love drives you on

Physics is over!  Well, at least for a semester.  Celebration will involve lots of art: films, photography, writing, books...whatever I can do to feed my right brain!

As I was studying today before the final exam, I was freaking out over how I thought I knew formulas but they felt like they weren't coming together and questions like, "What if I fail?  What was the point of even moving here if I can't even pass this class?" were hitting me hard.

And then a thought stopped me in my tracks.  Well, more like a picture that found words and became a thought.

A memory came back to me. A memory of children-- children I've  had the honor to meet in my life in communities where education isn't readily available.

And my thoughts turned toward a little girl, one much like the girls I read about last year in a class I took regarding human trafficking.  A girl working insane hours every day of the week, all of her youth poured into another person's dreams.  In her situation, education isn't even an option.

Yet there I was, sitting with a laptop, surrounded by stacks of notes and a formula sheet that demonstrate three months of knowledge gained from getting to sit in a classroom in one of the greatest universities, surrounded by curious and hard working students.  With the opening of a tab and the click of a mouse, I have access to worlds of knowledge that can cause growth and expansion in my life.  That's my reality.  

The contrasting picture-turned-thought produced a reality check: whether I fail the exam or not, I am still finishing this semester with information that will stick with me forever, and I've grown in my understanding of science, which in turn has given me an even greater appreciation for life, seeing motion in deeper ways.

Education is a gift to be appreciated and valued--but not one that should be restricted. Doesn't the opportunity to learn make me in some way indebted to the girl who is giving her life unwillingly for another's dream?  There is a difference between a bond slave and slave.  The first has a choice, the latter does not.  She does not.  But what if I can make myself a bond slave to her?  What if she and I are connected more deeply than can be imagined, and what if the very nature of opportunity is meant to equip in order to give back, to give those without hope of rescue a chance? I can't help but feel that I have a responsibility to her.  A responsibility to take my studies seriously.  To see this time as a gift.  To recognize that training is a place of expansion, so that I can then go and use what I've gained as an offering to those who may never have a chance unless I both care and prepare.

 Love is a different motivator than ambition, but love still drives a heart to pay a price because the end result is worth it. And I want to learn Love in that way.  And I want to become love in that way-- to "turn our prayers into outrageous dares" as Jeff Tweedy would say.  To believe that my small life and your small life, and our small lives together, can really matter to the beautiful hearts in the world who don't yet know freedom.

So Glad You Exist

My mom is a sign language interpreter by profession.  Growing up, she placed a strong emphasis on non-verbal communication-- mainly body language and eye contact.  She taught my siblings and me that much is conveyed in the absence of words.

Currently I work in retail in a wealthier community in the Boston area.  Lately, I feel like I am a sociologist, observing the lifestyle of the entitled.  One thing that strikes me on a constant basis is how the tone a person uses and the way they make eye contact totally shapes an interaction.  Each interaction has its very own personality-- and there is a struggle I face each time I am treated rudely with how I will respond.  Will my response reshape the interaction in a positive direction?  Will I be proud of my response when I look back on my day?  Often my pride gets in the way of responding well, and instead I get short with the customer, thinking somehow my curt attitude will vindicate the ill treatment.

 However, when someone treats me kindly, acknowledging I am not just a cashier but indeed a person-- a person with goals, dreams, a brain -- something in me rises to the occasion, wanting to exceed their every expectation in return for their kindness.  Their kindness empowers me.

I'm a strong believer in the idea that even when someone is rude to you, you should not respond in kind.  There is something about love that chooses humility in such situations (which I often do not do).  But at the moment, I'm not wanting to write an essay on turning the other cheek. My thoughts are turned towards what kindness does to a heart.

I was walking home from work today and as a woman passed me,  she looked up from her carefully placed footsteps, treading wisely on freshly fallen snow, to catch my eye and exchange a smile.  That meant so much to me-- an acknowledgment of my personhood.  That I matter.  That the space I take up on the sidewalk is a beautiful part of her day, as her space is to mine.  That her existence is a wonderful thing. An exchange of strangers that validated how each of us is made up of the same set of bones, the same muscles, the same organs...that inside of us blood is running and a heart is beating and feet are moving to get us from one place to the next.  We may be in a different economic class, but we are not in a different human class.  We are equal.

I'm not sure why at 27 I am back in school, trying to go to medical school, unsure what will come of this journey, still wanting to write made up stories with characters that translate beyond words and into hearts but searching for a way to bring it all together.  I'm also not sure why at 27, lots of my friends are married, starting beautiful families, setting off on stable careers, but I am still a single wanderer who wants to live a life of meaning but is searching for what that exactly means within the grace that is on my life, all while working at a minimum wage job after going to college for four years, often having to depend on and receive the kindness of others.  I wasn't raised to believe that marriage is the answer to a girl's life and that finding a man is what defines your success or brings security, so I think that there is something in me that recognizes a longing for the companionship of another who gets my heart in a way no one else will on this great life adventure, but doesn't want it to be a savior from my current season--although I do look forward to the day when that piece in my journey comes. For now though, I want to live this season out in all its gore and glory, to feel it fully, as it leads to whatever is next on my journey and as it develops something in me that is focused and sure.

But where there are many things I'm not sure of, there is one thing I know for sure I want to do with my life, and it is this--
I want to look each person I meet in the eyes.  I want them to know I acknowledge them, that I am honored to meet them, that I celebrate the space they occupy.  I want the translation of my look to say, "You are beautiful and I am so glad you exist," regardless of their income, if they had a shower in the last week, if they live in the most beautiful house, or in a cardboard box.  Because there is justice found in our silent communication-- there is a power beyond words that restores dignity and offers a warmth that reaches deep into the soul.

shining eyes

"...but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small but don't ever stop singing."

-Sarah Kay


It seems fitting to write a blog on the eve of turning twenty-seven.  Twenty-six has been a good year.  It wasn't what I thought it would be, but what is?

It was a year of change.  Drove east from California, saw the Grand Canyon for the first time, stopped in beautiful Boulder, lived for a week in the Canadian woods with just a backpack, 14 ladies, and a canoe, applied to a program up in Boston, almost didn't want to get accepted so I wouldn't have to do any more moving.  But that didn't work out for me.

I live in Boston.  And I love it.

The other day I took the T to class and found myself listening to a (loud, I promise!) conversation between two students.  One studies at MIT, the other at Harvard.  At first I wanted to roll my eyes and tune them out, falling into an old judgment that all the undergraduate students at those schools are pretentious and arrogant.  But instead I found myself taken into a story one was telling the other about a friend.  This friend was a high school drop-out.  One day he discovered a lecture online about quantum physics, and it changed his life.  He started studying like crazy, and eventually this kid, who didn't even finish high school, found himself with an acceptance letter from MIT.  I found myself smiling when I heard that. There is something about passion that defies odds.  I can't help but believe that the passionate find a way even when things seem impossible...and they are usually the crazy ones who no one really thinks can pull it off.  Those will always be my favorite stories.

Sometimes I find myself looking at the stars, reminding myself that big dreams are not crazy and that God's love is strong and He is unapologetic about how excited He is for our lives.  I want to live in that reality.  In that kind of friendship.

Which brings me to the topic of friendship.  More than anything else, I feel like this last year has made me so deeply thankful for the genius of good friends.  I mean, I really lucked out when it comes to quality people in my life.  So if any of you read this, I just want to say thank you for being in my life.  I've learned so much about love, kindness, perseverance, laughter, joy....from all of you.

And here comes another year....

Remembering Mandela

Walked home from work tonight in rain that turned to hail.  Seems like a set-up for a bad mood, but instead it made me happy.  My thoughts turned to Nelson Mandela.  This world is already missing his beautiful soul.  Will my generation have leaders of his caliber?  Those who will hold onto what they believe about justice for all men, regardless of the cost.  Those who will choose forgiveness over and over again.  And here I am, wondering if I can actually handle eight more years of school to step into a dream.  Yet even if this journey I am on leads to a totally different door than what I was expecting, the truth still remains that the kinds of dreams that impact the world require sacrifice and hard work.  But the hard work doesn't have to be a burden.  It can be a joy.

Nelson Mandela, you will be missed.  Thank you for the lessons you taught humanity through the way you lived-- for your courage, your kindness, your integrity, your perseverance.

"We can change the world and make it a better place. It is in your hands to make a difference." --Nelson Mandela


 

Thoughts from Home

Woke up this morning to Rory licking my face. 

But how can you stay mad at a golden retriever? 

Being home has been a nice change of pace.  I realized how tired I really am and how much I need sleep.  It is amazing how once life slows down suddenly, even if for just a short time, all the exhaustion rushes into the rest.  Your body seems to be going overkill on getting the message across, "PLEASE slow down."  My body is finding a permanent spot by the fireplace, not wanting to move.

I am remembering the tension I felt when making the decision to move to Boston.  Wanting to stay, needing to leave.  Wanting to cling to what is safe, knowing I need to fly.  And so I turned off my over-thinking button and drove north.

And God smiles, I am convinced of it, when we step into the unknown.  When we say yes to the invitation of living out tall history on the earth. When we say yes to the now, which means a loud no is echoed into the past, where choices and legs of the journey try to disqualify.  I've found myself laughing more and more at those disqualifiers.  I just don't believe in them anymore.  What is life if not a defying of what shouldn't be possible.  Grace kisses brokenness and heals it if we let it, and that healing produces deep deep joy and wonder.  I know that as I watch my parents falling in love again.  I don't understand it.  A year ago they were headed to divorce.  Today they are laughing like little children together.  A mystery.  Grace.   

I learned something in one of my first physics lectures that changed how I see quest.  Sometimes to find motion, to determine direction, you have to take the individual parts apart and focus on one vector at a time.  There is an x direction, a y direction, and together they make up the trajectory.  There are times when I struggle with wondering how my love for journalism will ever come back into play in my life, but then I remember this truth.  It isn't and/or but both.  And that truth brings such freedom in the present--to be fully engaged and trusting in the now.  The things we hope for, we're willing to wait for, we hold onto.  What we hold onto shapes who we are in a profound way.  Even if certain hopes are never fulfilled, there must be something incredible that occurs in a waiting person's heart-- and not passive waiting , but the kind that is full of trust, expectation, vision, single-eyed.  

Steady hope. Lives becoming a beautiful offering.  I don't want to live a moment outside of the dance of knowing He fully delights in me.  All of me.  

His grace meets my uncertainties.

His wisdom my insufficiencies.

Ideas that Shaped Me.

It is 12:30 am.  I took a 10 mg melatonin a few hours ago and I'm still awake.  Story of my life.

The current solution to this predicament is to down a bunch of Halloween candy.  The sugar rush should have an equally strong reverse effect, right?  Hopefully one that involves lots of good dreams before my alarm goes off at 7 am and the studying of physics resumes, a full day of torque, momentum, hydraulics.  What could be more exciting?

Oh right.  A lot of things.

As a seasoned insomniac, I'm starting to notice that most of the time, the things that keep me up are ideas that I should probably start writing down.  And since technically I am still living out the first day of November, and everyone seems to be assembling thankfulness lists, I feel a need to write about being thankful for ideas that were passed onto me, shaping much of who I am today.

One of those ideas was from my mom, who told me to start writing in a journal one night when I was  in elementary school and couldn't sleep.  That suggestion became not just a discipline, but a salvation.  Those pages of words, capturing feelings throughout middle school, high school, college, and now into adulthood, were often the only blank spaces that gave me room to really be me.  When I couldn't find words, I could write until I found them.  Or didn't find them, but still found a sense of surrender, a restoration of wonder and balance and compassion for myself and others.  When struggling with deep anxiety, depression and just a general sense of being different from my peers when I was younger, there was a solace and a friendship in words, as well as in the stories of writers who inspire me to this day.

The other idea was my dad's idea to go to Nicaragua when I was just 12 years old.  That trip would end up being, without me realizing it at the time, one of  the most pivotal experiences of my youth.  That land got into my heart in a way that no other place has, and I've been to quite a few places.  There are days I still get transported back there through my senses connecting a smell, a taste, a sound, a feeling to a memory.   Going to other nations is an amazing gift, but going to one that is considered one of the poorest in the modern world will wreck a young heart.  You don't see the things my young eyes saw and not come back with questions of how your life can create more light.  How your life can become a prayer that answers a deep need.  And even more importantly, an understanding developed in my heart about how even in economic poverty, there are those who live with deep joy.  A joy from which I can learn.  Even with all my needs met, my heart too often lives in poverty and want, disconnected from the embrace of the Father and true, deep, abiding love.

"Let the beloved of the LORD rest secure in him, for he shields him all day long, and the one the LORD loves rests between his shoulders."


Deuteronomy 33:12



Boston is beautiful in the fall. 

I walk a lot now that I live here, which is something I enjoy.  On my walks, I find myself often enjoying the solitude of being alone, even when I'm in the middle of a large city full of humans.  There is so much to observe, to take in, to process on those solitary walks.  When I'm at home, I'm studying or distracted by other things, but it's when I walk that I get to clear my mind. 

Lots of mind clearing has been needed lately.  For one thing, I thought I'd overcome the perfectionist bug years ago when I fought through an eating disorder in high school.  I thought that I'd changed, somehow overnight shifting into someone who could care less about being perfect.  And in fact, I did grow into a much more free spirited individual, but I also didn't realize that I did that by partially removing myself from anything in life that I could interpret as a competition or a big challenge.   I stopped playing sports competitively, stopped caring about getting A's in school, stopped counting calories, stopped obsessively checking my weight.  And where some things got healthy, other things went down hill.  Like my confidence that I can actually do well in school.  That I can actually do well in life.  That I can do well without having to be perfect.  And now that I'm back in an academic world that is extremely challenging for me, I'm having to confront this odd tension of perfectionism and apathy/laziness...and get into a healthy place of confidence, excellence and a solid work ethic.  

There is also the addiction I didn't know I had to a role I've lived most of my life.  dahdahdah....

Pastor's Kid.  Two years ago my parents stopped pastoring, one of the biggest reliefs of my life.  However, in the process of trying to find a new church here in Boston, I noticed that I see church through the eyes of someone who has only ever been the child of parents in full time ministry.  And unless you have a similar experience to that, you won't really understand how it feels.  There is an odd anxiety that I feel when trying to connect with a new community of believers.  There is a suspicion I feel towards both leaders and congregants...and I am just beginning to acknowledge that I may not know how to be a healthy part of a church community until I confront my own addiction to ministry.  

Really neat things are happening too.  Like hanging out with my 8 year old cousins, getting the chance to attend class on a gorgeous campus with such deep, historical roots, living in a city that is full of college students (great inspiration for storytelling) and close to beautiful bodies of water, being able to easily go on scenic drives.  

I am learning to not let my heart get flat lined by the busy--to remember that the Father delights in me every second of the day, even when I'm cursing so loud over not being able to find a parking space in Cambridge because of a random event in the city.  (Yes, that happened.  Not the proudest of moments on my  part).  

I really have no idea what I'm learning right now in life because it is all so busy and still a bit overwhelming, but I look forward to finding more words and expressions for all that I'm experiencing both internally and externally.  

to be thankful.

to give thanks.

---

my uncle's good taste in music and his passion to make sure people are eating good food...and frequently.

my cousins' hugs.

my aunt's incredible wisdom and business sense.

boston in the fall.

parking spots on mass ave after 5 pm.

the old man who walks his dog while riding a bike.

the young man singing while biking through cambridge.

opportunity to learn.

sitting in a class where I can learn about motion...math applied.

food.  a place to live.  family close by.  warmth.  music.  a camera to capture moments.  calculators.  trail mix (it's cheap and kinda nutritious).  green tea.  coffee.  chocolate covered berries.  walking to and from work.  an ipod with good music.  shoes.  a coat.  clean water.  deoderant.  running water.  contacts, glasses.  pens. paper.  clear mind.

my old journals that remind me of my heart's journey, God's faithfulness, the worth of risk and the reward of a heart when it frees itself from things that keep it from going hard after Jesus.

FRIENDSHIP.  Oh my goodness, I have the greatest friends in the world.

Boston in the Fall

Recently I noticed many words in my vocabulary are spoken with an added definition of "hard" tacked onto their denotation.

physics--the branch of science concerned with the nature and properties of matter and energy, with movement. The subject matter of physics, distinguished from that of chemistry and biology, includes mechanics, heat, light and other radiation, sound, electricity, magnetism, and the structure of atoms. HARD.


traffic-- vehicles moving on a road or public highway. HARD.

parallel parking-- the parking of a vehicle parallel to the roadside. HARD.

Boston-- The capital and largest city of Massachusetts, in the eastern part of the state on Boston Bay, an arm of Massachusetts Bay. Founded in the 17th century, it was a leading center of agitation against England in the 18th century and a stronghold of abolitionist thought in the 19th century. Today it is a major commercial, financial, and educational hub. Population: 591,000. HARD.

                                                                          ***

My dad gets on the phone with me as I, close to crying, explain how I can't figure out where to park, will definitely be late for class, maybe I should turn around, I may not have enough quarters for the meter, I don't even know where the class is in the first place and it's dark out and I have no friends and the city is big.  Hard.  And he says take a deep breath.  He reminds me that life is bigger than that present moment, that present fear, that present shake in confidence.  

That was the first day going into Cambridge.  It took me an hour or more to park.  There were two men doing roadwork next to me, and they were the face of kindness in my panic, helping me figure out if I would get a ticket if I parked on Mass Ave for more than two hours.  They asked me if I was an Orioles fan.  I said yes tentatively (Red Sox territory), but they smiled, I smiled, they said, "Good.  They're a good team.  Good luck in class!" and I rushed off with them behind me, cheering for me to be victorious.  

Once I settled that, I struggled to find the class.  I was 45 minutes late for physics 1.  But I found it.  I pressed through.  I didn't think I had it in me to press through, but I did.  For most people, that may have been a typical day in their world, no problem, no struggle.  Just drive, park, walk to class.  For me, it was a confronting of multiple fears, and inside of that movement there was a coming of age evolution.  

The semester is now entering the third week.  The class is still hard.  It stretches my brain, calling on me to remember trigonometry, geometry, algebraic manipulations-- things I haven't used in years, and definitely didn't use while immersing myself in the world of journalism and filmmaking.  But here I am, not sure if the end will be "success" in terms of a brilliant grade, but confident that there is a different kind of success I'm walking into, and that the end is good.  

I know enough about the brain from books and articles to know that the brain has the ability to build new pathways.  And as I look at that spiritually, I know that as I embrace negative thoughts of defeat, it is like I am building a highway in my brain where my thoughts get stuck telling a certain kind of story.  Yet the renewing mind part of scripture keeps prodding at me, offering hope, but requiring discipline.  To take every thought captive.  To be serious about looking at what I'm thinking and ask, "Is this the story I want my life to tell?" and from there, adjusting to a thinking position that is full of faith, full of Kingdom. 

So those are highlights of my adventure so far.  I am looking forward to the weather that's already starting to change to fall.  I also found an awesome spot to kayak.  Now that's good for the heart.  

Off to another day of learning, growing.  Not sure where all this leads, but I'm learning to keep my thoughts victorious even in the middle of question marks and uncertainty.  

My mom and I took a  roadtrip this past weekend to seal off our last year of adventure, an adventure that led us on a roadtrip out to California, passing through beautiful South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Washington, Oregon, and settling in Shasta County, CA, where the mountains and the culture brought such peace, healing, joy, friendship. 

And now that season ends with a forceful re-entering into school.  For me, last minute decisions seem to help me turn my mind off and "just do it", jumping into the water and knowing I will learn how to swim, even if the water is absolutely freezing.  Tonight I go to my first class in a year, Physics 1, where I have no idea if I will be able to handle the material and where I fear I will be surrounded by students with far more impressive academic backgrounds than myself.  I may be the only one who says, "Oh, I spent two years of my undergrad career on movie sets and in practice tv studios...and now I want to go into, um, medicine...."

So...

Boston, Boston, take me in...and Cambridge, please be gentle with me. ;)  

Here I am, ready for a new chapter, a coming of age, a fresh season.  Excited, overwhelmed, in shock, expectant...and completely in awe of the provision of God and the kindness of others as I've transitioned into this new thing.

Ten years from now, I will be thankful I took this step, regardless of how it turns out.  

"History says, Don't hope on this side of the grave.  

But then, once in a lifetime the longed for tidal wave 

of justice can rise up, 

And hope and history rhyme."

 -Seamus Heaney

The best experiences never let you go.

I've been back from the wilderness, more specifically Algonquin Provincial Park, for two weeks now.

Never have I done something as physically strenuous as this trip.  Fourteen women arrived at the park together, threw 40-50 lb packs onto our backs, put canoes in the water and set out to find a story, an adventure, a change of name.

To live simply has always been a lifestyle that's called to me, but often my attempts at living it out get cluttered and distracted (just take a look at my Mac desktop and you will be fully convinced of my disorganized tendencies).  Writers like Nouwen, Thoreau, Wendell Berry, Michael Pollan-- they all touch something in my heart that craves the minimal.  Maybe it's because deep down I am convinced that to really be effective in doing anything worthwhile on this planet and to impact humanity in some small way, with the short lease of life I've been given, it is essential to get rid of lifestyle excess.  There is a unique experience of grace and joy that comes when the unnecessary leaves.

In one week I'll be leaving for a large city, taking classes at a new school, working at a new cafe, navigating a new system of public transportation.  The trip I took into the woods was planned far ahead of any knowing of a pending move, yet it came at the perfect time, almost serving as a cleansing from all the craziness of the last two years. I went in need of courage, in need of fresh vision, in need of childlike wonder.  

As we set out on the water, I noticed how the fresh air filled my lungs, making breathing an act to pay attention to, remembering the miracle of each breath in, each breath out.  As I write this, I am remembering my Nanny and how she would have celebrated her 93rd birthday just a few days ago.  I am remembering how a year and a half ago, I sat in a hospital room on what would have been her ninety-one and a half celebration of life, and how in those early morning hours I had the honor of watching a beautiful soul take that final breath of transition that leads you into what the living will always see as a great unknown.  An unknown that raises questions that sometimes produce anxiety until you just learn how to trust-- until you learn how to value each breath as sacred, surrendering the why questions, surrendering the temptation to shape theology around brokenness and disappointments.

The first two days of the trip were difficult emotionally.  I found myself escaping into daydreams, which has been my tendency since childhood, searching for a safe place in my mind for warmth, security, the comforts of life, internet access, text messages.  I started thinking of all the things left undone back home, regretting my decision to go on such an intense trip when I had so many other things to get done. It produced anxiety as I struggled to be present in the moment, to fully immerse my heart, my mind, my body in the experience.

Yet something happened the third day, a crazy baptism of sorts.  I was able to fully transition into being where I was without a desire for escape.  What came from that transition was a clearing out of all the clutter in my mind, all the anxious thoughts, all the fears of failure and questions as to whether I have what it takes for the changes coming in my life.  I found myself, for one of the first times in two years, able to think confidently about my future, believing that even in the midst of such loss over the last two years, Love does chase us down with goodness and mercy every single moment of every single day.

So here's to a new beginning, a fresh start, new eyes, a new way of being.

Here's to now, to today, to this minute, this second...to learning how to breathe in deep.

Something I journaled on October 19, 2011, in the midst of a really painful season for my family.



Maybe we are in search of answers to the wrong questions.  Maybe the wrong questions arise from a misunderstanding of life's tensions, and an improper perspective.  Maybe the right questions lead to answers that just produce more questions, demanding new levels of trust in the midst of mystery that lacks answers to the "why"s.

It's in the trenches, the valleys-- just you and Jesus-- where things get sorted out.  I'm learning that I am responsible for carrying and watching over the fire God's given me.  No one else can do that for me.  People can encourage me, but they can't dream for me.  They can't walk out the dreams God has placed in my heart.  Dreaming is an intimate thing, and believing what God has spoken is true must come from my own heart, placing all my faith in Him and not another.

Life can't be planned out.  Ever.  But my spirit should always be prepared.  Nothing that happens in life can subtract from the history I've built with God.  Nothing that happens can convince me that God is not faithful.  He is good, all the time.

"Simplify, Simplify."

It just turned 11:11 here in Chicago.  Make a wish. Done. 

                     

Tomorrow I leave the comforts of a bed, a pillow, a bathroom, internet, cell service, warm water -- in exchange for an oversized backpack, a canoe, a change of clothes, a few toiletries, some food, a mug that also serves as a bowl, a spoon-fork (ever used one of those?!), a tent, a sleeping bag.  Oh.  And a journal, for my obsessive thought recording habit.  It’s a problem.  

Gain often comes disguised as loss, or so I hope.  As I head up into the beautiful Canadian wild, my heart has the idealistic expectations of one who's read Thoreau a bit too much. There is a deep wish that the leaving behind of comfort will produce a gain in perspective and focus.  

I flew to Chicago with so many questions, anxious over pending decisions that need to be made and worried that I will forever feel disconnected from my heart when it comes to knowing what to do.  I watched from above as a lightning storm broke out to the left of the plane.  It was incredible, and I felt present. I forgot for a moment the possible scenarios of my next life transition, and instead just watched in awe at the flashing, nature-made lights.  

Overstimulation and easy access to information and possibilities take their toll when not counteracted with an active pursuit of heart steadiness and peace.   Hearts are left with empty places that were once full.  But the happy thing is that they just need a reminder-- a lesson in wonder -- to start filling up again.  On my way here my dad called me to wish me a safe trip, in which he wrapped up the conversation with a request, “Caitlin, be surprised by joy.” 

So here I am, about to sleep my last night in a comfortable bed before the trip begins, happy that I noticed 11:11 on the clock, happy that I was present to the child-like fun of making a wish, happy to be going directly into lung nourishing air and wonder-restoring beauty.  

And expectant that what seems like loss has a way of turning into strength.  

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.” 
― Thoreau, Walden

Something I wrote in my journal back in the fall of 2007.

"God keeps pursuing us and believing in us, even when everyone else has become tired of us and familiar with us.  Not only is He the first to see the best in us, He never stops seeing the best, no matter what the crowd of people may say."

Throwing Away Options

Rant blog, but here it goes. 

I'm so tired of options.  We are a culture in love with possibility, which is amazing in many ways,  but can also get out of control and unhealthy.  

A few days ago, my friend Katelyn made a profound statement, "Options have made us too crazy." Today, I read an article in Christianity Today that addresses the prevalence of options in our world and the consequences of having so many choices. It convicted me, calling me out on my own tendency to always want to wait around until something feels perfect, procrastinating on making solid, definite choices.  Growing up in not just a national culture that celebrates the power of being able to  make changes and break commitments on a whim, without much thought for consequences, I also grew up in a church sub culture where prophetic words were often given too much clout in determining choices.  

My personality already has a tendency towards spontaneity and seeing the world as wide open with potential, which is something I love and don't want to lose, but in the midst of my free-spirited nature, I find myself craving commitment.  I love adventure, however as I grow older I'm beginning to think that there is an incredible adventure found in making powerful, true decisions that become a single-minded, focused commitment to an unaltered path.  The adventure is found in what comes after the "yes", and the amazing things that come along after a clear decision is made.  

The author of the article, Barry Cooper, wrote, "Making choices and moving on with our lives seems increasingly difficult.  We find ourselves paralyzed: unable to make choices about relationships, dating, marriage, money, family and career.  I want to suggest that if we feel unable to make these choices...it may be because we're worshiping a false god."  He adds, "The god of open options is also a liar.  he promises you that by keeping your options open, you can have everything and everyone.  But in the end, you get nothing and no one." 

A brief scan through history seems to indicate that the most powerful people throughout time have been those who knew how to make solid, courageous decisions, and never allowed their thoughts to be crippled by regret or a surplus of option.  They didn't live in fear of what could possibly happen if they chose this one path instead of another.  They just said "yes".  

And that's what I want to start living-- the power of true decisions, where fear of the options and fear of wrong choices is no longer something that cripples or distracts.  Clear thoughts.  Clear heart.  Clear vision.  

The article ends, "Choose the God of infinite possibility who chose to limit himself to a particular time, a particular place, and a particular people.   Choose the God who closed off all other alternatives so that he could pursue for himself one bride.  Choose the God who chose not to come down from the cross until she was won.  Choose the narrow way.  Stop worshiping the god of open options."  

Finding the Core

Almost home!

As much as my heart feels a connection to the free-spirited personality of the West Coast, there is something comforting about the DC-Metro area, full of activists and political craziness, the Potomac River, beautiful Georgetown, the gorgeous Appalachian Mountains.  Maybe it's true that no matter where you travel and what is added to you in those travels, the growth experienced is built on a foundation that was formed from what you were born into and what surrounded you in the formative years of life.  And maybe there is a great God plan found in what we sometimes explain away as random chance, in that He intentionally planned a specific entrance for us into this huge world, with a very unique design meant to set us up for a beautiful, fulfilling life.

Leaving California, where I didn't think too much about a "life plan" because I was too caught up in wonder at the great love of a Father who would see wisdom in giving me a safe place to recollect child-like awe, I am now going back to a land where the questions like "what's your life goal?" are common.  Sometimes my heart doesn't have words to answer that question, but it knows that deep down nothing about this journey has been a waste and my life goal is to just love God well.  Yet, there are passions God has put in our hearts, meant to be used as a means of worship as we give them back to Him in the lives we live, and I want to know those passions, my core.  I want to live from a place of knowing what I was made to carry in my lifetime as I walk through the days I've been given as a beautiful gift, and I want those days to count.  My prayer in this next season of life is that God would begin to give words to my passions, and that I would connect with the core of my heart.

"You're the God who comes to raise the dead/ I know You'll raise me up again/ I know You raise me up again.../ Every fear in me You've put the rest/ It's the song I sing of Your faithfulness."

-United Pursuit Band

Eastward Bound

"On with the dance!  Let joy be unconfined."

-Lord Byron

Today marks the completion of Day #5 on our trip from California back to the east coast.  Staying overnight in Kingdom City, MO tonight, we're hoping to close the gap between here and home fully tomorrow, meaning a good night's sleep tonight and lots of coffee tomorrow.  Marathon drive.

Driving across the United States without a CD player or a good radio signal makes room for lots of thinking and napping (not when I'm driving!).  When I am better rested and able to form more articulate, comprehensible thoughts, I will write more about my incredible time in Redding, California.  What I write tonight won't do that beautiful six month season justice.  As I was talking with someone the other day about the difference between being tired and being weary, I realized that when I moved to California, I was a weary 25 year old.  What I found there, in outdoor adventures, beautiful friendships, and an incredible church community, was an oasis that refreshed my heart and soul in ways only God could accomplish.  He knew what I needed more than I knew what I needed--and that is true for the rest of my life.  The God who sees and has already provided.  Always faithful.

Although I'm unclear what is waiting for me on the other side of the country, there is a trust in my heart that God is good and I don't always need to know the plan.  Deep joy is what I feel in my heart as I return to the homeland, and a hope that is willing to believe that this is a time to break out into wide open spaces.  A fresh chapter, full of laughter and wide eyed wonder.

Hands open, surrendered, ready and excited.

He is Good

One of those days, full of destiny battles, where it clicks for a second in time that every fight you've experienced has mattered. Intentionally the battles found you to prepare, validate you as a warrior.  And you are ready for this fight because you know the value of your history and future with Abba. What you carry has been shaped by the battles and victories, the glory of God falling on you in new ways, igniting your heart to really know what it means to both crave and live abundance.  What you carry is so needed in the world, bringing beauty out of the ashes all around you, shining light in dark places.  If not for the battles, how would you have learned how to really shine?  

Flashback scenes. Sitting in a doctor's office, 19 years old, with a report that brought fear to my heart.  Poor hand circulation, according to this doctor, equaled a pending auto-immune disease.  As the doctor left the room, instantly spirit spoke to soul's fear, "I will live and not die.  I WILL declare the glory of God all the days of my life."  Yes.  Grab that. Agree with truth.  The doctor returned with prescriptions, predictions, but my heart was re-aligned with the Father's will for me.  Live and not die.  A life that declares with all that is in it, until its last strong breath, HE IS GOOD.  Knowing He is good, deep down, starts to take hold of your life.  Your thoughts, ideas, decisions form from a place where all is pure, lovely, good.  A life cloaked in kind of victory guaranteed by the kingdom in which we dwell.  A victory in that moment of spirit realigning soul, reminding the whole person, you will fulfill destiny.  And because you believe that, your belief will powerfully call others into that place of the God path.  

And He is good.  Through the battles, He is good.  

Psychology of a Hair Cut

Currently sitting at my laptop with a brand new Parisian hair-cut, realizing that I did it.  I  gave my permission for someone to snap 10 inches of hair off my head in one solid motion, simultaneously feeling like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday and Jo in Little Women.

Someone pinch me.  

Yet, in the shock of reaching up to put my hair in a ponytail only to realize there's, um...no more hair,

I don't forget why I cut it all off. 

The catalyst was this long held desire to donate my hair to Locks of Love at least one time in my life. After a conversation with my fashion-forward sister, I realized that 1) my hair was finally long enough to actually make that desire a possibility and 2) a short hair cut would force me out of my comfort zone.  If not for the motivating factor of donating my hair, I may not have had the guts to go through with it. But without facing up to the reality of this crazy security I'd found in something that never changed, i would have never had the chance to dig a bit deeper, weeding out false securities and even a deep, not okay desire to please people and make sure they approve of my decisions.

As I was making the decision to cut it, I realized some things about myself that may be true of many other females out there.  We hide behind things, whether it be hair, make-up, a certain way of talking or dressing, hobbies. The comfort of the familiar makes us feel safe.  The truth is, all of those things are good and beautiful.  But not when they are used to cover up our brilliance.  Not when they keep us from confidence in the discovery and walking out of who we are deep inside, the heart of us.  

A friend of mine recently told me that confidence is beautiful, and as I look around, I see how true that is in those I observe.   For me, a new level of confidence looked like going through with a desire that would require huge change. Why was that a new level of confidence for me personally?  Sometimes we need to do practical things to set in motion a whole new way of thinking, behaving, being. The act was relaying a message to my heart, "Hey!  You aren't defined by your hair."  I know that probably sounds crazzzzzzy and so weird, but I don't want any safe places that keep me hidden away from being who I really am.  Safe places that keep me from doing "wild" things because of the fear of what people will think, how they will respond, how brave decisions will alter my life and remove comfort zones. 

While the incredible hairdresser, who in my opinion is a straight up artist, cut at my hair, all I could think of were quotes said to be attributed to Michelangelo, "Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to to discover it" and "I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." 

for me, the sculptors in my life consist of God, the incredible people who call out and encourage the gold in me, and now, I'm seeing, me.  I can also be a sculptor.  I can also believe in myself, in my dreams, in the present.  And in the new levels of confidence I being to walk in, I get freed up to call out new levels of confidence in those around me.  Incredible.

A Resting Place

In a similar way to how I crave a home, a family, a place of belonging, does God also crave a home?  Does He crave a heart open,  present, ready for daily wonder and captivation?  What does a resting place look like which can fully welcome the King?

What's the point of these steps I'm taking if they never lead to revelation of belonging.  I am His, He is mine.  The vulnerability of that kind of surrender scares me at times.  That level of being one with another feels like such a mystery when I'm looking at those words outside of experience.

But when you step into Him, He steps into you.  I've felt the changes such a fellowship brings, but I don't live it in the way I know is possible.  For all the words written about communion with God, the only way to really know it is to live it.

So here I am in 2013, desiring more than anything an understanding of how to make my heart a home. How to let it become a place of friendship, where the walls come down.  Where getting close doesn't make me then want to withdraw and run away.  Where I learn Him in a way of no return.  

California!

The Coast, Trinidad, Eureka, Redwoods....what incredible beauty the west holds.

Be Intentional

What will you do with the favor that is on your life?


That's a question that needs to be asked and answered.

One life. Go after God.  Love destroys fear, so anything is possible, the world wide open.