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)
God, hold us to that which drew us first,
when the cross was the attraction, and we wanted nothing else. ~ Amy Carmichael
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
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.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, June 8, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, May 29, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
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...
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...
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