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...