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