"Pray for the Orphan Parts of Me..."

This morning I forgot it was Tuesday. I piddled around the house. Threw my hair into a messy bun.  Five bobby pins and three re-dos later, I was finally content with the amount of “messy” the bun contained. I took my sweet time getting ready and then looked at the clock that read 9:27.

Then I remembered it was a Tuesday.
I had a coffee date with a friend in three minutes.

I frantically threw things in a bag, grabbed a sweater, and headed out my squeaky back door. I ran in, flustered a bit, but she understood. I overcame my bagel craving and covered it up with too much coffee and had some great conversation. We talked of late nights and too much studying, of friends, of canoes and camping, of mice and men (ok, not mice and men). We spoke of the Lord, the hard parts, the comforting parts, the parts we still don’t understand.

The amazing thing is that the conversation I had with her three weeks ago, and the conversation we had today, were so different it makes me want to jump for joy. What the Lord can somehow show someone else, through a hot mess of a sinner like me, is baffling. My words are jumbled and I’m fairly certain only 68% of what I say about the Lord actually makes sense outside of my own head. But he uses the weak. That’s what I am most days. Just weak.

I asked her as we packed up our things and drank the last sips of our coffee, what I could pray for her about and she said to me this,

“you can pray for the orphan parts of me”

a few weeks ago, in our small group, we compared what an orphan acts like in comparison to a daughter of the King. Not so surprisingly, most of us had some orphan tendencies. We work hard to just be better. We punish ourselves. We sit in our guilt. We try to do it on our own. We don’t trust. We judge easily. We think we are just too weak to be used, too selfish, too messy.

The orphan parts of me. What a statement. What a hard thing to acknowledge.
But that is an echo of my hearts cry. Pray for the orphan parts of me. I am a daughter and the Lord loves me and will continually be chasing down my heart in order to show these orphan parts of me, how much of a daughter I really am.

Kindred Spirits

If I could sum up the end of this semester I would, but I can’t do that. Its impossible and a roller coaster that I don’t think I would make it out alive from. What I can tell you is how blessed I am with the community God has placed around me unexpectedly.

The kind of community that you hope for, but never actually expect to gain. The friends that you have withdrawals from if more than a day pass in between seeing each other (we are borderline pathetic). I’ve always wanted a group of friends like that; where I am challenged to share every bit of my heart and soul even if its painful, where we can struggle together, encourage each other, pray together, cry together, pee our pants laughing together, call each other out, and love unconditionally.

Over Christmas break I prayed for my community group, among many other things, but specifically that God would bring genuine girls to it for the next semester, that he would challenge us to be raw and honest and learn what it means to share and pray for each other. That first week, in walk Autumn, Emily, and Amy. Who, I thought, were possibly the coolest people I had ever seen. They were raw and genuine and best of all, the same kind of weird as me. I was eventually coaxed to Autumn and Emily’s apartment to study where Amy already camped out, which ended up being a vortex that you never want to leave. First it was Tuesday night studying, where we actually studied. (Friends who are quiet when there is studying happening is the biggest blessing ever). Then somewhere in between puzzle night, an abundance of Oreos, milk, popcorn, and Anne of Green Gables night, I realized… we are all kindred spirits. We are absolutely ridiculous together but never forget to pray together. They are the most unique, gifted, beautiful girls I’ve ever known.

There is Autumn, with her abundance of hospitality, and ability to make you feel so loved you feel like you are literally going to burst. She makes me appreciate small tidbits of history and Russia more than I did before. Especially Russia. And she always feeds me…

And then Emily, with her incredible creativity and quiet calm spirit that always makes you smile. Her art is inspiring and so is her sweet, sweet heart. She strives to do her very best in everything and has NO idea how beautiful she is. Also, we have the same nostrils, which just makes everything better…

and then there is Amy who cares SO deeply, you can feel it in your own heart before she even says anything to you. She is honest and can make you laugh really, really hard. She makes you look at nature in a new way just by talking about a tree. Plus she has the same appreciation/addiction to The Civil Wars, Grey’s Anatomy, and pizza as I do…

I love these girls. I believe the Lord has knit our hearts together. Wherever the Lord may take us… Chicago, Prague, Swamplands, or an African hut... I know He will sustain what He began. 

Sitting On the Floor, on a Tuesday that happens to be Valentines Day, I Pause and Reflect on Life and the Fact that I Might Be Crazy

Lately, I have been talking to myself in the car
and in my room
and in hallways
and on sidewalks
and in coffee shops where I forget that I’m not invisible

Its what I do when I have a lot on my plate,
and, currently, I have a thousand decisions to carry out,
really just a small handful, but they all just seem so daunting
so, on top of holding conversations with myself,
when I think too much, I drink too much coffee
and although I’d like to claim to have a high tolerance for it
I bounce off walls and start making strange noises
and the only person that understands me at that state is my roommate
and she is crazy too

Speaking of bounce, I am bouncing back from a week that had me feeling
close to the Lord and distant from him at the same time
But, In that I learned a large lesson:
obedience and patience are not my strong suit
and God will go to great lengths to teach them to me

Which, makes my heart feel crazy.
like its bouncing around inside my chest
fighting my flesh
and really excited for what God has in front of me
but at the same time unsure about his methods of getting me there
and not particularly a fan of his timing,
gosh, his perfect timing
that I NEVER seem to understand
until way after the fact.

So, I lay in my bed
and try to reason with Him,
the almighty God,
which IS crazy and ridiculous
and after about five minutes
He doesn’t necessarily tell me why He is working the way He is
but what He does tell me
is that He knows EVERYTHING
and I know Him
and that is more than enough
for today
for tomorrow
for eternity

and then I start thinking about eternity
with Him, no sin, no fighting flesh, no asking why
just peace, and joy, and worship face to face,
and my head gets dizzy
and the whole world turns upside down
and I can’t wrap my head around anything
and suddenly, my mind…

…goes crazy again
but, this time, its the good kind of crazy.

I Live on Church Property

There are good and bad things that come along with having the church parking lot as my back yard. For example, a bad thing is that on occasion the youth kids who have Sunday school in our living room decide to have donut hole wars. I’m sure they are fun in the moment, but when I find them a week later under my couch, its gets gross. A good thing though, is that I have keys. There is a sense of power that comes with the ability to unlock doors. But I don’t abuse it. I use it to escape.

I adore that where I live is a place that is rarely locked, where people come in and out, sleep on our couch, nap on our love sac, and leave notes on our fridge. Its community at its most abundant and I wouldn’t trade it, because I know that this proximity with people only lasts for a season. But It does mean, that when I want to really get alone with the Lord I have to search for a place, which makes it more of a journey, and a little bit more exciting. It’s like He and I have a secret date. I feel like a kid every time whispering to a classmate… “Ok, yeah… 3 o’ clock, don’t let anyone else follow… secret tree house. See you there!”

Yesterday was one of those days where I planned a time and place and looked forward to it all day. My loud, busy day grew still as coffee mugs clanked on the kitchen counter, bibles closed, and groups of laughing girls said goodbye and walked out my front and back door until they were all gone. I sat on one of the many couches in the living room and slumped down to stare at the ceiling and looked at my watch. 9:00. I had a date with God in an hour. I had a little food and took a shower and put on the comfiest pair of sweatpants that I don’t own (they are my roommates) stuck my hair in a very wet messy bun and threw on someone’s TOMS (I’m not sure what is mine in that house anymore). I snuck out of my room and there still wasn’t anyone in the house so I stuck my jacket on, grabbed keys, and went out our back door. It was cold so I walked quickly across the parking lot, making sure I didn’t see anyone and then walked up and slowly unlocked the sanctuary doors and opened them. It was dark inside except for the moonlight coming through the windows. It was so quiet that my thoughts were echoing of the walls. I walked up the middle isle and plopped down front and center. This was the moment I had been looking forward to all day. I took a deep breath in. Then we talked. Laughed. Were silent. Got serious. Smiled. I Asked. Thanked. Obeyed. Listened. And sat still. So still that I felt suspended in a single moment and a peace which transcends everything, filled through ever crevice of my lungs as I breathed deeply and praised him openly. I didn't know what time it was and I didn't even care. And then I got up and put my shoes back on, and He walked me all the way back to my bed. And it was the best date I’ve ever had.

Plans Over Breakfast

I find myself getting a little too vague in these blog posts. I enjoy being metaphoric, but I also want you to know I’m (fairly)normal. My everyday isn’t filled with deep thought. In fact, its mostly filled with self-created busyness. Like today, I regret to inform you that I’ve mostly just yelled/pleaded with my dog to stop barking at the wind. But this morning was enjoyable. I got the opportunity to have a last-minute planned breakfast with my sweet friend Breanne, whom I have not spent quality time with since our senior year in high school. We follow each other’s blog, which is practically the same as having an occasional phone call, so there weren’t too many major things to catch up on, it was just nice to talk about what the Lord is doing in each of us. We ate fruit and cinnamon rolls and talked about everything… dogs, cars, school, blogging, Jesus, the nations. The crazy part was realizing how old we are. Now, before the ‘over 30’ crowd reads that last sentence and rolls their eyes, we know we are young, but sitting across the table from my newly married friend, in her cute little house, with her big ole puppy, talking about projected college graduation dates, her telling me of grad school plans, and me telling her of my finally tangible plans to hopefully teach overseas or something was such a crazy thing compared to talking about soccer games, project graduation, and college choices in senior economics class four years ago.

The college graduation date that I never thought would come is just a few more semesters away. It’s a lot of time left, but it will fly like I won’t believe. And I know it.
Now if only I had some plans etched in stone. Which, I know is an impossible thing to ask for, and honestly not something I truly want, but sounds so good. I want to live a life worthy of the gospel wherever I am, but I’m finding myself way too wrapped up in the “wherever I am” part. I’m always waiting for the next step for life to really start. I get over that obstacle, work through the trial, jump into something new, get to the next place, expecting things to make sense… but then I realize I’m trying to make a home out of a journey. Like trying to trick myself into believing my car would make a comfortable living space. My entire life will be full of growing, changing, learning, and moving until I die, or Jesus comes back.

God isn’t one for comfortable and stationary. By stationary I mean motionless. The Lord doesn’t want me (or you) sitting in our faith. That doesn’t mean getting rid of your couch and moving to an African village, but it does mean allowing him to take your planner, to-do list, list of life goals, etc. and let Him cross-out a few things and write in some of His own. God also isn’t one for “jumping the gun” either. Yesterday alone, I talked to three different people with three different opportunities where I could ‘go and do’. Sometimes, (especially because I am 20, with no attachments, and the world in front of me) the word wait is one that I find especially hard to swallow.

Whichever problem you (or I) encounter, difficulty to stay or difficulty to go, obedience is required. There is a new Shane & Shane song that says it best. “If your presence goes I don’t want to stay, and if your presence stays I don’t want to go.”

Oh please, Oh please, let that always be my heart’s prayer.

an evening for two

I've enjoyed this much needed break.

I finally set aside some time for long dinner dates with the Lord,
the kind where you sit for hours talking,
and even decide to get dessert and coffee afterwards.
they were especially lovely evenings,

because I feel like all we did this semester was get fast food together.

routine

So, I run frequently.
Normally it’s somewhere around 5 days a week.

I get asked if I enjoy it, and I say yes, but truly it’s quite complicated.
When I start a long run, I begin by anticipating this thing my ankles do right when I get going--its like they give out for a second and its painful, but it happens quickly and passes, then I am good for another ten minutes. Somewhere in the middle of the second mile I want to stop very badly, but instead I suck it up and finish, then I keep going anywhere from 3 to 5 miles and everything is pretty steady, including the pain, but it feels good. Then about 15 yards from my stopping point, things get rough. I just want to die a little, but instead, I sprint. I book it until I’m breathing so hard I could give Darth Vader a run for his money.

I usually run around the track of the football stadium at night. I have gone to one game in the past two years, so I figure I should visit it often during its off-season to let it know I still care. Plus, there are always ultimate Frisbee players out as well, which makes me feel safer at night.

So, back to the last sprint.
When I finish I know you are supposed to walk or “cool-down”
Well, whatever. I just collapse.

And here is the part I love.
I lie there staring at the stars.
I’m in this state of exhaustion/euphoria right before the endorphins kick in and when I stare upwards, if I focus my eyes the right way, it feels like I am balancing the night sky on the tip of my nose. As if I have to be careful how hard I breathe otherwise things might slip off balance.

This is the moment I find God so frustratingly close I can hardly stand it.
So close, in fact, that I feel like we are having an invisible staring contest.
So close that I don’t find it ridiculous to ask him to give me a quick tour of space
and even promise that I would keep it a secret.
So close that I don’t have much to say so I just sigh and hope he understands it
So close that I am able to see for a split second the shortness of the 80 years or so I have on this earth and beg for it to go quickly or for Him to come back sooner.

Then the moment passes and I get distracted by being able to see my own breath
and get too cold to lie there any longer,
look at my watch and tell myself its late
So, I get up slowly and jog back home.
and do the same thing the next day

and no matter how many times that moment happens
there is nothing that feels routine about it.