A Tennessee Thanksgiving

Last Saturday night, this happened:

Eighteen dear friends from the Volunteer State gathered on Montrose to celebrate an early Thanksgiving feast - from Knoxville to Memphis, from old friends to new significant others, all bringing gifts of great joy for our potluck Thanksgiving feast. We indulged in such delicious dishes as corn casserole, famous sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cheesy cornbread, cranberry delight, pumpkin dip, a variety of pies, and a mouth-wateringly tasty brined turkey.

I value these friends from the bottom of my heart. I cherish the Nashville ones that I have the privilege of seeing weekly. I eagerly await weekend reunions of the ones who live in the far corners of the state. Most of all, I treasure the times we get to spend en masse and the conversations that ensue. Before diving into dinner, we snuggled into the living room and shared things that have been easy to be thankful for...and things that have been hard. What a great way to hear about the ways God has been moving in each others' lives throughout the past year.

We were reminded of the common saying that you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends. In reality, we were set in each others' lives at a particular time for a particular reason. We didn't choose to go to Vanderbilt so we could be friends with these people. We didn't choose our hallmates, sorority sisters, roadtrip buddies, or spouses. God set us here in this season for specific reasons...what a reminder of how He controls our steps and will continue to set us in right places in the future.

Bless my soul...these friends most certainly have.

We Need Each Other

Last night, I was having a heart to heart with a dear friend in the Matrix (because honestly, there are few better places to have those). As someone I've leaned on a lot, it was a blessing and sweet time to share in her struggles and offer encouragement.

Afterwards, I felt so keenly aware of how deep our need is for others. Can you imagine walking through life alone? Praise the Lord for His presence in our lives; we never are fully alone. But I've been so reminded in this past year of our deeply ingrained need for others. For companionship on earth. For people who can share our burdens.

Even more so, I praise God for knitting our paths in such a way that when one of us hits a difficult day or week or season, the others are able to hold us up and help us through, and vice versa. We are rarely all in our darkest hours at the same moment, even as we walk through similar seasons together.

This is what made my time in Namibia impossibly hard, and what makes my recuperative time in Nashville ever so sweet. Praise God for kindred spirits with whom we can shoulder each others' loads.

Deep October

Last night, the chill of winter's fast approach started nipping at my heels. Deep autumn has finally settled in in Middle Tennessee. No longer do we have bright orange leaves set against a backdrop of turquoise skies, comfortably swaddled in warm temperatures. Grey skies and near-freezing temperatures have blanketed the city, accentuating the brilliant colors of autumn and finally necessitating those things we love most: hot drinks, thick blankets, warm socks.

The depths of autumn have been weighing on my mind ever since reading these thoughts. I'm especially struck by this passage:

I beheld contrast upon contrast. Each life manifest in its individuality, because this is what happens in the season of death. The green has gone, the true has come. The covering of the corporate is no longer.

Autumn is the season of death. Death of trees, bugs, grass, and the long days of summer. And it's beautiful. As the leaves die and fall, they burst into brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows and slowly waft towards the ground. They may lie there for weeks before disintegrating and becoming the dust of the earth.

I'm reminded of deaths in my own life. How acutely painful they always seems. But when thought of in the framework of autumn, these deaths have been beautiful in their own time. To savor the slow - and sometimes all-too-fast - petering of a life is precious.

For one, those dear ones who have been overcome by illness. I don't discount the pain and anguish of these journeys. But a sweet thing about being keenly aware that death is on its way is how we get to savor every moment with those we love. To see the depths of sweetness in their disposition, the gifts they embody, the pleasant corners of their personalities. Even though these qualities have always always present, we don't notice them as well in seasons of ease.

And then there are deaths of seasons of our lives, of expectations, of dreams. As we rounded the corner and quickly approached our graduation from college, the fear and sadness was nearly paralyzing. But those relationships and moments were so accentuated and special - so much more so than at the beginning of college when our time seemed endless.

Autumn is a reminder of this. In the midst of this season of death, we are overwhelmed by sensory beauty and appreciation. We are barreling quickly towards winter and know our days of lounging outside and keeping our jackets stowed in the closet are coming to an end. We know the hibernation days of winter are on their way. Why focus on the heaviness of winter when we can rejoice in the slow beauty of autumn? Why mourn the impending death when we can savor today?

So, as we hunker down and draw friends near in deep October, may we be reminded of the preciousness of our mortality and the brilliant beauty of dying and being reborn into our new lives. It is sweet, for sure.

October Visits Us All

Earlier this week, my favorite writing community, The Rabbit Room, published a short essay written by the articulate Rebecca Reynolds. Not knowing who this girl was and in a rush to lessen the number of things in my Google Reader, I set upon scanning through it. 

Whoa, Nelly. This is not scannable. No sir-ee. Like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, her words should deserve ample time to seep into your soul. The Lord has clearly given her the gracious gift of language.

Stay tuned for more later this week. I'm blown away...and four days hasn't been enough to form articulate thoughts yet.

Don't be surprised if you get chills at the end. Is it the autumn breeze or the beauty of the Truth? For your sake, I hope it's a bit of both. 

Four months ago, the hillsides tumbled green upon green. Valleys and rises were determined by a narrow spectrum of shadows and brights. More or less, the landscape was monotone, summer lazy, and supple. Confident maple leaves hung in all their twenty-something vigor, acquainted with hearty rain and heated winds, thinking they knew what there was to know. 

I remembered being that age, so I didn’t laugh. Instead, I was tender, because October visits us all. 

Yesterday, thrown handfuls of yellow leaves hung like stars against a navy green wood. Spots of light clung to branch with newfound brevity, sensing their weakening connection to familiarity. That which has nourished will release. In the glory of dying, in the flame of brilliance, each little golden body realized that it would pass through the womb of falling to the earth. 

I beheld contrast upon contrast. Each life manifest its individuality, because this is what happens in the season of death. The green has gone, the true has come. The covering of the corporate is no longer. 

Ochre grasses were painted willowy and bowing in their individual lines. There were tufts of silver grey, slices of red, bushes burning like a hearth. White seed pods cast their children upon hope of spring. Shrubs fussed over their holiday decorations, and fifteen stubborn trees held desperately to the last of their lime like thirty-nine-year-old women. 

Autumn awakens. Here, depth is defined by variation. 

Most of my life, I have walked among a summer’s faith where two-dimensional promises were made by a pleasant Western culture: “Jesus will perfect my marriage. Jesus will make my children wise, and strong, and moral. Jesus will help me obtain financial abundance. Jesus will make me confident, exegetically sound, and able to collect a little flock of admiring disciples. Jesus passes out health in twelve steps and truth in five points. I will walk manicured and full of my own right choices into a ripe old age of comfort.” 

Perhaps. Yet often we imply that the Jesus we worship would never allow us a season of uncertainty, or vulnerability, or war. We think he wants us to be fat, full of ourselves, and sure. We know belief tumbling in summergreen strength through valleys and heights, simple and monotone, making promises of happily ever earthly after. 

It is a breed of faith easy enough to manage among wealthy people expecting pleasant things. That is why the anomalies are so horrifying: sicknesses, disasters, misunderstandings, prisons of all sorts, Novembers in June. The story shouldn’t go this way, we think. Dyings are such a shock, for the Jesus we have loved is pleasant and easy, and we shop for him until we find him sold our way. 

A thousand times I have read the words, but who ever believes them without October skies grown low and grey? You have died. The old has gone. The new has come. The old shell must be sucked of its green juices and tumble down, resigned to the contrast. For there is another world, and it is often winter here when spring there rises. 

The veins of fallen leaves read like hymns, yellow-running, red, and holy. They are prophets of a new dimension. 

My life is gone. 

Behold what is left: 

Brilliance.

Worship in Unexpected Places - Part 2

Several years ago, I read Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi by musician David Crowder. I was struck enough by this quote to add it to my Facebook page at the time:

"What if we were so moved by who God is, what He's done, what He will do, that praise, adoration, worship, whatever, continuously careened in our heads and pounded in our souls? This what we will do for eternity. What makes us think our time on earth should be any different?"

Recently, as I was thinking about stumbling upon worship in unexpected places, I was brought back to this quote. Why shouldn't we worship in all places, at all times? Why does worship have to feel so unexpected when it's not happening in a sanctuary?

For example, I've been learning this fall that worship can be found in friends. I'm not talking about large group gatherings, but one-on-one times. In meaningful conversation and belly laughter. In people who know and love the depths of each others' hearts enough to enter into the mess of life & challenge each other to keep on keepin' on in his or her walk with Christ.

A glimpse: about a week into living in our house, friends Kiely and Fuchs came over for dinner. Not just any dinner, but the first dinner I had ever cooked in my house. It was simple and spontaneous. It started at our hand-me-down dining room table, where I nearly fell out of my seat during grace because our chairs are on casters. Cue belly laughter. Dinner was followed by long conversation on our front porch, sipping out of mason jars and soaking in the warm summer air.

So moved by who God is...
my Father, my Savior, the One whose promises never, ever cease
...what He's done...
delivered me from the depths of Namibia into the arms of Nashville, into the arms of these dear friends
...what He will do...
continue to provide exactly what I need, exactly when I need it
...that worship continuously careens in my head and pounds in my soul.

Striving to recognize worship in the unknown, in the routine, in the mundane. Because if this is what we truly believe, then none of this is mundane. Each moment - especially those in which we partake with our brothers and sisters - should be full of worship and thankfulness.

Worship in Unexpected Places - Part 1

On Sunday night, some friends and I had the luckiest of chances to go to a secret show in Nashville featuring NEEDTOBREATHE & Ben Rector. The former has been a big and ever-changing part of my Life Book for many years.

One thing is always true: they never fail to put on a foot-stomping, roof-raising show - and it takes a lot for me not to jump on the opportunity to see them in an intimate setting. We were pumped about this show: we knew we would sing loudly; we knew we would dance until we hurt; we even knew it would tug on some heartstrings, since their music has meant so much to us as individuals and friends in many seasons. What I didn't expect was what a worshipful experience it would be.

I could write for hours about their songs. How I fell in love with "Something Beautiful" for its 7/4 time signature, but how it resonates so differently today. How we passionately and tearfully blasted "More Time" in the days leading up to graduation. Every "Washed By the Water" acoustic performance in Nashville. And many, many individual lyrics.

In these post-Namibia, start-of-adulthood times, I have found myself more broken than I imagined possible - and have subsequently found solace in places I didn't expect. Hearing things like...
- "give me the faith to believe in these hard times"
- "leave your hurting on the road behind you, let the wind go with you til the morning comes"
- "all you burdened and broken down, bring all of your troubles, come lay 'em down"
- "your chains will never fall until you do"
- "I know pain is just a place, the will has been broken"
- "grace, she comes with a heavy load"
...opens deep wounds and soothes forgotten scars. Watching each of them worship - even tear up - to Truths sung in such powerful and lyrically impressive ways is big stuff.

In case you haven't heard, they're coming out with a new CD tomorrow. I'm going to be bold and say that this is their best record yet. These guys carry Jesus on their tongues & hearts, and that bursts through these songs more than ever before. Having recently gained such immense popularity, they carry an imminent and important ministry and it's encouraging to see them not shy away from that in their writing. Selfishly, I'm grateful for a lot of really, really great songs to chew on and play on repeat.

They closed Sunday's show with a stripped-down, fully acoustic version of a song off their new record called "A Place Only You Can Go." I wept out of that deep soul place the first time I heard this song and still get goosebumps when the accordion chimes in. The combination of Truth and music carries it all. If I were a savvy enough blogger to know how to embed this song in my post, I would. But alas - you'll have to search it out when the album hits stores tomorrow.

Worship doesn't just happen in church on Sundays. It sometimes happens in a crowded, sweaty bar surrounded by best friends and loud music. Tonight, I rest in God's grace and His persistance to tug on my heart when I least expect it.

Because He So Loves Us

Today, I almost fell out of my chair upon reading some scripture with which I thought I was so familiar. Y'all, the Gospel is so alive and continues to speak new truth into our lives every day. Whoa.

It's the story of Lazarus in John 11 - you know, the one where Jesus brings Lazarus back from the dead? One of the most comforting verses over the last few years has been verse 35: "Jesus wept." The greatness of Jesus' love for Lazarus and the depth of His emotion is moving. So often we make Jesus untouchable; He seems to perfect to be true or relatable. But He is real and felt the gamut of human emotion - even the painful stuff.

Verse 35 is great, but have you read earlier in that chapter? After Martha told Jesus that Lazarus was sick, the scripture says: "Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when He heard that Lazarus was sick, He stayed where He was two more days."

He knew there was pain. He knew Lazarus was dying. He knew this hurt Mary & Martha's hearts. He waited two days to do anything about it.

My morning devotional comments on this by saying:

It is as if God were teaching us that at the very heart and foundation of all His dealings with us, no matter how dark and mysterious they may be, we must dare to believe in and affirm His infinite, unmerited, and unchanging love.

I feel jarred by this. If Jesus so loved Lazarus, why didn't he run to save him as soon as he heard about his impending death? My human instinct tells me to dash immediately to those I love when they are sick or in pain. I wouldn't hesitate for a second! Why does Jesus?

It goes on to say:

Anything less than infinite love would have rushed instantly to the relief of those beloved and troubled hearts...Only the power of divine love could have held back the spontaneity of the Savior's tenderheartedness until the angel of pain had finished his work.

How human is my love. My mortal soul still cringes at the truth that the Lord allows pain to work in our lives; that choosing to love Jesus inevitably means pain and challenges and obstacles. I want the One who loves us most to prevent pain. Doesn't that seem much more reasonable? How can I comprehend His infinite love when it's so different from mine?

One of my favorite Andrew Peterson lyrics is, "it's the fear that His love is no better than mine." How often I think that Jesus' love is the same as mine - and how wrong I am.

I'm comforted to read that Jesus patiently waited for the right time to heal Lazarus - the one He so loved - even if it's two uncomfortable days longer than I would have asked for.

I don't understand it - this great love that He has that allows for great pain - but faith doesn't mean understanding everything. Today, it means trusting Jesus' sovereignty and resting in His infinite love, knowing that it is greater than anything we can comprehend. His love for me is the foundation of how He deals with me, after all. There can't be anything better.

Honesty Box, Part 1

Sometimes, I need to spend some time sitting quietly in the Honesty Box, resting in the truth of my life. That's not to say that the rest of the time I'm in the dishonesty box. This blog is honest, through and through. But some days call for real, vulnerable honesty. Maybe I should call it the Vulnerability Box instead...

Tomorrow, I'm moving to Nashville, TN. Land of the free, home of the brave. The promised land. Home sweet home.

But tonight, I'm grieving leaving my home in Glenview. I'm unexpectedly sad to leave the creature comforts of home and the proximity of my family. I will miss waking up and eating cereal with Dad while watching the Tour de France. I will miss monthly family dinners with my mom's side. I will miss hearing Jenny's tales from camp firsthand. I will miss sleeping in my twin bed. I will miss teaching Boris to fetch. I will miss Giordano's deep dish pizza and ice cream from the Dairy Bar.

I have never not been excited to return to Nashville. I mean, it's the adult equivalent of Disney World.

Perhaps this is a product of my "life whiplash," as I explained it to a friend earlier today. In the last fourteen months, I've moved seven times, I've worked four jobs, and I've lived in three states and two continents. I'm ready for some freaking stability, for Pete's sake.

Maybe this is a result of my new, or perhaps magnified, fears and anxieties. The fear of being far from family and the ones I love. The uncertainty of not yet having a definite purpose in Nashville. The trepidation about making any decisions, since so many have ended in failure in the past. Or my newfound social anxiety and being surrounded by so many wonderful and happy people at once.

I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm nervous. I'm overwhelmed. I'm exhausted. Honestly, those have been some defining characteristics of my time back in America, even though I try to put on a good face in my blog and around people. Many people have said, "it sounds like you're doing great back in America!" That I am; certainly better than in Namibia. But that's not to say it's not still hard every day in its own unique ways.

I am certainly full of gratitude that I have a Savior who already knows all the plans for my life and is hemming me in behind and before; right where I need to be.

So honestly, tonight I'm wearing my heavy boots. I struggle to put words to the truly vulnerable side of readjusting to America and processing all I learned in Namibia. But as I am able, I'll jump back into the Honesty Box and attempt to share with you. Thanks for reading, friends.

Why I Love America

If there's one thing I did on a regular basis in Namibia - other than eating brownie batter and watching too many TV shows - it was talk about America with Amy. I lovelovelove Africa. And pretty much the idea of ANY place in the world. Call it wanderlust, call it what you will. But living far from home has helped me discover a newfound appreciation for the good ol' U S of A.

I love BBQs, hot dogs, hamburgers, cheesy potatoes, and mac&cheese.

I love fireworks, slip 'n slides, and kiddie pools.

I love neighborhoods, sidewalks, street football games, playgrounds, and pick-up softball at the park.

I love my extended family.

I love processed American foods. Ho-hos, cheese balls, Doritos, Chips Ahoy, and M&Ms.

I love American stores like Publix, Old Navy, and most of all, Target (but not really Wal-Mart).

I love board games and bookstores.

I love Funfetti in all shapes and sizes (but mostly in oversized cookies and underbaked brownies).

This July 4th, I've been meditating on America's independence and democracy. After all, that's the reason we celebrate this day. This year, I'm especially reminded of all the countries that don't get to celebrate independence yet. I'm reminded of Zimbabwe, the Ivory Coast, and Libya. I'm reminded of soon-to-be-independent states like South Sudan. I'm reminded of recently independent countries like Namibia and Rwanda. 

As America celebrates its 235th birthday, I feel removed from "Independence." On March 21, 2011, Namibia's 21st birthday, the ONLY thing being celebrated was freedom. It's so new, so fresh, so real. Freedom is certainly something many of us take for granted in America since it's all we've ever known. Having experienced Namibia's very new independence - as well as its continued struggles in gaining real social freedoms - I have a greater appreciation for the rights I have in America. Perhaps this is a product of my sheltered, (mostly) white suburban upbringing. I am certainly aware that many Americans still struggle to experience equality in our precious country.

However, as I celebrate the 4th of July this year, I'm not celebrating Funfetti or backyard barbecues or Toy Story Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I love America because it's my home. Even with its faults, I will always love it and be drawn to it. And ultimately, I believe that's the reason all of us around the world celebrate our respective countries every year.

You're Beautiful

It's taken me days to put my thoughts in order, but I wanted to tell you all about the wonderful week I spent with the Grace Community Church Youth Group last week. Surprisingly (clearly the hand of God was at work), I received a called from our youth pastor, Josh, just a few days before the trip asking if I would like to chaperone. Blessed by the freedom of unlimited time and travel this summer, I seized the opportunity and drove down to Nashville once again a few days later.

(Max the Matrix and I are really ramping up the miles these days!)

I got to spend that Sunday with my favorite church pew families, watching a magnificent storm pass through the giant window behind the altar. After church, we loaded the bus and headed off to join several other churches at Crossings Camp in Hardin, KY at Jonathan Creek.

Let me tell you...our youth group is FANTASTIC. I mean, talk about a relatively flawless trip. The bus was even quiet on the 2 hour drive - unreal!

We spent the week living together in an older building at Jonathan Creek (hey, mold in the vents). I shared a room with the older high school girls: Kathleen, Madelyn, Alyssa, and Bethany - four sweet young women who are very dear to my heart. With 46 of us on one hallway, we had very close contact with everyone throughout the week!

The week was chock full of activities and quality time with almost 300 other youth from around the Mid-South. The kids had worship, large group, and small group Bible studies in the morning. The afternoons were threefold: time with just our youth group, POIs (activities the youth chose ahead of time, like tubing, zip lining, arts&crafts, kayaking, messy games, etc), and time at the Blob Lake. In the evenings, we had a long worship and large group Bible study time and free time until lights out at 11:30 (way past my bedtime!). All the time in between was filled with me gulping down unlimited sweet tea in the cafeteria and eating delicious American food (as I was often reminded by these snarky youth, "it's not that good - you've just been living in Namibia.").

Throughout the week, the youth got to dive into the Gospel and study our sin and God's grace, led by camp pastor . Not surprisingly, the adults learned a lot as well and were blessed with ample free time to reflect ourselves and have great conversations with the youth.

I am incredibly encouraged by the youth at Grace. Here are few examples of things that made me smile throughout the week:
- Asking them bold questions about what they were learning and wrestling with at camp, and having them take the time to think and honestly respond with what's on their hearts.
- Escaping with the high school girls for milkshakes at Belew's and singing Taylor Swift loudly on the car ride back.

Our sweet high school girls

- Highs, Lows, and Hard Questions with my girls every night, and having them open their hearts and lives to each other.
- Getting to know our young men better and hearing them share what's on their hearts, pray out loud, and grow as Christian men.
- Watching our youth worship and pray every night.
- Their courage in trying really new activities, like climbing, zip lining, tubing, and blobbing - some for the first time.
- Youth wrestling with being called to ministry and what that will look like in their lives and post-high school decisions.
- Hearing them share their passions and burdens - this year, Crossings strongly emphasized identifying our passions and our burdens and using them to serve our communities and the world.
- Having a group of adults and high schoolers gather to pray over a dear friend of mine and the girl she mentors who was in a horrible accident...watching them gather around a Sister in Christ that they don't even know and actively pray for and ask about her in the days to come.
- Living life alongside these youth and getting a glimpse into their lives - the things they struggle with, the decisions they have to make, their lives outside of youth group.
- Having a bunch of girls let go of their teenage shells and follow my outrageous idea to synchronize swim in the Blob Lake and make fools of ourselves - and then beg to do it every day thereafter.
- Standing in awe and gratefulness for what our great God is doing in each of these youth's hearts as they worshipped deeply to Phil Wickham's "You're Beautiful" on the last night.

Every conversation that week was so sprinkled with the grace of God and I could not feel more privileged to have lived life alongside these dear Grace friends - new and old - for a week. It makes me so excited to return to Nashville and see them every Sunday.

Grace Youth 2011

Love and Grief

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my friend, Emmett, who was coming to the end of his long battle with esophageal cancer. On June 9, 2011, he was called home by our sweet Lord. As his wife, Wendy, wrote that day, "the hardest part of Emmett's journey was over while my hardest part was just beginning."

In those few days while he was in hospice, a friend from my community group wrote a note on grief and brought up the idea of grief as an expression of love. I paused. Huh. That made sense, but was certainly a new lens through which to look at grief.

As part of the close community at Grace Community Church, I have had the privilege to cry with friends, process death, and observe others grieving. I count it as divine intervention that I was in the States at this time and was lucky to have the time to travel to Nashville last weekend for the memorial service. Certainly, it is sad to see any friend depart their earthly life, but I didn't expect to hit such a wall of grief as I entered church on that sunny Saturday afternoon.

Emmett Stallings was so loved. As I watched his friends worship through heavy tears, it was evident how deeply they loved their friend. In that moment, they were not crying out of anger or misunderstanding or despair. They simply, deeply missed their beloved friend.

In C.S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed," (a compelling journal of his grief after his wife died that I would recommend to anyone in the wake of personal loss), he writes about how "bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love...It is not a truncation of the process but one of its phases...If it hurts (and it certainly will) we accept the pains as a necessary part of this phase."

That's hard for me to swallow. There are so many people I love so deeply. To know that I will undoubtedly lose some of them in this short life is humbling. At the very least friendships will drift, people will move away, breakups will happen...there are so many ways for us to grief the loss of love. I suppose this is why so many people distance themselves from it and only know and are known on the surface. I'm tempted to try that. I'm tempted to distance myself from love so the pain isn't as all-encompassing when it comes.

Why does grief seem so much more present in these years? Is it because I'm older and notice it more? Is it happening more often? Have I lived enough years that my heart is big enough to feel that kind of pain? A parent with cancer, a classmate from my hometown, a neighbor's husband, a friend...sudden car wrecks, suicides, long illnesses...

But for as much as love may be seen as a risk, it's painful to imagine a life with no love at all:
No overjoyous reunions with friends after a long absence.
No belly laughter.
No meaningful bear hugs.

In fact, our sweet Lord loved this world so much that He gave His only Son; His only Son whom He loved. How great the pain of searing loss. We are not alone in grieving those we love, and we are allowed to grieve so deeply because we were created to love so deeply.

"Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another...there is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear." (1 John 4:11, 18). When our love for God, the perfection of love, surpasses our love for any person or thing of this world, we cannot find fear in that love, even though we know the depth of our grief will be great. We accept death as part of life's process and recognize that our deep grief is simply an assurance of our great love.

I choose love, no matter how deep the grief often runs.

"My prayer for all of us is that we will learn to meet suffering with mercy, despair with hope, and fear with truth. I pray that we would dwell in the mysteries and paradoxes of suffering with a realness that despises trite answers, embraces sorrow, and plants hope. In other words, may we be people who trust and love, even when it is difficult." - Wendy Stallings (read more about the Stallings' journey)

Prayers for Emmett

I know this blog is generally pretty self-focused, so for those of you who only want to read about me, this post will disappoint you. Alas, there are lots more important things in this world than my adventures readjusting to America.

Such as the health of a dear community member in Nashville, Emmett Stallings. He and his family attend Grace Community Church with me and I had the blessing of getting to know their sweet son when I taught Sunday School there. Emmett has been battling Stage IV esophageal cancer since February 2010. Today has come to be known as a very sad day on their blog. Medically, things aren't looking good. I've been there, having a dear family member and friend come to what looked like the end of their ropes. It's terrifying, numbing, and altogether overwhelming to be out of options and entirely in God's hands (though really, isn't that supposed to be the most relieving place to be?).

So reader, please pray for Emmett, Wendy, and Quinn right now. Pray for peace and joy in the coming days - whether it's a few or a few thousand.

"Our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you shared in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort." (2 Cor. 1:7)

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

“Life is full of change, honey. That’s how we learn and grow. When we’re born, the Good Lord gives each of us a Life Book. Chapter by chapter, we live and learn...When a chapter of your Life Book is complete, your spirit knows it’s time to turn the page so a new chapter can begin. Even when you’re scared or think you’re not ready, your spirit knows you are.” - Saving CeeCee Honeycutt

For those of you who have not heard about the inner cogs of my time in Namibia, this post may come as a surprise. I have loved blogging about the joys, discoveries, and adventures in Namibia and have grown to deeply appreciate the highs and lows of my time here. But as I alluded to in my early months, life in Namibia certainly hasn’t been easy. I haven’t wanted to use this blog as an outlet to air my grievances, sorrows, and troubles; however, it’s important to me for all of you to hear this from the source.

Much like Mrs. Odell talked about in the quote above from the wonderful new novel “Saving CeeCee Honeycutt,” life sure is full of change. This past year has been a huge testament to that: graduating from university, learning to be far apart from friends and soulmates, moving back to Nashville, diving into my church community, learning to live as an adult, becoming a teacher, moving to Namibia.

I’m not sure when the change stops, but I’m starting to assume it never will. Which is a great thing! Imagine how boring a stagnant life would be. As it turns out, a whole lot more life change is about to begin for me.

The Good Lord has taught me immensely more than I could have imagined in my almost six months in Namibia. Unexpectedly, He has also taught me that Namibia is not about to become my permanent home. In fact, it’s become clear that my role here wasn’t ever meant to last more than these few months. It’s hard to follow the Lord when plans change sooner than expected, but when He’s about to start a new chapter in your Life Book, you’d better muster the courage to follow Him into the next one.

I have made the decision to end my service in Namibia early. It hasn’t been an easy decision but has been months in the making and has been made through extensive prayer, advice, and soul-searching. While a lot of details are still falling into place, my “spirit knows it’s time to turn the page” and venture into the unknown.

I continue to have the utmost support and respect for my organization, WorldTeach. They are a phenomenal international teaching organization and continue to make an indelible difference in Namibia and developing countries around the world. This decision is personal and not a reflection of them as an organization.

As always, feel free to email me if you have questions about my decision or the road ahead. I will continue to share my thoughts about my time in Namibia and am eager to share all of our adventures and photos from our holiday in southern Namibia, so keep checking the blog!

Loss & Love

Before tonight, I never realized how deeply a heart can ache for someone else’s loss. When I logged on for my nightly dinnertime email check, I received an email that a dear, dear friend of mine from home’s dad had unexpectedly passed away. The pain I felt for her loss was unreal and unexpected and cut me deep, which at some level probably reflected my unspoken, deeply woven fears for losing someone I love while I’m away. I collapsed in inconsolable tears, hyperventilation, and literal pain in my chest.

This comes after a string of great losses, heartaches, and challenges from many of my brothers and sisters back in America. Each one cuts deeper and makes me realize just how far away I am. That I can’t comfort someone with a hug when they need it. That my only option for responding to their pain is through email, which continues to be too impersonal for me. That I’m missing out on sharing directly in people’s lives while I’m 8,000 miles away.

At times, it seems impossible to understand the sovereignty of God in our lives. I want to kick and scream at Him for how unfair it is to put such pain in others’ lives. But this I know to be true: that He is faithful and full of grace in the midst of devastating grief; that He surrounds us with community to love on us in our time of need; that He creates sweet blessings out of the greatest trials in our lives.

I’m at a loss for how to respond to God’s mysterious and heartbreaking plan for us. Tonight, all I can do is “pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know that this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” (Eph. 3:16-19)

On Race in Namibia

Monday marks Namibia’s 21^st birthday – not only is a 21^st birthday a big deal (only in America, I guess), but it’s also its Golden Birthday! So hats off, Namibia!

On Thursday evening, the Ministry of Information and Communication Technology came to our school to show a film to the hostel learners about Namibia’s struggle for independence. The film, “Namibia: The Struggle for Liberation,” detailed Namibia’s long fight for independence through the eyes of Sam Nujoma, the leader of SWAPO (the South West Africa People’s Organization) and the eventual first president of the Republic of Namibia.

Despite its length (161 minutes...it went way past my 8pm bedtime), the movie was well made, detailed, beautiful, and raw. Many scenes in it made me cringe more than “Hotel Rwanda” and there were many scenes of torture, killing, destruction, and dead bodies that were almost impossible to watch. The almost 25-year struggle for independence in Namibia quite a horrific period in history.

In fact, a majority of the bloodiest fighting happened right in and around our village. Ohangwena is a part of the township of Helao Nafidi. which is named after one of the biggest fighters for independence in the north-central area. In the late 1980s, four learners and one teacher were killed at my school as it was shelled. The battle occurred right at my home and life just went on.

Mari and I went to view the movie and were the only foreigners in a room of about 400 learners and teachers. That made me the only white person there. While the struggle for liberation was Namibia against South Africa, this turned into a largely white versus black battle.

I have never watched a movie that had such a passionate audience! Well, perhaps the “High School Musical 3” midnight premiere came close, but this was unreal. The learners chanted along with the war chants, sang all the liberation songs, cheered when the blacks succeeded in battle, and booed whenever the whites appeared.

Namibia has come a long, long way since independence, and it’s important to remember that it’s only been a free country for 21 years. In my experience, blatant racism is not overt here. The country is truly free in many respects. But underlying race issues do exist.

As a white person in Namibia, you do get favored in strange ways. Afrikaners will offer you free rides while they refuse to stop for black Namibians. You may be told to sit in the passenger’s seat on a hike instead of the back of a pick-up truck because you’re a white woman. Or occasionally, you may even get to go to the front of the line at the bank.

But the subconscious race relations are the most heartbreaking and are something I only began to notice a few weeks ago. While Namibians are generally cordial and relatively welcoming, I have found it to be nearly impossible to form real relationships with people. Unfortunately, even if someone appears to want to be your friend, in nearly every instance it’s because they want something from you – money, your hand in marriage, etc. You have to put up your guard in every budding relationship if you don’t want to be walked all over.

As a relational person, these realities are blatant and sad. I came to Namibia hoping to invest in my community, form meaningful ties with the people, and be known deeply. While making relationships with anyone from a culture starkly different from your own is difficult, these race relations create huge – and sometimes impassable – barriers. It’s challenging to realize that I could leave Namibia without any persistent relationships.

This is definitely not a reason to give up, become anti-social, or conform to the racial barriers present in Namibia. I will continue to pray for relationships, greet people, smile, learn the language, and try to find commonalities with the people I do meet. I will continue to hope and believe that relationships are possible in Namibia. And I will remember that I’ve only been here three months.

Perseverance

"Let us not become weary in doing good; for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
Galatians 6:9

Honesty Box

“My child, I have a message for you today. Let me whisper it in your ear so any storm clouds that may arise will shine with glory, and the rough places you may have to walk will be made smooth. It is only four words, but let them sink into your inner being, and use them as a pillow to rest your weary head. ‘This is my doing.’

“I want you to learn when temptations attack you, and the enemy comes in ‘like a pent-up flood,’ that ‘this is my doing’ and that your weakness needs My strength, and your safety lies in letting Me fight for you.”

“I am the God of circumstances. You did not come to this place by accident – you are exactly where I meant for you to be. Have you not asked Me to make you humble? Ten see that I have placed you in the perfect school where this lesson is taught. Your circumstances and the people around you are only being used to accomplish My will.”

(“Streams in the Desert,” February 1)

I haven’t been real with y’all, and I said I would be. Only a handful of you have heard the real story about life in Namibia. As supporters and faithful friends, you deserve an update and honest insight into the realities of my adjustment in Namibia.

Today marks one month in Ohangwena. Hallelujah! You should know that I can now confidently say that these days are good. It’s important to give away the ending of this post.

Things did not begin this way, though. The first two weeks at my site were really hard. Every fiber of my being wanted to jump on a plane home.

I was adjusting to life in Namibia really poorly. All of my usual methods of coping and finding hope in unfamiliar situations were failing. I had no enthusiasm about anything and felt like I was losing the core of my being. I cried (a lot) and woke up every morning feeling like this was the end of the world. Eventually, I realized that I had to physically fight those thoughts and feelings; that despite how real they were, they were not healthy or true. Clearly, God is still here – and nothing is too big for us to handle with Him leading us.

After a week, I sent out a desperate email to some of my closest girlfriends back home. There are few times in life when we realize how completely powerless we are to conquer our own giants. Certainly, God is there to fight for us. But He purposefully puts people and community in our lives to support us, pray for us, speak truth into our lives, and carry us when we can no longer stand. In my email, I explained that while I could recite a whole list of God’s promises that should get me through, none of them were changing my life. I admitted, “it’s a terribly discouraging feeling to know the Truth and be completely unable to apply it in my life. So...I don’t even know what my prayer requests are. I struggle to even put words to my prayers, so usually they end up being ‘umm...as;ldkaf;skjdfl;kj;lwkjwe...please just get me through today.’”

The encouraging, God-filled responses they sent me were completely humbling and comforting. Over the next few days, I could physically feel the prayers from home. I received many unexpected emails from friends around the world saying that I’d been on their hearts and they were praying for me. The outpouring of unprompted support was crazy. There’s no other way to explain it other than the sovereignty of God.

As I said in my Day 40 post, I reached a turning point ten days ago. I actually wrote in my journal that morning, “Today is going to be a GREAT day!” I’ve made a lot of conscious decisions in my life – deciding that piano would be my passion at age 6, deciding to love math in 3^rd grade – and this one seemed like the craziest of all. But it wasn’t. Life has taken a 180 spin since Day 40. Some days are still really, really difficult and it’s easy to feel discouraged. But I am learning to lean on God and trust Him despite my human emotions and reactions to situations. I am slowly learning what it means to be content in all situations. I have to constantly make a decision between giving into worry/fear/despair or trusting that God’s purposes are bigger than my moments.

Faith needs to continue despite our circumstances. God does not change – whether you’re working in Nashville, still in school, or living in Namibia. “Faith that believes it will see, will keep us from becoming discouraged. We will laugh at seemingly impossible situations while we watch with delight to see how God is going to open a path through our Red Sea.”

Each day is still a battle and while the last ten days have been a major improvement, I know there will be challenging days on the road ahead. But for now, I am grateful for small joys, the sweet encouragement of friends, and the grace of God. And if I ever doubt that, I just have to look to the Namibian sky to remember how great He truly is. 

OVC

According to Namibia, I am an orphan. Does that knock the wind out of you like it did for me?

A few weeks ago, I was introduced to the Ministry of Education’s Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) Register. Starting in 2010, schools are required to register any learners that qualify as orphans or vulnerable children.

Almost anything can make you an OVC...lack of either/both parents, living in a child-headed or grandparent-headed household, having any sort of disability (physical, learning, mental...any severity), having glasses, lacking money...the list goes on.

As a registered class teacher (aka homeroom teacher), this gives you additional responsibility. You are the one to gauge if any of your learners are OVCs and then include them in the register. Let me tell you...a lot of the learners here qualify as OVCs. Since the Register is so new, the Ministry only uses it for statistical purposes. Schools can use the information to waive school fees or provide free meals where applicable.

This week, I’ve been doing this awesome family tree project with my 11^th and 12^th graders. I have learned a lot about my learners’ families and would estimate that almost a third of them qualify as orphans. So many of them have had one or both parents die...and they’re only teenagers.

Just last week, the mother of a girl in my homeroom passed away. She walked in the school gates one morning, handed me this note, and walked away: “Dear Madam, Am sorry for bothering you, I just want to let you know that M will not be coming to school this days due to her mom’s death.”

How do you react? I still will never know. But let us rejoice once again in the great sovereignty of God in my life – in blessing me with past experiences, sorrows, and healing that enable me to comfort and listen to others.

“Praise be to God...who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” – 2 Corinthians 1:4

Silver Lining

To say I hit rock bottom fast would be an understatement.

In our training, we’re taught about cultural adjustment in terms of the “W-Curve.” In its most basic sense, the W-Curve shows you that adjusting to a new culture is full of highs and lows that come or go in broad waves. You start out in what we affectionately call the “honeymoon phase” – and oh, the honeymoon phase is so sweet! New friends, exciting scents & sounds & sights, a whole year of adventures ahead of you!

When we were presenting funny skits on each of the stages of the W-Curve, newfriend Hannah and I dubbed the second stage as the “Freak-Out Zone.” When should you reach the Freak-Out Zone. Probably March or April...a couple months in when you realize you really are stuck here for a year. Oh how we laughed about the freak-out zone and how miserable and far away it would be.

My expectation (doesn’t life always hinge on those darned expectations?) was that while this huge leap would not be easy, I would certainly continue to see my purpose and be excited about the bigger picture...and just being back on this continent. Coming off of an autumn full of such high highs, I thought I could ride that wave and be able to carry over the tangible fruits of God’s promises into these more difficult times.

But Freak-Out started to knock on my door when I arrived Sunday night. It stayed away, but then followed me to school on Monday. Since then, it has full on tackled me to the point that I feel inches from drowning and moments away from jumping on a plane home.

The most maddening part is that I know God has led me here. I know His fingerprints have been all over every step of this journey. And if He’s led me to this, He will bring me through it. He is constant and His love will not change, even now. I could recite a whole litany of God’s promises...

But this morning, all I had the strength to pray for is that God would remind me why I was here...remind me that He is here, too.

Upon returning from a long afternoon in Oshikango with my two Japanese roommates, we approached the school and could hear music in the distance. As we neared the classrooms, the sweet sounds of singing and dancing rose and fell in the dense Namibian air. We followed the voices to a grade twelve classroom on the far side of the schoolyard. The desks had been pushed to the sides and middle of the room. As we crept in, the loud voices, frantic stepping, and bright colors swept over me. A group of young females was dancing in a snake-like pattern around the room singing beautifully raw Namibian folk and gospel songs. Their enthusiasm was contagious and overwhelming.

I knew immediately. God was showing me why I am here. Music and I have had a rough past two years, but through it all, nothing seems to stir my heart more than raw, soul-filled melodies. Despite being the only oshilumbu (white person) for miles, I was able to be a fly on the wall and simply soak in the sweet serenade.

This doesn’t change the fact that everything I’ve been handed has been the opposite of what I signed up for. Or the fact that adjustment is so much harder than I ever expected. But this silver lining in a progression of the awfulest days has given me the briefest ray of hope that God is still with me, despite the blinding fears.

Many Roads

One of my favorite Nashville artists, Andrew Peterson, came out with a new album at the beginning of Fall 2011. A group of us was lucky enough to find out about the CD release and witness the play-through of the CD in Tennessee. On our roadtrip to Tsumeb this morning, I put it on and listened to it in full for the first time in a while. Each song is so packed with depth, poetry, and beauty, and Namibia was the perfect background for a refresher.

“You can see the roads that we all traveled just to get here

A million miniscule decisions in a line

And why they brought us to this moment isn’t clear,

But that’s alright, we’ve got all night.

Could it be that the many roads you took to get here

Are for me to tell this story and for you to hear this song?

And your many hopes and your many fears

Were meant to bring you here all along.”

(“Many Roads”)

This song has been a favorite of my Nashville friends for a while, but it held a whole new weight when I heard it today. I am grateful for a heart that feels too full when I’m surrounded by good people. Those of us who just arrived all come from such different places in life – locations, careers, relationships, passions – and ended up here in Namibia. And the people we have meet here are all from such diverse backgrounds. Yet we were all put in this moment together. It may not be clear why or how, or how these relationships will be used in our lives, but God’s fingerprints are all over it. And for that I am more thankful than I can put words to. I’m eager for the year ahead and the people God will put in my life who came from many roads to this one spot. We were meant to be right here all along.