My Uncomfortable Zone

I spent this morning teaching myself. I had a class of seventeen junior highers sitting in front of me, but every word was for my heart. We are studying the life of Billy Graham. Before he came to know Christ as his Savior, he wrestled with wanting to follow a God that would ask him to do what he didn't want to do: be a missionary or a pastor.

And after he finally submitted his life to Christ, God asked him to do that very thing.

I asked them the question that naturally came to my mind: why do we think God will do that? Why do we assume God is going to make us do something we don't want to do? And why does he sometimes do just that?

Submission.
Obedience.
To get us out of our comfort zone.
So we will trust him.

These were just a few of the answers of my students gave.

And before I even realized I was saying it, my heart just started pouring out. I told them how, if I were to be completely honest, living in a small, rural town in Iowa is way more difficult for me than living in Lisbon, Portugal. If I could have handpicked my life, it would have been living there. I felt fulfilled, passionate, and purposeful.

Here I feel small, insignificant, and sometimes just stifled. I desperately miss the diversity of color, the sound of a language that wasn't my first swirling around me, and coffee shops on every corner.

THAT was my comfort zone. This is my uncomfortable zone.

But God isn't about my comfort. And to be honest, I have to rely on Him in such deeper ways here. Do you know how much harder it is to trust God will provide as a farmer's wife than as a missionary? Much, much harder. God takes care of the missionaries (they are doing his work after all!), but will he take care of some man that just plants corn and raises calves?


Yeah, that's the ridiculous stuff that my "uncomfortable zone" has brought out in me. Ridiculous questions and fears that have shown me I know nothing about trusting God.

I don't know if my students will take anything away from the lesson, but I know I needed to hear it. As I wrestle through the loss and the hurt of knowing God chose to end what I so desperately prayed He would save, I have screamed inwardly at how horribly "uncomfortable" this pain is.

But God isn't about my comfort. He's about his glory. While I don't fully understand right now how this brings him glory, I think about the friends that have given me words of life and truth, because God led them, too, through the uncomfortable. And as they have ministered and testified to coming out refined, He is glorified. As they have honestly shared the anger and the verses that spoke to their hearts, He is glorified. As they express God's faithfulness to them, He gets the glory, and my heart begins to heal.

And as I choose to say, "Blessed be your name," He gets glory when Satan wants Him to get my bitterness.

So, as I sit in the middle of my uncomfortable zone, I am clinging to the truth that somehow this will bring Him glory. And that, that is reason enough to be here smack dab in the middle of this terribly uncomfortable zone.

"Even If"

Have you heard this? It's like someone took the words from my heart and wrote them in a song for me. I was trying to drive home when I heard it for the first time.

"I've stood on this stage night after night reminding the broken it will be all right, but right now I just can't.
It's easy to sing when there's nothing to bring me down.
What will I say when I'm held to the flame like I am right now?
I know you're able and I know you can save through the fire with Your mighty hand.
But even if You don't -- my hope is You alone.

They say it only takes a little faith to move a mountain. Good thing- cause a little faith is all I have right now.
But God when You choose to leave mountains unmovable give me the strength to be able to say
It is well with my soul.

You've been faithful; You've been good all my days.
Jesus, I will cling to You come what may because I know You're able, I know You can.

But even if You don't -- my hope is You alone."

One in Four

"Oh my soul oh--how you worry! Oh how you're weary from fearing you've lost control. This was the one thing you didn't see coming, and no one would blame you if you cried in private--if you tried to hide it so no one knows. No one would see if you stopped believing."

I am now one in four.

I prayed. I begged the Lord, "Please, you answered Hannah. You can answer me."

He answered. He brought life as only He can do. We rejoiced. Tears of happiness.

I filled my calendar with all of the milestones I remember looking forward to reaching the first time around: the day we would tell family; the day I'd tell my students; the half-way point; and THE day.

Then something didn't feel right.

Spotting.
Questions.
Fears.
Tears
Prayers.
Tests.
Blood.
Tests.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

And just like that, the life He gave to us He ripped away.

And I am now one in four.

Initially, I accepted it and even felt somewhat proud of how I handled it. But announcements started coming. Multiple friends and family have all shared their happy news. And I have sat in my chair covered in tears wondering, "God why did you rip away the life you gave?"

And I have felt like Martha, "Lord, if you had been here..."

If you had just made it stop.
If you had just protected instead of taken.
If you had....

but He didn't.

He gives. He takes. And through pain in tears I choose to say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Because it takes faith to believe that. It takes faith to want to follow a God that can give and take.

Yet I know He hasn't asked of me anything that he hasn't already endured for me.

He gave his Son.
We took him.
We killed him.

"Oh my soul, you are not alone. There's a place where fear has to face the God you know."

The God I know loves me. He lost a Son for me.
Actually, He GAVE his son for me.

I am One in Four. It wasn't my choice. It would never be my choice.
He's the One who willingly gave his Son for me. It was his choice.

He chose the hurt I have experienced in a tiny, fractional way.

He chose this pain.

And He chose to endure it for people that hated him.

So I can endure being one in four because he's given One for me.

Being too "there"...

"Be all there...."

Have you heard that quote?

"Wherever you are, be all there."

Jim Elliot said those words. I struggle with them. I struggle because it's far too easy for me. It always has been.

I have friends in different walks of life that I consider amazing and truly great friends. But when time and distance separated us, it was easy for me to just accept it, and move on. Stop investing, stop trying, and be "all there" in my new place of life, making and developing my new friendships.

I don't know if that is what Jim Elliot meant or not. To some degree, I think that it is essential to be effective where you are. But more and more I realize that I wrestle with investing in friendships when it isn't "easy." I am convinced I have probably hurt far too many people in my ease of transition from one place to the next.

I don't like that about myself. I wish that I did a better job of hanging on. Thankfully, God brings people who are good "people collectors" into my life. They hang on much better than I do.

I am trying. I try to make calls, to send messages, to remember that it is important.

Maybe it's because deep down I really am just grieving the loss of those friends differently. For me, moving on and not maintaining those friendships feels easier than grieving and missing people that I know I most likely will not see this side of heaven. Deep down, when I let myself go there... and remember the times of laughing so hard we were crying, or bumbling through conversations in different languages, or all the adventures I have had with so many friends while I was single, my heart hurts. Those friends are irreplaceable. Those memories are incredible. And the distance... well, it's real.

And nothing makes it go away.

But just because it is easier doesn't make it right.

So I am telling myself, "Be all there.... but don't neglect or forget the ones that helped shape you into who you are there."

And with that, I am going to go send some long overdue emails.

Antennas and Humility

Last night I was just angry.

I spent all day removing bones and fat from sixteen pounds of chicken, cooking, cooling, freezing, separating the chicken, and making two huge pots full of chicken stock. All while trying to get a stubborn four month old to sleep longer than twenty minutes.

I finally was nearing then end of rotating the chicken in the freezer and was ready to sit down and enjoy my dinner.

All I wanted was to relax and watch mindless television.

Since we are trying to be thrifty and cable is ridiculously expensive, we have an antennae that pulls in a whopping two or three channels(maybe four on a super good day). I turned on the television and nothing would come in. I adjusted, readjusted, opened windows, and put that antennae in every sort of contorted way possible.

Nothing.

As the time passed, and it became evident that there was going to be no mindless television watching, I just began to seethe.

"All I want to do is sit down and relax! Come on! I have been on my feet all day."

My daughter awoke after being down for an entire fifteen minutes.

"Are you kidding me? I deserve at least thirty minutes without having to try to make her happy. I am exhausted!"

My heart grew more and more frustrated with life.

It's ridiculous, isn't it?

I have a husband and a child both of which I honestly thought the Lord would never give me. God provided money and food that I was able to spend the entire day fixing and preparing ahead of time. I am blessed.

BLESSED.

And yet I was heading fast and furiously into deep self-pity.

Over television.
Over my perceived "need" to relax.
Over antennas and humidity and chicken and naps.

I so deeply long to live in awe of the blessings God has given me. Yet I am so quickly caught up in my wants.

Lord, keep my eyes focused on the abundance of blessings you have given me. When I am tempted to believe that I deserve something I do not have, remind me of Christ. Remind me of the Love that gave up everything for nothing in return.

And, Lord, please forgive me for ever thinking that I deserve anything.

On Gratitude

I heard somewhere that the difference between envy and jealousy is this: Jealousy says, "I want what you have." Envy states, "I want what you have and since I don't have it, I don't want you to have it either."

I have lived in an apartment all of my adult life (with the exception of when I moved back home before and after moving overseas). Now that I am married with a four month old baby girl, I am more than ready to be in my own home. It has not been fun or easy to try to calm and quiet a fussing baby because you fear the neighbors getting upset. We have looked and searched for nearly two years. We have put offers on two homes only to find out both homes have had major structural issues. We (maybe more "I" than "we") have spent hours online looking at homes. We have debated building, restoring a home, buying a mobile home, and any and every other possibility you can think of (including living out of a camper).

I am beyond ready to be done with homes. I have found that at times, my heart went from jealousy of people's homes, to envy. I didn't recognize it. It came in the form of self-righteousness.

"I can't believe they would spend this much on a home. They could have done so much more with their money. They shouldn't have spent it on this."

"I would never feel comfortable with a mortgage that high. They must be insane or ridiculous to think they can manage that."

Constant criticism of other people's personal choices, that I honestly know nothing about.

Why?

To make myself feel better about what I didn't have but wanted.

Now, as we get ready to purchase a home, I have heard comments from others that have made me burn with anger.

"Why on earth would you want that? You should build. You should move in the country. You should..."


And on, and on, and on.

It's humbling. Humbling to realize I have made the same mistakes. Humbling to know that we are doing what we think God wants us to do and not everyone wants to pat us on the back for it.

So I am challenging myself to stop it. Stop the comparisons, the self-righteous self-talk, and instead just be grateful. Grateful that God has given me what He has, and grateful that God has supplied for you what He has.

It isn't easy. We are far too proud of creatures to dwell effortlessly in gratitude. But it's where I aim to be.

Love

I never really thought things would end up this way.

All I did was say, "Ok, Lord."

But three years later my world is very different than what I ever thought it would look like. And I honestly couldn't be happier.

I knew going to Portugal was going to change me. But I never knew it would lead to being married and seven months pregnant. There are days when I look at my husband and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he is a direct result of one act of obedience.

"Love, Erin. Just love."

I knew it was going to be a challenge. Packing my bags, getting ready to head off to a place where I had only visited two weeks to spend the next two years of my life, my mind would spin with thoughts of how I was going to make the most of it. How would I make friendships with people I wouldn't be able to understand? How would I really do it?

"Love, Erin. Just love."

It was always the answer. So mentally, I prepared myself to choose to love. Regardless of what I found when I truly dug in to the culture or really started rubbing shoulders with the people, I was going to love them. Even if they really didn't love me in return.

And something strange happened. My choice to love them, turned into a deep, heartfelt, genuine love. That, for most of the time, stopped feeling like work and a choice.

About a year into my time there, God started pushing me. I knew despite how much I loved it there, the Lord wasn't asking me to return. Something I truly didn't understand. Why wouldn't He want me to go back? I had invested time, learned as much as I could of the language, and I utterly loved it.

But He had other plans.

I remember very clearly the first time my now husband wrote me. I opened up the message at my desk in Portugal and read it. I sat in front of my computer for entirely too long thinking. I fully intended on blowing him off. I scanned things to find flaws. Searched and looked for reasons why I totally deserved better than him. Basically, I approached him the way I had approached all other single guys in my life: I searched for justifiable things that backed up my preconceived and selfish idea that I deserved something incredible.

And that's when the Lord spoke to me.

"Love, Erin. Just love."

And my heart started churning. What if I chose to love him and other people like him the way I had chosen to love in Portugal?

Yeah, but this was different, I would reason.

But I kept coming back to love.

What if I made the choice to love him?

And so I treated him the way I had treated my time in Portugal. I invested. I listened. I tried to understand his differences. I learned about what he did and what he was passionate about.

I chose love. With no guarantees that he was going to love me in return.

My husband and I laugh a lot. We laugh at how ridiculously different we truly are. He could live with piles of laundry on the floor and unmade beds and be perfectly happy. I stress out when there is a pair of paints on the floor. He doesn't get upset or angry easily. I am constantly apologizing for getting upset or mad. He is easy going. I want to get going. He'd be happy in the middle of the country with no one around for miles. I love the city.

And deep in my heart I know. I know that had the Lord not softened my heart and worked away at it in Portugal, I would have found a million reasons not to choose love.

And I would have missed out on so much.

Love, Erin. Just love...

My husband and I have often talked about the many times in our twenties when we were in the same place at the same time. We never met. I even had the opportunity to move to where he lives to teach. I didn't take it.

And we always look at each other and say, "It wouldn't have worked." I wasn't ready. God had to take me to Portugal to teach me to love. And I am so glad that He did.

"You're gonna miss this...."

Lately I have been thinking about the next stage of life... What it might look like, how I am going to get there, what I am going to do... And I have been restless.

Restless because I can't see myself doing what I am doing forever and have no end in sight.

Restless because I want a place to call home... That doesn't include being a hallway away from my parents.

Restless because I know what I want, and don't have it.

I think God can use the most peculiar things to convict, remind, and rebuke us if we are ready and listening. For me... It was a country song.

The lyrics were simple, but cutting.

"You're gonna miss this... You're gonna want this back.
You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by quite so fast.
These are some good times,
So take a good look around.
You may not know it now, but you're gonna miss this..."

How many times have I looked back on circumstances that in the moment I was wishing away and yet, now seem more than ideal?

I want to live life in the moment. I want to be overwhelmed with gratitude now...

For the solitude of a cubicle...
For walks to the coffee shop...
For two paychecks a month...
For healthy parents...
For Saturdays on the farm and Mondays in the city...
For independence...
For friends around the globe...
For a quiet life...
For dates that end leaving me wanting one more...
For evenings spent in Proverbs...
For time to journal...

Because this is a good time. And I don't want to miss it.

Yes, there are things I want answers to and somedays I'd give anything for some definite plans.. But when I really think about it... Maybe I don't want to know the end of the story. Maybe it would ruin the plot.

Because these are some good times,
And I dont want to miss a single one...

Say what?

Some days it happens when I least expect it. I think I hear it... And I turn into a crazy stalker until I can definitively decide whether or not that foreign language is the one I love and miss.

Friday was my low. I noticed three people, and they looked Portuguese. Instantly, I was intrigued. Then... I heard them speak, and my heart started beating faster when I knew it wasn't English. I stopped, mid aisle and darted directly to where they were standing. I instantly became fascinated by a hideous display of Bath and Body Works wannabes. Every word felt like it was tempting me. It sounded so similar... So much like it could be Portuguese. I kept inching my way closer until I realized I was literally touching one of the women.

And then... It was clear. It wasn't my language. I quickly tried to exit without drawing more attention from them then I already had. I walked away disappointed.


Every now and then my heart just wants to hear it. To be reminded of what the foreign that became familiar sounds like. To feel a connection with a place that was my home.

I walked out of the store, got in my car, and drove away. Somewhere between the store and my home, I started having a conversation with myself in Portuguese. Asking myself questions, seeing if I could still remember how to answer, and trying to determine how much language I have lost.

It's odd how my life there seems so incredibly distant, so long ago, and so removed from now. I don't understand it. But, I guess I don't have to...

But there will always be a piece of my heart that leaps when I hear anything that sounds remotely like Portuguese.

Who says there's nothing to do in Iowa? ;)

Just a few of the crazy, cultural experiences I've had upon my return to the good old U.S. of A.


A cow giving beijinhos to a bull. ;)

My first demolition derby... more fun than I thought, and definitely more crazy. :)

My first circus...

A place that kind of looks like Portugal in Iowa. :) Love it...

I didn't do this... but it's true.

Coming home has been anything but boring. I have been jaw-dropped and overwhelmed at watching God meet little needs and desires. More posts to come on that...but today I'm just grateful. Grateful for a God that gives new life after death, joy after sorrow, and peace in the midst of uncertainty. He is good... and that's all I have to say. :)

Foggy days...

Right now my students are at choir, my lessons are ready, and I am staring at what should be a clear view of Lisbon, but is instead a foggy, wet mess. I love the fog in Portugal. Some days, it is so strong you can barely see the anything beyond what is directly in front of you.

It's such a great reminder to me. Fog doesn't change the reality of what is there. Regardless of what I can or cannot see momentarily, the rock solid truth is that my sight doesn't change my reality. And my reality is that I am held in the hands of a God who plans perfectly to bring himself glory.

This week as I was searching for a verse to memorize with my students, I found this in Proverbs:

"There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan that can succeed against the Lord."

Beautiful, isn't it? There is nothing... not even a thick fog that can succeed against God's truth.

Come

I think one of the things I like the least about missions is the long, drawn-out process that is known as the "good-bye." I hate it.

This week, I started that process by saying first of so many goodbyes with my class of women that I teach every Thursday night. They all asked when I was returning...to which I stumbled and stuttered, "Uh, well... I don't really know." They asked what I would do when I returned to the States....to which I stumbled and stuttered, "Uh...I,er,well, I'll start by moving in with my parents."

As we finished exchanging email addresses and "witching" each other well "witches" (yes, my women still cannot pronounce the "sh" sound in "wish." So... I kept hearing "I witch you many blessings"), my thoughts went to the next month. I thought of the slow, painful process that I know this will be.

I know it's healthy to do it this way, but sometimes I wish I could just hop on a plane and avoid ever having to do it. When I left for Portugal, it was hard, but it was different. There was excitement and anticipation...and I knew that I would eventually return. This, this feels different. I dread it.

Wednesday, Laura and I sorted through our entire apartment. We created piles of stuff to sell, packed more luggage, and got school furniture that we aren't using ready to be taken from our apartment.

It's odd to come to the apparent "end" of one journey. Some days I am filled with excitement wondering what God has next. Other days, all that excitement is overwhelmed by thoughts of the imminent reality of no job, insurance, or even idea of where to begin looking for those things. And all too often, I feel like a twelve year old girl entertaining thoughts of running away and never having to make another decision.

I read the passage yesterday about Peter in the boat. Before I came to Portugal, a dear friend and mentor of mine constantly reminded me to not be afraid to "step out of the boat." Those words were the strength I needed at many times to push through my fears and begin to do what felt impossible at the time.

But yesterday as I read, I noticed something I'd never noticed before in that passage. Peter didn't see Jesus and decide to take the step of faith. Before Peter ever took one step out of that boat, he wanted to be sure He was heading toward Christ, and not some figment of his imagination, or whatever it might be that speaks to men in the midst of storms. Peter asked for some clarification. He said, "Lord, if it is you, bid me to come."

My eyes welled with tears. Because in the storm that God is asking me to endure right now, not much is clear. And prior to reading that passage I had just prayed, "God, is this really you doing this? Do you really want me to step out in faith on this? Or... did I miss it? Did I imagine you doing this? Can you just show me?"

I saw in Peter such a desire to do the right thing. I saw a genuine heart cry to in faith do the impossible... but even Peter needed to be sure it was Christ...and not a disastrous step that would cost him his future and possibly his life.

And Christ answered, "Come."

That word resonated with me.

"Come."

So I'm praying. I'm praying that somehow, someway, God would whisper that word to my heart about some things. I want to be willing to step out in faith if it is truly God leading...but, I just need some reassurance that it is HIM, and not my own doing.

So I'm waiting.... listening.... and ready for the word. Oh, I know... it won't lesson the intensity of the storm. And, like Peter, it won't be easy even when I know it is truly Him I'm walking towards... but I'll be ready to take the step when I hear him say it.

Do you want to know something strange?

In less than fifty days, I have absolutely no idea what I am doing with my life. I will return, move into my parents house (at the age of 28), and... well... I don't even know, honestly.

But the strange, absurd thing about it all is that I'm getting excited. God has to show up... He has to come through... He has to provide... He has to lead... because, I have nothing. He has brought me to a place of forced trust.

And what I love more than anything, is knowing that it is His name, not mine, at stake. It is His glory, not mine, that will be displayed.

So, I'm getting anxious to see how He's going to provide for my needs. And, He's challenging so much of my American view of the word "need" that I am curious to see what He deems a "need" by what He chooses to provide for me.

I wonder if this is what Moses felt... when he reached the Red Sea and realized it was God... or else. Or David when he stood before Goliath. Or Abraham when he stood over Isaac with his knife raised.

I know my life is small and insignificant. But, I like knowing that God has brought me to the place where it's Him... or it's nothing.

And I can't wait to see what He does...

God will take care of you...

Every Friday at school the staff at GLCA gets together and sings hymns. I'd be lying if I said I loved it. Don't get me wrong, I love the staff at GLCA. And I love to sing. And I love songs. But...I don't always like every hymn. Sometimes, well... sometimes I just can't stand the melodies. Or I think there are waaaaaay to many verses and wonder if the hymn will ever end.

That being said, I do like many.

However, on Fridays we sing from a ancient brown hymnal that lacks many new "modern" songs like... "Victory in Jesus." For this reason, sometimes when a hymn is requested, I... well... I inwardly groan.

This happened Friday. The song...
"God Will Take Care of You."

I think the words are great. But, honestly, I cannot stand the melody. And when I saw it was the number we were going to sing, I inwardly wished I could hit fast-forward. Nevertheless, I sung. I may have giggled a little when Cal held the "He will take caaaare of yoooooooooou..." but I got through it.

Monday morning, when I walked into our teacher's workroom, out of nowhere, I started singing the song. Frustrated that the melody line was stuck in my head, I started belting the song out in my best church lady voice slaughtering all the words. Joyce corrected me on my poor lyric memory, and commented, "You know, maybe God has it in your head for a reason..." like any good missionary would say. (that was for you, Joyce. ;) )

All day long I've had the chorus in my head, but haven't been able to think of any of the verses. Tonight, I finally googled it. And yes, Joyce was right. Every line of the verse addresses a major fear or concern in my heart. Let me just share...

Be not dismayed whate'er betide, (even if insurance runs out and I'm jobless)
God will take care of you!
Beneath His wings of love abide, (whether it's in Portugal or the U.S.)
God will take care of you!

God will take care of you,
Through every day o'er all the way; (No matter what an emotional mess I am)
He will take care of you;
God will take care of you!

Through days of toil when heart doth fail, (This weekend...enough said)
God will take care of you!
When dangers fierce your path assail, (because if I truly follow Christ, "safe"
takes on a whole different meaning...)
God will take care of you!

All you may need He will provide, (even though I can't imagine or see how)
God will take care of you!
Trust Him, and you will be satisfied,(even if it seems impossible)
God will take care of you!

Lonely and sad, from friends apart, (Oh, so many friends I miss and will miss)
God will take care of you!
He will give peace to your aching heart, (tomorrow when I say the first goodbye of many, to two people who have become like family and best friends to me)
God will take care of you!

No matter what may be the test, (sigh...)
God will take care of you!
Lean, weary one, upon His breast, (leaning....)
God will take care of you!

Life and Luggage...

I pulled out my suitcases yesterday. I opened them up and stared into the closet that is filled much fuller than it probably should be. I began to mentally decipher which clothes I could live the remaining three months without.

I yanked shirts off hangers, and threw them, along with a vast array of dresses, into a large pile on the floor. And then, I sat down in the midst of it all. I looked at the suitcase and the mess that was the floor of my room, and it all looked so familiar. Hadn't I just done this? Hadn't it just been a few months ago when I was unpacking and wondering what adventures were to come in the next two years?

I didn't cry. I marveled.

Life passes so quickly. Certainly some days feel as if they will never end...but collectively, it all seems to go by too quickly.

I savored the moment.
Because I knew it would pass as well. And soon, very soon, I'll be sitting in the midst of another mess with the same suitcase and a familiar floor that has weathered many a storm of packing and unpacking.

I prayed. It didn't sound very elegant. Just words...a collection of incomplete sentences that were all I could piece together.
"Thank you..."
"Wow..."
"Jesus...two years? Nearly gone..."
"How, Lord? But...thank you."

I decided I am arguably the most blessed individual that exists. God has given me so much in these two years. Experiences that are merely dreams for others have been my daily reality. I always prayed for this... I remember so clearly asking God for the opportunity to do this when I was still a teenager.

And He answered.
But that's the thing with God. He doesn't just answer... He goes so far above and beyond...He allowed me to spend two years investing in people in a foreign country. And not just any foreign country... the most beautiful place whose people and language captivated my heart.

And at the end, when I see how He answered prayers that were over a decade old...I am left speechless. Well, almost speechless...

"To God be the glory...
Great things He has done."

And somewhere in the midst of my praise that feels so sincere, I hear him... gently correcting me. Because He isn't merely a God of the past. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Great things He has done, great things He is doing, and great things He will do.

And that is my peace.
My comfort.
My reality. That the God who crafted and designed the last two years of my life is leading.
And I will choose to excitedly follow.

I picked up the clothes, one by one. I wrapped precious treasures that represent bits and pieces of my heart here...trying to prevent any of them from breaking during the bumps and falls that inevitably come on the journey. And as I wrapped them, I asked the Treasurer and Holder of my heart to do the same for me. To gently soften the pain and the ache that inevitably comes with the word "goodbye." To hold me closely through the bumps and falls that always come with any transition...

And I know He's answering.
Because "great things He has done, great things He is doing, and great things He will do."

Free-fall

My heart hurts.
I don't know how else to say it. It isn't elegant, pretty, or descriptive. It's all I can muster. I've sat here trying to figure out how to write in a pretty way what feels absolutely hideous to my heart. And I can't get anything out. Because it just hurts.

It hurts to feel like relationships here are ending.
It hurts to hear others talk about the future with such certainty, knowing nothing of certainty in mine.
It hurts to watch others live a dream and take it for granted.
It hurts to feel like the people that are supposed to understand and the ones I want desperately to understand can't and just won't.
It hurts to know I have another transition to go through.
It hurts to feel stuck between two worlds.
It just hurts.

It's no one's fault. If anything, it's mine. I should accept this with joy, right? Sigh...
I'd like to say I'm there... but I'm not.
Because it just hurts too much.

Maybe joy will come after these tears.

Maybe.

Lately it's felt as if my heart is on one giant roller-coaster ride. Had I known it would have highs so high and lows so low, I would never have chosen to ride. There are moments when I am filled with anticipation and excitement at the prospect of coming home. Then, before I ever see it coming, the ride begins plummeting downward. All the sudden the excitement turns to sorrow, and I can't imagine saying goodbyes. I field questions regarding why I'm not coming back that I can't explain. I hear my students ask me when I'm coming back... and I lose it.

And it is in that free-fall that I am forced to acknowledge that I feel so very much alone.

Today, I received a note that led me on another plummeting free-fall.
I tried to tell someone what was going on in my heart.
But it just fell on deaf ears.
I tried to pretend I was ok.
But I'm not.
I sat on my bed.
And I told Jesus, "I just can't...it just hurts..."
It's all I got out.

But you know what?
It's all He needed to hear.
Because He knows.
And not only does He know, He sympathizes...

And guess what "sympathizes" means?
"To share in a feeling with..."

I love that. Because that's all I really want. I just want someone to understand what this feels like...

And Someone does.

2-1-2012

It's February.
February, I tell you.

How did this happen?
Today I got a message from someone. All it said was, "In four months you'll be home."

Four months.

Initially, I smiled. And the longer I thought about it, the more that smile turned into a nervous twitch.

And then...the immediate question came: What on earth am I doing with my life?

To which I genuinely have no answer. So, in an effort to help me stop freaking out, and a lame attempt to trick myself into thinking I may have some idea, I'm making a list of all the things I will not be doing with my life upon returning to the good Ole U.S. of A.

I will not:

be joining the military. Unless, of course, every other possible career path has been exhausted...and I include working at McDonald's as a career option.

be homeless, thanks to my parents.

be a rapper. I've thought about it.(see this post) But, word to your mother, my rhymes are just not flat out gangsta enough (see, even that horrendously constructed sentence took me five minutes to write...). And, besides that, I'm just not sure where I would fit with the whole East Coast/West Coast rivalry...I mean, I'm from Iowa.

be an Olympic athlete. Unless they enter a division for falling ungracefully up and down stairs. I could quite possibly bring home the gold in that one...

be posting any Youtube videos of myself singing in a lame attempt to kick-start my ill-planned musical career. But...if I did have a weak moment... it would involve the song "Dreams" by the Cranberries. Seriously, who does not love belting out the "ahhhh" part? :)

be a politician. Or volunteer for one. In fact, I get a general nauseous feeling when I think about the fact that I seriously considered politics as a profession ten years ago. Gag. What on earth was I thinking?

be a mechanic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in any way belittling what they do. I'm just saying, no matter how desperate someone may be, they would never want ME touching the engine of their car. In all honestly, I don't even know how to pop the hood of the current car I am driving.

and on a more serious note...

I will not:

be worried about perceptions. Life is short. If my goal is to live for the glory of my King, then what on earth am I doing wasting my time thinking about what YOU think about me? Easier said than done, yes. But...it's a goal.

be the same person I was two years ago. And neither will you. Isn't the ability to change and grow one of the most gracious gifts God gives us, besides salvation? I think so...

be behind. It doesn't matter what everyone else my age has or is doing. I'm right on time, according to God. He knew I'd be clueless on February 1, 2012. He knows I'll be jobless on May 25, 2012. Is He worried? Absolutely not.

be worried. Will moments of doubt and fear come? Constantly. But, that's the point. It's what I DO with the doubt and fear. Do I worry? Or do I let it push me close to the heart of God? Do I stress out? Or do I hide out in God as my Refuge?

be pressured to answer for what God hasn't yet revealed to me.

or lastly...

be pressured to answer for what God has already revealed to me.

Somalian Pirates and Sixth Grade

For the past three months, my students (which now consists of just boys) and I have been praying for a woman whose name we have not known. All we have known is that she is a friend of one of the missionaries here, and that in October she was taken captive by a group of Somalian criminals.

I listened everyday as one of them would mention that we needed to keep praying. They asked questions. Hard questions.

"If no one gives them the money...what do you think they will do with her?"

"They wouldn't hurt her, right? I mean...they just want money, right?"

"If we know what city they are in, why doesn't someone go rescue her?"

During the first month, it was almost exciting to pray, because I really believed that something would happen... and soon. But the longer time dragged on... the more I almost dreaded their questions...

"Any news with the girl that's kidnapped?"
"Have you heard anything?"

Because it was a chilling reminder that sometimes God answers in ways that don't make sense to me. And his "no" and "wait" didn't make sense to me for this former missionary teacher and humanitarian aid worker that had been captured by cruel, wicked men.

But with obvious child-like faith, they kept reminding me to pray. Daily.

I remember the week of Christmas, my students were so bothered.

"What if she doesn't get home by Christmas? That would be awful..."

"Her poor family...I wonder what they'll do if she doesn't get released by then."

We kept praying. We prayed that her captors would be afraid of her and not harm her. We prayed that they would want to release her. We prayed that someone would find her.

But still... "wait."

Or worse yet... my mind went to... "No."

This morning, as I was in the middle of getting ready, I heard my roommate yell, "You've got to check the news. I think they rescued her!"

There, in front of my very own eyes was the answer.

She was rescued.

My eyes started filling with tears. Not for her...although, they definitely should have wept for her.
My eyes filled with tears because God answered the prayers of three boys who refused to stop praying for someone they didn't even know. Even when their teacher started to give up hope.

As I read the story of her rescue, I smiled. Not only did He rescue her, but He sent in a team of Navy SEALS to do it, and in the process killed all nine of her captors. Could the end to that story possibly be more exciting and thrilling for three elementary age boys? I think not.

All day long, I've been replaying their response to the news in my head. It has convicted me. I expected them, like me, to be shocked. But when I told them I had good news for them, the very first words out of one of them was, "Did they find the girl?"

They prayed believing. I...well, I prayed wanting to believe. But when the answer came, they were not surprised. Pleased, happy, and excited about all the details, yes. But surprised...not at all.

Oh Lord-increase my faith.

Mile-markers...

On Wednesday, I head to Ireland. Again.
Only this time, for "business"... not pleasure.
What life am I living that I just get to go to Ireland for a SECOND time?
Let me just say, following God has been an incredible adventure.
Hard, yes.
Scary, definitely.
But so worth it.

Right now I am following Him into what seems to me to be another terrifying adventure. I say "terrifying" mainly because, like Portugal, I am stepping out without knowing the outcome. And all the lessons He taught me then are like little reminders along the way... like mile-markers on a different journey... and when I reach a spot where I contemplate turning around because it seems too hard, I see a tiny reminder: I've been here before. This journey is not new.
Oh, not in this exact spot, to be SURE...and this is definitely a different path in the journey of following Christ, but it's familiar territory. I face the same questions: Are you willing to trust me? Will you once again step out of your "boat" of comfort, security, and predictability?

I recently read an article about how each season in our life prepares us for the next. As I look back on all that God taught me, I recognize that I needed all those lessons for this. And while the outcome of this is as (if not more) uncertain than anything else, it's incredible to see how I've been being prepared for it for quite some time...

It doesn't take away the moments when I beg God to let me run away rather than keep surrendering. Or when I tearfully tell Him I just don't think I can do this...
But those moments end when I see His hand lovingly lead me to the mile-markers...
And there, I recall His faithfulness to me.
Then.
Now.
And however and wherever this journey may lead until He calls me home.

"I got a hangover,
I've been drinking too much for sure
I got a hangover,
I got an empty cup
Pour me some more
So I can go until I blow up,
And I can drink until I throw up,
And I don't ever ever want to grow up,
I wanna keep it going...."

"There's a stranger in my bed,
There's a pounding my head
Glitter all over the room
Pink flamingos in the pool
I smell like a minibar...
Pictures of last night
Ended up online
I'm screwed
Oh well
It's a blacked out blur
But I'm pretty sure it ruled"

"Lately I've been stuck imagining
What I wanna do and what I really think,
Time to blow out
Be a little inappropriate
'Cause I know that everybody's thinkin' it
When the lights out
Shame on me
To need release
Uncontrollably
I wanna go all the way
Taking out my freak tonight
I wanna show
All the dirt
I got running through my mind..."

Not typically what I post, is it? Yet this is the crap (sorry, but I am calling it what it is) that is being shoved down the throats of kids/teens/young adults everyday.

Maybe I am just more exposed and more aware living in a place where nothing coming from America gets edited. But I have been shocked and appalled at the absolute TRASH our country produces. And it disgusts me when I hear it being played here.

It makes me sad. Sad, because purity and good choices are difficult to make without music that SCREAMS, "Who cares... sleep around. It's so common, I'm singing about it. Drinking until you pass out and throw up? Fun...so fun in fact, I want to write a song about the puke coming out of my mouth right now."

I'll be the first to say that I love music. But I don't like being lied to, no matter how prettily Rihanna makes it sound. And I don't like people lying to my friends, my students, and my loved ones. It angers me to hear the message that "your life only affects you" and "your choices only impact you...so if it's fun in the moment, and makes you feel happy for a while, do whatever you want." It's a lie. Your sin breaks people's heart. It crushes them. It burdens them. It clouds their thoughts and keeps them awake all night. It makes people who love you feel physically sick. It destroys families. It destroys futures. And it's never worth it.

If you listen to this stuff, I'm not judging you.
I'm just sick of you being lied to.
Because you were made for so much more than that...