Safe

"To the one who's dreams are falling all apart
And all you're left with is a tired and broken heart:
I can tell by your eyes you think you're on your own,
but you're not all alone.

Have you heard of the One who can calm the raging seas
Give sight to the blind, pull the lame up to their feet?
With a love so strong he'll never let you go,
oh you're not alone.

You will be safe in His arms.
You will be safe in His arms.
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart,
This is the promise He made:
He will be with You always.
When everything is falling apart,
You will be safe in His arms

Did you know that the voice that brings the dead to life,
Is the very same voice that calls you now to rise?
So hear Him now, He's calling you home.
You will never be alone.

These are the hands that built the mountains,
the hands that calm the seas.
These are the arms that hold the heavens,
they are holding you and me.

These are hands that healed the leper,
Pulled the lame up to their feet,
These are the arms that were nailed to a cross,
to break our chains and set us free."


This morning I walked into my classroom and pulled up some music that a friend recently gave me. I opened up the artist, and randomly selected a song I thought I had never heard. As the music started playing, I started crying. They were words that I desperately needed to hear today...

I don't think following Jesus is safe...at all. In fact, I think it is in all worldly thinking the most dangerous thing one can do. And there are days when my heart fights against the surrender to which I know Christ has called me. It's unsafe. It's scary. It's uncomfortable. And yet I know... the day I met Christ is the day He started redefining my definition of "safe." Safe means I trust Him. Safe means I believe there is One who can work anything for my good. Safe means I go where He wants me to go and do what He wants me to do because I reverently adore and fear Him. Safe means a broken heart...because to love anyone this side of heaven means hurt. Safe means surrender.

And this morning, as the words to this song confronted me with the struggle deep within, I could feel that tugging on my heart. He will be with me. When my world is in utter chaos, my future uncertain, my heart torn, I am still safe. Not because I will choose to stop loving people that I know I may have to leave, or because I will choose to shut off my heart to what God may be doing that feels anything but safe...but because He is with me.
And I am in His hands.
Para sempre.
Always.

Moving on up...

Tonight I went to language class. Sometimes, when I am tired or frustrated, language class makes me cry. Actually, to be correct, no tears have actually fallen. But they have come awfully close.

The new class I am taking started off to be a big disappointment to me. I was clearly behind everyone.

Enter two men from Guinea-Bissau.
From the moment they opened their mouths and slaughtered the Portuguese language, I knew things were looking up for me. The professor started slowing down and methodically sounding out new words. I was excited to have some companions on the lower level.

Then, an unexpected change. Four new Pakistani men walked into the room knowing little to no Portuguese.

Suddenly I have moved to the high-level. :)

And can I just say, nothing feels weirder than sitting in the midst of four Pakistani men and communicating with them in English about how to speak and say Portuguese words.

Which then made me wonder, what on earth are they thinking? American WOMAN telling them how to pronounce Portuguese words. And to make it worse, the professor kept using me as the example for America. "Ela é americana. Os americanos, como Erin..."

That was the only time in my life I wished I was Canadian.

My life is so weird.

"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? ;)