To God be the glory

It's hard to believe I've already been back from Brazil for over a month. I have no idea where the last month went. And I have a feeling December will fly by, just as swiftly. I finally finished writing my prayer/support letter and am hoping to send it out by next week.

These days I find myself striving to redeem the time. To be like Jim Elliot in his statement, "Wherever you are, be all there." I want to be fully present and able to pour myself into my ministries here. Yet at the same time, striving to be prepared mentally and spiritually for moving to Brazil. It's a tricky balance.

Things with the youth group have been going really well. I took six high school girls to the Revolve Tour a few weekends ago (Women of Faith for teen girls) in Portland. It was a really awesome time of getting to know each of them a little better, of being able to challenge them in their faith, and of just being a listening ear. I think it was a springboard for future conversations and challenges. Please pray that I will be able to meet up with each of these girls and that the Lord will use me to speak His truth into their lives.

When I first came back from Brazil, I felt pretty confused and lost in a whirlwind of emotion. But now I find a growing desire each day to serve the Lord in Brazil. It's been neat how many people I've met recently who have been to Brazil, are Brazilian, or are planning to go to Brazil when a few months ago I couldn't name one person.

Please pray for me as I work to get all the logistics taken care of - getting credit cards paid off, getting my Oregon residency back so I can apply for a missionary visa, sending out support letters and having the boldness to talk with people and churches, selling my things (my guitar, my car, my furniture, etc.).

Ultimately, I want God to get the glory. Raising $20,000 a year feels a bit out of my league, which I'm glad about. I don't want there to be an inkling in my mind that I did this on my own. It's hard to see how this will happen - which is so awesome! Because I know that if the Lord wants me to be in Brazil, He's gonna make it possible. $20,000 is chump change to the God of the Universe.

Morgan's Abroad

I just spent the weekend with my brother Daniel, his wife Janette, and their beautiful son, Shiloh. We walked through Lithia Park, snapping corny pictures, drinking Starbucks, laughing together. This was one of the last times we’ll spend together for God-only-knows how long. They got the green light from their mission board just yesterday to go ahead and buy their tickets to Guatemala. It’s hard to believe it’s already time for them to leave. Daniel has talked of being a missionary since he was a little boy and now they are walking in obedience to the Lord’s calling, stepping out in faith, and moving to Guatemala in a few weeks.

I thought they were crazy when they quit their jobs and sold all of their possessions a couple months ago, before they even knew if, when, and where they would be going (details that seemed important to me). But they were confidant the Lord would show them which way to turn as Isaiah 30:21 says, “Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’ Whenever you turn to the right hand or whenever you turn to the left.” It seemed a little foolish to me (I am so quick to judge!) and yet now I see what Paul meant in 1 Corinthians 1: 25 and 27, “Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men… But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise…”

I asked them tons of questions today about what exactly they will be doing and they didn’t know a whole lot (working with churches, opening a clinic), but they are not worried. They are trusting that the Lord has it all figured out. It’s such an awesome testimony of putting your hope in Christ alone. Please pray for Daniel and Janette and Shiloh as they step out in faith and serve the poor in Guatemala.

"Greater things have yet to come and greater things have still to be done in this city..." ~ Bluetree

When I drove across the country with Graden and Jono, we listened to lots of music, to say the least. The song "God of This City" came on and I skipped over it. Jono asked, "You don't like the song?" I explained how it was kind of annoying to me because it had been played on the radio so much. And how the lyrics were extremely repetitive - "Greater things have yet to come and greater things have still to be done in this city," over and over and over.

"Cheddar, do you know the story behind the song?" Jono is well-versed in the history behind songs (similar to a man we met in a Mormon-country coffee shop who stated that the "Encyclopedia of Rock 'n' Roll was his Bible). He then told me of a band (Bluetree) who played a concert in a bar/brothel in Thailand. Surrounded by drug traficking, child prostitution, debauchery, and thousands of lost souls the band began to sing to the Lord, "You're the God of this city..." They saw that even in the midst of the depravity, God was still the God of that city. And He wasn't done - He still has things He wants accomplished in that seemingly hopeless city.

Hearing that story gave me new ears to listen to that song and it is now a favorite of mine. Last week as I walked through the favela (a slum in Rio) called, Morro dos Macacos (Hill of the Monkeys), that song played in my head as a prayer the entire afternoon. Jeremy and Jason (two of the missionaries down here) teach some soccer classes and Bible studies at a community center within the favela. Six teenage boys in their afternoon class took the three of us up to the top of the favela. It was quite a trek to the top. It felt like we were climbing stairs for years, weaving in and out of little alleys between the homes. The further up we walked, the poorer the homes were. Some were just cardboard and trash nailed together to form four walls. The people who live at the top have to walk those stairs anytime they need anything (there are no roads for cars at the top). Some even have to carry water up because they do not have access.

When we got to the top of the hill, there was a little pasture with a large cross off to one side. The pasture overlooked the enormous city of Rio de Janeiro. As we made our way towards the cross, there were about 10 young men with guns overlooking the other side of the hill, to make sure that drug dealers from the rival gang were not trying to invade. They didn’t really seem to care that we were up there so we just kept walking.

When we got to the cross there was a man, R*****, about the age of twenty sitting by it, gun in hand. He was very friendly and started talking to us (in Portuguese of course). He ended up telling us that he had been shot five times in his life and pointed to each scar. At that point, Jason said something along the lines of, “You know, R*****, God has spared your life for a reason.” I’m not sure who initiated this, but the next thing I knew we were standing in a circle, holding hands (the drug dealer, the 6 teenage boys, the three of us) and praying.

God is the God of the people of Morro dos Macacos, whether they know it or not. He created each of them, fashioned their hearts individually (Psalm 33:15), and longs to give them the full life that He died to give. The drug dealers, the prostitutes, the kids who are stuck growing up there. It's encouraging to remember that God isn't finished yet - greater things are left to be done in that city.

Acts 17:26- 28 “And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him with live and move and have our being…”

Brazil

Things I am thankful for:
1. Brazillian coffee
2. Warm Weather
3. Beautiful mountains in the heart of the city, sceneries, and beaches
4. No traffic rules
5. Warm, friendly people
6. Kissing both cheeks when greeting or saying good-bye
7. Playing ultimate frisbee with Brazillians
8. Playing street futbol (soccer) with the kids of Reame (orphanage)
9. One of the teen girls at the orphanage washing my feet and giving me a pedicure (talk about humbling!)
10. One of the little boys at Reame sitting by me all morning long, being content to chat away with me in Portuguese even though I couldn't speak back
11. The smile of a little boy in the favella as I cleaned a wound on his foot
12. The way Jacob dances (the little 2 year old boy of a missionary couple here)
13. Conversations with Jeremy, Jason, and Kristin (the missionaries of Sombra Road)
14. Staying with Carol (pronounced kah-rowe) and feeling a part of her family
15. The delicious bread and fruit on every street corner
16. Watching the Office and eating Thai food with new friends. Such a "normal" thing to do in this foreign place.
17. The way that certain towns and streets remind me so much of Benin, West Africa - the smells, the people, the dirt roads, the tiny shops
18. Everyone's patience with my complete lack of language skills
19. Getting a small glimpse of life in a favella
20. Being able to laugh and feel comfortable despite the language barrier
21. Discovering this new found desire and heart for Brazil, when 6 months ago it was the furthest thing from my mind
22. The way the Lord provided for my airfare, getting my tourist visa, and the expenses of being here
23. The rich diversity of the people (many with roots right out of the country I was in while in Africa)

Dickinson Prose

I cannot live with You –

It would be Life –

And Life is over there –

Behind the Shelf.

Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune--without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

My cup overflows

Oscar is gone. I named the squirrel Oscar, mostly 'cause he lived in the garbage can. I think he may have gotten thrown away. I'm hoping he just moved to a different location.

Everyone at camp assumes I am the expert on any and every single medical issue. Sometimes I say I don't know. Sometimes I just make up an answer that sounds legit. Sometimes I know the answer. But unfortunately, most of the questions or issues they have don't have to do with cervical exams or hyperbilirubenemia (jaundice in newborns). "Cheddar, why is there pus coming out of my knee?" "Cheddar, what is this rash?" "Why is my toe green?"

We have a mini petting zoo at camp. I've joined the Nature Activity the last couple of days and have learned a lot about the farm animals. For instance, goats have rectangular pupils (like an Octopus). When a goat give birth it's called kidding. "Are you kidding?" has a whole new connotation. I love it.

Somehow my junior high days have made there way into conversations at camp. Wearing mo0-moos to school, wearing a measuring tape for a belt, and of course the infamous interpretive dances. One girl almost lost it when I explained the dance Janna and I did for the talent show in 8th grade. To a song by Carmen. I was Satan. Janna was Jesus. We coerced some other girls who didn't have any friends to be our minions, the demons in the song. Needless to say, my crush, Cory Albright, did not talk to me after that 10 minute long "dance."So now the plan is for me to do an interpretive dance at some point this summer, which will always be more mortifying to me than peeing my pants on stage. What joy is mine.

I think you may be a kindred spirit, after all. I love that no matter where I go in this country or in the world, I find kindred spirits. It's so amazing to work alongside a bunch of believers towards the same end. Three weeks ago I didn't know that any of these people existed. And now I feel as though my life has been changed by them as we spur each other on towards the Lord. God is so good. I am so glad He created us to have fellowship and friends and family. I feel so rich and blessed by the people the Lord has placed in my life. What a mighty God we serve.

It’s hard to believe I’ve already been at Redwood Camp for over a week. The counselors arrived a few days ago for training and the first campers arrive this Sunday. So far it has been an amazing time of getting to know everyone on staff, cleaning and organizing the infirmary, and preparing for 10 crazymaking weeks of summer camp.

Thankfully, I have not come across any Brown Recluse spiders in my bedroom yet. Although I am very careful to check my sleeping bag before crawling into it and my shoes before slipping them on. Images of Brown Recluse and Wolf Spiders still haunt my dreams, but I can handle that. I do however have a pet squirrel that lives in the garbage can just outside my door. Each morning when I step outside, he pokes his head out and watches me walk down the porch. I haven’t come up with a name yet, but I’m thankful he hasn’t lunged for my face.

It is absolutely beautiful here in the Redwoods. There is an old train track that runs through camp and I like to go jogging down it early in the morning. A creek runs through camp, not far from my little cottage (built in the 1800s) and I wake up to the sound of running water and singing birds each day. Yesterday we woke up with the sun climbing over the Santa Cruz Mountains, one ribbon at a time, as we drove to check out some local tide pools. They say sometimes you can see dolphins and whales playing in the frothy waters from shore. We didn’t see any dolphins but we did see a plethora of sea anemones. I stuck my tongue in one. When the staff saw that the nurse survived the experience, half of them did it too. The tip of my tongue felt like it was being stabbed with thousands of needles for about an hour afterwards. It was worth it.

Last night we had a scavenger hunt downtown Santa Cruz. All of us program staff dressed up as the counselors searched for us to find clues. I wore a standard “Bri” outfit – a dress over pants and a cowboy hat. Santa Cruz is very similar to Ashland (artsy, hippies, homeless people, coffee shops), so I blended right in and the counselors had a hard time finding me. Many of them walked right past me as I sat against a wall, near some homeless people, reading poetry and drinking coffee.

Missions and Africa are very heavily on my mind these days. I’m reading through Deuteronomy now, which is the book we read the summer I spent in Benin, West Africa. I don’t want to make any rash decisions just because of some recent disappointment and heartache in my life. But I also don’t want to live an unlived life. I’m tired of living in fear and anxiety that I’m making all the wrong decisions with my life. I want to be wholly available to the Lord, no matter the cost. I’m learning that it’s a good place to be – this uncertainty of what’s next for me, but a steadfast certainty of who God is and what He’s doing.

Camp - How I love thee

It's hard to believe it's that time of year again. Time to load up my car with things I mostly don't need and head to camp. This time not to New York but to a camp called Mt. Hermon, near Santa Cruz, California. Instead of a counselor or program director, I'm going to be a camp nurse. Which seems fitting since my nursing degree cost close to $100,000, not to mention blood, sweat, and sleepless nights.

Camp has always had a special place in my heart. I can't think of anything I love doing more. I am so blessed to remember how much of my life had been spent at camp and so impacted. Winter camp in junior high, where I dedicated my life to the Lord. Living at the Christian Renewal Center where my parents fell in love over chocolate chip cookies and hand-written letters. Wildhorse Canyon - first as a camper, later as a leader. The summer I spent washing dishes at Breakaway in Gearheart, Oregon and learning stupid, but awesome, skits like, "People with shirts on their heads!" And of course, my beloved Good Tidings in the Catskills of New York. Where I truly fell in love with truth, with the Gospel.

My first year as a counselor at Good Tidings, I was seventeen, awkard, and shy. I overcompensated my shyness by being obnoxiously loud and sarcastic (yeah, unfortunately, I still tend to do that). I was the only girl on staff who had never been to Good Tidings before. It seemed that everyone else knew their way around, knew the rules, knew what their place was in this world. I didn't. That summer, Carolyne Hall, took me under her wing. She encouraged me, laughed with me, talked to me as an equal. She listened to me, prayed for me, prayed with me. She was a Spanish teacher from just outside of New York City and dedicated her summer to working at camp. At the time, I couldn't understand why a woman with a successful career would decide to spend her summer doing what she did. But it impacted my life more than I realized at the time.

I have so many hopes and prayers for the summer. My nurse heart hopes that I will remember what I need to know in emergency situations. That I will make medically sound decisions and not let my pride keep me from asking for help. And that the staff and campers will just stay healthy and injury free :).

But a huge part of my heart is for the staff, as they pour their lives out as ministers to the hundreds of campers that will come through this summer. I hope that I will be able to speak truth and life into their lives, encourage them, listen to them, pray with them. Just as Carolyne did for me once.

I pray that our purpose for being there will not get lost in the hustle and bustle that comes with a busy camp schedule. That we will remember our first love - Jesus Christ. That we will keep our eyes steadfast on Him and run this race set out before us with endurance.

Falling in love again

It’s amazing how alive I feel after pulling my head out of the toilet of despair and self-destructive thoughts. I don’t know why I let myself go to that place, like Anne of Green Gables, “the depths of despair.” But as wise Marilla Cuthbert would say, “to despair is to turn your back on God,” and I don’t want to return to a life of a back turned to God.

Would that I could count all the blessings in my life, past and present. But I could no sooner number the stars in the heavens.

I’ve lived alone for less than a year of my life. Other than that time, I’ve had amazing, God-loving roommates. Steph Rea in nursing school, who ended up introducing me to one of my best-friends, Kyla. Leah and Bryana – oh how I will always cherish our late night excursions to Lithia Park and the like. Michelle Boudreau in Benin, West Africa – crying to her about being lonely, making pudding for lunch, waking up to chase the African sunrise. Amy and Brook for one more week. Playing our guitars, making meals together, looking up words like “incubus” in the dictionary, and of course Maxi Christmas Slippers.

I am surrounded by true believers, people who love the Lord and love others. Who don’t just give lip service but live out their faith in the day to day. I am humbled that I should have the honor to have these people in my life. Family and friends and pastors who admonish my in the Lord, remind me to keep my eyes on the Lord, reach out a hand when I stumble.

Words can’t express how thankful I am for my family. For having so many beautiful nieces and nephews, to hold and cherish, rock and sing to, run and dance with. The best-friends I’ve found in my two amazing, older sisters – the listening ears they give me, the wisdom they share. My mom still tucking me in when I go home to visit and picking me a bouquet of flowers from her garden to place next to my bed. Dave changing my oil, filling my tank, or buying me apple cider donuts just because he knows I love them. My older brother, Daniel, giving me bear hugs and telling me I’m beautiful and that one day the man the Lord has for me will see that, too.

Having a job that I love. The privilege to be a part of the once-in-a-lifetime event of welcoming a new baby into the world. Holding the tiny babies in the NICU. Praying for and praying with patients who come in, hurting and scared. The honor of being the nurse to care for a mother who has just lost her baby, crying tears for the life that the Lord knit together, and trusting that He has a plan even though we are not skilled to understand.

What a mighty God we serve. Jehovah Jirah, my Provider, who provides above and beyond all that I could ask or imagine. The King of kings and the Creator who owns the cattle on a thousand hills. In Him we live and move and have our being. Let this be a challenge for you to examine your life and your heart and thank the Lord for all that He has freely given you.

Brown Boxes

Brown boxes. Packing tape. Empty, white walls. This is what my life is. A little over six months and it’s time to move on again. As I place my favorite books and photographs in boxes, I can’t help but feel it’s more than just objects I’m packing away. Recently certain dreams of my heart seem dead. But maybe they are just dormant for now. Maybe I’ll just put them in a box, tape it shut, and shove it in a storage unit. To be opened at a later date, unbeknownst to me. I’ll forget about the things in the boxes. I’ll forget what it was to live each day with them and feel that I couldn’t live without them. The dreams will fade away into the distant past of the way my life once was.

And then one day I will have a place to call home again. I will unpack the boxes. I will smell each book and cry or laugh as I remember the first time I read it. By the fireplace in my childhood home, with my legs tucked under me, listening to the rain on the windows. I will unpack the dreams and rejoice at the new ones that have replaced them. Or cry at how my heart still longs for that dream to be fulfilled. I don’t know what the new dreams will be, but I know that His mercies are new every morning. I know that there is the promise of a new dream in my heart. I know that a day will come when I will no longer have to pack these things away but I will be Home. But until that day comes...

"As murky and unclear as the mud puddles outside my door..."

The waves lap on shore
The mantra of the ocean
Speaking to my soul.

The sunlight dances
Asleep, her face is peaceful
The smell of roses.

To see you clearly
Is my heart's desire and wish
My bright eyes on you.

Home, an illusion
Perhaps, it's otherworldly
Where the heart abides.

Running and running
Chasing a fading dream world
The glass is shattered.

Lives under the bridge
Whisky, garbage, and bruises
Yet their voices smile.

Dust to dust. Our lives.
Sunrise to sunset we live -
A pond of vapors.

bella Donna

Each spring I go down to Mexico as a leader with my high school youth group. We work at a little orphanage in the hills of San Antonio, Baja California. One of the neatest aspects of the trip is that we get to build relationships with the orphanage kids who are there year after year. Last year a little two year old girl chose me to hold her each day. This year she did the same thing. I don’t know that she remembered me, but I remembered her. This year she was able to tell me her name. Donna. As I held her in my arms she would gaze up at my face, her hand on my cheek and say, “Te amo,” which is “I love you.”

It warmed my heart to hold that little girl in my arms. Yet I recognized that she has some definite attachment issues. I think of my own nieces and nephews at that age and how long it would take them to let a stranger hold them, while she had no hesitation in lifting her chubby arms to me. What truly broke my heart happened one day in the dining area of the orphanage. Donna had tripped and was crying. But she wasn’t crying for anyone. She wasn’t calling for her mama. She wasn’t calling for anyone. She was just crying. I picked her up and thought how if my niece, Bella, was hurt she would cry for her mom. But Donna doesn’t have a mom to cry for.

What does that do to a little girl or a little boy? I think of my own mom and how much she has shaped the woman I am today. What would my life look like if she hadn’t been there for me when I was three? Or if she left when I was fifteen? It completely breaks my already broken heart.

You are my first memory
You taught me to walk, to ride a bike
Each night you tucked me in tight
Rubbed my back and sang me to sleep
You laugh with me, hold me, and weep when I weep
You held my hand the first day of school (and the second and third)
And have always encouraged me ‘til my fears were assured
Thank you for reading “Tilly’s House” again and again
For teaching me to find joy even in the mundane
For making me brush my teeth
And trying to make me comb my hair
You raised us six to love and to share
You’ve always encouraged my dreams
And put up with all my wanderlust schemes
You showed me that individuality is something to be celebrated
And that each of us has a purpose for being created
Your life and love has pointed me to the Creator
I can think of no other task that could be greater
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known
Wherever you are is where I call home
Thanks for always listening
Even at one in the morning when I was wired ‘cause I slept in ‘til noon
You are my ideal
And I hope to one day be
The kind of Godly woman and mother that you’ve been to me

Perspective

I just deleted my facebook account. I've simply deactivated it before, but always have returned to it. This time I deleted everything on it, so even if I reactivate it there will be nothing there. I'm glad I did it. Today in an interview, I was asked to give an example of a time I took a stand. As trivial as this seems (and ironic as I'm writing this on a blog), this feels like taking a stand. Facebook has become an excuse for me to not truly invest in the lives of others. I know how you're doing because I read your status and looked at pictures you took on a trip last weekend. But not because I asked or because you told me. Not because I took the time to call you or write you or visit with you. Not because I put you before myself, encouraged you, wept with you, laughed with you.

I have wasted so many hours (which turn into days and weeks and months) on facebook. Ha. That's not the kind of woman I want to be. I want to be about the business of my King. I want to be a lover of people. How can I merely listen to the Word and not do what it says?

Living a Fulfilled Life with Unfulfilled Desires

Is it possible?

It’s my lot in life. The thorn in my side. My Achilles heel. My Delilah. My stumbling block that that I pray will lead to my strength (when His power is made perfect in my weakness). Would that I could escape this. Give this burden to someone else to carry. Choose a different path for my life. It’s too much for me to carry. I’m sinking under the weight of it. A good friend wrote me an e-mail a couple of months ago that describes exactly how my heart feels:

"I don't quite know how I got here and I don't quite know how to get out. I feel like a drowning person in the middle of the ocean. I will keep fighting to my dying breath but that doesn't mean I will succeed. In fact I am afraid that I am losing ground and will soon drown altogether. I need the Lord to bring a change. For I know some of the good things I could do to help myself but I have lost the strength to do them. I feel as though I have let you down. Like I am a great disappointment to you, my family, and others. I fear that somehow that spark of something great I always thought I had inside has faded out altogether. I wonder how my story will end."

I also wonder, how will my story end? I don’t know how I got here and I don’t quite know how to get out. It’s like I’m trapped and will not be set free until I see my Savior face to face.

For years I’ve cried out to the Lord regarding this “thorn.” I haven’t understood why He would bother to create me with this desire, if it was never to be fulfilled. I’ve asked Him why. I’ve blamed Him and been angry at Him. It’s always seemed to me that I would be much more effective in my walk and steadfast in my devotion to Him if I wasn’t distracted by this. So far, He still hasn’t explained to me why. And neither has He taken the desire away. I read something by Elisabeth Elliot one morning that gave me some insight I’ve never seen before.

“Ordinary fare will not fill the emptiness in our hearts. Bread will not suffice. We need extraordinary fare. We need manna. How else will we learn to eat, if we are never hungry? How will we educate our tastes for heavenly things if we are surfeited with earthy? Sex simply will not suffice anymore than bread will. My heart was saying, ‘Lord, take away this longing, or give me that for which I long.’ The Lord was answering, ‘I must teach you to long for something better.’”

Lord, teach me to long for something better.

Standing Water

The rock plummets to the sandy bottom,
Like the life of an unloved, forgotten child
At first it stirs up the waters of the deep
But as it sinks further and further
All that's left
Is standing water.
No one remembers the rock
Aside from a vague, far-off recollection
For all they see
Is standing water.

Painted Skies

I need a reason to live
A purpose for being here -
So I spend my days,
Chasing the sun.
I can see it in the distance,
At the end of the highway,
Where the mountains meet the sky.
But for now, I'm stuck in the storm.
Half the time it feels like I'm hydroplaning through life -
But eventually the clouds break,
The sun peeks through,
I step outside and feel the rain
And sun on my face at the same time.
The painted sky catches my breath,
And then I remember what I forgot -
My reason to live,
My purpose for being here
Is to chase the Son.

Trust Me by Christina Rossettie

Trust me, I have not earned your dear rebuke, -

I love, as you would have me, God the most.

Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost,

Nor with Lot's wife cast back a faithless look,

Unready to forego what I forsook.

This say I, having counted up the cost;

This, though 't be the feeblest of God's host,

The sorriest sheep Christ shepherds with His crook,

Yet, while I love my God the most, I deem

That I can never love you over much:

I love Him more, so let me love you too;

Yea, as I apprehend it, love is such

I cannot love you if I love not Him,

I cannot love Him if I love not you.

Redeeming Valentine's

February 14th. For most of my life this day has been a perpetual reminder of my own singleness. Single Awareness Day (S.A.D) is what I like to call it. One year I proposed to my kindergarten sweetheart on Valentine’s Day only to be completely shot-down and rejected. Another year I gave all of my friends cards with a picture of rocks flying towards a stick-figure boy’s head with the caption, “Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them.” Two years ago on this day my adorable nephew, Elijah Michael was born.

Today is the 25th Valentine’s Day I have had as a single woman. But this year is different for me. It’s the first year that I’m okay with where God has me. For so many years all I could see was what I didn’t have, but this year it’s as if I’m learning to see clearly for the first time. And I’m amazed and in awe of all I do have, all of the rich relationships I’ve been blessed with.

Lately a friend and I have been passing out pizzas to homeless people in the area. In return, we have been so blessed by the people we’ve met along the way. Yesterday we decided to switch it up and pass out cupcakes. We made an insane amount of cupcakes. It looked like a pink flamingo through up in my kitchen (assuming of course that flamingo vomit is similar to pink frosting). Then we loaded up my car and drove around Medford and Ashland looking for people to give these cupcakes to.

We ended up passing them out to gas station workers in both towns. It was such an amazing experience. We would hand the attendant a little plate of cupcakes and just say something like, “We just wanted to say we appreciate all the hard work you do and we made you these cupcakes. God bless you.” And they would be completely flabbergasted and say, “Are you serious? For me? Wow, thank you so much.” It was incredible. We could hardly understand why they were so appreciative. For goodness sakes, they were just cupcakes. Yet they acted like we just did this huge favor for them. They would flash us these huge smiles. One guy even clasped my hand in both of his. It was really humbling.

Through all of this I’ve realized God is opening my eyes to see people I’ve never seen before. People who have been around me all along yet I was too wrapped up in myself to notice them. Now when I drive I can’t help but see homeless people on almost every corner. When I go to a gas station, I see men (and some women) who work awful hours, in the freezing cold, for little more than minimum wage. They might just be trying to make ends meet, provide for their families, or just survive this painful life.

My ultimate prayer is that this is not just a phase I’m going through or something that will become just a good memory. My prayer is that it will be a catalyst for change in my heart and in the hearts of those around me. We spend so much time trying to “find ourselves,” that we lose track of what really matters in life – namely Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

Matthew 16:24-26, “Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?’”

How can I give silence, my whole life long?

I ASKED the heaven of stars
What I should give my love—
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
Down where the fishes go—
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song—
But how can I give silence
My whole life long?

~Sara Teasdale