects mountains to move, ready and waiting on God to see it happen.

But faith doesn’t grow unless it’s stretched, and it’s the stretching that can be uncomfortable… and necessary. Faith-stretching happens when I pray prayers that are far beyond my capability—mountain-moving prayers. Sun-stand-still prayers, like Joshua prayed in chapter 10 of his book in the Old Testament. Joshua needed the sun to stand still, so he prayed and asked God to make it happen. And God answered. That was a mountain-moving prayer.

I don’t have a neat ending. Mountain-moving doesn’t strike me as a neat and orderly thing. But it’s something I want to see in my life—so here’s to learning to pray mountain-moving prayers… and learning to better trust that my God keeps His promises, even to moving real mountains and life-mountains.

Join me? :)

the understatement of the year

2011-06-07T22:09:00.001-04:00

We made it to Colorado safe and sound! :)

The trip took just over 24 hours, with two cars and four drivers. It was uneventful (thanks for your prayers!), and after we settled into our condo we went for a 10-mile bike ride to start adjusting to the altitude.

To say this place is beautiful might be the understatement of the year.

next destination: colorado!

2011-06-05T22:31:00.001-04:00

I’m still finding it hard to believe, but tomorrow morning I’ll be on my way out to Colorado for seven weeks of the summer.

My family and I will spend the first week together biking and hiking and white water rafting… and other fun things. :) After that, I’ll head up to Fort Collins for six weeks of New Staff Training, Institute of Biblical Studies classes and a staff conference with Campus Crusade for Christ.

{If you missed the beginning of the story, I worked as an intern for the Writers Team at Crusade’s headquarters last summer, and early this year I was accepted with the organization as full time staff. This is my orientation, preparation to raise support, and the next step toward my eventual move to Orlando as a missionary journalist.}

I’ve been waiting for this since last summer when God started opening doors and laying this next step on my heart. I think the last week has been so full of getting-ready-to-go details that only now is it beginning to sink in that it’s actually happening. I’m going.

This step is more than just a dream—my heel is off the ground already, like a runner at the beginning of a sprint, and tomorrow I’ll be moving forward.

I’m a mix of excited and nervous and curious and overwhelmed right now. I’m expecting God to use this summer in big ways in my life and in my preparation for full-time ministry. I’m beyond excited that God has called me to use the skills I have to reach other people and bring Him glory in this way.

If you think of me, I would appreciate your prayers. :)

· Pray for safety for my family as we drive tomorrow.

· Pray that God would be molding me and shaping me this summer into exactly what I need to be for this next chapter.

· Pray that He would provide close friendships and community for me while I’m away from home.

· Pray that these weeks of training would give me fuel and motivation to push through the support raising process that will follow.

· Pray that God would begin speaking to my future supporters’ hearts even now, and that He would go ahead of me in that process.

And there has been so much to be thankful for in this getting-ready-to-go…

My car is finished! Many thanks to all who prayed about that. :)

God provided the support that was needed for this summer.

My family has the opportunity to spend a week away together, and my grandma will be well taken care of while we’re away.

I’ll get to see many old friends while I’m away this summer!

All the last-minute details came together.

God’s reminder that though I’m flawed and weak, He’ll use me anyway.

Though I’m not sure yet how much free time or internet availability I’ll have over the coming weeks, it’s my hope to keep writing here about how God moves and the things I learn. :)

when dreams change

2011-06-01T23:48:00.000-04:00

Like many little girls I know, when I was younger I dreamed of owning my own horse.

For years, I faithfully saved my allowance, birthday money, Christmas money, and any other money that happened to come my way in hopes of one day having enough to buy my dream horse. I even had some friends that supported my “horse fund,” and would bring me their change to add to my growing pile of savings.

Finally, just before my 13^th birthday, the time was right. A friend of mine knew of a 13-year old Arab mare that was being sold nearby, and together we went to look at her.

She was perfect.

Within a few weeks, I had traded my savings for my dream, and I was riding her home.

She and I shared 7 years together. This year we’re both turning 22, which still amazes me. We took lessons together, learned together, and grew together.

For a long time, I thought that I would always have her. I never anticipated my dream changing or my life going in a different direction. However, when I purchased her, my family had just returned from a yearlong mission trip, and I knew that if God called us away again, I would have to be willing to give her up. The knowledge that we would go wherever God called taught me to hold her with open hands.

Two years ago, I felt God beginning to move and shape me, chipping off the rough edges and preparing me for something. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was but I was reasonably sure it meant I’d be going somewhere else. Having traveled quite a bit, leaving “stuff” behind never really bothered me, but the thought of selling my horse was one I wrestled with for a long time.

I didn’t want to. At all.

But during my junior year in school, it became clear that finding her a new home would also be in her best interest. Once school as in session, I was gone almost every day, and while I did have time to take care of her, I wasn’t able to really spend time with her or ride much. Hard as it was to make the decision to sell her, I wanted her to have a home where she received a lot of attention and love.

God provided the perfect place for her: an equine therapy facility where she has lots of horse friends, receives lots of attention and love, and is cared for well. For the past two years, she’s been living at O.A.T.S. (Offering Alternative Therapy with Smiles), a facility that provides therapy for physically and mentally handicapped children and adults. The sweet barn staff at O.A.T.S. even let me come visit her. :)

And as it turns out, God didn’t have a long term missions trip in mind for my family during this time, but He was calling me into missions… and I had to let her go before I could follow Him. In less than a week, I’ll be headed out to Colorado for six weeks of training with Campus Crusade for Christ. When I get home, I’ll begin raising fulltime support, with the intention of moving to Orlando, Florida, to work as a missionary journalist as soon as I’m fully supported.

I’ve been wanting to drive out and visit my horse before I head out west for the summer, and this morning my dad and I made the trip together. I always feel homesick for her after I leave, but she’s in such good shape and she’s so happy. I couldn’t have asked for a better home for her, and I’m so thankful for the way God has taken care of her.

He’s good. Very good.

memorial day in pictures

2011-05-30T20:51:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day Thankfulness…

freedom

sunshine and no rain!

a family who is supportive and encouraging

food :)

lettuce and onions and ketchup on my tasty burger from the grill

a beautiful cousin who doubles as a close friend

a not-so-little nephew running up to tell me he was writing in the car during the drive to my house

sharing brownies

strong hugs

little boys running and splashing and laughing all afternoon :)

seize the day

2011-05-29T07:52:00.000-04:00

i am not the size i wear.

2011-05-27T01:41:00.005-04:00

Dear Reader,

This is one of those posts I’m writing more for myself than I am for you. If you find it helpful in some way, I’m glad… but sometimes we forget things that deep down we know to be true… and sometimes we need reminders… so this is me reminding myself of truth.

I am not the size I wear.

I’ve been repeating that line to myself for the past few days, partially so I don’t forget and partially because I want to believe it.

If you were to ask me outright, I probably wouldn’t tell you that I’m insecure about my body size. I would probably tell you that I value fitness and strength. Until last summer when I read Beth Moore’s book, So Long, Insecurity (which you might want to pick up, by the way), I didn’t even know it had a name.

“Insecurity’s best cover is perfectionism,” Beth Moore writes in her book, dispelling the idea that insecurity can only look a certain way. I’ve been called a perfectionist before…

I didn’t recognize the insecurity—I just always wanted to be thinner. Thinner was closer to perfect. Is closer to perfect. I was happy with myself when I was a couple pounds lighter, and unhappy with myself when I was a couple pounds heavier. And though I wear a smaller-than-average size, that’s pretty much still the case most days. But, I really don’t want it to be the case anymore.

I’m tired of allowing myself to be defined by numbers on a scale or a shape in the mirror or by the size listed on a tag. That isn’t who I am.

This insecurity business about my size hasn’t bothered me a whole lot for a while. But it came back when I went through the capris in my summer wardrobe and found they were too small. What’s this? I’m not as small as I used to be?!

I was so frustrated with myself. I’ve been working out fairly consistently, trying to eat decently, and until I tried on those woeful pants, I was pretty comfortable with my body. Happy, even. I’m in decent shape. I’m usually satisfied with how I look. I feel strong, and I like that.

But those pants were too small… and that means you should be smaller than you are, whisper lies in my head. But that isn’t the truth.

The truth is that I’ve had a few pairs of those capris since before I started college four years ago and they’ve been washed a million times. The truth is that clothes do shrink. The truth is that most of my thinness during college years only resulted from unhealthy weight loss due to stress. The truth is that there’s nothing wrong with the size I am.

That really is the bottom line. I am not the size I wear.

I need to tell myself the truth more often.

This week, I picked up a couple pairs of shorts and a pair of jeans that fit comfortably, to replace some of my summer bottoms that don’t fit anymore. Tonight I went through my pants drawer, trying on every item and making a pile out of the too-small ones. They’re going to Salvation Army.

With every pair, I kept repeating to myself, I am not the size I wear. Part of me is still trying to believe it. But regardless of how often I need to be reminded, clothes and weight and sizes do not give me my worth or value or give me dignity—those things can only be satisfied in God, though I admit this to be something I often forget.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what I say about myself. It matters what He says about me.

He says I am clothed with strength and dignity. (Proverbs 31:25)

He says He made me and crowned me with glory and honor. (Psalm 8:2-5)

He says He sees when even one sparrow falls from the sky, but I am more valuable than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:31)

So, I think I’m done. As I said, this was more for me than it was for you, Reader, though I hope if this is an area you struggle with too, that maybe it was a needed reminder. Don’t listen to the lies… cling to the truth.

Love,

Emilie

a lesson i'm still working on

2011-05-25T22:13:00.000-04:00

adoption

2011-05-25T09:28:00.000-04:00

The day was damp and overcast. A woman pulled up in front the building in a small gray car that matched the sky. She moved toward the door with an impatient step, her arms full of a portion of the paperwork she’d been going through for months. It never seemed to end.

She was ready for it to end. Ready to move forward.

Ready for the day the last form would be signed. Ready for the day the preliminary process would be over and the real waiting could start. Ready for the day the call would come telling her there was a baby waiting for her who needed a home.

She pushed open the door and stepped into the adoption agency’s waiting room. It was empty, except for one other person. He sat where he could watch the door leading to the interior of the building. He looked very ordinary at first glance, but he raised his eyes when the woman walked through the door. His eyes reflected her own. They were clearly kind, but they ached with the pain that comes from months and years of waiting, hoping for a child.

She knew, because her eyes reflected similar pain. In her heart, she knew she was born to be a mother. Every fiber of her being knew it. Her husband knew it. Her family knew it. Her friends knew it. And yet, she was not born to bear children. Her body was not made to carry babies. But the destiny of motherhood still called.

And so, she filled out the pages and pages and pages of paperwork that somehow proved she would be a good parent, and she waited. And she waited. And she waited. With the waiting, the love she carried in her heart for the child that would one day be hers only grew.

The man’s story was similar… but different. He shared the pain she felt. He understood the wear and grind of endless waiting. He knew the ache suffered not by arms that had strained too much, but by arms that had been empty for too long. He felt the overwhelming grief that sank in when the reservoirs of love contained in his heart seemed to overflow and run through cracks in the floor because he had no one to give it to.

But, unlike the woman, he was not waiting for one child. He waited for many children.

Adoption has been on my heart a lot lately. It was not something I gave much thought to until I stumbled across the blog of a woman who works at Rochester College. A few years ago now, she and her husband completed an open adoption and are the proud parents of a sweet little boy. Not long ago, another family I know adopted a little girl from Ethiopia.

I began to think of all the people I know who went through the adoption process, or are going through it, or even considered going through it. There are more than I realized. After hearing their stories, I am always floored. The couples who go through this process are heroes. They are. They wait, sometimes for years, to become parents. They pour out their time, their money, their patience, their love, waiting for the day they can finally hold a son or daughter in their arms.

But I began to realize that God does the same thing. He waits, sometimes for years, for a child to come to Him. You. Me. Sometimes the adoption is finally over, the child home and safe in His arms… and then the unthinkable happens. The child chooses to walk away.

After glimpsing the pain and heartache that human parents endure as they wait for the joy that an adopted child brings, I can’t imagine what such a blow would do to their hearts. With that real-life example freshly imprinted in my mind, I also can’t imagine what the same blow must do to God’s heart.

Many times, in God’s case, the child will eventually come home. But still. It is so far beyond my understanding to grasp how much love He must carry in His heart for each one of us to be willing to go through that pain over and over and over again.

I don’t know whether or not adopting children will be in God’s plan for my life. But the picture of adoption has given me a greater understanding of the depth of God’s love for me.

In spite of pain, in spite of waiting, in spite of heartache, the love He carries in His heart for His children knows no limits. It never ends.

car accident thankfulness

2011-05-23T23:45:00.000-04:00

Blinker flashing, I sit at the red light, waiting for an opening in traffic so I can turn right. To the left, I can see one—the end of a line of cars. I prepare to pull out.

But before I can ease my little Honda Civic into first gear, there is a crash… and in the midst of crunching metal, my car slams forward. My eyes snap to my rearview mirror just fast enough to see a big brown truck and a shower of red plastic that once made up my brake light.

I’ve never been in an accident before this morning on my way to work. It’s not time for this! my mind cries. It’s NOT! I’m on a schedule, and this isn’t in it.

I get out and meet the driver who hit me. The back end of my car next to the trunk is folded in. “We should probably call the police and make out a report,” she says. I agree. Returning to our cars, we pull off the road into a nearby gas station parking lot. 1) Thankful that the car is drivable.

She calls the police, and I call my dad. The phone rings… rings… rings… “Howdy, angel!” he answers. That’s his nickname for me. “What’s up?”

“I just got rear-ended,” I say, dangerously close to tears. They’re burning behind my eyes and clogging my throat. I explain what happened and where I am.

“I’ll be right there,” he says. “It’ll be fine.” 2) Thank God for my amazing dad. It turns out he was in the middle of running errands—he’s only about 6 miles away. 3) Thankful that my dad was so close.

The police officer comes, asks for drivers license, insurance and registration. We explain what happened and he begins his report. I return to my car, no worse for wear besides some stiffness in my back. 4) Thankful for no injuries. As a friend says, cars are way easier to fix than people.

My dad pulls in just a few minutes later, strong assurance coming with him. He begins making phone calls as soon as we get the finished report. We agree to meet at a body shop in the afternoon and I get back on track toward work. 5) Thankful for someone who knows what to do with car accidents.

The sky darkens heavy with rain during my lunch break at work, and before long the rain is beating on top of my building and forming pools in the parking lot. 6) Thankful none of my windows were broken during the accident.

Dad and I meet at the body shop a few hours later. The estimate is within the range the insurance company said they would cover without question. They can take my car this morning. It should be done before I leave for New Staff Training in two weeks. 7) Thankful, thankful, thankful.

I’ll be without a car for a week while this one is getting repaired, but we’ll work around that. If you think of it, please pray that the repairs won’t be delayed in any way… I’m leaving for training two weeks from today, and I really need to take it with me. :)

thank God for sunshine :)

2011-05-19T23:02:00.001-04:00

Today the sun came out.

That might not seem like such a big deal if you're not from my area, but we Michiganders are ready to celebrate! And for the record, I don’t know who decided that Michigan residents are called “Michiganders” (according to Microsoft Word, it is a real word), but personally I think it makes us sound a lot like geese.

I digress.

I was out of state last week for the wedding of one of my housemates from last summer's internship. While I enjoyed temperatures in the high 80s, my family spent the week in an almost constant drizzle of rain. We had our own private lake pooling in most of the yard when I got home (we call it Lake Kanie), and our garden currently looks like a square pond. The road was even close to being underwater at the end of our street.

While Michigan struggled to stay above 50 degrees, the drizzle (or deluge, depending on the time of day), continued for several days after I got home. The days were dark with clouds that never broke except to pour more rain.

Weather never used to be high on my priority list, but sunshine is one of those things I don’t take for granted anymore. I love it. I miss it when it’s gone. I burn easily, but I wish I could just sit in it for hours and soak it up. It’s one of those simple things that can make me so happy, and it’s one of those things I’m constantly thankful for. God knew what He was doing when He made the sun. :)

So, this afternoon when I was sitting at my desk at work and I turned to the window and saw sun rays falling on my blinds and a sky full of blue, I was ready to clock out and go home. Literally. I bought a new bike on Tuesday evening, and I’ve been dying to ride it for a good long time on a non-rainy day.

I finished my work, but the highlight of my day was feeling the sun on my back while I pedaled past the green grass, the cornfields, and the river that runs near my house.

Thank God for sunshine. :)

waiting

2011-05-19T07:42:00.000-04:00

turning pages

2011-05-16T00:14:00.000-04:00

I just got home from Ohio this afternoon after spending a week in Ohio and Kentucky. I got to visit some old friends during my time away, but the trip’s main purpose was for a friend’s wedding. :)

On Saturday afternoon, I had the privilege of standing up in the wedding of one of my roommates from last summer’s internship. Almost a year has passed since then. And that’s hard to believe.

I’ve always looked at life in chapters—maybe because that’s how my mom always explained seasons of life, and maybe because I love to read so much and stories have chapters. Some life-chapters are only a few pages long. Some feel hundreds of pages long. Some have neat endings. Others feel sort of like the ending of Inception. What really happened there??

Often, it’s not difficult for me to tell what portion of a chapter I’m in. College was a 4-year chapter. Summer Project was a 10-week chapter. They were defined. There have been chapters where I worked here or there in this or that capacity, chapters where certain relationships were super close, and chapters where there was distance. But I have a very funny feeling right now.

I don’t feel like I’m in a chapter.

I feel like I’m smack dab in the middle of a page being turned.

School ended two weeks ago. I’m graduated. That chapter is closed. I’m raising support for New Staff Training with Campus Crusade. In just over 3 weeks, I’ll be heading out to Colorado for my family’s summer vacation. And then they’ll leave me there for my training—the beginning of a new chapter.

But there’s still time before that chapter begins, and this page-turning business… it feels a little uncomfortable sometimes. Exciting, yes. Where I’m supposed to be, yes. But still a little uncomfortable? I’m afraid so.

I’m neither here nor there right now… I’m getting read to go, getting ready for this next chapter to be written. In these times of transition, I find it’s easy for me to pull away, to get locked up inside myself, not wanting to get to close when I know I’m getting ready to leave. Not wanting to invest too much when I don’t know what’s coming.

But I was reading in Ann Voskamp’s book tonight, and she said something I needed. (Actually, every time I pick up her book, she says so many things I need to hear that I can only digest one chapter at a time.) “Wherever you are, be all there.”

Because it’s in the individual moments that life happens. Life still happens in between chapters, when pages are being turned, and unless I’m fully present, I miss the wonder that’s found there.

Be all there. Even when life-pages feel wrinkly and life-chapters have already been tied up. Even in the middle of a life-page being turned. Even in the questions and uncertainty, and excitement and anticipation. Be all there.

So thankful this week….

for the opportunity to stand up in the beautiful wedding of a sweet, sweet friend—one that stands on Jesus as its foundation

for hairspray :)

for the look on her face the first time she saw herself in the mirror with her dress and flowers

for happy tears when she walked down the aisle

for clear weather when it was time to take pictures after the ceremony—we prayed for that

for dress shoes that were reasonably comfortable :)

for new games

for hours spent catching up with old friends

for safe travels

for God’s guidance

for late conversations with a wise mom

for my own bed :)

love.

2011-05-11T10:23:00.000-04:00

Jesus-fingerprints all over

2011-05-08T22:38:00.000-04:00

He sits in the storm blue lazy-boy in my room, a hand-made blanket from Auntie Frieda cushioning his back and the clutter of my desk to his right. The binder full of my high school writing sits open in his lap as he reads his way through the stories I wrote and forgot about.

He loves to write, this boy, my nephew. That similarity has pulled us closer these past weeks. Always he asks, “Aunt Mimi, did you write stories when you were younger? What were they about? What do you write now? Are you going to be an author?”

Today he reads about the time I flew to his house in Minnesota when he was little—almost too little to remember what happened. They were moving home to Michigan, my brother and sister-in-law, and I flew out in order to drive back with her and the boys and a full mini-van. He doesn’t remember, but the morning we left, Kelly and I discovered that his favorite Dora sippy cup was missing, and now he laughs as he reads the re-telling of the story. Oh, the interesting things that happen on journeys… and in life…

While he traces his way through that story, I trace thank you’s into cards headed to people who have partnered with me in ministry, supporting me as I step with God into missions.

He finishes the story and tells me he really liked it.

And have I ever written fiction, he asks? He likes fiction. I remember a handful of stories I wrote around ten years ago, when I was 10 and 11 and 12. I had a stuffed animal—a leopard—and I imagined that he was really alive and could talk. His name was Leo, and we had the most fantastic adventures…

He asks to see them, and I search through old writing folders for a minute before I dig them up like buried treasure. Does he want to read them? He does, and I print three of them out.

“Aunt Mimi, are these Jesus stories?” he asks, several paragraphs into the first story.

“I don’t think they are,” I answer, trying to remember if Jesus makes an appearance in any of them. The fact that those stories were written a decade ago is beginning to make me feel old. :) “I think they’re just adventure stories.”

“Ok,” he says. “I just wondered. I don’t write Jesus stories.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have to make them interesting.”

“But Jesus stories are interesting,” I say, not really knowing what else to add.

I go back to my thank you cards, and he goes back to Leo and the Ocean Rescue. I think I almost drowned in that story, if I remember right.

But I’m busy thinking. I have to make Jesus stories interesting. I want to put into words that living the Jesus story is beyond interesting—that He’s here, right here in this room with the thank you’s and the lazy-boy and the decade-old stories. But I couldn’t find the right words… and part of the thank you’s felt a little hollow as I remembered how much support was still needed, and yes there were big things, but how interesting was the every-day Jesus story?

The next morning, I get up excited for lunch with a girl I hoped would become a close friend. God has us on similar roads—she’s just about one year ahead of me. Already on staff with Campus Crusade, she moved to Orlando days after Christmas to work in campus ministry at one of the city’s universities. After training and long-term support raising, I’ll be moving to the same area, just working in a different capacity. Interesting?

While I drive over, I pray that God will allow us to get past surface-level conversation—to become real friends. We meet over coffee and a wild-berry smoothie, the two missionary girls with long blonde hair. We dive far deeper than surface-level and I am so encouraged, and she tells me that she also prayed for our friendship while she drove over.

And when I step out of that coffee shop, I leave with a friend, the offer of a roommate, prayer, encouragement, a hug, and the reminder that yes, the Jesus story is so interesting.

And I am so thankful, and when I go home to the next stack of cards to be filled with gratefulness, I want to tell them how I see Jesus-fingerprints all over this. How they’re everywhere, marking details I haven’t even thought of, moving two girls’ hearts together, binding a girl and her nephew together through written words.

Thankfulness with Ann this week…

for sweet sleep with the windows open

for the bird-chorus that greets me in the morning

for connection with the team I’ll be working with

for a new friend

for bags packed and a week away beginning tomorrow

for a chance to visit with far-away friends!

for another friend’s upcoming wedding… and my silver shoes and pearl bracelet and blue dress packed and ready for it :)

for God-fingerprints reminding me that this is all in His hands, that I’m in His hands, and that He’s holding it all together and doing it expertly

spring in pictures

2011-05-05T20:19:00.001-04:00

I know the first day of spring was technically last month. But, today was one of the first days that really felt spring-like to me. :)

My aunt came over, and she and my grandma and I went out to lunch. Then we came home and sat on the deck and enjoyed the sunshine. And I took almost 300 pictures of spring, now that it's finally arrived. So fun. :)

Enjoy.

Bird watching is a favorite past time around here, especially in the spring. This is the time of year for the orioles to visit, and they like eating fresh oranges.

It's goldfinch season, too...

Meet Mr. and Mrs. Goldfinch. :)

Blue sky and budding leaves... :)

a walk around the block

2011-05-05T07:46:00.000-04:00

resting-in-God strength

2011-05-04T00:04:00.000-04:00

This afternoon, I was filling out questions for a brief interview. One asked, Where would you like to retire?

Given that I’m only a twenty-something who just graduated from college, retirement is a ways down the road. :) And for the record, I think I’d like it to be somewhere warm that brushes up against the ocean…

But. My first thought was that it doesn’t really matter, because I don’t want to retire. Ever. I like working, believe it or not. I like starting projects and finishing jobs and crossing things off my to-do lists. I like setting goals, planning out what it will take to meet them, and then working my plan. My “down time” usually consists of my favorite work. I’m just a worker by nature. And I often need to be reminded that there’s a balance between work and rest...

I also need to be reminded that I can’t do enough work to “fix” myself. I think I forget this more often than not.

Another question on the interview this morning asked, “What drives you everyday?” I’m driven every day to become better in some way than I was the day before, I wrote. This looks different each day. On some days I become a better writer, on some I become a better photographer or cook, on some I become more physically fit, etc.

This is true. I’m a developer. I like to grow, change, develop, become better. Blossom.

Like work, this is as natural as breathing to me. And there’s nothing wrong with it—to a point.

But in spite of all my work, my efforts to grow, I cannot “develop” myself into a person who is not still desperately in need of God’s grace. I cannot work myself into perfection. And ultimately, the strength that is needed to change me isn’t mine—it’s God’s.

As I was reminded from Isaiah tonight, this isn’t the “pull yourself up by your own bootstraps” strength we’re used to hearing about. This is resting-in-God strength.

This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel says: “Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength…

So the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for his help. ~ Isaiah 30:15, 18

This is resting-in-God strength. Humbling strength. Strength that’s available when I recognize that I can’t save myself or fix myself, when I submit myself and ask for His power.

graduation day in pictures :)

2011-05-01T23:19:00.001-04:00

Well, it’s official. I have graduated. :)

Saturday was a special day. Long, but very special. In the morning, my dad and I went to the Dean’s Breakfast together, and then we headed over to the church where our graduation commencement was held.

There were about 100 of us, all dressed in black robes and square hats with tassels on the right. We were instructed how to file into our rows, in what order to walk across the stage, how not to trip on the stairs, to smile at the photographer, flip the tassel to the left (but not while walking down the stairs!), etc.

Before the ceremony started, we were herded into a small side room and lined up alphabetically by division. And we waited. That’s when I started to get fidgety. That’s also when I realized that those black robes are much warmer than they look. :)

When it was time, we slowly snaked into the sanctuary behind the faculty and staff who’ve spent four years teaching us. We filed into our rows, waiting. Dr. Shelly, president of Rochester College and someone I highly respect, spoke, as he did at the Dean’s Breakfast.

A few words he said stayed etched in my mind. “I expect you to go change the world,” he said during the breakfast.

I love this challenge. Too often I think we’re told that we can’t change the world, so why bother trying? And yes, it sounds idealistic, perhaps like something you’d expect to hear at a graduation ceremony, and you’d take it with a grain of salt, because, well, this is graduation day, and it sounds good. But I know Dr. Shelly, and he wasn’t kidding. And I'm glad he wasn't.

And after the breakfast, when he shook my hand and we stood so my dad could take our picture, with his arm tight around my shoulder he said quietly, “God has special plans for you.” Other people say that, too, usually when I don’t expect it. (No one seems to be able to tell me what they are yet, but one step at a time, we’ll figure them out.) :)

I wasn’t nervous until it was my turn to walk across the stage, when all of a sudden I had this horrible vision of tripping on my way up the stairs or losing a shoe on my way down…

… but neither happened. :)

And the aftermath was a blur of pictures with family…

… with friends…

… with professors that invested so much time in me, men and women that I look up to so much.

So. College is over. That chapter closed. I’m excited to be in the spring of a new chapter, watching life unfold petal by petal, step by step.

And I’m so thankful.

I’m thankful for the things I’ve learned these past four years, for the skills I’ve gained.

I’m thankful for the men and women who invested in me, who taught me to think, to write, to have a hunger for learning.

I’m thankful for the friendships I leave with. I’d never have made it without them. :)

I’m thankful for my amazing parents, who have supported me and encouraged me in this season, especially on the days when I was just sick and tired of it and wanted to be done. For the days when my dad would call me when he knew I'd be driving and wouldn’t answer my phone, just to leave a message telling me what a good job I was doing and how proud he was. For all the dinners my mom cooked, making sure I had leftovers to take to school or work the next day. I love leftovers. :) For the record, my parents are the best.

And I’m thankful that God has a special plan… and I’m looking forward to watching it unfold.

it's finally here!

2011-04-29T23:49:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow morning, I graduate! Well, technically, it happens 12:30 in the afternoon... but still. Tomorrow.

!!! :D

Tonight I figured out how to wear that little square hat without messing up my hair, and then I ironed my robe and my dress for tomorrow in it... just for practice. :)

the battle you can win by surrendering

2011-04-28T00:02:00.001-04:00

I stand on my desk chair—the one that swivels, that I shouldn’t be standing on—and arrange a stack of books atop the hutch on my desk. Today is cleaning day. (In hindsight, I should have taken a before and after picture... you would have been amazed... :))

The desk is missing beneath stacks of papers and receipts and things that will eventually make it into my journal. I know from experience that when I lift the doily on my dresser, the dust will make a flowery pattern underneath; so long it’s been since I dusted. I wipe the fine powder from the lamp next to my bed.

Stretching up to the top of my desk, I dust the books. And there, standing on a chair with wheels that don’t glide well on wood, that velvety lie glides along the corridors of my mind. This wrestling with thoughts—anxious ones, sullied ones, angry ones—it will never end. You’ll never be strong enough to overcome them, or tough enough to scrub yourself clean from them. You can fight and wrestle, but you will never win.

The king of liars often uses that one on me. You aren’t good enough. And how can He love you so much when you are so far from perfect? Sometimes I fire back words God spoke, where He’s breathing passion and love and sacrifice over me.

For I am the Lord, your God, 

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. 

I gave Egypt as a ransom for your freedom; 

I gave Ethiopia and Seba in your place. 

Others were given in exchange for you. 

I traded their lives for yours 

because you are precious to me. 

You are honored, and I love you. ~ Isaiah 43:3-4

And sometimes I bend under the weight of that question, how can He love me? Part of the line the liar breathes in my ear is true. I can fight and wrestle this battle—any battle—alone, and I will lose.

The fighting is natural for some reason. In most of our stories, all our fairy tales, we do it. There’s a dragon and the knight fights and evil is defeated. Just like that.

But some dragons don’t die when we fight them. Some grow with the attention. But there’s only two options, yes? Fight, or… don’t fight? Surrender? That word feels weak, powerless.

I trace the word across pages of a dictionary. Surrender. Its synonyms flash across my mind as I skim pages. Yield. Give in. Relent. Crumble. Back down. Crack under pressure.

The translucent pages turn until I find it.

Surrender: to yield to the power of another; to give up one’s self into the power of another.

I stopped. The definition doesn’t say which “other” I’m yielding to. All this time, I assumed it was the dragon, assumed that by surrendering, I was giving up and admitting defeat.

To yield to the power of another.

Another. Suppose instead, I yield to His power. The power of the One who spoke the universe into being, who holds it in place, who works all things for the good of those who love Him.

Surrender, yes. Yield, yes. But in strength, not in weakness. By laying down my strength, I yield to His power. I don’t give up the battle; we just switch knights, so to speak. I lay down my sword, step aside, and watch my God pick up the fight right where I left off.

I exchange my weakness for His mighty arm, strong enough to kill dragons of anxiety or anger. To drive out demons of lust, or biting words, or hard heartedness.

I step aside so the battle can actually be won.

But Moses told the people, "Don't be afraid. just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today... The Lord Himself will fight for you. Just stay calm." ~ Exodus 14: 13-14

Easter: forgiveness and frustration

2011-04-25T01:39:00.003-04:00

As I write this, it is still Easter for eight more minutes.

My thoughts feel tangled and sharp, like the crown of thorns He wore on Friday.

On Friday, He chose to die. To shoulder my sin—mine, not His—and pay for it with nails and blood, so I could be forgiven. So I could be His.

And He paid for it knowing that I had the freedom to reject Him.

But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.

I chose to accept Him. But Easter frustrates me sometimes, believe it or not. This day is about His power, His love, His forgiveness. But it frustrates me that I’m still a sinner. He died for all of my sin—every last impure thought, every ounce of worry, every uncaring word—and He rose and defeated it.

But I’m human and sin is still part of my life, and every once in a while I wonder if He’s as disappointed in me as I am in myself.

He’s perfect, and I’m imperfect. I'm still imperfect. I'll always be imperfect. I fall short.

But so often I forget—and tonight I was reading portions of Romans 8 and I was reminded: He chose me and I chose Him, and so I am forgiven and not condemned for my imperfection.

In Him, I am whole.

Sin must be paid for, yes. But today, we celebrate that it has been paid for.

For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like His Son, so that his Son would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And having chosen them, he called them to come to him. And having called them, he gave them right standing with himself. And having given them right standing, he gave them his glory.

What shall we say about such wonderful things as these? If God is for us, who can ever be against us? Since he did not spare even His own Son but gave him up for us all, won’t he also give us every thing else? Who dares accuse us whom God has chosen for his own? No one—for God himself has given us right standing with himself. Who then will condemn us? No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us. ~ Romans 8:26-34 (emphasis added)

Who dares accuse us… who dares condemn us? No one.

But do you know who most often accuses and condemns me?

I do.

C.S. Lewis once said something that always hits me right between the eyes when I wrestle between my imperfection and His perfection. “If God forgives us we must forgive ourselves otherwise its like setting up ourselves as a higher tribunal than Him.”

You could say that quote puts me back in my place… because I am certainly not a higher tribunal than God. :)

For God knew Emilie in advance, and he chose her to become like his Son… and having chosen her, he called her to come to him. And having called her, he gave her right standing with himself… Who dares accuse Emilie, whom God has chosen for his own? No one—for God has given her right standing with himself. Who will then condemn her? No one—for Christ Jesus died for her and was raised to life for her, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for her.

Easter thankfulness…

for forgiveness and right standing with the One I follow

that any condemnation I feel comes from myself, not from Him. He embodies forgiveness, and for that I’m grateful

for small steps in learning how to live a thank-full life

for Ann’s book

for sweet time with family today, sitting outside when it was warm enough

for laughter

for the last paper finished and graduation less than a week away :)

for 66.5% of my support in… and for those who have sacrificed to partner with me in following God’s call

for springtime… for sunshine… for flowers coming up… for blue skies and warm breezes

for bike rides, even uphill ones in a gusty wind :)

the beginning of the end…

2011-04-21T22:15:00.000-04:00

The countdown is in the single digits: 9 days till graduation!

And for all that time, I only have one assignment left—a 20-page paper for my Directed Legal Research class. The first 10 pages have been finished for weeks. Tonight I polished them, and my goal is to have the paper finished by Saturday afternoon.

This week was full of lots of little landmark moments, steadily marking the fact that this chapter is closing quickly, quickly.

On Tuesday I gave my final presentation at my soon-to-be alma mater’s annual Academic Symposium. On Wednesday I handed in a final project and bought a dress for graduation. I had a 20% off coupon and couldn’t resist… :)

Today I attended my final chapel as a student.

By Saturday I’ll have finished my final (and biggest) paper.

On Monday I’ll turn it in, and that will be that.

And five days later… I’ve already visualized it at least 100 times. Walking across the stage in my jet black cap and gown, accepting my diploma, standing for pictures, and then tracing my way down the center aisle and back to my seat.

Graduated.

The other day, my dad asked me what I’ll do with myself when I don’t have homework to occupy my time every night, and my answer to his question came from one of my favorite quotes.

Very true. But to be honest, I’m really looking forward to this homework… :)

possible vs. impossible

2011-04-20T17:30:00.002-04:00

collaborating with an Artist

2011-04-15T19:12:00.002-04:00

locking eyes

2011-04-14T00:33:00.003-04:00

It was past 3 p.m., so the mail would already have gone by. I slipped on my brother’s boots—the ones that are eight sizes too big—and scuffed my way out to the mailbox, dreaming about a pile of envelopes.

I got a pile of envelopes, but they were credit card applications. For some reason, every credit card company (and all their relatives) seem to think that because I’m graduating, I must need a wallet-full of plastic cards. :)

But I was looking for the support envelopes. And they weren’t there.

And every day when the mail arived and the support came trickling in instead of rushing in like last time, that little doubt would uncurl itself and stretch in the back of my mind. Are you sure you’re called by God to do this? Maybe this is just what you want to do?

Still, it drips steadily in, the support does. From 7.3%, to 10.3% to 11.8%. Last time it came shooting in, so fast that it always seemed to keep me off balance, amazed as I watched God shove open doors—six or seven letters stacked up every time I checked the mail.

But, things rarely happen the same way twice, and God still asks me to trust Him in the waiting. He still asks me to trust Him when there aren’t thunderstorms that drive in mighty waves, when instead He chooses to work through the drips of a gentle spring rain. When the support rains in gently, and still I move forward trusting that He’ll provide.

It’s easy to get so distracted in these waiting seasons. Waiting indicates that things are happening slowly (or not at all), and so there’s time—time to let attention shift off the One who called, and on to the things I wait for. Time to question, time to look around and wonder if I’m being left behind waiting while everyone else moves on. Time to forget where my eyes should be focused.

A friend encouraged me this week—a friend who has stood in these waiting-for-support shoes. “You cannot out-plan God,” he reminded me. If there was a list of people who tried to out-plan God, I think I might be at the top. :)

“He’s never

never

ever

early.

He’s God. He’s right on time. Lock eyes on Him (and try to enjoy the ride).”

Lock eyes. When my eyes are locked on something, I see nothing else. My attention is captured, not wandering. My surroundings fade away; in that moment, they don’t matter, because my focus is fixed. Unmoving.

So, that’s where I’ve been this past week, with the end of the semester rushing up and the support trickling in. Reminding myself to “lock eyes” every time worry or doubt slips into my mind. I’m one of those whose imagination never really shuts off, and sometimes I’ll picture locking eyes with the One I follow.

We’re dancing; He knows the steps and I don’t. But He’s an excellent leader, so I don’t need to worry about the steps.

I can just look in His eyes.

{And, as of yesterday, I'm at 22.2 percent! :) }

out of time to worry

2011-04-05T23:30:00.002-04:00

twenty-six days!

2011-04-04T10:50:00.000-04:00

I didn’t start counting down the days till graduation until April rolled around, but now it’s April 4, and that means there are only 26 days of the semester left! :)

I almost subtracted the weekend days from that number, but as a friend reminded me, I do homework during the weekends, so technically school is still happening. But still… 26 days isn’t too bad. :)

Today is a homework day, so this will be brief because there is a pile of things to be done. But I have lots of thankfulness to list before homework starts. :)

for the Global Justice Conference I went to on Friday and Saturday. It covered the issue of human trafficking—something I’ll be writing about once I’ve processed some more.

for long nights of sleep wrapped up in flannel sheets and blankets

another stack of support letters ready to go out! And 2.9% of my support in! :)

that spring is coming… soon… it has to be here soon…

for an unexpected friendship during the conference with a woman who, though we are in different life stages, was so incredibly encouraging to me

for energy to finish these last 26 days, like rounding the bend on the last stretch of a race and giving one more big push to make it to the finish line

that Grandma’s surgery went well on Friday, and that she’s home now

please help an almost-graduated girl! :)

2011-03-30T21:45:00.001-04:00

I've never asked my bloggy friends to help with my homework before, but I have a quick request to make of you! :)

My capstone course, PR Campaigns, requires that I do some original research for a client I'm working for this semester. I can't tell you much about the client... they haven't opened yet, and at this point they're keeping things pretty top secret. :) I can tell you that when they open, they'll make a positive difference in so many people's lives. It's been an honor to work for them this semester.

So. I need your help with the original research portion of the assignment. I've put together a short survey (and by short, I mean very short... just 10 questions) and the results will help me so much as I wrap up my client's PR plan. Here's the link:

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/YJT5R3T

It would be so helpful if you could carve out a couple minutes and take this survey. If you didn't mind sharing it (perhaps by posting the link to Facebook, Twitter, your blog, or sending people back to this post), that would be incredible as well. The more feedback I get, the better. :)

Someday soon, I hope to be able to introduce you to my amazing clients. And since I've only got one month of school left till I graduate, I think I can safely say that I'll never ask you to help with my homework again. :)

Thank you so much!

it's God’s job {part two}

2011-03-28T00:39:00.000-04:00

You can read part one here. Yesterday we talked about trust… about letting go of anxiety over a situation that’s already held in God’s hands. For part two, read on. :)

I slid into the sanctuary at least 20 minutes after the service started, thankful that the floor was carpeted so my boots didn’t tap out an announcement of my late arrival. My scheduled meeting with a client before the church service ran long; we were wrapped up in crisis plans, pitch emails, news releases and public relations plans. Logistics and assignments and deadlines swirled in my head as I dropped into the end seat in the second to last row of chairs and struggled to concentrate on the message.

I’d missed the very beginning of it, and even two minutes after sitting down I was already having trouble paying attention. My mind wandered back to the list of approaching deadlines sitting on my desk—the one so full I keep wondering how I’ll ever stay on top of it.

The speaker, Jeff, said something about worshipping God.

I pulled out my journal and a blue pen. Taking notes forces me to pay attention. But a minute later I was back in my room looking at that stack of support letters, wondering, wondering… how will that support come in? And forgetting again that my support is God’s job…

Jeff was talking about singing… about not being present…

Focus. I needed to focus. I traced the date on the top of the page. March 27, 2011. And then I heard the words.

“How often do I come to worship God and end up just repeating words off a screen?”

They carried truth. Because it’s easy for me to sing “I give you control” on a Sunday morning and then spend all week worrying about how I’m going to raise support.

But when God asks me to trust Him and give up control, He’s wanting me to leave that control with Him, not take it back as soon as I head out to my car after church.

The speaker went on to ask what he called “X-Ray Questions,” questions that can expose idols, or areas where I am or am not trusting God. What do I worry about the most? What preoccupies me? What do I use to cope? What makes me feel the most self-worth? They’re questions that can reveal idols, or wrong perceptions.

These last months have highlighted a frustrating truth about me: I like control. I like to know as much as possible about what’s going on. I like to fit things into neat boxes and then organize them. And that’s not always a bad thing. It helps me stay on top of things, to get things done, to be efficient with my time and planning. All good things.

But. Control is a bad thing when it becomes an idol. When it becomes something that makes me feel secure. When I’m preoccupied by situations I can’t control. When God becomes one of the things I’m trying to fit into a neat little box. And as I was reminded this morning, “I can cling to my idols or cling to God, but I can’t cling to both.”

So, I sat in the seat on the end of my row scribbling notes for the next 40 minutes. Jeff did his best to paint a picture of the vastness of the God we serve, giving me huge perspective on this control idol of mine. As a congregation we spent a few minutes looking at pictures of the galaxy.

“Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars? He brings them out like an army, one after another, calling each by it’s name. Because of his great power and incomparable strength, not a single one is missing.

O Jacob, how can you say the Lord does not see your troubles? O Israel, how can you say God ignores your rights? Have you never heard? Have you never understood? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding.

He gives power to the week and strength to the powerless. Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.” ~ Isaiah 40:26-31

In those moments, while I saw just a tiny picture of the vastness of the God I serve, all I could do was apologize.

Forgive me for making You too small. For trying to fit You in this box of mine and hold You to my plan. For somehow questioning whether You’re capable of providing a few thousand dollars for an almost-graduated twenty-something girl who’s following Your direction—You, who created the stars and gave them names.

Maybe in that moment I grasped a tiny picture of my own smallness compared to His strength. And as Jeff said, “When I consider who I am in light of who He is, it’s beyond humbling.” A God who holds galaxies and names stars is worthy of my trust.

And there isn’t an in-between response available. God calls for me to be either hot or cold. In or out. Either I trust Him and surrender control or I don’t trust Him and I keep it.

I know myself well enough to know that giving up control is an everyday surrender. And some days it will be hard. Especially on the days when I can’t see the next step. But I choose to do it anyway.

I serve a God worthy of trust. A God who holds the universe together, and at the same time, holds me.

Thankfulness with Anne this week…

for keeping up with my reading goal! In the past 3 months I’ve read as many books as it took me 12 months to read last year. :)

for a stack of support letters ready to go out, another opportunity to watch God’s faithfulness first-hand

for the best dad in the world, who helps me with my taxes, warms up my car on these chilly mornings, and tells me I’m beautiful even on the days when I leave the house in gym clothes

for little boys eating birthday cupcakes :)

for reminders that I’m in the home stretch of this semester, like rounding the last bend of a race

that for whatever reason, I look forward to running at the gym throughout the week. I know this was on my list last week, but seriously, will miracles never cease?? :)

for fresh green grapes

for sticky notes, because without them I’d be lost!

for a God who’s faithful to His promises, who holds me in His hand and who loves me despite my inconsistencies

it's God's job {part one}

2011-03-27T16:37:00.000-04:00

I was going to start this post with a riveting scene from the past week of my life, but to tell you the truth, this week hasn’t exactly been full of riveting scenes. :)

It’s been one of those weeks where the schedule reads: work-at-work-during-the-day, homework-at-home-until-bedtime, sleep, repeat. :) I’m not complaining… it’s just this season of life, and I only have a few more weeks to go. Literally. I graduate from college in a month, and this is the period of the semester when everything is due. All at the same time. (Well, maybe not, but it sure feels that way these last days…)

Yesterday I took a break from homework to finish some other pressing items on my to-do list.

1) Vacuum the upstairs and clean the bathrooms. Check. :)

2) Do my taxes. Thankfully I have the world’s best dad, and he helped me with them and now they’re done!

3) Write a support letter.

You might be familiar with the idea of raising support, but if you’re not, let me explain.

This summer, I’ll be attending New Staff Training as my first step toward becoming a full-time staff member (missionary) with Campus Crusade for Christ. (Click here if you’d like to read more about this journey.)

Ultimately, I’ll be moving to Orlando to work as a missionary journalist. Like many other missionary organizations, Campus Crusade staff members have the responsibility to develop a team of financial partners who provide the necessary finances for their outreach, including ministry related expenses like this training.

The concept can be seen at work throughout Scripture. In the Old Testament, God pointed out the Israelite’s responsibility to use their tithes to fund the work of the Levites (God’s full-time workers at that time). Examples are abundant in the New Testament as well, from the church at Philippi financially supporting Paul in Philippians 4, to teaching on supporting those doing the Lord’s work in 1 Corinthians 9 and 2 Corinthians 8-9.

Though it can be difficult, this method of raising support allows for rapid growth in ministry. Instead of reporting to an assignment not fully funded and relying on an organizational fundraising system, each missionary reports fully supported, able and ready to work. And just as it places the missionary in a place of total trust in and dependence on God, it also may weed out those who are insincere in their commitment or who are perhaps called to serve in a different capacity.

So, enough support-raising background. This is where my support letter comes in. It’s a letter explaining where God is calling me and asking others to partner with me in His work through prayer and financial support.

I’ve raised support many times before for different mission trips I’ve been apart of. God has never failed to supply the money I needed. I have absolutely no reason to doubt His faithfulness.

But for some reason, this support letter was different. In the past week, I sat down at least three or four different times to write it, but each time I only ended up staring at a blank Word document watching the cursor blink at me from a blank page.

And then, the questions would come.

What if this time the money doesn’t come in? I know this is my next chapter, but I don’t have enough to pay for this…

What if people don’t understand?

What if they think I raise support because I just don’t want to work like “normal” people? That I just want to live on hand-outs from others?

And there were more of them. As usual. In the past year, I’ve found that I doubt and question my God on a far more regular basis than I care to admit.

It’s so easy for me to take uncertainties in my life—things that are outside my own control—and let them grow into full-fledged anxiety. And to tell you the truth, I don’t have control over raising support. I can do my part—I can pray, I can send out support letters, I can connect with people and share where God is calling me, but I can’t touch people’s hearts and make them give. That’s totally and completely God’s job.

I need to carve that into the paths of my mind and heart.

It’s God’s job.

“And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.” ~ Philippians 4:19

Ultimately, He will be the One who touches people’s hears and prompts them to give. And when the support is raised, the glory will be His, not mine.

So, I spent yesterday afternoon writing the letter. And I spent the evening addressing envelopes, signing letters, going through stamps at a rapid rate, and wishing I’d bought envelopes that could seal without being licked. :)

And if you have time, come back tomorrow, please… because this morning as I sat in church, God used the message to convict my heart in this area, showing me a mistake I make far too often when my circumstances are outside my control. I need to flesh out the thoughts a bit more this afternoon… but I want to share them. See you tomorrow? :)

learning to live in the moment

2011-03-21T01:16:00.001-04:00

It’s only March, but I think this year’s focus—the one where I learn to better and more fully trust my God—is beginning to sink in. Perhaps a little?

Internally I feel much more at rest. At peace. Part of that has to do with the fact that I have a glimpse of my next step—the glimpse I waited to see for many long months. And part of it has to do with the fact that I’m finally learning to live in the moment.

Of course, the day after I write this, I’ll feel like I need to learn the lesson all over again, as usual.

But there’s a difference you know, between living in the moment and living for the moment. We’re often told not to live for the moment without consideration of what’s coming next, because that mindset can lead us down some dark roads and leave us with heavy baggage.

But living in the moment is different. It’s a kind of living that intentionally sees the moment. It’s living present, right there, apart of each moment that passes instead of mentally absent, planning for moments that are yet to come or anticipating events that may never happen.

Living in the moment breathes thankfulness, too. Because when I’m moving slow enough to intentionally see this life I’m part of, what other response is there?

thank You that the snow is melted

thank You that spring is here!

thank You for laughter around our dinner table, for family, for love

Part of this living-in-the-moment lesson has begun pressing a new lesson into my sometimes-thick skull. It’s reminded me that I don’t have to have everything spelled out. I don’t always have to know the plan. It’s okay. I can live here—right now—without being consumed by what I don’t know. The One I follow knows me inside and out, and He knows the plan.

I think this is a lesson I’ll always be in a state of learning. But the other day, something came out of my mouth that made me think perhaps it’s beginning to sink in a little?

I was talking to a friend about this upcoming summer, about how there are parts of it that are fluid… I might be traveling, or I might be home. This place or that place, this thing or that thing. I don’t know yet. I have hopes, but the plans are up in the air.

“I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m okay with it!” I said over the phone. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said that before.” Then I laughed. We both laughed.

And the next day came and the day after that came, and those are plans I still don’t know, but it doesn’t matter because there are things in life I can’t control and don’t need to control.

What is needed now is just to be present today, in this moment, and to give thanks for it.

for the rain tapping on the roof and running down the siding into the thawing-out thirsty ground

an unexpected job and a finished project

for the reminder: one day I *will* write books.

dinner with family, smiles over broccoli and mashed potatoes, and laughter over the comments of little boys

actually looking forward to heading to the gym today. and running. will miracles never cease? :)

the wonderful and terrible fact that this semester is almost over. wonderful because school will be finished. terrible because there’s so much to do between now and then…

for clear skies and the anticipation of building a bonfire. I think that might be on my to-do list today… if it stops raining...

bird-watching conversation with mom and sister and nephew tonight… who’s seen which kind, and when the rose-breasted grosbeaks fly through and where to find kingfishers… thankful for the creatures God made

for the motivation to finish well. so glad it finally showed back up and hoping it sticks around for a while :)

for rest. it’s now time for me to go and get some. :)

for the moments God creates… that He holds me in His hands and that I’m safe there… and safe here, too, in this moment, because He’s here with me

when love aches deep

2011-03-17T23:01:00.001-04:00

I come home after an afternoon of philosophy class and gym time, my mind and muscles both tired. I sink into the couch cushions, just to sit and breathe for a minute while the house is empty.

Outside there are morning doves and sparrows and chickadees, some eating a seed or two from the feeder for every 20 seeds they rake out onto the ground. Others, the less ambitious ones perhaps, sit on the ground eating the seeds that are constantly raining down on them. And some take their seeds to a branch, one by one, to crack them open and eat them alone.

There’s another makeshift feeder close to the window, on the porch. It was added this winter when the snow was so deep and the little birds had no food. This one was just an old pie tin full of seed, but it was never covered with snow…

I reached up to adjust my sweaty headband, and that’s when I saw him… laying on his back on the porch. One little chickadee.

He was so still that I almost didn’t go outside, but I thought I saw his head move and then I had to. He was alive, though not well, and for a long time I sat cross-legged on the porch cradling his featherweight body in my palm. His heartbeat played a staccato rhythm against my skin and he blinked at me every now and then.

I’ve held many birds in the minutes after they flew into a window—even the tiniest hummingbird, once—keeping them still and quiet while they regained their senses until they could fly away. This one moved restless after a while, and so I set him in the flowerbed where he struggled to hold himself upright, one wing and leg not following the lead of the other.

I think I knew then… I could hold him, give him comfort and a safe spot to stay, feed him crushed seeds from my hand, but I couldn’t save him.

I wondered for a minute, whether it was worth the sadness I would feel when he died. Whether it wouldn’t just be easier to leave him in the flowerbed and walk away and save myself the heartache. Because picking up a little creature and taking care of it, only to watch it die… that makes my heart ache very badly.

But the part of me that God wired with compassion running deep could never leave. And in those hours while I found my little chickadee a box and lined it with wood shavings, and crushed seeds in my fingers to feed him from my hand, God reminded me over and over that sometimes real love means intentionally taking on pain, like He did when He chose to be born and to die in this world I live in, just so He could save me.

Real love may mean stepping into those situations where my love is for someone else and my role is to just bring what comfort I can, when deep down I know I’m helpless to fix the problem and my own comfort runs away and my heart aches deep.

It may mean standing up and going to fight a battle where the lines can only be pushed back but never broken, and I push anyway because in this situation it's right to push. When I can ease this pain or soothe that hurt for a brief time, knowing it will always come back, and even if it doesn’t, eventually another one will.

And this kind of love, though we are called to give it, it hurts the giver, just like it hurt me to crush seeds between my fingers and feed them to my little friend because he was hungry but too weak to crack them open himself. Just like it hurt to watch him try so hard to stand up and master this injury that I wished I could fix, but couldn’t. Just like it hurt this afternoon bury him in the forest beneath fallen pine needles.

My throat tightened and my eyes blurred like they always do when I’m trying not to cry but tears run over anyway, and cars kept speeding by while I left him there, and life goes on, and honestly, it was just one little bird… but it was also love, even if it was only love for one little bird.

Especially thankful for Jesus’ words in Matthew 10:29 today: “What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.”