When something stressful comes up, my automatic reaction is to push it to the back of my mind and to busy myself so that I don't think about what's really happening.
And although moving to college isn't all about stress, I had done the same thing to it.
I don't feel sadness easily. I minimize everything, looking at the bigger picture instead of the every detail.
It's a safer way for my heart to live.
And I've worked at tearing down my wall of emotional staidness, but I still stand on the too cautious side instead of the over exuberant in regard to friendship or tears.
Leaving Camp, I missed people, but it wasn't a big deal. Life moves on, right? I felt a sense of emptiness and loss of direction, but it was okay.
Now, tomorrow... tomorrow... I am leaving my family.
And up to this point I was okay with it. It hadn't touched a nerve.
Today's my second day of packing, finishing up what I started yesterday. And as I was packing, my dad walked in with a newspaper article that he had read when he was on the plane coming back from Indonesia.
Looking for a reason to stop packing, I immediately sat down and read it. You can find it *here*. It was well written and I could really align with some of the feelings that the young girl had.
I returned it to my dad and told him what I thought. Then he paused and said, "I also really like it, because that's what I'm feeling right now."
And as we hugged and he rubbed my back and also as I type this, the tears pool in my eyes making it hard to see, and that acidic sting climbs up my nose.
It hadn't hit me until now.
And I know that it's all going to be good, but it feels good to grieve a little.
To grieve that it's time to move on, and yet I haven't had enough time with them yet.
Haven't had enough time with a father who, after returning from Indonesia, came into my room with two little perfume sampler papers. To anyone else, that would mean nothing. To me, it meant everything. It meant he cared ... cared so much to revive a memory we made when I was young. We had been in an airport, waiting for our next flight, when he came over to us two girls and asked, "Do you want to go perfume browsing?" As a young girl, I was slightly shocked that my dad... my dad!... had suggested this. But perfume browsing we went, and we made a forever memory. And as he laid those two pieces of paper on my bed, he said, "I went perfume browsing again, and thought of you." Those papers meant everything.
Haven't had enough time with a mother that throughout the years has always been available to help with homework, popping into my room every once in awhile to make sure that it's all going good, who as I'm packing now, suggests random things that I might need. Who sits attentively as I talk through life's little problems late at night. Who is always encouraging. Who just came into my room, where I'm sitting on my chair, typing with my computer on my lap and leaned down over me, and kissed me on the top of my head, with a "hello..." and then left. I don't think that she even saw that I had just been crying...And through it all, I see how she cares. All those little things? They mean everything.
Haven't had enough time with a sister who is more like a twin and best friend than a younger sister. Someone who I can talk to about anything, who tells me that I'm crazy, but still goes along with it. One who feels free to cry in my presence and to give as well as receive encouragement. One with whom I shared a bedroom with for 14 years. One who just started Gr. 12 this year, excited and looking forward to everything. One who pursues her Father with all her heart. Those talks we had late at night about nothing and everything? They mean everything.
Haven't had enough time with Bud, the one that still gives me morning hugs and lets me win when we wrestle. The one who is incorrigibly cheeky and yet has one of the softest hearts that I know. He's growing up so fast. And I'm going to miss the little things that make me smile about him. The little moments when I can see what he's going to be like when he grows up. Our inside jokes, saying things just to get him to pull faces, pushing his buttons. Little things... they mean everything.
Haven't had enough time with my little tag-along. The little Boo that is always wanting a cuddle, wanting to hang around with me. And I hope that I have never turned her away when she really needed the time with me. I hope that I have been the older sister to her that I never had. I hope that I have shown her that it's what's inside that counts instead of what's outside. Her little perky smile, her snoopiness into my business that shows her need, herself. She means everything.
They all do. They all mean everything to me. Not just the things that they do, but just being there.
And I'm ready to leave... I really am. I'm just leaving behind some very special people who deserve to have a few tears shed for their absence....
Thursday, August 30
Thursday, August 23
I AM
I was reading through my grad cards again this morning, finishing up my much-procrastinated upon grad thank you cards. During grad, it was hard to let the words of blessing and encouragement spoken sink in simply because of the hecticness of my schedule.
But as I sat on my bed, surrounded by cards, and addressed thank you cards, I was struck again with how much I have been blessed. Although many cards had something encouraging in them about my personality, etc. I was overwhelmed.
Since when have I been counted worthy to be anything at all, to be used by Him? It surely wasn't my doing that I may have all these characteristic attributed to me. Rather, He chose to take one little life, to touch a young girl in the middle of the Cameroonian jungle and cause her to grow up in His ways. I had nothing to do with it.
The same feeling came over me as I was writing up my Camp synopsis for this year. So many incredible things happened in those 5 short (and yet long) weeks that it was crazy to look at my fears beforehand and see how God had transformed them into something that He used in an amazing way.
I was reading this morning, my daily chapter of Louie Giglio's i am not but i know I AM, and this whole concept hit me right in the face. Isn't it slightly awesome that hindsight is 20/20? All of my life, although not by any means complete yet, has led me up to this moment and looking back, I can start to see what He's been doing through some of the biggest moments in my life.
The whole premise of this book is that this is the story of God, not ours. We're not centerstage, rather we are playing supporting parts to a bigger story... His story.
This chapter deals with Moses, and while I shouldn't write out the whole chapter, I'm going to quote large portions of it {just go out and get the book already! I got it from the local library, but I'm definitely considering buying it simply because I want to highlight/mark it up}
"While as humans we try to partner with the brightest and most powerful, God is simply looking for people who are willing to take Him at His word -- those confident that with Him in the equation everything is possible."
Although God had an incredible plan for the man who was going to lead His people to freedom, He chose Moses. A stuttering, aging man who was not on great terms with Pharaoh to start with. A bush burst into fire and my quotes begin again.
"Now that He had Moses' undivided attention, God laid out His plan. 'I have indeed seen the misery of My people in Egypt. I have heart them crying out because of their slave drivers and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them and bring them into a good and spacious land. The cry of the Israelites has reached Me and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them.'
Did you notice all the first-person pronouns God is using to state His case? I have seen. I have heard. I'm concerned. I'm coming down. I'm going to do something.
God's mind was set. His plan was in motion. Failure was not an option. No insurmountable obstacle stood in His way. God had sized up Pharaoh, a man of unrivaled political and military power, and decided to use him as a pawn in His story. The redemption mission would go on as scheduled, Pharaoh's army not withstanding, and a couple million people would journey through an arid desert wasteland to safely arrive in the land long ago promised to their forefathers. Mark it down. It was going to happen. God was confident that the Promised Land -- the place He had chosen for Israel to dwell -- was suitably perfect, even if it was presently inhabited by skilled warriors defending cities whose fortressed walls would intimidate any man. (see the formidable list of 'ites' in Exodus 3:8b). God wasn't deterred and He didn't need any assistance. But He had chosen to use a man, a human mouthpiece -- someone who would carry His message and lead His cause. That's when, for Moses, the conversation took an ominous turn."
Here's where God tells Moses that He's chosen him to set His people free.
"Confused and overwhelmed, Moses blurts out, 'Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?'
I think what was going through Moses' mind were the same kind of thoughts that have raced through yours and mine when we're called by God to do something that seems way beyond our abilities. God, are you serious? Is this a joke? Have You mistaken me for someone else? Surely You don't think I can pull this off do You? Who, me? Do what?"
Skip a bit...
"When God said 'You go,' He was implying: 'I am going to do this with or without you, Moses, but I've been searching for just the right partner, a regular guy who will believe that I am able to do exactly what I have said I will do. You just need to merge onto the highway of My agenda -- My promised before, now happening, already in motion agenda -- and watch Me go. Don't deviate from what I am saying. Trust Me. Follow Me without fear of any man. This is going to be amazing. Oh, and by the way, I could do it all by Myself, but I'm choosing to use a human vessel -- a tangible, flesh and blood ambassador for the cause. And I am choosing you, Moses. So now you go!"
Re-read that. Put your name in it.
Amazing, isn't it? And it doesn't just apply to one "mission". It applies to life.
Once again, a *blog post* by my friend offered up a phrase that made me stop and think:
"In John 3:30, John the Baptist says, "He must become greater; I must become less."
This is the crux of Christianity. It is not some religion with a list of "do's and don'ts", rather it is an emptying of oneself to make room for the Perfect One. What an honour to be the suit of clothes that is worn by Jesus Christ."
Crazy, isn't it? That's all we are. But even if that's all we are... what an honour. What a privilege.
So back to Moses. With all the fear and trembling that a man would posses when faced with the prospect of filling the shoes of "human vessel for God," he asks, "How?"
"Interestingly, God didn't respond with a pep talk... Instead, God answers Moses' 'Who am I?' question with five life-shifting words as He simply affirms, 'I will be with you.'
When God invites us into His story, assigning us various roles that are seemingly too big for us to carry out, His affirmation will always be the same -- I will be with you. It's as if He was saying to Moses, 'Don't worry about who you are, just focus on the realty that I'm going, too. And if I go with you, trust Me, everything's going to work out find.' "
Then, Moses asks another question. One more daring, deep and risky than almost anything else he could've done. He asks, "Who are you?"
"Can you believe it? Moses is asking the God of all Creation to tell him His name.
It's important to grasp the gravity of the situation. Of course, God already knew Moses's name (He had repeatedly called him by his first name at the outset of this exchange). But Moses didn't know His. Since the dawn of time, God had been referred to as Yahweh, meaning Most High God -- a name so revered by the generations preceding Moses, they rarely wrote it out in full (choosing instead to abbreviate it).
But that revered title was really more a description than a personal name. No one knew God's personal name. And, as far as we know, no one had dared to ask.
You have to understand, it's not as though God was just a little higher and a little more holy than Moses, someone you'd just stroll up to and say, 'Hey man, what's up?' No, we're talking about the Infinite One -- the One whose voice alone causes worlds to be born and grown men to hid their faces -- having a conversation with a little, frail, finite creature. A creature who wants to know if he can call almighty God by his name.
God was in no way obligated to answer, yet without hesitation, He did. To this aging shepherd, God revealed His name, saying: 'I AM who I AM. Tell them I AM sent you.' "
Skip a bit...
"In English the name I AM translates into the verb 'to be.' Or simply 'be.'
Therefore God's name is 'Be.' I AM = I BE. Not great grammar I know, but great theology.
God knew it was imperative for Moses to know who He was -- that He was I AM. I AM is the present tense, active form of the verb 'to be.' As God's name, it declares that he is unchanging, constant, unending, always present, always God.
God was telling Moses:
I AM the center of everything.
I AM running the show.
I AM the same every day, forever.
I AM the owner of everything.
I AM the Lord.
I AM the Creator and Sustainer of life.
I AM the Saviour.
I AM more than enough.
I AM inexhaustible and immeasurable.
I AM God.
In a heartbeat, Moses knew God's name -- and something more. He finally knew his. For if God's name is I AM, Moses' name must be 'I am not.'
I am not the center of everything.
I am not in control.
I am not the solution
I am not all-powerful.
I am not calling the shots.
I am not the owner of anything.
I am not the Lord.
That's my name, too. And yours. 'I am not.' Just try it under your breath, 'My name is I am not.' "
Go through the 'I am not' list, saying each out loud. Crazy powerful, huh?
"Sure people might call you Tommy or Eddie or Amanda or Juan or Michelle or Erin or Michael. But, let's face it, when you get right down to it all of our names are 'I am not.'
And God's name is still I AM.
While Moses was still reeling, God continued, 'This is my name forever, the name by which I am to be remembered from generation to generation' (Exodus 3:15). In other words, God wanted Moses to know that not only would He remain the same, His name would endure to every generation that would inhabit the earth -- even to our generations, yours and mine.
I love this verse, because it puts us into the story. Oh, you may have just been calling Him God all these years -- and, in fact, that's who He is. But He gladly told Moses His name is I AM [BE] and that's still His name today. Right now. Wherever and whoever you are.
God is big. We are not. He is calling the shots, directing the script, and determining the plot. We are not. And, what's really wild is that while He doesn't need any of us, He is choosing to include us, inviting us into the story that never ends.
Try to fathom it -- little you and me invited into the massive and mysterious story of the great I AM.
Are you up for it?"
And that's why as I look back on high school and all the years that have lead up to today, the shivers run up and down my back.
It's all about Him. And I am incredibly blessed to have been asked to be a part of His story. And He's done amazing things in my life that I can in no way be credited with. He takes center stage. I am nothing.
And that feeling of thankfulness and that blessed peace about my future that sprung out of my heart come from two things:
1. I am not.
2. He is I AM.
But as I sat on my bed, surrounded by cards, and addressed thank you cards, I was struck again with how much I have been blessed. Although many cards had something encouraging in them about my personality, etc. I was overwhelmed.
Since when have I been counted worthy to be anything at all, to be used by Him? It surely wasn't my doing that I may have all these characteristic attributed to me. Rather, He chose to take one little life, to touch a young girl in the middle of the Cameroonian jungle and cause her to grow up in His ways. I had nothing to do with it.
The same feeling came over me as I was writing up my Camp synopsis for this year. So many incredible things happened in those 5 short (and yet long) weeks that it was crazy to look at my fears beforehand and see how God had transformed them into something that He used in an amazing way.
I was reading this morning, my daily chapter of Louie Giglio's i am not but i know I AM, and this whole concept hit me right in the face. Isn't it slightly awesome that hindsight is 20/20? All of my life, although not by any means complete yet, has led me up to this moment and looking back, I can start to see what He's been doing through some of the biggest moments in my life.
The whole premise of this book is that this is the story of God, not ours. We're not centerstage, rather we are playing supporting parts to a bigger story... His story.
This chapter deals with Moses, and while I shouldn't write out the whole chapter, I'm going to quote large portions of it {just go out and get the book already! I got it from the local library, but I'm definitely considering buying it simply because I want to highlight/mark it up}
"While as humans we try to partner with the brightest and most powerful, God is simply looking for people who are willing to take Him at His word -- those confident that with Him in the equation everything is possible."
Although God had an incredible plan for the man who was going to lead His people to freedom, He chose Moses. A stuttering, aging man who was not on great terms with Pharaoh to start with. A bush burst into fire and my quotes begin again.
"Now that He had Moses' undivided attention, God laid out His plan. 'I have indeed seen the misery of My people in Egypt. I have heart them crying out because of their slave drivers and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them and bring them into a good and spacious land. The cry of the Israelites has reached Me and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them.'
Did you notice all the first-person pronouns God is using to state His case? I have seen. I have heard. I'm concerned. I'm coming down. I'm going to do something.
God's mind was set. His plan was in motion. Failure was not an option. No insurmountable obstacle stood in His way. God had sized up Pharaoh, a man of unrivaled political and military power, and decided to use him as a pawn in His story. The redemption mission would go on as scheduled, Pharaoh's army not withstanding, and a couple million people would journey through an arid desert wasteland to safely arrive in the land long ago promised to their forefathers. Mark it down. It was going to happen. God was confident that the Promised Land -- the place He had chosen for Israel to dwell -- was suitably perfect, even if it was presently inhabited by skilled warriors defending cities whose fortressed walls would intimidate any man. (see the formidable list of 'ites' in Exodus 3:8b). God wasn't deterred and He didn't need any assistance. But He had chosen to use a man, a human mouthpiece -- someone who would carry His message and lead His cause. That's when, for Moses, the conversation took an ominous turn."
Here's where God tells Moses that He's chosen him to set His people free.
"Confused and overwhelmed, Moses blurts out, 'Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?'
I think what was going through Moses' mind were the same kind of thoughts that have raced through yours and mine when we're called by God to do something that seems way beyond our abilities. God, are you serious? Is this a joke? Have You mistaken me for someone else? Surely You don't think I can pull this off do You? Who, me? Do what?"
Skip a bit...
"When God said 'You go,' He was implying: 'I am going to do this with or without you, Moses, but I've been searching for just the right partner, a regular guy who will believe that I am able to do exactly what I have said I will do. You just need to merge onto the highway of My agenda -- My promised before, now happening, already in motion agenda -- and watch Me go. Don't deviate from what I am saying. Trust Me. Follow Me without fear of any man. This is going to be amazing. Oh, and by the way, I could do it all by Myself, but I'm choosing to use a human vessel -- a tangible, flesh and blood ambassador for the cause. And I am choosing you, Moses. So now you go!"
Re-read that. Put your name in it.
Amazing, isn't it? And it doesn't just apply to one "mission". It applies to life.
Once again, a *blog post* by my friend offered up a phrase that made me stop and think:
"In John 3:30, John the Baptist says, "He must become greater; I must become less."
This is the crux of Christianity. It is not some religion with a list of "do's and don'ts", rather it is an emptying of oneself to make room for the Perfect One. What an honour to be the suit of clothes that is worn by Jesus Christ."
Crazy, isn't it? That's all we are. But even if that's all we are... what an honour. What a privilege.
So back to Moses. With all the fear and trembling that a man would posses when faced with the prospect of filling the shoes of "human vessel for God," he asks, "How?"
"Interestingly, God didn't respond with a pep talk... Instead, God answers Moses' 'Who am I?' question with five life-shifting words as He simply affirms, 'I will be with you.'
When God invites us into His story, assigning us various roles that are seemingly too big for us to carry out, His affirmation will always be the same -- I will be with you. It's as if He was saying to Moses, 'Don't worry about who you are, just focus on the realty that I'm going, too. And if I go with you, trust Me, everything's going to work out find.' "
Then, Moses asks another question. One more daring, deep and risky than almost anything else he could've done. He asks, "Who are you?"
"Can you believe it? Moses is asking the God of all Creation to tell him His name.
It's important to grasp the gravity of the situation. Of course, God already knew Moses's name (He had repeatedly called him by his first name at the outset of this exchange). But Moses didn't know His. Since the dawn of time, God had been referred to as Yahweh, meaning Most High God -- a name so revered by the generations preceding Moses, they rarely wrote it out in full (choosing instead to abbreviate it).
But that revered title was really more a description than a personal name. No one knew God's personal name. And, as far as we know, no one had dared to ask.
You have to understand, it's not as though God was just a little higher and a little more holy than Moses, someone you'd just stroll up to and say, 'Hey man, what's up?' No, we're talking about the Infinite One -- the One whose voice alone causes worlds to be born and grown men to hid their faces -- having a conversation with a little, frail, finite creature. A creature who wants to know if he can call almighty God by his name.
God was in no way obligated to answer, yet without hesitation, He did. To this aging shepherd, God revealed His name, saying: 'I AM who I AM. Tell them I AM sent you.' "
Skip a bit...
"In English the name I AM translates into the verb 'to be.' Or simply 'be.'
Therefore God's name is 'Be.' I AM = I BE. Not great grammar I know, but great theology.
God knew it was imperative for Moses to know who He was -- that He was I AM. I AM is the present tense, active form of the verb 'to be.' As God's name, it declares that he is unchanging, constant, unending, always present, always God.
God was telling Moses:
I AM the center of everything.
I AM running the show.
I AM the same every day, forever.
I AM the owner of everything.
I AM the Lord.
I AM the Creator and Sustainer of life.
I AM the Saviour.
I AM more than enough.
I AM inexhaustible and immeasurable.
I AM God.
In a heartbeat, Moses knew God's name -- and something more. He finally knew his. For if God's name is I AM, Moses' name must be 'I am not.'
I am not the center of everything.
I am not in control.
I am not the solution
I am not all-powerful.
I am not calling the shots.
I am not the owner of anything.
I am not the Lord.
That's my name, too. And yours. 'I am not.' Just try it under your breath, 'My name is I am not.' "
Go through the 'I am not' list, saying each out loud. Crazy powerful, huh?
"Sure people might call you Tommy or Eddie or Amanda or Juan or Michelle or Erin or Michael. But, let's face it, when you get right down to it all of our names are 'I am not.'
And God's name is still I AM.
While Moses was still reeling, God continued, 'This is my name forever, the name by which I am to be remembered from generation to generation' (Exodus 3:15). In other words, God wanted Moses to know that not only would He remain the same, His name would endure to every generation that would inhabit the earth -- even to our generations, yours and mine.
I love this verse, because it puts us into the story. Oh, you may have just been calling Him God all these years -- and, in fact, that's who He is. But He gladly told Moses His name is I AM [BE] and that's still His name today. Right now. Wherever and whoever you are.
God is big. We are not. He is calling the shots, directing the script, and determining the plot. We are not. And, what's really wild is that while He doesn't need any of us, He is choosing to include us, inviting us into the story that never ends.
Try to fathom it -- little you and me invited into the massive and mysterious story of the great I AM.
Are you up for it?"
And that's why as I look back on high school and all the years that have lead up to today, the shivers run up and down my back.
It's all about Him. And I am incredibly blessed to have been asked to be a part of His story. And He's done amazing things in my life that I can in no way be credited with. He takes center stage. I am nothing.
And that feeling of thankfulness and that blessed peace about my future that sprung out of my heart come from two things:
1. I am not.
2. He is I AM.
Sunday, August 19
The Source and My Satisfaction
Recently, a lot of things have been hitting me hard, and today, it culminated in the sermon that was given at church this morning.
It's so easy for me to get caught up in my life's daily problems. To pray and to ask simply, "Help.. please? Could you give me wisdom for this and this and this situation that's going on. Thanks."
And that very prayer is flawed.
Not that many days ago, I read a friend's *blog post* and it really challenged some of my assumptions and the rut that I had allowed myself to fall into regarding prayer and life in general.
Please take the time to read all of it and think about what it means when applied to your life... it's worth it.
{Note: Whenever I put stars around anything, that normally means it's linked, unless the stars are around a word that was also included in the title, such as my blog post titled In One of *Those* Days}
The part that hit me the hardest was the very last phrase: "We need not say 'please', only 'thank you'."
Woah.
Do you realize the truth embodied in that one statement? Incredible.
The truth is, we have already been blessed in immeasurable ways by our Father, and there's nothing... absolutely nothing... that we have to ask for because He has already given it to us.
Now this doesn't mean that He doesn't want to hear our prayers or requests. Not in the least. Rather, it changes a prayer of "Please give me wisdom!" to one of "Thank you for Your wisdom. Please help me to apply Your principles and Your ways to this situation in my life."
Do you see?
And this is what I've been struggling with recently in my life. I want to get certain things in my life settled in the eyes of God (again, searching for wisdom in a certain situation, or wondering if something's going His way or not), somehow thinking that I have to have those things figured out before I can just approach Him and get to know Him.
As if I need to figure out my life, before getting to know the Creator of my life.
And that's just it. It seems obvious, doesn't it, that you would start at the beginning to work on the mess, instead of just working to clean up the mess?
This morning, the message was preached from Mark 5:21-43, and it was based upon Jesus being the hope to the hopeless, etc.
One analogy our pastor gave really applied to this.
Evidently, in the past, when officials wanted to see if insane asylum patients were ready to go back to their homes, they would give them a test.
They would put the patient in a room with a sink, put the plug in and turn on the faucet. Once the sink began to overflow, they would give the patient a mop and instruct him to clean it up.
If the patient realized that he had to first turn off the faucet, unplug the plug and then start mopping, he was considered ready to go home. If he just started to mop without unplugging the plug or turning off the faucet, he was kept at the insane asylum.
The analogy applies to us in situations that are hopeless in that we should be getting back to the source, the real Hope, instead of just working on the mess in our lives.
And that really challenged me. When I am resting in my Creator, meeting with Him and growing in my understanding of Him, then, naturally, my life will begin to reflect this relationship. I will face situations and can draw upon the wisdom in His Word and through what the Holy Spirit reveals to me, and know what the right thing to do is.
I get so wrapped up in the things that are happening in my everyday life, but they will only be truly fixed when I am fixated on the Source. And this seems so obvious when I return to His Word:
"Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need." (Matthew 6:33, NLT)
Sometimes I am under the illusion that surrendering to God is going to take away from who I am. That it'll put me under unnecessary pain, that it will be boring, take the fun out of life, etc.
As if when I give it all to the Creator, I become anything less than what He fully created me to be.
He is my Source. I need no other. He is all I need.
I used to think that this song was slightly stuck-up until I started listening closer. It's not saying, "Satisfy me. Come here and fill me up." No, rather, it is saying, "Teach me that you are all that I need. You should be my satisfaction... show me. I want You to be what satisfies me."
Well, I hope that you've stayed with me this far and that God spoke to you through something I said. To Him be the glory for we have been given everything we need.
He is the Source, and our Satisfaction.
It's so easy for me to get caught up in my life's daily problems. To pray and to ask simply, "Help.. please? Could you give me wisdom for this and this and this situation that's going on. Thanks."
And that very prayer is flawed.
Not that many days ago, I read a friend's *blog post* and it really challenged some of my assumptions and the rut that I had allowed myself to fall into regarding prayer and life in general.
Please take the time to read all of it and think about what it means when applied to your life... it's worth it.
{Note: Whenever I put stars around anything, that normally means it's linked, unless the stars are around a word that was also included in the title, such as my blog post titled In One of *Those* Days}
The part that hit me the hardest was the very last phrase: "We need not say 'please', only 'thank you'."
Woah.
Do you realize the truth embodied in that one statement? Incredible.
The truth is, we have already been blessed in immeasurable ways by our Father, and there's nothing... absolutely nothing... that we have to ask for because He has already given it to us.
Now this doesn't mean that He doesn't want to hear our prayers or requests. Not in the least. Rather, it changes a prayer of "Please give me wisdom!" to one of "Thank you for Your wisdom. Please help me to apply Your principles and Your ways to this situation in my life."
Do you see?
And this is what I've been struggling with recently in my life. I want to get certain things in my life settled in the eyes of God (again, searching for wisdom in a certain situation, or wondering if something's going His way or not), somehow thinking that I have to have those things figured out before I can just approach Him and get to know Him.
As if I need to figure out my life, before getting to know the Creator of my life.
And that's just it. It seems obvious, doesn't it, that you would start at the beginning to work on the mess, instead of just working to clean up the mess?
This morning, the message was preached from Mark 5:21-43, and it was based upon Jesus being the hope to the hopeless, etc.
One analogy our pastor gave really applied to this.
Evidently, in the past, when officials wanted to see if insane asylum patients were ready to go back to their homes, they would give them a test.
They would put the patient in a room with a sink, put the plug in and turn on the faucet. Once the sink began to overflow, they would give the patient a mop and instruct him to clean it up.
If the patient realized that he had to first turn off the faucet, unplug the plug and then start mopping, he was considered ready to go home. If he just started to mop without unplugging the plug or turning off the faucet, he was kept at the insane asylum.
The analogy applies to us in situations that are hopeless in that we should be getting back to the source, the real Hope, instead of just working on the mess in our lives.
And that really challenged me. When I am resting in my Creator, meeting with Him and growing in my understanding of Him, then, naturally, my life will begin to reflect this relationship. I will face situations and can draw upon the wisdom in His Word and through what the Holy Spirit reveals to me, and know what the right thing to do is.
I get so wrapped up in the things that are happening in my everyday life, but they will only be truly fixed when I am fixated on the Source. And this seems so obvious when I return to His Word:
"Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need." (Matthew 6:33, NLT)
Sometimes I am under the illusion that surrendering to God is going to take away from who I am. That it'll put me under unnecessary pain, that it will be boring, take the fun out of life, etc.
As if when I give it all to the Creator, I become anything less than what He fully created me to be.
He is my Source. I need no other. He is all I need.
I used to think that this song was slightly stuck-up until I started listening closer. It's not saying, "Satisfy me. Come here and fill me up." No, rather, it is saying, "Teach me that you are all that I need. You should be my satisfaction... show me. I want You to be what satisfies me."
Well, I hope that you've stayed with me this far and that God spoke to you through something I said. To Him be the glory for we have been given everything we need.
He is the Source, and our Satisfaction.
Saturday, August 18
In One of *Those* Days
Today was great.... and not so great.
I went bike riding, at times riding no-handed with my hands outstretched and with my eyes closed and with a silly grin on my face. It was a beautiful day, all sunshine, no clouds, but a decent wind so that I wasn't roasting. After riding our route, my best friend and I went and got slushies, talked and ended up playing Wii.
Then I headed to a cookout attended by some families we knew and some that were new. I ate my food, taking a decent amount of time, but then I excused myself and headed home to solitude.
Sweet, sweet, heavenly solitude.
And it's not like there was a ton of people around today, it's just that every once in awhile, I fall into one of *those* days. A day where I am in a funk, and if I tried hard enough, I could pull myself out of it, but it's so comfortable that I don't even try.
I get prickly, unsociable, and I tend to notice little things more and take them more deeply. I escape into solitude and take offense when people barge in on me. I devour whole books in one sitting and just. sit. still.
Maybe it's not even that. I don't get cranky, per se, it's more like I retreat within myself.
I satisfied my melancholy this morning by heading to the library for the first time in months. When I walk into a library, I like it to be still. Completely still. And I walk in between the rows, running my fingers along the bindings of the books, making as little sound as possible, almost as if I could hear the whisps of love, adventure, information, etc. that drift from each book as I touch it.
If one grabs my attention, I slowly pull it out, scan the back, flip through a couple pages, take a moment to decide what kind of book I'm in the mood for. Entertaining? Contemplative? Fluffy? Deep? Then, I put it back or take it with me.
The slow whish of the air conditioners working in the library keep my company as I make my lonely way through the library aisles.
Even if you don't know me well, maybe that showcases what one of *those* days looks like for me.
I find my alter-ego, or rather, the one that's hidden deep inside that I keep on a very short leash {my true *Eeyore* coming out maybe?}, coming out and proclaiming, "Give me a day. A day in a month. A day to make you relax, to think deeper, to simply breathe in and out. To be something other than happy and joyful at all times."
And I don't know where that crosses into self-pity or something near it, but it's easy when it's one of *those* days to get caught up in myself.
Instead of caught up in Him.
Although He created all parts of me, my sinful human being still exists and it takes advantage of *those* days. It makes feel as if the world has no business interfering in my solitude and that others have ulterior motives in what they say and do, it makes me feel as if my need to be alone supersedes other's needs, that I'm the most important person. A spirit of want replaces a spirit of thankfulness.
But it's also in moments like this that I realize how life is not perfect. There are holes, there are moments that aren't so happy, there are times when we wonder what's going on.
Moments that make me SO happy that this life is not all.
Sometimes I get so caught up in the those rustling-leaves-and-perfect-wind-and-closed-eyes-and-ruffled-hair-and-hands-outstretched moments, that I think that this life is pretty amazing.
And it is.
But how much more amazing will my true home be?
Beyond anything that I can express, that's for sure.
I went bike riding, at times riding no-handed with my hands outstretched and with my eyes closed and with a silly grin on my face. It was a beautiful day, all sunshine, no clouds, but a decent wind so that I wasn't roasting. After riding our route, my best friend and I went and got slushies, talked and ended up playing Wii.
Then I headed to a cookout attended by some families we knew and some that were new. I ate my food, taking a decent amount of time, but then I excused myself and headed home to solitude.
Sweet, sweet, heavenly solitude.
And it's not like there was a ton of people around today, it's just that every once in awhile, I fall into one of *those* days. A day where I am in a funk, and if I tried hard enough, I could pull myself out of it, but it's so comfortable that I don't even try.
I get prickly, unsociable, and I tend to notice little things more and take them more deeply. I escape into solitude and take offense when people barge in on me. I devour whole books in one sitting and just. sit. still.
Maybe it's not even that. I don't get cranky, per se, it's more like I retreat within myself.
I satisfied my melancholy this morning by heading to the library for the first time in months. When I walk into a library, I like it to be still. Completely still. And I walk in between the rows, running my fingers along the bindings of the books, making as little sound as possible, almost as if I could hear the whisps of love, adventure, information, etc. that drift from each book as I touch it.
If one grabs my attention, I slowly pull it out, scan the back, flip through a couple pages, take a moment to decide what kind of book I'm in the mood for. Entertaining? Contemplative? Fluffy? Deep? Then, I put it back or take it with me.
The slow whish of the air conditioners working in the library keep my company as I make my lonely way through the library aisles.
Even if you don't know me well, maybe that showcases what one of *those* days looks like for me.
I find my alter-ego, or rather, the one that's hidden deep inside that I keep on a very short leash {my true *Eeyore* coming out maybe?}, coming out and proclaiming, "Give me a day. A day in a month. A day to make you relax, to think deeper, to simply breathe in and out. To be something other than happy and joyful at all times."
And I don't know where that crosses into self-pity or something near it, but it's easy when it's one of *those* days to get caught up in myself.
Instead of caught up in Him.
Although He created all parts of me, my sinful human being still exists and it takes advantage of *those* days. It makes feel as if the world has no business interfering in my solitude and that others have ulterior motives in what they say and do, it makes me feel as if my need to be alone supersedes other's needs, that I'm the most important person. A spirit of want replaces a spirit of thankfulness.
But it's also in moments like this that I realize how life is not perfect. There are holes, there are moments that aren't so happy, there are times when we wonder what's going on.
Moments that make me SO happy that this life is not all.
Sometimes I get so caught up in the those rustling-leaves-and-perfect-wind-and-closed-eyes-and-ruffled-hair-and-hands-outstretched moments, that I think that this life is pretty amazing.
And it is.
But how much more amazing will my true home be?
Beyond anything that I can express, that's for sure.
Tuesday, August 14
In Her Birthday
Jen-a-ben,
I don't know if there is possibly a post long enough, or words deep enough to describe everything that I'm feeling on this 16th birthday of yours. From the beginning, we've been more like twins than sisters. Remember all those matching outfits we would always get?
Whenever I have a problem, I can come talk to you, knowing that you'll give both advice and sympathy. I know that you understand the deepest parts of me, and sometimes I wish you didn't, because you can see right through anything I try to pull.
But I wouldn't change the relationship we have for anything. We can talk for hours, and yet you can tell when something's wrong without me saying anything.
You are my accountability partner and my best friend. (and I swear that you always will have the cutest baby pictures out of all of us)
I was once talking to Mom and she said, "The right person in our family got sick." Not that I would ever wish that on you again, but God knew who could handle that situation. Although many things happened, you allowed them to shape you and mold you into what you are today instead of becoming bitter and enclosed. Even while you were going through it, I remember you saying, "Maybe someday, what I'm going through can help someone else." And I am so proud that I can be known as your sister. You have an amazing compassion for the sick and the ability to see the long term even when you're feeling down. The littlest things matter to you, and you're always on the lookout for someone in need of a friend, regardless of whether you'll get anything out of it.
You're always giving.. giving advice, giving hugs, giving tickle fights, giving money, giving baking. We are so different, but I don't begrudge you the hours you spend playing in the kitchen. After all, I get to eat what you make! You don't care when people do, or don't, notice what you do. You're a servant, and I'm often shown up by the things you think up to do for others. Sometimes I think, "Woah, isn't that going over the edge? Won't that be awkward? They won't expect that!" But you're teaching me a different kind of service. A service that pushes boundaries into the uncomfortable and awkward because you care and you will go beyond the normal/expected to do the greater and the better.
Although I know you've been the more vocal out of the two of us in regards to the distance between us next year, I'm going to miss you horribly. Perhaps more than I think I will. I'll miss the times when you "intruded" when I was on the computer and just sat in my room doing your thing, or came and sat down next to me while I was reading a book and forced me to talk, or the nights when we would sit side by side on my bed and watch the cartoon version of the Avengers, or.... the list goes on and on.
I'm so incredibly proud of all that you've become and all that you are going to become. God is doing some incredible stuff through you, and I know that His plan for you goes beyond even my wildest wishes for you. I'm so proud that I can be known as your sister.
Your "Tisty"
I don't know if there is possibly a post long enough, or words deep enough to describe everything that I'm feeling on this 16th birthday of yours. From the beginning, we've been more like twins than sisters. Remember all those matching outfits we would always get?
Whenever I have a problem, I can come talk to you, knowing that you'll give both advice and sympathy. I know that you understand the deepest parts of me, and sometimes I wish you didn't, because you can see right through anything I try to pull.
But I wouldn't change the relationship we have for anything. We can talk for hours, and yet you can tell when something's wrong without me saying anything.
 |
| By the way, I think this is my favouritest picture of you.... EVER. |
You are my accountability partner and my best friend. (and I swear that you always will have the cutest baby pictures out of all of us)
I was once talking to Mom and she said, "The right person in our family got sick." Not that I would ever wish that on you again, but God knew who could handle that situation. Although many things happened, you allowed them to shape you and mold you into what you are today instead of becoming bitter and enclosed. Even while you were going through it, I remember you saying, "Maybe someday, what I'm going through can help someone else." And I am so proud that I can be known as your sister. You have an amazing compassion for the sick and the ability to see the long term even when you're feeling down. The littlest things matter to you, and you're always on the lookout for someone in need of a friend, regardless of whether you'll get anything out of it.
You're always giving.. giving advice, giving hugs, giving tickle fights, giving money, giving baking. We are so different, but I don't begrudge you the hours you spend playing in the kitchen. After all, I get to eat what you make! You don't care when people do, or don't, notice what you do. You're a servant, and I'm often shown up by the things you think up to do for others. Sometimes I think, "Woah, isn't that going over the edge? Won't that be awkward? They won't expect that!" But you're teaching me a different kind of service. A service that pushes boundaries into the uncomfortable and awkward because you care and you will go beyond the normal/expected to do the greater and the better.
Although I know you've been the more vocal out of the two of us in regards to the distance between us next year, I'm going to miss you horribly. Perhaps more than I think I will. I'll miss the times when you "intruded" when I was on the computer and just sat in my room doing your thing, or came and sat down next to me while I was reading a book and forced me to talk, or the nights when we would sit side by side on my bed and watch the cartoon version of the Avengers, or.... the list goes on and on.
I'm so incredibly proud of all that you've become and all that you are going to become. God is doing some incredible stuff through you, and I know that His plan for you goes beyond even my wildest wishes for you. I'm so proud that I can be known as your sister.
Your "Tisty"
Sunday, August 12
Not an Accessory
I was talking to someone the other day, about the adventures of some my friends who are over in Asia right now. With everything that they see day to day, she said, "You start to really realize that God cannot be an accessory, He is your very being."
Being back from Camp, where I can be lazy and choose not to meet with Him, it's so easy to descend to the level of making Him an accessory, as an extra in my day, instead of the very reason that I am living this day.
Right now, wherever you are, the breath you just breathed was given to you by One who holds your very existence in His hands. The things we worry about so much in life, things like jobs, careers, marriage partners, futures, all fall away as worthless when we realize what's really important.
I think that's why I love my sunsets/sunrises so much. The very expanse of the sky painted in varying colours reminds me why I am here. Of how nothing matters except for Him. Of course, normal life comes into play, and it's harder to see Him and how He works together with everyday life.
Throughout my day, I often find myself saying, "This is what I'm going to do. What do you think?" instead of "Here's what's going on... I know that You know about it already, and this is what I'm feeling... What should I do? I need Your wisdom." I put myself into the very driver's seat that He created.
It blows my mind that He chose to create humankind, already knowing the pain that it would cause Him, but also the great reward He would have in those who chose to follow Him anyway. That kind of God, the one who created everything we see, who spoke to Moses through the burning bush, still speaks to us everyday through other people, through His word. Crazy...
We undermine God with thinking that this life is about us. Because that's what the world wants us to think. Really... we're inconsequential. Rather, God chose us to be the messengers of His word. He could have just done it Himself, but by doing it through us, He's also refining us and teaching us more about Himself.
So often, I block that stream that longs to pour through me with my own worries, doubts, instead of abandoning myself to the One who created me. I create my own shell around my heart, thinking that He calls me to a life of sacrifice... and He does. But His rewards are so much better than what I think is good for me. Everything that He does for me is for my own good.
And I want to pursue with everything in me that God who created me for His joy, who laughs with me, who longs for me to meet with Him in the morning and yet doesn't need me in the slightest, but still pursues me passionately, who calls me to follow His lead in the complicated, twirling, amazing dance of life. And He promises that I will find Him.... so much more than an accessory.
Being back from Camp, where I can be lazy and choose not to meet with Him, it's so easy to descend to the level of making Him an accessory, as an extra in my day, instead of the very reason that I am living this day.
Right now, wherever you are, the breath you just breathed was given to you by One who holds your very existence in His hands. The things we worry about so much in life, things like jobs, careers, marriage partners, futures, all fall away as worthless when we realize what's really important.
I think that's why I love my sunsets/sunrises so much. The very expanse of the sky painted in varying colours reminds me why I am here. Of how nothing matters except for Him. Of course, normal life comes into play, and it's harder to see Him and how He works together with everyday life.
Throughout my day, I often find myself saying, "This is what I'm going to do. What do you think?" instead of "Here's what's going on... I know that You know about it already, and this is what I'm feeling... What should I do? I need Your wisdom." I put myself into the very driver's seat that He created.
It blows my mind that He chose to create humankind, already knowing the pain that it would cause Him, but also the great reward He would have in those who chose to follow Him anyway. That kind of God, the one who created everything we see, who spoke to Moses through the burning bush, still speaks to us everyday through other people, through His word. Crazy...
We undermine God with thinking that this life is about us. Because that's what the world wants us to think. Really... we're inconsequential. Rather, God chose us to be the messengers of His word. He could have just done it Himself, but by doing it through us, He's also refining us and teaching us more about Himself.
So often, I block that stream that longs to pour through me with my own worries, doubts, instead of abandoning myself to the One who created me. I create my own shell around my heart, thinking that He calls me to a life of sacrifice... and He does. But His rewards are so much better than what I think is good for me. Everything that He does for me is for my own good.
And I want to pursue with everything in me that God who created me for His joy, who laughs with me, who longs for me to meet with Him in the morning and yet doesn't need me in the slightest, but still pursues me passionately, who calls me to follow His lead in the complicated, twirling, amazing dance of life. And He promises that I will find Him.... so much more than an accessory.
Friday, August 10
In Her Smile
Do you ever have those moments that are so surreal that you feel as if you're being wrapped in ribbons of happiness and sealed with forever?
She came into my room, this little 9 year-old sister of mine, and asked me if I would put her to bed. Since I was only surfing on FB and talking to someone, I said sure, mindful of how few times I have left to do so, and how quickly she is growing up.
I caught her before she had walked out of my room, swooping her up into my arms, so that I was carrying her across-the-threshold style. Making our way down the hallway and into her tiny pink 'n purple room, I set her down on her bed and waited while she arranged her blankets just so. I lent a hand covering up her window for her (at least I'm taller than her!), and then sat back down as she snuggled down.
We started talking, but soon it evolved into me trying to make her break a solemn face. Which, you can guess, soon led into a tickle fight. That led to name-calling... or, more specifically, nut-calling. I called her a nut, she called me a walnut, I responded with the specification of peanut, she thought awhile and then shot back "Pecan!", to which I replied with "Pistachio!"... and then I won because she couldn't think of anymore and I still had "hazelnut" in my arsenal.
And she smiled. You should know, Boo, that you are absolutely beautiful. Big blue eyes, honey-blonde hair, little nose, a light sprinkling of freckles, and an amazing smile. And that's why I turned serious all of a sudden and said, "Never lose that smile, Boo." And you smiled back.
We're so much a like, and I want you to learn from a young age that you need to be who you are, no matter what the world says, or the image that is projected that you are supposedly supposed to live up to. It took me so long to learn that lesson, and if I can make it easier for you, I will.
I hope so much for your life, Boo. I'm so glad that you "like that I love you", and that you want to Skype when I'm gone.
We moved on to a touching-the-other-person's-nose battle and ended it with me holding her arms down while I prayed for her future and for a peaceful night.
Then I let go of her arms, unwrapped her feet from around my waist, attempted to close the door and booked it down the hallway to my mom's room, yelling "Sanction!" and hiding behind J.
We were both ordered back to her room, and I finally succeeded in putting her to bed.
And that one moment is cemented with her smile.
She came into my room, this little 9 year-old sister of mine, and asked me if I would put her to bed. Since I was only surfing on FB and talking to someone, I said sure, mindful of how few times I have left to do so, and how quickly she is growing up.
I caught her before she had walked out of my room, swooping her up into my arms, so that I was carrying her across-the-threshold style. Making our way down the hallway and into her tiny pink 'n purple room, I set her down on her bed and waited while she arranged her blankets just so. I lent a hand covering up her window for her (at least I'm taller than her!), and then sat back down as she snuggled down.
We started talking, but soon it evolved into me trying to make her break a solemn face. Which, you can guess, soon led into a tickle fight. That led to name-calling... or, more specifically, nut-calling. I called her a nut, she called me a walnut, I responded with the specification of peanut, she thought awhile and then shot back "Pecan!", to which I replied with "Pistachio!"... and then I won because she couldn't think of anymore and I still had "hazelnut" in my arsenal.
And she smiled. You should know, Boo, that you are absolutely beautiful. Big blue eyes, honey-blonde hair, little nose, a light sprinkling of freckles, and an amazing smile. And that's why I turned serious all of a sudden and said, "Never lose that smile, Boo." And you smiled back.
We're so much a like, and I want you to learn from a young age that you need to be who you are, no matter what the world says, or the image that is projected that you are supposedly supposed to live up to. It took me so long to learn that lesson, and if I can make it easier for you, I will.
I hope so much for your life, Boo. I'm so glad that you "like that I love you", and that you want to Skype when I'm gone.
We moved on to a touching-the-other-person's-nose battle and ended it with me holding her arms down while I prayed for her future and for a peaceful night.
Then I let go of her arms, unwrapped her feet from around my waist, attempted to close the door and booked it down the hallway to my mom's room, yelling "Sanction!" and hiding behind J.
We were both ordered back to her room, and I finally succeeded in putting her to bed.
And that one moment is cemented with her smile.
Thursday, August 9
Redefining
Returning home has brought a lot of change. Change, neither good or bad, rather a morphing of previous views. There are so many things in my life that I have stuck into boxes, letting my life be defined by them, rather than allowing them to define my life. A few of these are definitions... Definitions such as family or home. And both of these definitions have changed.
I left Camp, surrounded by people I had come to know closely over the last five weeks. My own family came to see me and I felt a disconnect, because there were two different parts of me in one place. Two different families. And for so long, my immediate family has been my only family because of the uprooting that has happened multiple times in my life. They were the only ones that knew me well.
But I returned from a Camp full of people who I now call my family, to a town full of people that have also become my family. Part of working with my Monkey entails going to different businesses in town to get her hand stamped or other such things (at the grocery store, she gets a free cookie). Today when we went into the bakery section of the grocery store, I met up with one of my fellow graduates who is also going to same college as me. The ease with which we picked up conversation and made plans to get together and go out for coffee later on was amazing. Just to see the light in her eyes and to hear her ask how my summer went... it was amazing. Then, Monkey and I returned home from my home and after she was given her dinner, her mom and I sat down to chat. And we talked for about half an hour about how my summer had gone and what her summer had looked like. Monkey's house is like my second home, because I've had to prepare meals there, put her to bed, get her up in the morning, the whole bit. I know where everything is, and I know all the rules and in a way, her family has become my family. And I can't wait to go to church this upcoming Sunday because I know that I will experience family like nothing else there. They'll be glad to see me, they'll ask me how my summer went, they'll give me hugs, they'll care.
Also, this afternoon, I received these:
Held in the hands of a little boy wearing blue overalls. He explained that they were as a thanks for when I babysat him and his brother occasionally this past year, and that they were from his mom's garden. The gift of blue flowers. It's so simple... and yet it meant so much.
And this town as a whole has redefined another word. I don't know if I've ever really realized how truly blessed I am to call this place home. Not only do they welcome me in... they welcome my Monkey in, too. And as we pedal around town on that big red bike and the sun is shining and trees are whispering and the the grass grows green and people walk and greet and smile and say goodbye and move along... I am blessed to have this place as my home.
Then comes the time when I'm watching the Olympics and I'm cheering for the Canadian contender to win, and I stop. Since when did this country become my home? I remember when Canada was as foreign to me as Cameroon is as foreign to most of you. Where it felt like we were delving into the deep unknown (at least to me) and who knew what we were going to encounter? Cannibals? Not likely, they told me. Although, I found that the cold was just as formidable.
All joking aside, it's crazy amazing to look back and see all that God has brought me through, to this place. A place where I have multiple families and homes. A place where I feel like the future is bright, where I am finding out more and more who I am and what He has made me to be. A place where {dare I say it?} I am so thankful for the pain that has happened in the past to bring about today:
His blessings have been so good, so great, so beyond anything that I could've planned. And who I am is being daily broken, shaped, and put back together. Today, He showed me a glimpse of all that He's doing. He's been refining my heart all along the way... and redefining me.
I left Camp, surrounded by people I had come to know closely over the last five weeks. My own family came to see me and I felt a disconnect, because there were two different parts of me in one place. Two different families. And for so long, my immediate family has been my only family because of the uprooting that has happened multiple times in my life. They were the only ones that knew me well.
But I returned from a Camp full of people who I now call my family, to a town full of people that have also become my family. Part of working with my Monkey entails going to different businesses in town to get her hand stamped or other such things (at the grocery store, she gets a free cookie). Today when we went into the bakery section of the grocery store, I met up with one of my fellow graduates who is also going to same college as me. The ease with which we picked up conversation and made plans to get together and go out for coffee later on was amazing. Just to see the light in her eyes and to hear her ask how my summer went... it was amazing. Then, Monkey and I returned home from my home and after she was given her dinner, her mom and I sat down to chat. And we talked for about half an hour about how my summer had gone and what her summer had looked like. Monkey's house is like my second home, because I've had to prepare meals there, put her to bed, get her up in the morning, the whole bit. I know where everything is, and I know all the rules and in a way, her family has become my family. And I can't wait to go to church this upcoming Sunday because I know that I will experience family like nothing else there. They'll be glad to see me, they'll ask me how my summer went, they'll give me hugs, they'll care.
Also, this afternoon, I received these:
Held in the hands of a little boy wearing blue overalls. He explained that they were as a thanks for when I babysat him and his brother occasionally this past year, and that they were from his mom's garden. The gift of blue flowers. It's so simple... and yet it meant so much.
And this town as a whole has redefined another word. I don't know if I've ever really realized how truly blessed I am to call this place home. Not only do they welcome me in... they welcome my Monkey in, too. And as we pedal around town on that big red bike and the sun is shining and trees are whispering and the the grass grows green and people walk and greet and smile and say goodbye and move along... I am blessed to have this place as my home.
Then comes the time when I'm watching the Olympics and I'm cheering for the Canadian contender to win, and I stop. Since when did this country become my home? I remember when Canada was as foreign to me as Cameroon is as foreign to most of you. Where it felt like we were delving into the deep unknown (at least to me) and who knew what we were going to encounter? Cannibals? Not likely, they told me. Although, I found that the cold was just as formidable.
All joking aside, it's crazy amazing to look back and see all that God has brought me through, to this place. A place where I have multiple families and homes. A place where I feel like the future is bright, where I am finding out more and more who I am and what He has made me to be. A place where {dare I say it?} I am so thankful for the pain that has happened in the past to bring about today:
His blessings have been so good, so great, so beyond anything that I could've planned. And who I am is being daily broken, shaped, and put back together. Today, He showed me a glimpse of all that He's doing. He's been refining my heart all along the way... and redefining me.
Tuesday, August 7
Reassuring
It's amazing how much you can miss sand, wooden buildings, a lake, and even a dock with seagull poop on it. But even more than that, I miss the people. The constant hustle and bustle that filled up every day to the top, spilling over until some days, it was too much.
The people who came new every week, those children and teens who needed so much love spoken into their lives. Needed the love that only a Father can give, but also the reassurance of another that all was well because it was held in His hand. Those children who tested my patience, but who gave so much in return. Those teens who might have been hard to connect to, and yet when offered brokenness, took it and gave their own life stories in return.
But, ultimately, I miss the people who formed the backbone of Camp. Those fellow staff with whom I felt free to be myself, whether wacky or normal. Those girls with whom I giggled and spent late nights talking about camper and personal problems. Those boys who taught me what it looks like to have older brothers. A director who spoke so much godly wisdom and day-to-day living in Christ into my life.
I miss the closeness that I felt to nature, and through nature, to God. And although He remains constant no matter where I may be, it's harder to peel back the everyday moments of life to see how God works through each one instead of being saturated with it through devotions, chapel, Bible class, Bible memory and then another chapel and evening devos.
I miss the palpable good felt at the end of every day. The assurance of a new understanding in their eyes and the eagerness to pursue it the following morning. The seeming fulfillment of a mission at the end of every week and the lessons learned every day when faced with a variety of personalities and characteristics. The challenges, the wins, and the losses. The independence and the growing that happened this past month.
There was one day that wasn't going so great. I was feeling down, life was going way too slowly, my girls were causing trouble, but more than that, I seemingly couldn't break through to them. I was walking through the playground, and I was looking down.
Then I looked up:
He didn't have to... but He did. And it was as if He was saying,"See, my child? I am here. Always here. No matter what you feel like. No matter what you are going through. I have a plan for you... and it is perfect. I do not make mistakes. I am here. I love you. I love you this much."
He was reassuring me that I was in the right place at the right time. And you know what? He knew what He was doing (as always). That week, although my hardest, was my most rewarding. Four girls prayed to accept Him that week. And I was nothing but a vessel.
And as I'm sitting here on a bed that has yet to be made, with laundry waiting to be switched, and things scattered all over my floor, with people to catch up with, computer scans to run, finances to balance.... I feel overwhelmed.
I want to be back there, where my new normal was.
But that's not where He's putting me right now. And I realize that letting memories overtake me will stop me from doing what He has placed me to do right here. It's so easy for me to slip back into the pattern of just being instead of everyday seeking out what I can do to change someone's day, to make a little bit of difference, to spread His love. If you've ever read through my Colombia Diaries (link above), it's the same feeling that I felt when leaving that beautiful country.
But as I struggled with all that I feeling in regards to letting go and yet continuing on, I met with Him.
And after venting a bit, through writing and talking out loud, crying out for help and encouragement, I felt a call to turn to Philippians. And turning to the very first page, I saw it...
"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns." (Philippians 1:6, NLT)
Underlined ages ago, but spoken to me today.
He has not changed. He never has, and He never will. And I didn't start the work going on in my heart. No, He did. And He is faithful. He knows what He's doing. I just need to be willing to listen, learn, and put into action what He's teaching me. It's a journey, not something that can be described as either connected to Him or not connected to Him. There will be ups and downs, but He's always there.
And as I looked out of the window, guess what I saw? Yup.
He must know that I have a thing for sunsets. But then again, if anyone would know, it would be Him.
And it's just the thing I need to hear again, those words, "I know what I am doing. I am here. Trust me. I am here."
Just the reassurance I need.
The people who came new every week, those children and teens who needed so much love spoken into their lives. Needed the love that only a Father can give, but also the reassurance of another that all was well because it was held in His hand. Those children who tested my patience, but who gave so much in return. Those teens who might have been hard to connect to, and yet when offered brokenness, took it and gave their own life stories in return.
But, ultimately, I miss the people who formed the backbone of Camp. Those fellow staff with whom I felt free to be myself, whether wacky or normal. Those girls with whom I giggled and spent late nights talking about camper and personal problems. Those boys who taught me what it looks like to have older brothers. A director who spoke so much godly wisdom and day-to-day living in Christ into my life.
I miss the closeness that I felt to nature, and through nature, to God. And although He remains constant no matter where I may be, it's harder to peel back the everyday moments of life to see how God works through each one instead of being saturated with it through devotions, chapel, Bible class, Bible memory and then another chapel and evening devos.
I miss the palpable good felt at the end of every day. The assurance of a new understanding in their eyes and the eagerness to pursue it the following morning. The seeming fulfillment of a mission at the end of every week and the lessons learned every day when faced with a variety of personalities and characteristics. The challenges, the wins, and the losses. The independence and the growing that happened this past month.
There was one day that wasn't going so great. I was feeling down, life was going way too slowly, my girls were causing trouble, but more than that, I seemingly couldn't break through to them. I was walking through the playground, and I was looking down.
Then I looked up:
He didn't have to... but He did. And it was as if He was saying,"See, my child? I am here. Always here. No matter what you feel like. No matter what you are going through. I have a plan for you... and it is perfect. I do not make mistakes. I am here. I love you. I love you this much."
He was reassuring me that I was in the right place at the right time. And you know what? He knew what He was doing (as always). That week, although my hardest, was my most rewarding. Four girls prayed to accept Him that week. And I was nothing but a vessel.
And as I'm sitting here on a bed that has yet to be made, with laundry waiting to be switched, and things scattered all over my floor, with people to catch up with, computer scans to run, finances to balance.... I feel overwhelmed.
I want to be back there, where my new normal was.
But that's not where He's putting me right now. And I realize that letting memories overtake me will stop me from doing what He has placed me to do right here. It's so easy for me to slip back into the pattern of just being instead of everyday seeking out what I can do to change someone's day, to make a little bit of difference, to spread His love. If you've ever read through my Colombia Diaries (link above), it's the same feeling that I felt when leaving that beautiful country.
But as I struggled with all that I feeling in regards to letting go and yet continuing on, I met with Him.
And after venting a bit, through writing and talking out loud, crying out for help and encouragement, I felt a call to turn to Philippians. And turning to the very first page, I saw it...
"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns." (Philippians 1:6, NLT)
Underlined ages ago, but spoken to me today.
He has not changed. He never has, and He never will. And I didn't start the work going on in my heart. No, He did. And He is faithful. He knows what He's doing. I just need to be willing to listen, learn, and put into action what He's teaching me. It's a journey, not something that can be described as either connected to Him or not connected to Him. There will be ups and downs, but He's always there.
And as I looked out of the window, guess what I saw? Yup.
He must know that I have a thing for sunsets. But then again, if anyone would know, it would be Him.
And it's just the thing I need to hear again, those words, "I know what I am doing. I am here. Trust me. I am here."
Just the reassurance I need.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)