Forward in ‘14

Forward: adverb- onward so as to make progress. Synonyms-onward, moving ahead

Adjective-relating to or concerned with the future.

                Periodically, since 2005, I’ve attempted to begin each year with a theme, a word, rather than an “I will do it!” resolution, it’s more of a mindset, an aim, a direction. The last week, as I’ve relished in the break from work and school, I’ve begrudgingly looked ahead to the next quarter—I can be a perfectionist with school and the fact that last quarter’s busy schedule put me through the wringer as far as focus and diligence goes with really studying, not just finishing things—I was discouraged.

Sometimes, looking back is a lesson, sometimes it turns you into a pillar of salt.

In the midst of wallowing in “I wish I had…” I realized I had a choice—I needed to look forward. I made a study plan, and devoted the rest of the week to relaxing—reading books I wanted to, for FUN! There are seasons in life for a reason—we need the trees without leaves to make room for new growth, the time of growth leads to the harvest. As I look head to 2014—I want to move forward. Yes, there are the concrete things in front of me—graduate school, the board exam, looking for a job to start the BCBA career. But I also want to live in light of this last year—the growth, the regrets, the good memories—but in a way that is onward, progressing, moving ahead—forward. I can’t change where I’ve been, the hours I didn’t study, the words I wish I didn’t say—but I can allow those things to propel me to a healthy concern for the future.

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Strive for progress, not perfection. In education, exercise, relationships. As life as slowed down the last couple of weeks, I’ve realized there are things that I would like to change—go to bed and get up earlier, listen more to others, ask questions, take constructive criticism with more humility, pretend to like black coffee, to name a few. Each of those are progressive—not destinations—well, the coffee one is debatable. But anyway, I want to remember the last year—the blessing of jobs I loved with kids and staff I will never forget, road trips with windstorms, moving on from just missing Kenya like a “has been” to letting that drive me in my decisions today and to make future plans, was financially able to buy my own hearing aids (since no insurance company covers the cost—but that’s for another post…), spontaneous trips to Portland, and likewise—the ways I was shown that the world is such a small place. I can see how I’ve moved forward—starting grad school, exercising regularly again, admitting what I would like to change, and putting that blasted cellphone/ipad down to actually engage in life.

Most recently, the idea of moving forward was shown by the fact that the 6 year anniversary of finding out about my hearing loss came and went—it wasn’t until half way through the day that I remembered—and I’m so grateful. Last year, I rightfully celebrated—that while this has shaped my life it in no way ended it. This December 27^th demonstrated that I have moved forward—hearing loss is a part of my life—it has changed my routines and my outlook, and rightly so; but over the last 6 years I’ve moved forward from the everyday fear.

As I “move forward in ‘14” I pray that I continue to look ahead, to strive for progress and not perfection, and to take each day one step at a time.

Walk with Uzima Outreach

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”— Lao Tsu

Life is a series of journeys that all have to start somewhere. Uzima is the Swahili word for “life” and the organization, Uzima Outreach, is one that for the past 3 years has brought life and healing to those in areas of Nairobi, Kenya, where many people live with substance abuse. Three years ago Steve Turner walked into one of the slums in the area knowing there was a great need. It was a dangerous place that few Kenyans were willing to step into. Today, that same place is unrecognizable. Turner relates “Sodom is not what it used to be…[it] was known for murders, rapes, muggings, and serious drug abuse. There was a group of guys, around fifty strong, which ruled the area. Even police were afraid to go there”. Today, the gang has dispersed and several of the men who led the gang are now on the team of Uzima. The slum was changed by men walking away from addiction and walking the hard road of recovery.  Through Uzima’s outreach program—daily men make the choice to walk away from substance abuse and to walk in a new way—in life and freedom.

The ministry’s purpose is twofold—to reach the addicted adults and the orphaned and neglected children of the addicted (who are often themselves addicted to substances). Uzima hosts an outpatient program involving counseling and Bible studies. The next phase is a live-in program for those who show progress in the outpatient meetings. In this phase the men, and often their families, are further counseled and the men are also taught life-skills through the “Business as Missions” model. The ministry has grown tremendously over three years—one man’s first step and the leadership of other faithful leaders—such as Fred and Washington, became a strong team created by God to change the walk of many men.

Uzima’s other primary ministry—caring for and teaching the orphaned and abandoned children affected by substance abuse—grew from the outreach program. As Turner and others walked through the slum, they met many children who were orphaned or abandoned by their drug and alcohol addicted parents or caregivers, and who were sometimes addicted themselves. Once again, the ministry stepped into the lives of many who needed hope and help. Uzima has opened a Children’s Home that now cares for 34 children. Uzima works to clothe, feed, and educate these children—changing their lives by paving the way for them to grow in a safe and caring environment away from the streets.

 

In three short years, Uzima has walked into the slum and walked alongside the journey of recovery of many men and children in the harshest parts of the slum—but this would not have been possible without others walking with Uzima. Many visitors have walked through and ran with the children in football games and in meeting educational and physical needs. Turner’s friend, Steve Wescott, is literally walking across the USA—from the Space Needle to Times Square with a goat to raise awareness and funds for Uzima to build a new Children’s Home.

Today, Uzima needs you to walk with them. This life-changing and life-giving ministry is possible because many people walk with the leaders. Presently, there are many immediate needs—from monthly expenses to one time gift opportunities. You don’t have to walk into a slum, across the continent, or fly across an ocean to make a difference. The reality of Christmas is that our gifts echo the greatest gift—supporting the abandoned children and recovery of men enslaved in addiction is a beautiful way of walking alongside them. Uzima Outreach has brought life and hope to many men and children—we can help sustain the life of Uzima and equip them to change lives—one step at time.

If you would like to walk with and support Uzima Outreach, there are several ways to give:

By Mail:                                                        Or Online:  https://secure-q.net/donations/Uzima/1494

Uzima Outreach
P.O. Box 350
Spokane Valley, WA. 99037

Here are some specific ideas to bring Christmas to Uzima Outreach by financially walking with them:

Monthly needs       

Fees for all Secondary school fees: 27,000ksh ($311) for all the children! Or ($77 per child)
Rent for the Children’s Home - $230
Children’s Medical expenses (broken down monthly) $57
Utilities at the children’s home (Approximately) $50                          

And here are some current, one time donations needed:

Curtains and curtain rail for the Children’s Home - $45
Medical check-ups for all the children - $400—for all of the 34 children who call Uzima home
Extra water tank (we run out often) 5,000 liters - $400

If you want to give towards one of these specific needs, you can write it in the memo line of the check, or in the “comment section” online.

     

 Please check out Uzima’s website: http://uzimaoutreach.org/

 

Marriage, among other things, is not the answer

                In a break from making a dent in my “to do before the quarter is over” to-do-list, and as I make a mental note of the dates of upcoming weddings—two in one week the last week in December, I was struck by the thought that “marriage is not the answer”. For every engagement announcement I see on facebook, there is a subtle name change, a deletion of pictures, a quiet absence of something that once was a beautiful and shared celebration turned to a lone unannounced mourning. Marriage is not the answer.

                Maybe because I’m in the stereotypical “mid-twenties-crisis” where 20-somethings lose the “I’m invincible, the world is my oyster” mindset as the reality of school loans, lost love, and aging family members begin to shape our lives. Maybe it’s because this time of year reminds me of people “gone too soon”—empty chairs around holiday tables and missing faces in family photos scream that this life ends. What is right now is not forever. The quarter will end, the grades will be posted, the heart will stop beating.

                I cannot count on others, on school achievements, on what I have to define me. People will fail me—I hourly fail others. I will procrastinate on some things while clinging to my crossed off lists. As black Friday approaches, it is easy to get sucked into the “you gotta have_____ to be accepted, loved, applauded”. I can’t help but reflect on Kenya—where I saw physical poverty. The material disparity doesn’t change the fact that our hearts are the same. We are all desperate for recognition, applause, approval, status, love—and cling to any semblance of it.

                As I plow through the end of the semester, as I head to two more weddings without a “plus one”—I am comforted by the fact that I don’t lack what I need. Marriage is not the answer. Yes I am busy, yes I am “single”—but my life is full and beautiful not because of where I am, who I am attached to, what I’m studying, or what I have—or lack. My life is beautiful because of WHOSE, I am.

                You see, I could get the degree, get the job, get the guy—and yet it could all be taken away in a moment—in a typhoon, a tornado, a diagnosis. I lack when I lose sight of the truth of my acceptance—I am single but not alone, I am still at home but not homeless, I am sinful yet saved. We all have our own fill in the blank if-only qualifications for “finally” having what we need. But any spouse, professor, ceo, and parent can tell you that those things lose their luster as life happens. Those treasures are tarnished by unfulfilled expectations, by broken promises, by quieting applause.

                So tonight, I am grateful for where I am, what I have, and most importantly—whose I am. He alone is constant, is sufficient, is the answer.

Plans, Patience, and a Spontaneous trip to Portland—God Always Leads in Making us New

                When I woke up yesterday morning, I had my own agenda—rest—sweats, sweets, and movie and reading marathons. I had a “few things” I wanted to get done but for the most part the day stretched before me pretty uneventful. As I finally crawled out of bed—savoring the last few minutes my body could stand before it just had to move—I prayed, God, I want this to be a day of rest—but what does that need to look like? I sleepily scrolled through pinterest and facebook and an event caught my eye.  The author of the book I reviewed in September was going to be in a suburb of Portland at 7:30 pm….hey, it’s only 11—I could totally go. I called upon my dependable travel companion and dear friend Emily—stating that I had “aca-crazy idea….”and by 3pm we were off.

                As Emily drove and I read the first few chapters of Packing Light—I knew that this was what I needed. For some travel is draining; but it is energizing to me. There’s just something freeing and perspective giving about getting away and letting myself let go of my to-do list of homework and errands that can wait. When I looked up from reading, conveniently resting my voice while Emily processed the encouraging challenges Ally artfully weaves through her narrative; I realized that my morning prayer was answered. I had my own plans for a “lazy Saturday” but God knew what I needed. Emily and I chatted about how great it was to be on a spontaneous road trip while reading about Ally’s preparation for her own—and our personal “new things” of short hair and graduate school. The emotions of hesitation, fear, and the underlying “what the heck am I really doing” bubbled up in our own way as we flew down the highway. 

 

Sometimes being spontaneous is just what your soul needs.

 

We arrived at the coffee place in record time—and a half hour early. The café was a beautiful blend of quirky and inviting. After grabbing a chai, Emily and I introduced ourselves to Ally. It was such a wonderful experience to finally meet someone whose journey, writing and faith has influenced my own. Ally and her family were friendly, gracious, and encouraging. A little while later, while the music played, Emily read, I wrote a prayer—            

You lead—sometimes across an ocean, sometimes across state lines, sometimes into a salon. Nevertheless, You lead. Daily. Hourly.

I breathed in the smell of fresh coffee, enjoyed the folksy music, and sighed—grateful for the day’s journey and for ones in the past—visions of faces in Kenya and a flood of emotions. I processed the events of the day—mulled over conversations and the surprise that I actually was in Oregon. Out of my reverie I was encouraged by the fact that my plans and God’s providence collide and interweave in ways I will never understand this side of heaven. He plants and waters the deep longings within me—from days of rest to the rest of my life—He leads in making me new. I can trust Him to provide and lead in the perfect plans He has as I walk daily. Sometimes it takes a while to see the fruits of faithful patience—my first trip to Kenya was 12 years in the making—the next one, well, I’ll keep you posted.

On the way back to Seattle, Emily and I silently processed just how blessed the day had been—saying yes to a spontaneous trip refreshed our souls in ways that we didn’t even know we needed. Our respective visions and dreams had been clarified and sharpened—glimpses of goals and written plans sparking hope and joy. Even this morning, my pastor spoke on how God makes us, our plans, our calendars and our relationships new. Sometimes that means a spontaneous road trip, sometimes it means meeting new friends, but it always means growth and joy.

 

 

Permission to rest.

Well today marks 3 full weeks of being sick on and (only 3ish days) off. With being out of the house working/in class/driving 12 hours a day 4 days a week (and a full day of work Fridays), I am spent. I am THAT person going to bed early and waking (confession, I wrote "working" the first time--a sleepy and busy "Freudian slip") up tired. I've hit a wall.

I can't do it all. I can't plow through this year, and life in general, full speed ahead, all the time. I'm not wired to. We're meant to find a balance of work and rest. I have to make rest a priority even when duty calls. Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is set your pencil down--or if you're like me--pencil in, rest.

Ironically enough, like I wrote previously, it is in bodily sickness my soul is refreshed. Today, in the morning fog of stuffiness caused by laying down all night (yes, from roughly 9:30 pm on) I found myself praying in gratitude.

I surprised myself by being grateful for being sick--for the reminder to slow down, to rest and reflect on this season of school and work. I am thankful that through sickness I have permission to rest--to remind myself that my body is weak, that it will fail me, that someday more than just my ears will lose their abilities--not in a morbid but in a meaningful--today matters way.

I'm also beyond grateful for the upcoming long weekend--praying that I'll heed these words and rest one full day. The weight of the world is not on my shoulders. This is one year, one set of classes, one weekend. REST.

“Though I turn my back to leave…” –November 3, 2013

                …You come running after me, and when I come home, from broken roads, You are faithful, you are faithful”.

                Tonight, as I sip a cup of gingerspice coffee, the lyrics above (by a very talented young couple at my church) are refreshing my mind and filling my soul. I am intentionally resting—after a beautiful wedding yesterday that I was privileged to be a part of, after hitting the half way mark of my first quarter of grad school—and in an attempt to fight off a long-lasting cold/sinus infection.  But the real reason I need to rest—is because “in returning and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength” (Isaiah 30:15). I need to rest in the truth that I am loved. I am loved for breathing, not for “handling” my busy schedule, a difficult client, being sick, etc. I am not defined by where I’ve let the ball trop, said what I should have kept silent, was silent when I should have spoken, or let my temper rule. No, I am not the sum of my mistakes or achievements—I am the sum of His blood, His death, His love.

                As I knelt in church today—I realized that he’s been running after me. Even when I’ve let busyness be my excuse, when I’ve claimed television is more relaxing than reading His word. When I’ve been so “on top of school” that I’ve conveniently not taken time to reflect and rest. I often find that it is in bodily sickness my soul is nourished—it forces me to slow down, to think, to re-evaluate how I spend my time.

                He has been running after me—inviting me to open up to him again. You see, yes I may still refer to Kenya a lot in conversations—but I’ve been really bad about discussing it with my heart. In the same way I’ve steeled my heart against the many “one year ago…” (and even, 5 years ago) anniversaries this time of year brings. I talked, but I didn’t allow myself to taste and see the good in the hard things. Today I realized I had become calloused towards spiritually based emotions—crying in church, being “moved” and expressing that. As I fought the urge to knee my mind screamed at my cracking heart “don’t do it. It hurts too much, it won’t make a difference anyway—the kids are still hungry and abused, the bodies are still in the graves, you’re still standing alone here, and you’re still wearing hearing aids”.


“What good will it do….” Hissed in my ears.


                To an extent those thoughts were true—my circumstances haven’t changed. But just like Isaiah was prophesying to the Israelites—it wasn’t that returning and rest would change their physical circumstance—it changed their heart towards God and save them. I am not saved by what I do but by whose I am. Even if I don’t deal with the messy emotional mess that the last year brought—I am loved. He runs after me even as I work to return from broken roads—He’s faithful.

Not set up to fail

                To begin, please forgive my absence in writing—it has been a BUSY month of full time work and beginning full time graduate school—five, 12 hour days make for a sleepy, full, and prioritizing mind. I am in graduate school. I AM IN GRADUATE SCHOOL. Really?! It hasn’t really sunk in—even as I walk to class, pay a painful tuition bill, crack open my books—part of me still thinks school is a future, not current thing.

                My first week was actually pretty uneventful and *much* less stressful than I anticipated—partly due to the reverse psychology of one of our supervisors who tried to scare us by promising we would have 40 hours of reading and homework.  In hindsight, I’m grateful he did so because it’s definitely helped me to have a “glass half full” mentality as the homework load I feared has fleshed out to be pretty doable for my “I can’t stand having things undone on my to-do-list” self. I am grateful for the mind I’ve been given, the fact that I can pleasantly live at home for this year and that I have been able to safe financially for this season. There have been so many open doors for this program to happen now that even in my whiny moments of “I don’t want to have every week so scheduled and full” I remind myself that it is only ten months, I can do anything for 10 months.

                Additionally, this week brought home to me that God is not setting me up to fail—even if I did fail it would be purposeful, but the point is that I’m not called to things I hate. I am called to reach this world in ways that I gravitate towards, (mostly) enjoy, and am gifted to do—and so are you. I was reminded of a post by Jon Acuff where he articulates that “why do we assume that the moment we surrender to God that we’re going to be asked to do something we don’t want to…“. Exactly. Where do I come off assuming that I’m going to hate what God is calling me to do? What in the Bible and in my own experience has shown me that? Like God can’t wait for me to surrender so I’ll have to suffer to prove that I *really* love Him and want to serve Him? Let’s be honest, in the span of writing this post I’ve bought into that snake-whispered lie—that God is holding out on me and that waiting and stepping out in faith will only hurt. I gripe about stubbing my toe forgetting that I can walk and run. God never equips us with things—dreams, gifts, skills—that he doesn’t want us to use. 

                Admittedly I kicked and screamed my way into this season of school. I liked the self-appointed structure of my days, the flexibility of home therapy, the unplanned and open calendar days. But as I’ve entered the nerd in me has been re-awakened---yes, I am one of *those* people who actually enjoys reading and taking notes. I am grateful that this year is here. I am being called to something that I have been (and am currently in the process) of being equipped for. My prayer for you is that you would remember that the same is true of you—God doesn’t call us to things we hate—he calls us to Himself. He uses our gifts and dreams and opportunities to do so. While this road won’t be easy, and I will struggle and want to give up—I have to remember that I’m not being thrown in the water without floaties—I’ve been called and equipped by the one who walked on water.

Driven by Dreams—One Year Later September 19, 2013

            Exactly one year ago I was on a plane from Nairobi heading to Amsterdam after 90 days that changed my life. It was the “end” of a life-long dream that had finally (well, finally in my eyes) come true. I was so full and hurt “so good” to have lived the last 90 days. Truthfully, I didn’t want to leave—because who wants to fly away from their dreams, their passions, their calling. It seems a little extreme—but that’s how I felt—like I was leaving where I was supposed to be.

            Today, I know that this year was purposeful-so painfully purposeful. When I was in Kenya I had written that it was going to be a “desert season”—but I didn’t realize that would extend into my life in spiritual ways too. One of the hardest aspects of the last 365 days has been the rebuilding of my faith. A faith that was angry—angry at poverty, at the AIDS epidemic, the existence of cancer that rips apart families and friends—and angered that I was “leaving the dream”. The first month back was full of loss—my cousin, a precious girl from the school in Kibera—and the following months also seemed so full of tears and death. At times I believed the lie that if this is the world that God supposedly loves then how much could he really “love” the world that suffers so much—I forgot that the way he chose to save it was through suffering and death. At the time it seemed to make more sense to just ignore the nudges to trust—I wanted answers and relief, not painful silence in response to my questions. As the year wore on I muddled through the tasks in front of me—work, a new job, again living at home to save money.

            This last year was so full of looking back that I forgot to look ahead. In futile attempts to keep the “missionary high” I desperately tried to relive it—spending my days thinking about the kids, the friends I made, the experiences I had. But slowly, I began to look ahead—to look forward to work every day, to take the necessary steps to move into grad school, and to try and get connected—in a “fake it til you make it” sort of way.

            Today, I realize that I will never really lose the “dream of Kenya”. It has an irrevocable presence in my heart—from the childhood dream of skipping with children on a red dirt road, to the memories and names of children I carry with me—it is a country and people that are part of my story. As I stare at an intense 10 months of school ahead—I am driven not by the desire for better pay, more knowledge, a “step up the ladder”—but driven by the dream that has shaped most of my life.

            Now, as I look back on the realized dream, I look head in light of the lessons learned and the children that inspired me. I look back on the joy I felt—the joy of knowing that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be, with the people divinely placed in your life for that day, those three months—and daily remind myself that the same is true today. I look back at the pictures of Precious, Ellie, Sylvester, Elizabeth, Edwin, Ashlynn, Clay, Naomy, and Austin and know that the children I teach today are just as important. I look back at the tedious parts of the dream—the exhaustion, the paperwork, the money woes, the sick days—and know that this next season will be full of the same—but when I look back on this coming year those aspects will fade in light of what I will have gained, just like they did with Kenya.

            So today, I am comforted that I’m not being called to forget the dream—I’m called to be driven by it. I don’t have to “move on” by forgetting or denying the impact it has but I move forward because of the changes it’s made in me. I move forward into this year propelled by the faces I remember and the people who are in my life today. I move forward knowing that this is just another “part of the dream” and calling in my life.

"Packing Light”—an invitation

“God wasn’t telling me what to do. He was just helping me see what I actually wanted. He was saying ‘here’s permission to want what you want, regardless of what anyone else thinks. Here’s permission to be the woman I created you to be. You think you don’t have the resources, but you do.  I will provide them. You think you aren’t strong enough to face the obstacles, but you are. I’ll be with you the whole time.  Here’s permission to live your life, not dictated by fear of what might happen…”’—Packing Light by Ally Vesterfelt

As someone who loves writing, travel, and bursts of introverted reflection—I was eager to read, and honored to participate in the pre-release publicity and review of writer Ally Vesterfelt’s “Packing Light”. It is an honest, thought-provoking, and inspiring account of personal growth and perspective. Ally writes of a six month fifty state road trip with her musician friend Sharaya; but the book is more about the journey of life and the impact that our outlook has on our experiences and choices than it is about miles and states.

                Throughout the book, Vesterfelt transparently articulates the many ways in which the theme of “packing light” infiltrated her life—beginning literally with packing for the trip and culminating in the ways she learned to “pack light” emotionally, spiritually, and relationally. I read this book in two sittings—eagerly absorbing the universal lessons and truths such as “most of life is not an outcome. Most of life is unfolding on the road in front of us. The “outcome” can change as fast as the scenery” (p.90), that I was invited to incorporate in my own life and journeys. Ally Vesterfelt is a writer with a clear vision and voice—I felt as though we were old friends catching up over coffee on a drizzly north-west afternoon.

While “Packing Light” is driven by the travel experience, the real message is that of the necessity to journey in growth and the freedom that comes from “packing light” whether or not you leave your hometown.  Even if you’re a home-body; the book gently but firmly challenges complacence and the god of comfort that so subtly hold us back from articulating and pursuing our God-given desires and dreams. Vesterfelt artfully interweaves the Biblical narrative of the “rich young ruler” to further exhort the reader to pursue their dreams and address the self-made walls that keep us from beginning them.

                Overall, this book is one that I know will become dog-eared , heavily underlined, and infiltrate my conversations in the weeks, months, and years to come. What is most unique about Vesterfelt’s piece is that she understands both the hesitance and fear of pursuing our buried dreams as well as the freedom that comes from beginning them—in many ways interweaving the truth that “If we want to be truly alive, truly awake to the reality of the world around us, packing light will be a continued, daily struggle” (p.237).  It is through her transparent narrative Vesterfelt invites us to recognize and live out that “you have a message too, and it’s important because it’s yours” (p.243).

                In conclusion, I encourage everyone to make room and time for “Packing Light”.  It will challenge you to reconsider and to work to achieve your dreams while “unpacking” the things that hold you back, As Vesterfelt remarks, “...you’re the only one who has your ideas, your legacy. If you don’t do something about them, no one will” (p.244).

 

Please check out: packinglightbook.com

 

The book, Packing Light, is available for purchase HERE and Here too!!

**I was not paid to write this review**

Trust Him in the Process--From A to B

photo by James Briggs

One of the things I love about great writing is that it inspires me to write—it connects old convictions and current changes that are just waiting to be woven together. Tonight, as I finished up “Packinglight” by Ally Vesterfelt, she reflected that

“Sometimes I think we get hung up on objectives, and it makes us too hard on ourselves…but what if the point isn’t the end product? Or what if the end product isn’t what we thought it was? What if the point is the trip, and the end product is us? (p.231).

This quote reminded me of a previous post, last summer, from my time in Kenya, titled “Trust Him in the process” where I discussed how the months I spent in Kenya were less about “wow I made it” and more about how God was changing me and taking me somewhere that was more about my heart than my passport. The journey, not the destination is what changes us. Additionally, I wrote about the precious girl from Kibera who didn’t know English or Swahili—who I spent over an hour trying to help her grasp the concepts of A and B.

Only tonight, in light of Ally’s writing; I was struck by the actual process of teaching her those concepts. It was confusing, neither of us really knew where to start—it’s hard to begin when you don’t know where you’re going. But you miss so much if you let the unknown keep you from trying. It was cognitively and physically messy—my mind spun with the tricks up my sleeves from the amazing early childhood school I worked at the years before—while the locals and teachers looked on with amused skepticism as I motioned and modeled clapping, jumping, and finally three concise hand motions to represent “A, ahh, apple”. By the end of my two months she was able to have a brief conversation and read two and three letter words.

I have to wonder, other than the “not knowing where to start or where we’re going” if God is like that with me. Metaphorically clapping, jumping, stomping “Here I am, look! I am willing to do what it takes for you to see me, hear me, know what I am trying to tell you”. Thankfully, He is eternally patient and infinitely wise in His ways. If either she or I had given up—had been unwilling to clap, stomp, try new and scary things that looked and felt funny—we would have missed out on “A” and never gotten to “B”.  Similarly, if you, I, and Ally are or in the past had been unwilling to step out of our comfort zones—what would we miss? Sure, A to B isn’t always clear or quick—but it’s the process, not simply the place that’s important.

Golden—26 for my 26th

So in about 3 hours I will officially enter my “late-mid-twenties”. Similar to last year’s post, this one is dedicated to lessons and tidbits from the last 12 months, my 25^th year. So, with no particular order, here we go…

1.       Travelling solo isn’t as scary as it can seem, but the Amsterdam airport will always be a sore spot.

2.      I joi I JoJorsimilar to number two—I cry when I am overwhelmed. Like a faucet. Even if I’m not particularly sad, just extremely exhausted.

3.       I am IiIIIiiI am most comfortable in the corner of a room, journaling or reading with a cup of coffee or chatting with a friend

4.      sunsSSSSSuSTrue hospitality isn’t about what you have, it’s about your heart.

5.      You can always find something in common with someone. Even if it’s small.

6.      Reading great writing inspires me to write.

7.       Stepping out of your comfort zone-whether it’s a new outfit or flying across the world hurts so good.

8.      When you’re away from home you’ll miss things you took for granted and when you return you’ll wish you were back where you missed them.

9.      Few things refresh my soul more than a good book, a surprising note from a friend, or a sunny seattle day

10.   I still hate squash but sweet potatoes are growing on me

11.   I tend to cherish words more than things—but some of the most memorable encouragements of this last year included: necklaces for my birthday,  a friend baking cookies I mentioned I wanted (on a day I really needed them), and the luxury of a starburst (my favorite color, pink), in Kenya.

12.   20 push-ups a day keeps the massage therapist/headaches/backaches away.

13.   You make time for what’s important to you

14.   True friendship doesn’t have to be based on proximity—and a shared experience can connect people for a lifetime

15.   I love the smell of jasmine flowers

16.   Dark chocolate is lactose free

17.   I start to come alive when the leaves turn and the air gets crispy.

18.   Practically every culture has some sort of “tortilla” that’s a staple part of their diet.

19.   One conversation can make a friend and change your life

20.  Death hurts and we all experience grief differently—and acknowledging that unites us.

21.   I need to travel somewhere new at least once a year.

22.  Sunsets are my drug of choice

23.   I have been blessed to find a field of work that I thrive in and love

24.  Seattle smells like salt water—seriously didn’t notice this until I came back from Kenya

25.  Skype is the greatest thing since sliced bread

26.  God uses each day, moment, person for a specific purpose. Nothing is pointless.

Every Gift has a Glitch—Embracing Who You Are with Humility—August 19th

               It was a warm and breezy afternoon as I sat and poured out pained and anxious fears for a friend. It seems so obvious to me, I cried. I just don’t want this to go the way it’s looking.

In a break in my worried and love-based rant, my dad sighed, looked at me and admonished, “Elise, you have a personality that sees things clearly and precisely in black and white. You always have. You speak the truth about situations and people don’t like that. It’s a difficult gift and place for you to be in and calling for you to have because people have to make a choice when they’re confronted with the truths you see—and many wont like you for that. But, its how you’re wired to operate”.

As I let those words sink in, I then turned to my mother, asking her if she thought I was too judgmental—if I should “tone myself down” in a way. I know I’m human, fallible, I don’t know the whole story and I have to live out my gifting in humility.

After a thoughtful pause, my mother related, “well, I agree with your father, and I think that because you are gifted to see the world and situations in a clear and “black and white” way it can often come across as lacking grace”.

Every gift has a glitch. Yes, I may be wired with a quick-thinking, processing and “judging” mind that weighs and interprets with speed—but I have to wield it with grace. Your greatest gift is also your weakness. Achilles had his heel, Pandora had her box.

Whether we downplay our gifts with “oh, I’m not REALLY….” or proclaim them—it’s prideful. The first is often an attempt at seeking affirmation and approval from others, the latter reveals insecurity. Lewis articulated that true humility “isn’t thinking less of yourself, it’s thinking of yourself less” (Screwtape Letters). Denying the way I’m wired and the good aspects of it, does nothing for my or other’s growth—every part of the Body matters.  My discernment is needed—but it must be tempered with grace.

Today is a different sunny afternoon and I’m asking for forgiveness. If I’ve hurt you by lacking humility, patience, and grace in conversation, advice-giving, or in writing—forgive me. In order to be heard I must speak the truth in love and entrust the outcome to Christ. I must share in light of grace and in humility that acknowledges the truth that my gifting—and yours too—are mere echoes of the gift-giver. May we walk together in humble grace.

Striving to be "That Woman"--July 31, 2013

               I sit here in my pjs, with messy bangs and my “face-off”, headphones in—outwardly calm while inwardly my heart is being flayed. In the midst of scrolling through everyone’s “high light reel”, “look how fabulous my life is” facebook profiles—my own included, the truth of what I and others are presenting— that our lives are amazing and “just a tad better than everyone else’s—broke through my calloused heart.

Today was a day of feeling “not enough”. I haven’t prepared enough for grad school, I’m not skinny enough, tall enough, ____ enough so, obviously it makes sense that I’m anxious and already (…two months before I even start!) want to throw in the towel on school, am tempted to dress like a hobo, and will be single for-eva. In comparison to the seemingly “on their way” and “living life to the fullest” throngs around me—I felt so alone.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been convicted of keeping people around as fillers—which confronts my fear of being alone, and realize that I’ve allowed myself to be a filler for others. Maybe it’s due to the fact that I spend too much time on social media instead of being social in real life—furthering my unrealistic assumption that my life isn’t enough. At the same time, parts of me shrink back from my culture’s obsession with individual prosperity (which is soo ironic because it actually depends on everyone you ‘don’t need’ to applaud you for success to matter), as my thoughts swing back to kibera—and think—I am so incredibly blessed by opportunity here—how dare I ‘take it. for granted’. More likely—the conviction and uneasiness is rooted in my prideful desire to be applauded

Seriously, it comes down to the fact that I want to be the ‘it’ girl—simultaneously emulating the fashionable “girl next door” Zooey Deschanel, missionary mama Katie Davis, and the academic achievement and mother-daughter relationship of Rory Gilmore, all the while making Martha Stewart jealous. Deep down we all want the applause of others. We want to be known for being exceptional, and our culture feeds that. Daily we give into the lies that scream from magazines, commercials, and our friend’s profiles that taunt—“if you could only___ THEN you’d be ____” or worse yet “you’ll never____”.

Let’s face it. I’ll never have the locks or closet of Zooey, will most likely never adopt 13 kids like Katie, am too much of a “controlled (Aka keep it all in the bedroom) clutter” to become the next Martha, and Rory is fictional. Besides, I bet Zooey occasionally wears sweats and ties a messy bun, Katie has lonely ‘I wish I was back in America’ days, and I’m sure Martha has “that” room. It’s about time that I stop striving for the mirage of “having it all” and start thanking God for what is actually in front of me and what I possess. I have to be grateful for what I am, what I have, and where I am. It is fruitless to attempt to live up to facebook profiles, celebrity lifestyles, and the way others have been called.

Tonight, the truth is that I am “that woman” because I have been chosen by God.  He chose me to be a “it girl” for my life, my unique part of his story—one that involves being a part of the “boomerang generation”, being a face of progressive hearing loss, and being wired to write instead of make wreaths. My worth isn’t in what I do, having a full social calendar, or managing my possessions. It’s rooted in something that’s not fleeting, or fictional.  I am applauded because Jesus looked at me and said, I’m dying for “that one”—I’m His ‘it girl”—the one he lived and died for, loves, calls, equips, and sends daily to the world that so desperately needs His freeing truth—not so I could be applauded by my culture, but so I could demonstrate Christ’s love to it.  The hamster-wheel of comparison stops here. This is a call for change. For honest humility. For truth to root in my heart and to free my soul from striving—to be THIS woman.

Weeping and Walking—July 24, 2013

This has been the first really really encouraging week in a long time. I have finally felt refreshed and reconnected. As I wrote earlier this week, I was able to work through old hurts and gain freeing perspectives on pain that had tied me down for way too long.  Those changes are still simmering in my soul and starting to season my thoughts. Another aspect of this week was the two-day camping trip with my dear friend—complete with unintentionally matching swimsuits, car concerts, and a new favorite coffee place. We also managed to make new friends with the people camping behind us who needed our help to speedily pack up after an emergency on the river earlier that day. (Their friend/brother is okay after a near drowning, but they were all pretty shaken up). In the midst of dusty drives, windy nights, and exploring Atticus coffee (too bad its 5 hours away) I began to look ahead and to find peace with the past—from years ago and just a few months.

Something that always amazes me is the knack God has for dropping specific books into my lap when I need to read them the most. This week I visited one of my favorite used book stores and providentially picked up the study “Ruth—loss, love & legacy” by Kelly Minter. I am only on day three—and we’re only 14 verses into the first chapter—but already I have been reminded of what a course in college I took on Ruth and Judges taught me—namely, that Ruth is a book full of God’s providential hand. He is rarely mentioned, but his circumstantial provision in the lives of Ruth and Naomi is practically shouted in every verse. Now, their story doesn’t start out in a way that we would see as “providential”—they are in a famine, move away from home, Ruth marries Naomi’s son; then all the men die, and a bitter Naomi decides to go where the blessing seems to be resting now—back home.  At this point in the study Minter talks about seasons of weeping. She remarked that each woman had the choice to weep forward or backward. Orpah chose to weep backward—to her old home and family, while Naomi and Ruth wept forward—they continued to journey to Judah. I had never noticed how they wept while they walked. They trudged forward not denying the grief of their circumstances or masking or even giving themselves over to it. They were real in their brokenness and I think that is what freed them to walk. The weeping gave them permission to move, it was the simple act of acknowledging their grief and living it that allowed them to breathe, to step.

This hit home for me. It’s not wrong to weep, to mourn, to feel the pain of this world. But I’m not called to stay there. I will miss so much before me—much like Orpah did—if I only look to the past. As new and scary things are on the horizon—most notably, an intense year of graduate school; it is important for me to weep while walking. I will never forget the friends and family I lost this year, nor the many experiences in Kenya—but I must continue to walk forward

Speaking in the Light What You Hear Whispered in the Darkness

What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops- Matthew 10:27

I’m about to get real honest, okay, as in- heart on my sleeve, soul bared, no pretense. My heart is messy. It is deceitful and easily deceived. It is fearful, anxious, and, much like any facebook profile- only wants the good, the lovely, the things worthy of recognition and applause to make it to the light. But the truth is—its full of darkness, hidden hurts and buried beliefs. Ironically, it’s the hidden parts that drive my heart. The stuff I try to mask is what shapes my outer life whether I like it or not. The old wounds fester and are manifest in the things I get angry and anxious about today.  Shrek knew what he was talking about when he says that “ogres [and I would add humans] are like onions, [we] have layers”.

This past week, Thursday evening to be exact—some old lies and fears just couldn’t be buried anymore. My anxiety about my hearing loss, upcoming busy school year, and intense fear of parts of my heart on those and other issues finally bubbled to the surface. I couldn’t mask them anymore. In the midst of celebrating one of my favorite little boy’s birthdays I found myself feeling quite alone and anxious. This stuff needed to get talked out, ASAP.

A couple of hours later, as I settled into the couch cushions, my arms folded defensively, my dad asked with care and gentle insistence—what’s at the bottom of this? As tears trickled and then freely flowed, I found courage to speak what had been hidden for years, a decade—literally. Through my sobs the roots of so much anxiety, fear and ultimately—lies that had become personal truths, were exposed. It was in speaking what had been whispered to me and what I had then internalized, for so many years that the power of those lies was lost and I discovered that what I feared wasn’t a tenth of bad as I imagined it was. Speaking what was hidden didn’t cause the people who love me most to disown me, shame me, or surprise them so much that they didn’t know who I was anymore. Clarity and freedom from fear came with confession.

Today, several days later—I can’t help but think that I could have been freed from this so much earlier if I had been willing to share instead of hide my hurts. Burying fears only makes them worse, and the longer you hold it in the more you will want to burst.

But you see, that’s what the enemy wants. He was us to be fearful, tangled in roots that seem like truths but only thrive as long as they are hidden. Jesus intentionally tells us to speak what is in the darkness. Today, my heart is healing. It will take time to renew this sinful mind and hurt heart. But as I intentionally speak what so desperately wants to be hidden in darkness—I will continue to heal and walk in the light.