Reminding Me

It's at times like this that the emotion runs coursing through my body and even music can't calm me down. When the urge to express my feelings reaches out to the solace found in black words on a white page typed by my hands.

When that moment comes when your brain is fighting every fibre of your body because something needs to change and it. just. can't. And your voice has obeyed you before, when no one's been watching. But now, when it counts, it won't happen. It's as if your mind has a keyhole and the key that you're trying is the wrong one.

And you can't make your voice follow the instructions as much as you long for it to. Yet you're stubborn enough to hide the tears starting to well up in your eyes and explain away the catch in your voice and that acidic sting in your nose.

Is it a battle for humility versus pride? Is there something that I'm missing? Do I just need bare everything, or can I find that key, or... what?

And she comforts and speaks words of love over me and yet I can't accept them because I feel as if I failed.

And it hits me that I've failed to be that strong tower, to be impregnable, and I don't. want. to. let. that. wall. down.

And as it hits me I realized that I've realized something fundamental.

I didn't tell her what was going on inside my head the entire time.

I'm too independent for my own good. Too focused on how others see me. Too analytical. Too much of an Eeyore.

And I exited the building, with the crunching of leaves beneath my feet, and I stand still, gasping as I cry the only way that I do... silently and for a few seconds, without any tears escaping. And then I carry on walking, wiping away the wetness that did trickle down and just wanting to be alone.

Even as I write that, I find it slightly ironic that my version of "alone-ness" means being cradled in the understanding that simple, stark words on a page give me.

And I found myself asking why I ever did this. Put myself in a position to go through this.

Then, He comes knocking. And, oh, how I want to push Him aside. How I want to continue to be the center of my pity-party.

But He won't let me be.

"Have I not given you this opportunity to develop the gift that I have given you? Have I not placed you in this very place to be stretched and broken because of the lessons that I have to teach you about humbleness? Do I not do what is good?"

And it leaves me feeling very Eeyore-ish, but glad that my life is held in the hands of One who knows what He's doing.

Day 6: Foundation Nina Maria

Journal Entry:

Father, today You broke my heart. I was hoping that it would come, and that Your compassion would break though, that I would be able to feel deeply - to cry. Throughout this trip, I have longed to have more emotions, that I would get attached and not want to leave a place. So far, I've just gone throughout each day terribly touched but not to the point of breaking.

I knew that today that we were heading to the handicapped foundation and I was dreading it. Since I've grown up surrounded with people like my cousin who has cerebral palsy, my sister when she was sick with Lyme and then working with a mentally and physically disabled girl, I find my heart a captive of their innocence and purity.

It was hard to jump  into playing with them, to get past the physical differences (I was ashamed that it took me so long), but it eventually got to the point where I saw their souls. That point wherein my only goal is to make them smile, to find their personality and to cater to it.

My heart became so happy when I saw a boy named P who was signing. It seems as if signing is my territory and even though he had a totally different vocabulary and way of signing, I was gladdened to see the way that he communicated and how others helped him out.

Although these children have a supporting staff and a pretty amazing facility, they have no way to advance, to show what jewels they are when shined up. These kids have been either rejected by their families, or society, or by both. It makes me so sad that there isn't anyone here to work one-on-one with them and that they really have no future. We were able to give them only one afternoon of laughter and as I left, it was painful to realize that tomorrow would be very different most likely.

But through it all, You spoke. I am so glad that You are the Father of the fatherless, Comforter to the broken, life to the dead - that You care even when others don't. And as many of them surrounded me, I saw once again how their hearts must be among the most precious in Your sight.

Through it all, my heart stayed intact, even when I saw others crying and felt a deep tug on my heart for their plight. During our team meeting, however, I saw others cry, shed a few tears before my turn and spoke tremulously during my turn. After, however, while S was talking, the full impact of what they face and how blessed I am, and how great it is that places like the one here in Canada exist, hit me.

You broke through and I heaved, shuddering, feeling so good once the tears fell. I want my heart to be wise in the ways of unnecessary pain, and yet be open to compassion and breaking. I don't want to let a callus reform over this open rawness, but only You can do that.

As I headed over here, I prayed for You to break my heart for what breaks Yours - and now You're starting to do that. Yes, I may not be "emotional", but I still want to feel deeply about what troubles Your heart. I wonder where You and this passion will lead me. Please keep on breaking! I love You and the things that break Your heart.

No cameras were allowed inside because of security concerns, so I have no pictures to show you. But I think that you can gain from my journal entry the apparent hopelessness that some of these kids are under. Pray that the true Hope would be revealed and that this Foundation would become a place of unbelievable hope. Pray for the staff who have to go through some amazing stuff, that they would always be full of compassion and that their hearts would never get hardened. Pray for the futures of these kids, that they may be ones of hope and not despair. Pray that the Father of all would become apparent to them. 

In My Failure

What do you do when you're on your 20-something hour of work straight (you don't care about counting anymore) (although it did include sleeping, but when you're the person locking up and listening for anything throughout the night? Still stressful.) and you've worried about this moment all week?

You pull up to the school-building-morphed-into-church in the Big Red Bike with a certain Monkey, and get inside, already trying to control the outcome by explaining things to her. There will be lots of people here you don't know. No, we're not here to get stamps. I brought some books and cereal for you to entertain yourself with. Yes, this is my church. We're not going to be giving hugs out today, okay? Just handshakes, and then, hopefully, only to people you know. 

But already, her eyes are darting everywhere, her 4-year old curiosity going crazy with all the people around her. I escort her down the hallway (code: walking with her while keeping a tight grip... you must know that this is a person who is 5 ft. tall and weighs around the same as I do) and into the gym/sanctuary. We find a seat on the bench in the back and she looks around, frantically signing "Mom" and "Dad." I know that she's looking for my parents... some reassurance in this strange crowd of people.


I see my Mom and it takes me five minutes to get Monkey to understand that I am going to go tell my mom that she wants to see her. No, I am the one going to see her. I don't want you to move, alright?  Walk away three steps and look back to see her rising. Munchkin, stay there, okay? I'll be right back. Watch, make sure she makes eye contact and signs "yes."

Walk to my mom and find understanding in her eyes, since she, too, works with my Monkey, except through the vocational shop here in town. I ask my mom if, perhaps, my family can come sit with us back here, hoping that  it will bring an element of control and peace, safety even. Then, Monkey signs that she needs to use the bathroom, and it goes downhill from there (okay, even further downhill).

I didn't bring another pull-up. Monkey doesn't even want to be here. I'm tired, and I still have 8-or-so hours to go.

What do you do when you're leaning against that door in the women's washroom in the church as she sits on the toilet signing to you, and all you can do is hang your head and allow yourself a brief cry? What do you do?

It wasn't her fault. It was mine.

I had worried about her and church in the week leading up to this weekend alone with Monkey, but I had tried to take every precaution, pull every trick that I knew, use every word of reassurance so that it would end up right.

So that the people around me could see that I was in control.

And that's where it bit.
And it bit hard.

It was all about my pride. I wanted others to see the "good me," the one who had everything under control, who could take anything, make those split-second decisions that would ensure that it would turn out alright.

I had put my selfish desires and wants above and beyond the one who really needed me. My Monkey who needed understanding and enthusiasm from me about her abilities, even when they frustrated me. I had failed. Miserably.

But...

I don't think that it was coincidence that I read chapter three of the book Crazy Love that morning. It was titled, simply enough, Crazy Love.

And it spoke about the overwhelming love of a holy God for His children. For His child. For me.

Of His pursuit, of His longing, despite all that I am. Despite failure.

He knew me before He created me, chose to make me who I am, knowing all that I would do, the pain I would cause Him... but also maybe, okay, definitely, the joy that we would have together:

The word of the LORD came to me, saying, 'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.' (Jeremiah 1:4-5)

Think about that. Crazy, huh?


Let me quote some bits from the chapter (you really should read it for yourself {it's written by Francis Chan}):

God's next words to Jeremiah assured me that I need not fear failure:

" 'Ah, Soveriegn LORD,' I said, 'I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.'

But the LORD said to me, 'Do not say, "I am only a child." You must go to everyone I sent you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,' declares the LORD. Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, 'Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today, I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and to tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant.' " (Jeremiah 1:6-10)


When Jeremiah voices his hesitation and fear, God -- the God of the galaxies -- reaches out and touches his mouth. It's a gentle and affectionate gesture, something a loving parent would do. Through this illustration I realized that I don't have to worry about not meeting His expectations. God will ensure my success in accordance with His plan, not mine.


Next one:

The very fact that a holy, eternal, all-knowing, all-powerful, merciful, fair and just God loves you and me is nothing short of astonishing. 

The wildest part is that Jesus doesn't have to love us. His being is utterly complete and perfect, apart from humanity. He doesn't need me or you. Yet He wants us, chooses us, even considers us His inheritance (Eph. 1:18). 

That really is amazing beyond description. The holy Creator sees you as His "glorious inheritance."
The irony is that while God doesn't need us but still wants us, we desperately need God but don't really want Him most of the time. He treasures us and anticipates our departure from this earth to be with Him -- and we wonder how much we have to do for Him to get by.
{first bold = italicized in the book, second bold = mine}

Last one:

The greatest good on earth is God. Period. God's one goal for us is Himself.

The Good News -- the best news in the world, in fact -- is that you can have God Himself. Do you believe that God is the greatest thing you can experience in the whole world? Do you believe that the Good News is not merely the forgiveness of sins, the guarantee that you won't go to hell, or the promise of life in heaven?

The best things in life are gifts from the One who steadfastly loves us. But an important question to ask ourselves is this: Are we in love with God or just His stuff?

Imagine how awful it would feel to have your child say to you, "I don't really love you or want your love, but I would like my allowance, please." Conversely, what a beautiful gift it is to have the one you love look you in the eye and say, "I love you. Not your beauty, your money, your family, or your car. Just you."

Can you say that to God? 

Our love for Him always come out of His love for us. Do you love this God who is everything, or do  you just love everything He gives  you? Do you really know and believe that God loves you, individually and personally and intimately? Do you see and know Him as Abba Father? 
 {all bolds = italics in the book}


Maybe none of this clicks with the story I told up above. But that day, it did. My failure + His love = nothing but love.

I am so easily distracted from making Him the main goal of my life. Graduating is coming up, diplomas are looming, preparations need to be made, life needs to simplify itself, etc. I need Him so much, but so often I push Him out for "more important things."

But everyday He's showing me that nothing matters except His love. It's what started it all, and what will carry it through.

And although I know that my heart finds it hard to love, He's constantly wooing and pursuing. Plus, He made this heart of mine, so He most definitely knows the secret entrances.

His love. My failure doesn't come anywhere close to reaching the max on that.

Safe

I sat there... thinking so many different thoughts. Curled up and held. A ball of warmth surrounded by arms that are strong and able. I fit so well.

He rubbed my back, saying nothing. It's what I love most, actually. The silent communication that we have. That he understands me... my need for silence and safety.

He was gone for a few weeks. And I didn't really miss him, sad to say. It was only when he came back that I realized how much of who I am, past, present, and future is wrapped up inside of him being around.

He's my strong and silent warrior.

We are so much alike. In face and feature, but also in personality and quirks. I'm most unashamedly my father's daughter and very much a daddy's girl.

We had just been scrolling through pictures of Cameroon... people that I knew, people that I had once loved. Still love. But from very far away.

Curled up... thinking. Thinking about how when he was young, he also was torn away from a country that he loved very much... a scenario very much like mine. The only difference: he never got to go back.

And I will.

I felt like crying but didn't want to. It's one the very rare moments in my life when that has happened.

But now I cry.

I have such a deep respect for you, Daddy. One that goes beyond the mere amazing way that you provide for your family in every situation, unprecedented or not. One that has everything to do with how real you are with me and with everyone around you.

The morning you got home, I went into the bathroom, opened up the closet and was never so incredibly happy to see shaving cream in my life.

When you came in and hugged me, I was so full of joy, and a piece of satisfaction that had been jarred by your leaving was somehow put back into place.

Mornings with you are my favourite parts of the day. To see you sitting in your chair... that chair... praying, makes me know that all is right in the world. That my father is in charge, that He is in charge of you and nothing can go wrong.

You care. You love. And you speak my love language. I have never doubted that you love me from the very deepest core of yourself. You show it in everything that you do.

You take time. You ask questions. You honestly care about my day.

You answer questions, go into detail, keep a conversation going, know my thoughts sometimes before I speak them.

I say it every year, I know, but I say it here as well. I am so very, very, VERY thankful that I have a father that allows me to see a glimpse of my true Father. So many girls (nay, children) are deprived of that.

I love you!

From your Christi-Belle

P.S. No, Mom, I didn't forget about you! ;)

Lost and Found

It was a hard day today... full of ups and downs... valleys and mountains, with no plains in sight. It's kind of nice to be noticed... not that I'm normally not, but braces do give one some special distinction... or so it would seem. They hurt... they need to be cleaned... it took me three times as long to eat my lunch than it normally does. But the biggest dips of the day came in the last two periods. Band class. We started off with a drumline. A DRUMLINE!! Having grown up in Africa, there was no way that I would not be gyrating and moving to that beat, drumming to my heart's content. In some way, those rhythmic pulses unify people and their purposes in a way that the less knowledgeable have found out sooner than the rest of the world. The music rolled and I was enjoying it.... creating new skills, laughing at my mistakes, sitting on a high stool and not being able to tap the beat because my feet couldn't reach the floor. It felt like a long lost string in my soul was vibrating and I was just able to enjoy... enjoy as I have not for a long while. I wanted to be swept away...

Now for Part 2: Actually Playing
One of my friends had suggested earlier that it would be interesting to see how I could play the flute with braces on. I hadn't really thought about it, but it wasn't as if my mouth shape had changed, so I wasn't worried. I opened up the case, picking up the pieces and fitting them together... proud of their gleam. All put together, I lifted it to my lips and tried to play a scale. Only air... ONLY AIR? My heart plummeted and I frantically tried to do anything I could to make a sound. I rolled the flute in, made my mouth different shapes....all the while the sharp ends of the braces were hurting my teeth.

I felt stripped. So lost. So un-made.

My main forms of communication are through my writing and through music. Now one of those is gone for me... at least for awhile. I am not absorbed by the flute... it's not my life... but it's the one thing that allows me to express myself fluidly, without trying (although poetry works in a similar way). To have that ability which I took so for granted taken away from me shocked me. We played through a song, and I could only hit occasional notes, and that took a lot of effort. The conductor looked over at me and asked me if I knew which part I was playing and I nodded. Tears were starting to form in my eyes... I had been proud of my ability... never really working for what I had gotten. In the majority of the areas of my life this is true. Now all I could say was, "Braces." I wanted to rip them out, stomp them, and get back to my normal life. I felt as if I was blind, having lost something that I had never really noticed before. It's always been so natural... I've never been able to whistle, so I can't miss the memories that haven't been made. But that flute represents a part of me that was found three years ago when Mr. J came to our school. When he gave me the power to express myself, I grew new feathers, sprouted new wings. I could fly, because I was free...

Now I feel alone... and resentful. But that's wrong. No matter how much I don't like the situation... it's for some good. So I say with conviction.... I like the weather today.

Legacy

I heard about it first from my father. We were driving back  home from camp when he mentioned that there had been an accident. Then, out of nowhere, came the words "Kacy Nelson."

I didn't really know her, I'll have to admit. I smiled at her in the hallways, talked maybe once or twice, but only knew of her.

As Chapel started and the slideshow played, Kacy's mom talked and then the receiving line started, I found myself thinking hard. At first I was only full of empathy, I mean, I didn't really even have anything to remember about her. But then, as pictures of her smiling, and at Jr. and Sr. Banquet came up, tears started to come. She was so bright, so full of life. She was never down, but instead always smiling.

Soon I was sobbing, remembering what little I knew of her. I didn't know why I was crying, but the fact that this person... any person... will never be seen by the ones that they love and that have loved them is so incredibly sad. I'm just so glad that He has given us the promise that we will see them again.

People were talking, giving their condolences to the parents, crying in groups, and I wondered. How will I be remembered? When I think of funerals, mostly it's for seniors because that's the age group that the deceased was in. Even if I live to be a Grandma (which I hope to, but who knows!), what will people remember about me?

Not to take anything away from Kacy's remembrance, but being there really cemented in my mind to make the most of my time. I want to be remembered for friendships, not school work; for love, instead of legalism; for compassion, instead of cruelty; for being willing to do anything for anyone at anytime. For shining His light brightly among those that I knew and reaching out to those that I didn't.

I want so much to be accomplished in my life. And then I turn around and look at that statement and think Woah! "I want so much?" What about Him? How much more is He waiting to take and transform this little light of mine into a beacon and lighthouse of brightness. Not made so all-encompassing by my little light, but rather by His mirrors that reflect it far and wide.

I think the greatest people I have known were/are the humblest. If it's not about me (which it isn't) then I can take risks, jump off cliffs (not literally), and do things without worrying about my reputation. For what is my reputation except for Christ?

So while I mourn for the loss of another light in our school, of a continual bright smile... I try to live in such a way that I leave a legacy... of Him.

Highlights

Excerpts from my journal while at Camp:

July 10th - First Day
Knower,
You knew how I'd feel, didn't You? The joy that welled in me and how I would close my eyes, cease to sing and just listen. As we began to sing, the voices of everyone gathered together in a single building singing the praises of One God - You. To think that someday we will all join - all the world that has been and is now. That someday we will sing Your praises forever... and ever..and ever!

July 13th -Salvation
Abba,
It was such a great privilege to lead Sarah to You and yet nothing changed inside of me. Even as the speaker talked about how to be saved, it struck me again how huge a sacrifice You made. And yet it doesn't seem like the person that I meet day by day is the same as the one who saved my life. I know that my relationship and connection to You doesn't depend on feelings, but I want to feel close to You. Please guide me.

July 16th - Rachel
Knower,
You knew. You knew all along how awesome yesterday was going to be. To see Rachel and to hug her hello instead of good-bye as I did three years ago was bliss. To be able to show her a sliver of my life and to receive news in return, just as dear to me, was fantastic. But I just glory in the fact that through all my pain and tears and longing, You knew that moment would come and it was precious beyond belief. Thank You so much for the joy that You generously lavish on Your children. :)

July 17th - Rest
Abba,
As I sit here, soaking in the sun and sweating with the temperature, I revel in the silence. In just a couple hours, kids will once gain fill this place and quietness will be shattered. But now is the time that You've given me for rejuvenation and I realize that these weeks at Camp (quiet or not) are a rejuvenation for my spirit. A time to soak and to absorb everything that's being taught. I look forward to this next week, eager to know how You will use me and what you will teach me.

July 26th - Sight
Abba,
The question that Jeremiah [the speaker] asked us this morning hit me hard. Where does my identity come from? It should come from You but so often it doesn't. It comes from other people's thoughts and ratings of me, academics, my knowledge, etc. I wish I was perfect, but don't I always? Then, there comes the question of is ignorance really bliss? Is it better to know much about You or to trust as a little child does? Where is the line? So often, theological debates leave my head spinning and me wondering who and what You really are. And yet, aren't You what You've revealed Yourself to be, or have I made up a mental picture of you and put Your powers and attributes in a box? It's all so confusing and yet somehow I know that You are love and You are good.

July 28th - Tears
Abba,
Last night was amazing! To be able to cry and to open up to girls that I felt so defenseful towards just a few days earlier. To be able to finally be able to grieve about losing such an amazing woman as Jan. To feel safe, to get out my mistrust about You providing and to receive assurance that You will bless my sacrifice. I love You and how my weaknesses produce the greatest fruit. Help me to lay down and let go. Humble me!

And then, to get home and write this:
July 30th - Confusion
Father,
I feel so weird. So jumbled up inside. I want to be back at Camp, I really do. I feel so safe and loved and fulfilled that I want to stay in my bubble forever. Camp was the mission field that You called me to and now my mission field is back here. To take all the lessons that I've learned and apply them so that they can change my everyday life. I am surrounded by the remnants of the old, but I am something new. I'm so scared that I will slip back and lose all that I learned. To stop being a slightly extraverted, initiating person who encourages and looks for opportunities to serve. Someone who values people above all; one who will not stay still. Someone who wants to be with You.