like the birds

    

I must have read it a hundred times, that God takes care of the birds.

 And yet, I find myself wondering how he’ll feed me. Even after years of provision, I look ahead at my hopes and inward at my fears and somehow the doubt swallows up the inklings of trust like a heavy fog. Some may call it an attachment wound, others the human condition – that it’s a survival mechanism to doubt the good and put more weight on the possibility of pain.

 

But then I pause and look at the birds. The ones that flew south this winter, trusting the trees to hold them, the relative warmth of the south to hold them, and the world they find themselves in to feed them. Perhaps we’re reminded of birds in the gospels because we need to be a bit like them. Trusting our innate pull to seek, to follow seasonal rhythms. To proverbially “fly south” in our winters. To trust that God will hold us up like the trees, that He’ll warm and touch the fear in our souls with new provision, and that there is abundance right here, even in winter.

 

There’s no shame in reading something a hundred times before you learn the lesson. God’s word has been preserved for a reason. Because it is our human condition to wonder, hope, and fear in the same breath. It’s not a weakness, it's innate. So, like the birds, I land on the tree of hope, see the provision this evening of hope, having renewed faith as the fog of fear lifts, and I am fed. 

A decade ago

 A Decade Ago

My feet touched Kenyan soil. I was jet-lagged but exuberant. I had a dream when I was 11 that as I walked down a red dirt road a little girl approached me shyly and grabbed my hand. I woke up and knew that someday I would go to Kenya. 

After a couple of weeks of orientation and language lessons, I found myself walking down a rural red dirt road. My friend and I walked slowly through the misty air and vibrant greens. As we walked children shyly looked up and to my surprise, a little girl grasped my hand, just like my dream.

Those 90 days in Kenya were transformative. I learned so much from the people I met, the lives I got a glimpse of, and the way I reacted and responded on a different continent. It humbled me and shook me out of my western bubble. It wasn’t about me “going over there” as much as it was about learning and sharing. Being open to having my worldview challenged. To see my life and my history as one sliver of a vast story. To be grateful and to be open to new ideas and ways of living. 

Today I find myself in a temporary apartment in Texas. My theme for 2022 is Embark in Faith. The timing of this anniversary is not lost on me. The significance and reminder of fulfilled dreams that seemed to tary. A lot of life and losses have happened in the decade since my feet hit those soil. Family loss, career changes, global upheaval, and a cross-country move (and that’s just in the last two years).

As I look back on who I was that day, I’m grateful. Twenty-four-year-old-me was adventurous, intentional, and open. She trusted that God would lead her, provide for her, and equip her each day. I never set an alarm in Nairobi, and I never overslept. Amazingly I slept and woke with rhythm and ease. I don’t want to glamorize the time. The culture shock was real, I needed a dose of humility and perspective. I needed to know that it’s not about me being indispensable but that I can accept invitations. The choice to go out of my comfort zone. To really listen and learn from people who see the world differently than me. That we all want to be seen, understood, have safety, and pursue dreams. 

So today I remember. The lady who showed me sacrificial hospitality- probably spending a week’s wages to have us for lunch. How I wish I had responded differently to a vendor who stole my money at a market, the thunder of children playing football. I think of songs around campfires, the view of the Great Rift Valley, and the feel of a rough giraffe tongue. I think about laughter around dinner tables and prayers hurled up to a star-filled sky. I see the faces of friends from around the world, the child I met born HIV positive, and the proud smirk of a child who read more than they could the day before. I think about my walks around the markets, the cheeky monkeys stealing fruit, the way home wasn’t a place but a state of mind. 

I think back on those months and am encouraged for this season. I don’t know where I’ll be living or working a month from now. But I know that the same God who provided for me a decade ago is still working today. I know that I will meet new people, find new passions, and look back on this day in a decade with perspective. 

10 years ago I embarked in faith, and that legacy is still being worked out today. 

Return to Hogwarts- Neville's Dream

 A year ago today I wrote the following short story about Neville. 

My talented friend from college read it aloud (you can watch it here the story starts around 32 minutes!

I also wrote one about Luna which you can read on my blog too.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be a hero, he just wanted to be known for more than forgetting. Neville shifted to his side and sighed deeply. The rest of Gryffindor tower was silent, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that kept him up at night.

Neville closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the images of his parents.

“At least mum took my candy last time, and I didn’t forget to bring it”.

He never knew what a visit to St. Mungos would look like, some days he was ashamed to admit he didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to see his parent’s vacant stares, their passive attempts at patting his arm or ruffling his hair. He just wanted to be remembered. As light began to brighten the room, at last his breathing slowed and eyelids drooped.

The next day was a blur of OWLS. Neville was sure he did well in herbology. Plants were predictable, they never rushed or confused him. Neville even had empathy for the mandrakes, whose shrieks of disapproval reverberated long after they were re-potted. No one likes change, especially when you don’t choose it.

“Oh hello, Neville”, Luna said breezily as she matched his pace. “I can’t seem to find my cottongarbol nymphs, but I’m sure they’ll turn up when I stop looking. Father always says that the best things come when we least expect, but I think expecting the good is half the fun”.

“Right” muttered Neville, distracted by recipes and rules of potions, hoping that Snape’s glares wouldn’t get to him, this time.

“Oh anyway, Neville, I found this”- she handed him a clouded remembral, that turned bright red as she delicately placed it in his hand. He blushed furiously, losing his remembral, how fitting.

“thanks, Luna. Hope this doesn’t meant I’ve forgotten what we’ll need for potions” he gulped in anticipation.

“Oh, well, maybe finding it will help you remember, Neville--Oh there they are! She pointed to a dusty painting right outside of Snape’s class as she scooped air and placed it in her bag.

“Thanks, Luna” he said calmly, as they took their seats.

The hour passed quickly as Neville feverishly worked to make his cauldron the glittering blue the potion called for, but as the last second passed, it was still decidedly a murky grey. Much to be expected.

Snape sneered at him and said icily, “forgetting something, as usual, Longbottom”.

Once out in the open air, Neville breathed deeply. At least the OWLS were over.

“Cheer up, mate” encouraged Ron. “Snape’s a jerk. We all know you got top marks in herbology. Probably beat Hermoine” he grinned and punched his arm.

“Oy! Hermoine! I said PROBABLY” Ron cried as he rubbed his own shoulder.

Hermoine rolled her eyes and said matter-of-factly, “Ron’s right, Neville. Snape doesn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. I’m sure you did your best. Anyway, what WAS the antidote for stinging hornswoggles”

Neville smiled, answering Hermoine confidently, as they made their way to the Gryffindor table for dinner.

He rarely talked about his vivid dreams. Ones where he was back in the cottage, playing in the garden as his parents looked on lovingly. How his dad would grip his shoulder with pride, and his mom would smile at him, eyes aglow with knowing and tenderness. The way his dad would point out the various plants and quiz him on their meanings and uses. His mother’s compassionate gaze, her confident voice, and the gentle way she moved his hair out of his eyes. Neville often woke reluctantly, and tried unsuccessfully to fall back into the world where he was known, and not forgotten.

Later that night, exhausted from the exams, Neville uncharacteristically fell right asleep.

His eyelids flickered as rain pelted the dormitory windows, and this night a different scene came to focus. He was talking with confidence and a command that surprised him. He was in an unfamiliar room, organizing groups of students, telling them which plants to grab, and how they could use them to protect themselves and Hogwarts. As students nodded and dispersed, Neville felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. As he turned, pale blonde hair brushed his cheek and Luna’s lips met his with a fierce tenderness. He kissed her back, with a fervor that seized him. The cry of an uprooted mandrake shocked them apart.

Neville blushed as Luna smiled, “I’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time” she breathed confidently. “no point in waiting when the world is ending” pausing slightly to straighten her robes, Luna looked at him passionately, then continued calmly, “I’ve got to collect my narfugal water sprouts, they’re known for their venomous spit, I’m sure they’ll be helpful. bye Neville” she squeezed his hand and looked back once as she left the room.

Neville’s heart was hammering and his palms were sweaty, but that had nothing to do with nerves. Inexplicably, the scene shifted and he was standing with a sword, aiming for a large dark and twisting serpent, his grip tightened as he raised the hilt—a crack of lightning jolted Neville awake. His four-poster shook with thunder as his heart still beat wildly.

“it was only a dream” he sighed as he punched his pillow and pulled up his covers.

Maybe one day I’ll be known for more than being forgetful. Maybe, I’ll be brave and loved in real life, not only in my dreams.