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.