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.

Ten Years Out- Reflections on Hearing Loss- Updates from year 14

I wrote the following post 4 years ago. Tomorrow is year 14. This post has been my most read, by far, on this blog. As I re-read this today- from the lens of world-wide upheaval of 2020/2021- I was grateful for the reminder that just because we can’t see past our current circumstances, doesn’t mean that they wont pass. There will be perspective, hope, healing, and joy. Not just on the other side of whatever trouble you’re facing, but even in the MIDST of it. When you pause to breathe, receive help and encouragement from family and friends. Also, for anyone whose suffering is fresh--I know the ache is real, the grief IS overwhelming, and your feelings of loss/anger/fear, have their place in your circumstances right now. I wrote these words a decade later. But initially, there were many tear-filled days.Please take what you need from this post, or don't read it at all if it's not what you need today. Feel free to reach out in you need an empathetic ear. I know all too well how much it can add to your hurt to have well-meaning friends try to "help you see the bright side" when your world has gone dark. So, may my words from 4 years ago encourage you today.

 

Ten years ago today, after my mother gently dragged me to a local ENT doctor, my life changed when he told me I had bilateral degenerative hearing loss. I was terrified, in shock, unbelieving-not me, disabled? At 20?!  who will love me now? How can I finish college? What will my life look like now?—ran through my mind as the kind, yet ignorant-of-my-situation nurse who took my blood test told me “not to cry, it’s just a shot”, if only she knew.

But now, a decade later, I can’t help but reflect on how many of those questions and fears have drifted away—I finished college and went back. Disability in one area doesn’t mean you don’t have strong abilities in others. We are each more than a single label or diagnosis.

 

If I could go back, I would tell my twenty-year-old-self—I know you can’t see past this now. It seems to mar your life, to irrevocably screw up your plans, your dreams.  It seems to shatter every truth you knew about who you are and what you’re capable of. Later that afternoon, as you sit on the beach, pen in hand, pages rippling in the forceful wind—you will make a pivotal choice—to turn to, not away from Jesus in this day of pain and fear. You chose not to get bitter, cynical, or self-pitying—and by His grace you live that out. Sure, you have moments of agony and deep fear—but your roots are strong—to him be the glory.

 

Ten years from now you will be thankful for this day—you won’t wish it away, dread waking up and putting your aids in, live in constant fear of losing the rest of your hearing or not having batteries for your aids. You won’t hide your aids under your hair—you’ll again experience the freedom of wearing your hair up—exposing those ears, knowing that the people who can’t see past them don’t deserve your energy anyway. Ten years out, you will be so grateful for loss—for you have gained so much-perspective, empathy, compassion for the hurting—that far outweighs any loss of your physical hearing. You’ll smile to think how this was made for you—chosen in love to strengthen, EQUIP—not hinder, the life you live. Your eyes will glimmer as your mind fills with pictures of how this loss is gain—from relating to many scared parents with a fresh Autism diagnosis, to the way your niece gently pulls back your hair and in awe and joy exclaims “you got my ears too!”

 

 

Ten years from now you will read scriptures like “Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him” (Psalm 126) and your heart will smile with an understanding and joy—fulfilling this verse and knowing its truth. Ten years from now, the once overwhelmingly painful anniversary will have faded to one of bittersweet gratitude—for now you have those sheaves—the harvest of suffering that reminds you pain in this life is birth pains. Trembling 20-year-old-self—this diagnosis you think is ending your life—is actually the greatest beginning.

beholding love 2021-reflections

 

Beholding love- like every theme year, has looked different than I anticipated. It has actually been more about beholding the love from God, myself, and family and friends. It’s been about receiving help, not defining myself or my place by being the one giving it. As I reflect, I’m astounded by the generosity of my parents, family, and friends this year. I have been mostly unemployed- half the year. The first half by choice- taking time to write my book, do intensive early EMDR counseling for trauma, and continuing 2020’s theme of “abundant rest”. The latter part of this year due to mandates and a shift from special education and direct client-care to focusing on writing/project managment/content creation.  It’s weird to be “starting over” career wise, but with experience and technical/content writing experience specific to Behavior Analysis and Special Education/curriculum. It’s been awhile since I’ve been a beginner, and the applying to jobs is draining. Thankfully I have a  wonderful part time job writing content for social media through a friend I met years ago! I’m hopeful for what is to come.

 

I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit I had hoped it would mean romance too. Something I have longed for. Aside from a few dates, I’ve been mostly single this year. But, I also believe that this year has been one of healing and preparation. I’m grateful for the space to look at my relationship patterns, my attachment style, and to heal from old wounds, remove old ways of seeing and approaching intimacy. And hey, there’s still 2 weeks left, haha!

I was able to travel the later part of the year too; and was such a gift and an opportunity to receive and to be cared for—to behold love in tangible ways. In mid-October I was able to spend time with my grandpa, aunt, and cousins in Iowa as well as to see my aunts and cousins in Minnesota. I was able to relate to and connect with family in ways I think I had been more closed off to in the past, and it was encouraging and life-giving.

Similarly, I travelled to Boise, Idaho the end of October; and then Fort Worth, Texas the first week in December. In bot of those trips I was refreshed and encouraged to be in new cities and surrounded by old friends. Beholding love looked like accepting the generosity of paid-for meals, car loans, and hospitality. I was revived by the laughter, encouraging chats, and the change of scenery-and the hope for putting roots in one of those places soon!

Beholding love looked a lot like receiving this year. To have open hands and an expectant heart that my past was not going to repeat itself. To assume the best of myself and others. To believe that healing is possible, to lean into the sore areas of my soul and story, and to turn the light on in the shadows of trauma memories. Most recently, it looked like embracing that safety and rest IS here. That beholding means I don’t have to always be alert or figuring things out. Beholding love was exemplified last week when, after a counseling session, I was able to really rest the next day. To have freedom from the life-long pressure to “figure things out” and to just be. To let go of trying to control or to figure out my next steps—most likely moving out of state, focusing more on writing.

Beholding love looked like leaps of faith, trusting my gut, going out on a limb with bravery and prayer. It looked like preaching to myself-reminders of who God is, what He has promised, and trusting him to “hem me in, before and behind”. It looked like bravely sharing of my heart- self-publishing my first book, asking for help-financially and practically. I beheld love when faced with decisions by looking at what I would regret the most—the wondering if I didn’t take the risk or the possible outcomes. This was a big part of the trips I took, making time to paint and draw with my non-dominant hand (I’ve always been sort-of ambidextrous); and reaching out to people-like asking for help, giving a copy of my book to: Joanna and Chip Gaines’ son, chatting with Harry Connick Jr. on Instagram, dying my hair pink, and applying for jobs out of state and in new fields.

Beholding love has meant receiving-beholding what *IS* already present around me-the love of God, my family and Friends, and the many daily blessings. I guess you could say, I beheld love.

It's okay, let go- April 22,2020

found this poem in a forgotten word docuemnt from spring of last year. 

It's okay to let go,

Of who you were taught to be

A bright-eyed, vibrant girl,

Who worked hard to live up to what they wanted to see

 

It's okay to let go

Of the fear of living a perfect life

For the attempts will stifle and strangle

And be ridden with shame and strife.

 

It's okay to let go

Of who you thought you should be

Bearing the weight of expectations

And never liking what you see

 

It's okay to let go

Of pretense and platitudes you speak

The ones that threaten in the darkness

Shaming you for not living what you seek

 

It's okay to let go

Of the words spoken over you

Ones that shaped you out of fear

Of what you could become

Are not the voice you now can hear

 

It's okay to let go

And to discover with eyes anew

Listening to the One who created and formed

The applauded and beautiful you.

 

It's okay to let go

And hear what He has to say

Clearing away the lies that bound you

Calling you to a new way.

 

It is in the letting go,

that you become okay

Trusting that the God who made you

Will help you hear what He’s going to say

 

You are loved and you are okay

Because He makes you new

Not through fear or intimidation

But by walking alongside you

 

It’s okay, let go

He’s guiding you to who you’ll be

A bright-eyed and vibrant woman

No longer fearful; and living free.

learning to walk

 

The tone of her words were all to familiar. Laced with fear and doubt-certain that she was the problem-if only she could get herself out of the way—be perfect in how she followed God. She obviously cares so deeply about doing the right thing- using words like “I just want to do what God wants me to”…”to not mess it up”.

I used to relate to this woman- I have many a fear-filled journal where I poured out my anxious heart that was so certain that if I just did the right things and got myself out the way, then God would bless me. Then I wouldn’t have the same struggles. What if.

But what if, its not about getting yourself out the way- living in fear that the next step you take will be your downfall? What if God wants you to trust yourself. To trust that the Holy Spirit really is with you—that yes, you have a flesh, but dear soul, you are being renewed day by day.

What if its less about a tightrope and more about learning to walk. Tightropes are about performance, teetering where literally one small move could send you over the edge. You’re isolated up on the rope, and everyone is watching.

But when you’re learning to walk—there’s guidance, there’s cheers for each brave step you take. Your parents near-ready to step in and help you, encourage you, and to be with you as you learn. You would never tell a baby to give up walking because they fell a few times—you would see that as proof that they’re on the right journey.

What if, God looks at our walk with him like that? Knowing we’ll teeter, fall, be a bit dramatic at times, and get distracted by our surroundings. And this doesn’t cause him to shame us or walk away-but to cheer us on-to give the support and guidance we need knowing each step and fall are a part of the process. He wants us to have courage-because even with the sprit within us- We have choice. We take the steps. Our part matters greatly.

So I think we miss out on so much God wants to do  and celebrate within us when we think it would be better if we “just got out of the way”. What if, God wants all you to show up as you’re learning to walk. To not be afraid of yourself and to see your days as a circus with judgement, but as a gym with growth. Each step and exercise doesn’t bring less of you- it refines what’s already there.

So, dear sister, may you bring your whole self to what you’re learning to walk in today. Whether you tend to be like Mary or Martha-remember God was friends with both of them. We need what you have to offer the world. May you be encouraged that it is in bringing yourself fully into what God has placed before you that you learn to walk through the difficulties around you. We need who you are today—and God is with you and for you-cheering you on as you learn to walk into all He made you to be.

luna's friends

 Recently I've written a couple of fan fiction pieces centered on the Harry Potter world. Since covid started my friend from university, John, has been reading the series and read one of my stories. you can watch it here. 

Luna's Friends 

“one last freckle should do it” Luna thought to herself as she delicately dotted the red-haired boys face. She knew her father wouldn’t mind that she painted her wall. He was always creating something. Smiling up at her artwork, Luna thought to herself “Its so nice to have friends”. She washed her brushes grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

Luna always enjoyed her times down by the creek, exploring the wildflowers, looking for water nymphs and swishbucket dryads. Ever since she was little, Luna learned to keep herself company. Her father was distractable, first because of memories of her mother, and then from the effort to ignore them. Sometimes she felt as though her mother was a breath away, but as soon she acknowledged it, the sense was gone.

“well now, you don’t have to hide from me”, she whispered encouragingly to the frantic lizard as it darted behind a rock.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps and looked up to see her father approaching her, but worlds away in his own thoughts.

“Father look, the dryads have returned”- she pointed to a ring of wildflowers rustling in the wind.

“Oh, yes, dear. Lovely—” he absent-mindedly replied, then added “tea is ready, I thought we might have it in the garden” even from here, the clumps and bangs of the quibbler going to press echoed along the fields.

After tea, luna returned to her room, admired her painting, and began to pack to return to school.

Friends, she thought. Real friends. Something she almost gave up believing in.

All her life she knew she was different. That she could see what others missed, from gillynymphs to drumpleskitters that roamed along the river, and the belief in creatures her father wrote about, but few had ever seen. Most people are afraid of what they don’t understand, and that fear comes out in all sorts of anger and spite. Luna often thought that the world would be a kinder place if people were more curious than close-minded.  She talked freely of what she saw and knew—her father taught her the value of words and expression. Even when she was met with ridicule, Luna learned to ignore their stares, confusion, and suppressed giggles. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, it just wasn’t enough to make her change.

Neville and Ginny were always kind to her. He asked questions about creatures he’d never heard of and he knew what it was like to miss a parent. She didn’t mind that he was forgetful- it gave her a chance to talk more about the creatures she loved. Ginny never laughed at her. Walking down the halls, kids stared and snickered—but one look from Ginny and the giggles stopped and people dispersed.

Dumbledore’s army gave Luna more than courage for the battle she knew was coming—it gave her the love of friendship that made the battle worth fighting.

As she flipped through an old quibbler, Luna glanced up at the painting. She smiled up at the faces that grinned back. “friends” she thought, the best creatures in the world.