"Looks...interesting."

Today I brought treats to church.
I was excited, because I knew it was something I could do.
Then, I walked in with my treats.
I brought mini chocolate chip banana muffins and miniature chocolate chip scones.
And as I walked in with my treats, I got questions.
"Wow. What is that?"
"Looks good. What are they?"
"So are these cookies?"
"Huh. Did you make them?"
"So...are they cakes?"
"Banana what?"
"Sconesh? What are those?"

And I simply smiled.
Because moments like this make me laugh on the inside. Who would have thought my treats would be unrecognizable to half the congregation?

All in all... I think people liked them.
But next time...I may do some research before I bring something else to church.
Or maybe not.

Maybe I'll just research how to explain what it is that I make next time.

Tired, tired, tired...

I am absolutely exhausted. And it is only October. :)
My schedule feels crazy and my weekends seem almost nonexistent.
But can I be honest?
That's the way I want to go out. I want to spend and be spent. I want to look back on these two years and know that I was a steward of every dollar someone sacrificed for me to be here. I want to finish my time here knowing I was faithful... I don't want regrets.

Because looking back over the past few years of my life after college...I have many. I regret not volunteering my Saturdays at Bethel Mission like I had every good intention of doing. I regret wandering around countless malls feeding an insatiable hunger to accumulate more. I regret spending hundreds of dollars on food and coffee when missionaries around me were trying to raise more support.

I have such a little bit of life left, in all honesty. And that's if I live to be the average age...which is certainly not a guarantee. And I just want to use it up...I want to finish dirty, tired, exhausted, and spent.

One of the guys from my church told me a story about a missionary he met on a missions trip to Mozambique. Even though I've never met her...her story bothers me. She left her home country to be a missionary working with the least of these: orphans in Africa. She lives on very little, and every night brings home around 15 children to sleep in her room because there is no more space for them in the orphanage. But what struck me more than anything else was when he said, "She looked exhausted. And she had no teeth...she just looked so old..."

And it hit me then...
That is beauty. True, pure, unadulterated, magnificent, radiant beauty.
And I want that.

Sometimes I wonder about myself. Have I become comfortable here?

Because my days are numbered. And I want to be sure they are spent well...in the place the Master wants me.

Dear Lord... Don't let me get comfortable.
Don't let me choose something because it is easy...and I know I can handle it.
Stretch me. Challenge me. So I know it is you alone that is doing the work.
And Lord... Make me beautiful in your eyes...with or without teeth.
And at the end of my life, let me be found faithful.

Great Expectations...

I've been having such a hard time blogging lately. Everything around in my head feels like too much to try to write...too personal...or just too unresolved. There are so many things I feel like I am wrestling through...

And in the midst of all this...God has brought up such deep, deep things.
Things I feel like I at one point in my life had figured out...but now seem more confusing than ever.

So here it is...
One of the scariest parts of missions to me is singleness. Not necessarily that I will be single the rest of my life if I head towards missions, but that people won't understand if I do marry after heading in the direction of missions. And that is not something I know if I am ready to accept. Honestly, I know I could serve God anywhere...I also know if I am single, I would choose that to be overseas... but if, and IF is huge here, IF God brought the type of man I have prayed for, and he was just living and serving in the States, that wouldn't bother me. I would serve alongside him there.

Yet I feel like that answer would not be acceptable to anyone. And that scares me.

But what I don't understand is why? God moves people at different points in different directions. Why would it be "life" for the single missionary, yet acceptable for any person actively involved in serving in the States to marry whomever and change ministries as a result? I just don't know if I get it... and I don't know that I am ready for the fish tank lifestyle that I know will come with this...


I love Portugal, and I love my life here. But I've also prayed to be a wife and mom. And for whatever reason...God hasn't brought the two together...or, for that matter, given me complete peace about either. So here I am, for probably the millionth time in my life, trying to figure out how to once again give God complete control and hand over to Him the dreams that I have in exchange for what He says is best for me. And I am trying desperately to hear His voice above all others, including my own.

I just feel like I can't get past this...and I don't know the answer.

If I was ever part of a medical study, I would be the one that was convinced I had been cured by the placebo.
And this is why I believe that:
Lately, I've been drinking smoothies for breakfast. They started out as normal drinks. A banana, a few berries, Greek yogurt, and some ice cubes. But like any new thing I try, I became obsessed. It was longer sufficient to settle for regular smoothies. I had to master them, learn everything about them, and try as many different combinations as possible.
My research on smoothies (yes, I did legitimately research them) led to an amazing discovery. It is possible to throw vegetables into a smoothie...without making it unbearable.
For the past two weeks, I have bought more fruits and vegetables than I have all other food combined. I've added tomatoes, spinach, carrots, and cucumbers to my usual apple, pinapple, banana, berry base. I read that by adding these vegetables to a blended smoothie, the body can then absorb much more of the vitamins than it would normally absorb if simply chewed.
And I believe every single word of it.
I am convinced my skin is more radiant, my hair looks better, and my energy... well...would be better if I wasn't staying up so late. But just imagine how horrible it would be if I wasn't drinking my daily allotment of vegetables in the morning.

This past Saturday and Sunday, I didn't make them. I chose to drink coffee and have a piece of toast instead. And you know what? My skin looked duller, my hair limper, and I felt horrible. Coincidence? I think not. :)

Please, if I am ever sick (which will probably never happen again if I simply keep drinking these smoothies), somebody just give me a sugar pill and tell me it's an extra-strength antibiotic. My mind will do the rest... :)

I remember when I decided to come to Portugal I knew my life would never be the same. I knew I was making a decision that would rip my heart apart. I knew it would be dangerous...not for my personal safety necessarily...but for a heart that would probably fall in love with a people and place that isn't my home. I knew I would fall...

But I didn't know how hard. I didn't know how much I would fall in love with my church family, learning Portuguese, my students, my ministries, my friends, this culture... I had no idea how quickly my heart would begin to weave into the fabric that is Portugal. I didn't know how alive I would feel...how at home I could become...and how full my heart would be.

I know God has a plan for how this...this love. I know it won't go to waste. I know that regardless of where God puts me next, He'll use it.

Right? ;)

Rumblings...

I've heard that before a volcano erupts, rumblings can be felt. Tremors occur for days, sometimes even weeks before the actual eruption occurs.

Right now my life is full of tremors. Tiny rumblings that remind me that God is on the move. That He is not silent...and that He is working. These tremors aren't big. Some days they are subtle and barely noticeable. And just when I think perhaps things are calming down, and I've misread it all, I feel it. God moves in a way I can't deny as coincidence or circumstance...and I stop, slightly perplexed and fearful, and acknowledge that He is indeed up to something. And I realize that life as I know it is about to change dramatically.

God has burdened my heart to start praying very specifically in relationship to my future. I am praying He will show me two things by a certain date. Both of them terrify me. Both of them seem impossible. And yet I feel the rumblings of God about to work.

So be warned. It's coming...

RE:

Dear Pat Robertson,
The word was crushing. Or at least, I would imagine it to have been. I don't remember. I was too young. In fact, I don't remember very much about my grandfather at all. I remember tractor rides...and donkey songs...and falling asleep in chairs...but other than that, much of my memories with him were stolen by the word.
Alzheimer's.
The word conjures up images I'd rather forget. Every year things grew worse. Finally it was inevitable. My grandma just wasn't enough...he needed more care. We visited the nursing home as much as we could. I hated it. The person he was ceased to be. He didn't know me...and I no longer knew the person into which he was daily deteriorating.
I remember it bothered me. I would watch my grandma go every time hopeful...that maybe THIS day there would be a moment of clarity...a spark of recognition. And when we went with her, she treated him as if nothing was wrong. She told him about her day, about the garden, and the neighbors. And she fed him. Everyday. Month after month. Year after year.
It took me a long time to grasp what I saw...and to process the significance of it. It took an unsaved nurse to make me see the beauty of it all. She worked in my grandpa's nursing home and had observed my grandma with my grandpa. She watched her faithfully care for him...and at his funeral she said, "You taught me what it meant to love my husband. You showed me the definition of true love."
And that is the heritage I have been given. That love doesn't quit when it hurts, gets ugly, forgets, or ceases to be what it once was. That love always believes and hopes...even when it is beyond hope of a cure and has no doctors left to believe in. That love doesn't cease giving because it no longer receives. That love is not diminished by a diagnosis. And that love doesn't end when "happily ever after" does. It endures.
Alzheimer's may have robbed me of more tractor rides and stories...but what it gave me is far greater. It gave me a great respect for marriage...and it will be with a solemn and sincere heart that I say, "in sickness and health..." because I know what love through sickness looks like. I know what love through death looks like. And it endures.
I only wish you knew the beauty of a love like this...a love that had the courage to walk through the valley of the shadow of death
unscathed....a love that stood firmly behind every word that was promised in wedding vows long ago, never seeking a technicality for an escape.
Because this, Pat, this is what marriage is all about.