This is a post I have been rolling around in my head for weeks now. I don’t have any complete thoughts about it because it is still so relevant to me, but I am going to try my best to put into words my recent thoughts and feelings about ministry life.

Recently, I have found myself doing countless things that I don’t feel capable of. I’m ashamed to admit that in the last weeks I have not been the “faithful servant” God asks us to be. Instead I have been stuck in a combination of confused, frustrated, heartbroken, and angry. God has put things in my hands lately that I just want to get rid of. I immediately want to drop it on the ground and stomp it to pieces, or pass it on to someone else as fast as I can hot-potato style. But instead of smashing it, passing it on, or pretending it’s not there, I have to take it, embrace it, nurture it, and make it work.

This season is a hard one. I am frustrated because no matter how hard I try I am not good at a lot of things. I like to be right. I like to have the right answers, to have it all together, to know what I’m doing. But I don’t, and I haven’t for quite awhile now. It’s a humbling thing to be bad at something, and yet still have to do it on a regular basis.

Most days when I am working at the orphanage or in the village I get this overwhelming feeling that I am way out of my range of abilities. I am not a teacher. I am not an evangelist, I am not a cook, I am not a shopper, I am not a doctor, and the list goes on…. I am not a lot of things. Yet, here I am, teaching, evangelizing, cooking, shopping, doctoring etc. And it hurts. The weight and stress of  teaching Bible lessons, caring for sick children, loving on desperate moms, nurturing hurting kids, and the over all heart brokenness is getting to me. I am tired of the people I love being used and abused. I am tired of helpless children being hurt for the amusement of others. I am tired of seeing my friends go without food. I am tired of sickness, of pain, of suffering. I am tired of children being abandoned. I am tired of seeing so many people written off as unimportant, useless, and worthless.

I am not a lot of things, but I am a follower of Christ, and his servant, a slave to righteousness, a light in darkness, an ambassador of hope. And for that reason, I keep going. It’s the reason I don’t roll over into a hole and cry. Every day I wake up with purpose. And most days that purpose requires me to do a lot of things that I’m not good at.  
God has been working in my heart, humbling me, preparing me, nurturing me, and so many other things. I feel content and joyful, but my heart continues to break. God is my hope, my rock, my foothold, my love, and it is He that will repair these broken hearts, heal the sick, love the hurting, all I have to do is show up and be willing. And that is one of the things I'm really good at.

Romans 6:16 says “Don't you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey? You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death, or you can choose to obey God, which leads to righteous living.”

I have chosen to obey God, and now I have to do what it is He has given me to do.

She looks at me and her eyes are without hope. Her children are working on a craft a few feet away. They act as if everything is normal, giggling at one another as they color the pictures with the “wrong” colors. I look at them and smile, glad that something so small can bring them joy, but when I turn back around, all I can see is the mask, a smile on her lips, but not in her eyes.

Their mother is 28 years old, but her eyes speak of a long and hard life. I don’t know what to say to her. But right as I open my mouth, she begins to speak. She tells me she feels powerless, useless, and hopeless. She is trying her hardest, but nobody is satisfied and the less satisfied they are, the more cautious and timid she becomes. Their criticism is killing her, and she doesn’t know how to keep going, especially now that her husband is threatening divorce.  She tries to smile at me, but instead a cry of embarrassment comes from her mouth and tears start rolling down her face. No words come. I just hold her in my arms, praying that God will give me the words when the time is right.

After a few minutes of a silent embrace she lifts her head and asks me something I was not prepared for. She asks me if they are right; If she is really a bad mother because she has chosen to care for an injured man and her elderly father in law as well as her three children even though she barely has the money to feed herself; If she is really a failure because her son is can’t seem to focus in school and has been reported for bad behavior yet again; If she is worthless because she can’t find a job with the little education she has; If she is stupid for putting others before herself, feeding her children while she doesn’t eat for days.

Her head is downcast, kicking the loose dust back and fourth, packing it into her dirt floors. I grab her hand, and she lifts her face but her eyes avoid mine. Before I can think of the right way to say it my anger slips through and all I say is, “No. They couldn’t be more wrong”

Her eyes look at me like what I am saying she has never heard before. My mind tells me to stop talking. I just called her mother, husband, sister and pastor liars, I could probably just shut up and everything would be okay, but my mouth doesn’t close and my sermon begins.

This woman is the strongest, most courageous, selfless, humble woman I have ever met; yet the world tells her differently.

Today she found hope.

We read through the Bible, jumping verse-to-verse reading what the Word says about us, the children of God.  The eyes that were once hopeless and broken lit with fire. All of a sudden her value didn’t come from what her family and friends said about her, but what God says about her.

She is made in his image. She is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is capable. She is valued. She is courageous. She is beautiful. And she is loved.

This is what empowerment is. This is what the Bible teaches us. This is forgiveness. This is a second chance. This is what it means to be valued, not for how much money you make or your fancy diplomas but because the King of the Universe is your father, and you are worth something.

Pure and Genuine Religion

They tell me to “hold them loosely” but as hard as I try, I can’t loosen my grip. At least not yet. 

My heart was never prepared for this. Growing up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, I have had the same friends since before I could even speak. We have pictures together eating animal crackers in the church nursery and dressed up in high heals with lipstick all over our faces at each others slumber parties. Never have I been good at letting go, for I have never had much practice. 

Since moving to Guatemala I have seen so many people, loving, passionate, wonderful people, walk out of my life just as quickly as they walked in. This life is transient. People come and go, and growing close to anyone is one of my greatest fears, for the fear of later losing them. 

Yet here I am, working with and growing daily closer and more in love with the children of Casa del Destino (House of Destiny) knowing in the back of my mind that at some point I will have to let my grip relax, and let these sweet children walk away to their new life. Their life without me. People try to encourage me, “They will be so happy with their new family,” “they deserve this,” and all I can say is I know. I know these kids will be so happy and blessed by their new families. I know God hand picked their families for them. I know that they have the right to a family that loves them. I know they have a destiny to do amazing things whether we are in the picture or not, but until that day comes, I will not let them go.

While they are here, while they are with us, we get to hold them as tight as possible. They are ours until they are not. I will not hold them loosely. I will hold them as tightly snuggled to my chest as I possibly can until there is somebody else to take my place, because they also deserve that.  Happiness doesn’t start the day they get adopted, it starts the day Casa del Destino receives them, for the house I work in is full of people, me included, who love no matter the turn out. 

A few weeks ago one of our babies got adopted out of our house. I know that his adoption is exactly what God had planned for him, but though that makes it easier to let go, it doesn’t make the pain go away. Pablo’s name still comes up daily at the house. The workers and I talk about him and day dream about what he might be doing at the moment. The other kids tell stories that start with “Remember that time Pablo...” and pray for him at the dinner table and before bed. We talk about how he made us laugh, and how sometimes we still think “OH! I better go get Pablo!” and then remember that that is not our job anymore, but his mom’s. His absence has left a Pablito sized hole in our house. And it’s a hole that will never go away. Pablo belonged with us until he belonged with them.  His sweet smile, his little booty crack showing when his diaper was heavy,  and Elvis style hair will never be forgotten. For this little guy changed our hearts and our lives just by living and loving us. 

Kids have the ability to change people without trying. Have you ever heard a mom say, “I was the most prepared mom in the world, until I saw his face, then everything changed and all of a sudden I had no clue”? Well they say it not because it’s the cliche thing to say but because its true. 

Kids push us to our limits. They have the ability to infuriate you, only to smile a second later, melting away all rage. They have the gift of finding your buttons and pushing them over and over again, like one of those annoying baby pianos that everyone- except the parents who live with it- think are “cute”. Yet, in all of that craziness, kids also have the ability to melt your heart, make you a better person, teach you to love, teach you what it means to sacrifice, and break your heart only to put it back together with their little pudgy fingers. 

Right now, in this country there are hundreds of thousands of kids that have been abandoned, left in the streets, their parents have died or simply lost their rights to them. There are kids who have never known the love of an earthly father, never even seen his face, never known his name. There are kids who have nothing and no one because their parents couldn’t or wouldn’t go through the challenges in order to have the greatest privilege the world can offer- raising a child. 

Right now, Casa del Destino, the orphanage that I work at, has felt in their hearts that it is time to take in more babies. When babies come to the home we never know what condition they will be in or what their stories are. Sometimes we don’t even know their full name or date of birth, but what we do know is from that day on that baby will be fed, clothed, held, taught, played with, prayed over, and most importantly, it will be oh so loved. 

In order for this to happen, we need money. To be honest, sometimes the numbers seem like too much, but we know and will speak in faith when we say that God WILL provide, not just for us, but for the precious children we have yet to know. God already knows them, already loves them, and already has a beautiful plan for them. 

Because I know you are wondering, it costs about $450 a month to clothe, feed, diaper, and care for a child in our home. 

The children that come to us are special. They have a destiny and God planned future, that we get to be a part of. I promise, I will get attached, and some day, much like the day Pablo left us, I will have to loosen my grip on them and let them go, but until that day, we will love them and do everything we can to let them know that their Heavenly Father wants them, loves them, and will fight to have them by his side. 

Letting go will never be something I get used to. Having people leave is never easy, but loving them is always worth it. God works in ways that are so powerful and mysterious that we may never know what comes from our actions, words, gifts, prayers, but I assure you that they will be used. 

In order to invest in the life of a child, to save them from the streets, clean them up, and give them a home, you can pray for us, share this post, click the like button, or donate. Please, don’t forget about us. The harvest is great... 

"Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you" James 1:27

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Checks made payable to Going Into all the World Ministries and sent to PO BOX 79638 Saginaw TX 76179.

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Religion Rant

Sometimes in order to get words to flow from my mouth, I have to first let them flow onto paper, so here I am exercising my words, my thoughts, my opinions, my life. I've been listening to a lot of sermon's lately. It seems that when my words seem to quit flowing, the words of others do an incredible job of relighting a fire in my soul. If you haven't ever listened to Ed Gungor's sermons... you should. His words and the light that flows from them challenges me in ways that my eager heart needs and craves. Awhile back we had this movement of a bunch of hipster Christians that "hated religion". I, admittedly, was one of them. I spoke the words, "It's not a religion, it's a relationship" Lord only knows how many times, and ranted about how the church has turned this incredible relationship into something so much less like a passionate love story and more like a grudge filled check list.
Well, this is my new rant. What I have learned in the past months is that to love is to work. It's not convenient. It doesn't always feel good. And at times the big bright exit sign seems to be flashing in neon lights. But love says that quitting isn't an option because for whatever reason, doing something I hate for someone I love is worth it.
Let's get real. Who really enjoys reading Leviticus? I'm attempting for the first time to read the Bible all the way through within this year. I was doing what I considered a great job until I reached the point that I had to read Leviticus. (It goes out of order, so really it was like 4 months into the process). Let me tell you, Leviticus is NOT a fun book to read. Every night when I sat down to read I found myself repenting that I just couldn't get myself to care. I read with heavy eyes, grudging through each new way to kill and eat some animal to atone for this or that sin, and I must say, I found myself praying that God would give me supernatural reading abilities so I could get through it faster. But you know what? It wasn't for nothing. Though I have yet to have a deep conversation with anyone on the subject of Leviticus, I realized during the week it took me to read it that my love for the Lord was growing. The inspiring, uplifting, challenging verses are great, and they have got me through a lot of stuff, but for whatever reason, the fact that I was reading something so utterly uninteresting to me because I said I would changed my perspective on so many things. You see, relationships are not easy. I can't imagine my mother ever saying that she loved changing diapers so much that every time she did it just lit a little fire in her soul. No, I happen to know my mother does not really enjoy changing diapers, but she did it because she loved me, and for whatever reason, she loves me more because of the innumerable diapers she changed in my babyhood. That, my friends, it what makes love grow.
It's the gross things, the wiping of the snot, the diaper cleaning, the chores, the errands, the nasty that helps love grow. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not saying reading the Bible, praying, fasting, and such is nasty, but I must admit, sometimes it's just not desirable. I mean, we live in the world of Netflix, Facebook, Twitter and the like, and all these things scream CONSUME, while the Lord says, SACRIFICE.
So no matter how much you hate it or how "little time" you have, read your Bible. Grudge your way through Leviticus, and talk to God during the day, more than just meal times. Sacrifice something. It SUCKS, let me tell you, but that's what makes that "passionate relationship" with your Savior more than just a book full of inspiring quotes and a cool Jesus t-shirt. It makes it real. You have to have some religion to have a relationship. You have to have a relationship for the religion to be worth it. So don't go all one way or all the other. The check list wont get you to heaven. In fact you may make it to the pearly gates with all your checks in the boxes just for the Lord of the Universe to say "I never knew you." You may get there, expecting your WWJD bracelet and your "Jesus is my homeboy" shirt to be enough to give you a pass to the streets of gold, and Jesus will just look at you and shake his head, tears in his eyes, sad that for all that time and all your best intentions, you missed it.


^{Matthew 7:21-23}  “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven. ²² Many will say to Me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?’ ²³ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me'.

John 12:25
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"Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life."

And the Walls Came Crumbling Down

As here I sit, on my comfy new couch, pictures strewn across the floor, the dishes from dinner with my neighbors piled up in the sink, and the rain falling peacefully on my metal roof one word fills my heart: contentment. In the past month or two I have found that Guatemala is becoming deeper etched into my soul. My dreams have been filled with laughing children, profound ideas, and an ever expanding promise. I don't know what God has for me in the next weeks, months, years, etc. but I do know that where I am right now is exactly where I'm supposed to be and that God is taking advantage of every second of it.

Never has my heart been more exposed than it is now. Yet never has it been more secure in the hands of my Savior, my Protector and Friend.  I have fallen in love with this place, and the people who fill it. I have brought people close, loved them like I would never have let myself before, and opened my heart, praying that the the benefits and relationships from this will outweigh the hurt that could come at any given moment. 

One thing I have come to know full well is that building walls and guarding my heart, keeps people from seeing the One who lives in it. In the past I decided that building walls was the easiest way to survive. With walls in place it was nearly impossible to get hurt, and when someone or something mades it over the wall, it meant I needed to build them stronger, higher, and thicker. I hid my heart away from anything that could bring me pain. Though I appeared like a happy, genuine, sincere person, my heart was far away, practically unapproachable. My heart was safe, yes. But I came to realize that in all the world there was practically nobody who knew what was behind those gargantuan man made barriers. The most tender part of my soul was locked away, only occasionally slipping through the thin cracks and after years of being shut in, it hurt more to stay that way than to set myself free. So a few short months ago the demolition process began. I started to tear the walls down, brick by brick, and with every piece that fell to the ground I began to share the real me and I began to get hurt. As the pain came and went, I began to realize the changes happening not only in me and my relationship with my Savior, but with the people around me. My vulnerability and weakness was more attractive than my falsified strength. People were no longer attracted to me, but rather attracted to the One who sustained me. It was then that I realized that the only way to truly submit to God's will for me is to have faith that he will give me the strength to overcome any situation, and that even when I feel like my heart is broken forever, He can fix it. 

It constantly amazes me how God can use things that feel like tragedies to further his Kingdom. I'm beginning to trust that each little heartbreak and each disappointment is simply because of my lack of faith and twisted perspective. God smiles at me, and just shakes his head the way any father does when their kid does something dumb, puts me back on my feet and encourages me to take the next step, only looking back to see that where I fell was the exact thing I needed to keep moving forward. Even when I betray Him, throw up my walls, and hide my face from him, it is His faithfulness never fails.  

X Marks the Spot

I feel like I am shamelessly free for the first time in my life. I am free to love people. Free to serve. Free to do the things that God has sown in my heart since childhood. Every day, my heart prayer is to be used. To be a living example and to be constantly humbled. Years ago, my dream was Guatemala. In my mind Guatemala was the big red X that marked the spot where dreams come true. My years of schooling and education was all about getting through. I found myself going through the motions and following the dash lines on the map, just praying I could hold on until I could finally reached the final stop, the idealized goal.
Since I can remember, I spent my Saturdays watching some kind of adventure movie, curled up on the couch with my dad. During the commercial breaks we joked about the unrealistic circumstances, talked about how the story had to end, and laughed and teased about the protagonist's journey to whatever God forsaken country or cave full of treasures. The entire movie is leading up to the point that the characters, despite their many trials, meet this one moment, this one place. Rarely do we see what comes after the fact. What do the characters do once they have fulfilled their lifelong struggle to find the big red X on the map of life?
Last year, I got on a plane, my daddy and oldest brother in tow, and reached my idealized destination. Months later, the question hit me... what do I do next? I have reached my goal. Now what? I can't just sit here and stare at the treasure that took me so long to find. I have to do something.
I live in what I consider the most beautiful country full of the most beautiful people on this earth. (Sure, I might be a little biased). I am surrounded by people who work day after day to just meet their simple means, yet still have a smile on their face as they sit around my too small table, sipping coffee and watching their children raid my pantry, looking for the cookies and candies I have hidden in the shelves. For most women, the laundry, dishes, cooking, and household chores take up their entire day. Much less earning income and providing for their hilariously bright and active children. Kids often go to bed hungry. Dads do what they can to provide if they are around at all.
Sometimes I get overwhelmed. I feel like everyone I meet needs a job, help with their homework, and some extra food to fill their bellies. Sometimes I just want to say no more, I can't help, I am just a girl. It is when those thoughts hit the recesses of my mind that I am immediately reminded of my strong, powerful and compassionate Savior, who has put me here, in this country, town, and apartment to further His Kingdom. And thankfully, that requires very little of me and a whole lot of Him.
I can no longer see Guatemala as just a destination. Instead, I can only view this beautiful place as a little piece to God's big picture. I wasn't put here to sit and stare at my treasure. The dream isn't just a destination, it is just a piece in the beautiful process to fulfill the words, "On earth as it is in heaven." For that is the ultimate prize, the infinite destination.

Faithful

I feel like I could write for days about the ways God has been working in my heart in the last few months.  I have written this blog over and over again, but no words I write on a page will accurately depict the changes, the lessons, and the second chances I have experienced recently.

God has been working in my life in ways that I have always longed for, but never imagined could actually happen to me. In Hebrews 6 it says that hope is an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. For the first time in quite awhile I feel that I am filled with hope. The hope that God is going to use me. The hope that my ministry will change lives. The hope that I am walking toward what God most wants for me.

One of the things I both love and hate about the God I serve is the fact that he insists on using people's weaknesses to show that He is strong. God sometimes gives us tasks that he knows we cannot complete on our own. He asks us to do things that will never be done without complete and total reliance on him.   It is completely against my human nature to work with my weaknesses. I like people to think I am strong, that I have it figured out, that I know exactly what I am doing and am confident that I am doing it right. Thankfully, that is not my reality. I am weak and feeble, leaning on a God that carries the world in his hands. And there is something so encouraging and powerful to know that He chose me despite my weaknesses (maybe even because of them).

Though I appear to be independent and at times rebellious of societal pressures, I am insecure and straight up fearful when it comes to doing things on my own. I don't like being put in a place where I could "fail" (whatever that means). But with each day and each little stumble, I am learning what it truly means to rejoice in my weaknesses. I am learning to accept that the cracks and imperfections that cover the surface of my life are what make me so valuable to God. It is because of these faults and this brokenness, that it is unmistakingly clear that anything I do is not from my own power, but something much greater.

When I returned to Guatemala a month ago, I had absolutely no idea what God wanted from me. I was discouraged, beaten down, and full of shame. I had spent two months in the States, and frankly it wasn't the least bit relaxing. I was feeling pressure from every angle. The devil put lies in my head telling me that I should just give up my dream and do the "normal thing". I was downtrodden, broken, and bruised, but despite my illness, my brokenness, and the lapse in joy, one thing was certain: I had to return to Guatemala.

I didn't know what I would encounter when returning to the place I now lovingly call home. I was open to anything and everything, praying that God would guide every step. Trusting that He would lead me, just as he once led Abraham in the "Walk until I tell you to stop" manner.  The first few steps were the hardest, but as I started walking tentatively and prayerfully, one small step after another, I came to realize that trusting the Lord was the only thing that would bring me to my destination.

In my mind I had it all planned out. My back up plans were prepared and I'm sure God just chuckled knowingly as I clumsily strategized how, when, and where He was going to lead me. A week after I arrived in Guatemala, I picked up my parents from the airport to take them to the Intermissions Conference (a weekend conference where missionaries from all over Guatemala gather for fellowship and worship).  Throughout the weekend, my dad would be counseling the missionaries and teaching workshops, I would be relaxing (and in my mind making all kinds of promising connections) and my mom would be hanging out, loving me, and helping me step out of my box and network. The conference was completely encouraging and uplifting, but I left feeling a little discouraged because I still had no promising leads as to where to even begin looking for work. I prayed and prayed that God would just make it clear to me. That I would be overwhelmed with clarity.

The night after the conference I found myself laying in bed thinking about a question my dad had asked in a class about a month before: "If Jesus was here on Earth for one day where would He be, who would He be with, and what would He be doing?" The answer to this question differs quite completely from person to person, because God has given us all passion and compassion for different things, thus there is no right answer (which I hate). I thought about this question for weeks. The fact that I could not come up with an answer bothered me more than you can imagine. If Jesus were on the Earth for just a day would he go to Africa? The US? Asia? Would he feed the hungry? Would he be preaching? Would he focus on a small group? A large group? Would he do miracles?  Finally, I came up with the answer I think I have feared for years: He would love the broken, renew the hearts of the discouraged, and nurse back to health the shattered hearts.

My dad founded a Christian counseling ministry called Plumbline when I was an infant, thus his ministry has been a part of my life since I was a child. Most MK's run as far away from the ministry life as they can, but I've never been one to follow the stereotypes. In my short 19 years, I have seen hearts renewed, lives changed, people healed, and souls saved, but it was never without hard work and hours spent in counseling sessions. I think as Christians we like to believe that once we have Jesus in our lives, the past goes away, and the hurts just don't hurt so bad. Sadly, it's just not true. There has to be healing.

Since living in Guatemala I have seen time and time again spiritual band-aids put on deep wounds. It doesn't do much to really heal the wound as much as just cover it up. I want to change that. I feel that God has put the burden on my heart to follow the passion that has been branded into my mind since childhood: bringing healing to a broken soul through counseling.

With this newfound clarity came a lot of confusion. I found myself feeling overwhelmed without even leaving my bedroom or putting on shoes. The vision of a counseling center is the goal. It is the dream that may take a lifetime to build, but the question remained: What is step one?

I prayed for a whole ten minutes before receiving a text message from a missionary that I had met the first night of the conference and talked with for about 5 minutes the entire weekend. I, being the doubtful crazy person I am, ignored it and kept on praying. I went through my day, buying groceries, visiting a friend, delivering my laundry to the service, and my thoughts kept coming back to that text message that sat idly in my inbox. I planned to call her in the afternoon. Before lunchtime, my phone rang and I was thrilled to see that the same person that had messaged me was now calling me. "Persistent. I like persistent," I thought as I managed to drive my standard down the cobblestone streets and answer my phone, holding it with my ear and shoulder as I switched gears. We chatted for a few minutes about language school and living in Antigua. I smiled as I drove wondering just what God was going to do. I was delighted when she invited me to her home to chat and help me find connections in the missionary community. Little did I know, the conversation we had in front of her house that same afternoon and the agreement that I would help her with her kids the following days would quickly turn into a ministry partnership. I think God smiled as he said, "Andrea, stop. This is it, look around, this is what I have given you".

To say that God has been faithful is the understatement of the century. He has blessed me more than I could ever deserve. He has loved and comforted me more than I can even fathom. He has taken me from the pit of my despair, and set me on firm ground once again, and I feel overwhelmed with the peace of His wonderful presence.

I am still trying to figure out the logistics of how God will use me. I have no clue where he will lead, or what my ministry will grow into as the years progress, but never have I been more confident in the Lords ability to lead me.

Romans 5:3-5
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Zephaniah 3:17
The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save; He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.

Plans, Brokenness, and the One Who Makes it Okay.

I'm really good at making my own plans, praying to my will, and making the square peg fit in the round hole. I like people to think I've got my life all together, that I have no weaknesses, that I can handle anything anyone throws at me, but I have to tell you, it's not true. In my years of being a minister's kid and growing up in the Christian circle, I got really good at putting a smile on my face, holding my head up high, and acting like everything was okay.  Though I was never told by anyone that this was expected, I just knew, that's what I was supposed to do. As I grew older and matured in my relationship with Christ, I realized that all of this smiling and being happy stuff wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  I got tired of putting on a pretty face to go to church and saying "I'm great, and how are you?" To everyone who asked how things were going in my life. I got tired of making the square peg fit in the round hole, because frankly, our church (the body of Christ) is full of broken and hurting people. Me included.

So here I am, owning the fact that in the last months, I have been struggling to hold myself together. Please, don't get me wrong, there is no doubt in my mind that Guatemala is exactly where I need to be. There isn't even an inkling of a thought about returning to the States any time soon. Just because things are hard, doesn't mean I'm quitting. In fact, in my life, when things are hard is when I fight all the harder. Which is why I want to be honest, and maybe set the precedent to show that even when God is using you, even when He is working in your life, you can still be broken and feel like a disaster. You can stand in God's presence broken, and he will hold you, and kiss your wounds like any loving father would. God never asked us to be perfect. He never asked us to put on a pretty face and make things look good, but He did tell us to rejoice, and let Him change our hearts.

 "... rejoice in sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance,⁴ and endurance, character, and character, hope. ⁵ And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us."

At the end of the day, I would rather be suffering, and growing than be happy and stagnant. The Lord is using me, he is using my struggles, my defeats, my weaknesses to bring me ever closer to Him. Isn't that incredible? That something that can feel so ugly, can be made into something so beautiful.

So here's where I tell you just what's been going on. Lord know's I'm not the most patient of people, but He also knows that I am one of the most stubborn people there is, and when I want something, I will fight until I get it or He straight up slaps me upside the head and says no. Recently, I've been fighting and fighting and fighting with the Lord, and praying and praying for something to happen. I have been praying for my desires to be fulfilled, but through it, God has continued to whisper in my defiant ears, "Wait. You'll see." Waiting, slowing down, and taking time, are not my strong suits. So, in order to teach me, God has forced me to practice.

Last night, my car quit working at what I imagined was the worst time possible. I was in Antigua (20 minutes from home) talking with a friend. It was getting late, so I was about to head home from a long and stressful day, feeling more distraught and alone than before, when mid peal out from my parking spot, my car suddenly stopped working. My mind immediately rushed to the million-and-three things I had on my to-do list for the next day. My boss is returning home, and I had a list a mile long of things I needed/wanted to do to prepare. And in my rush of anger, frustration, bitter hilarity, and everything else that hits you in the face when things don't go your way, I started laughing. I quickly thought to myself, "What in the world, God, this isn't what I need, I need to go home!". Instead, I stayed the night with friends. The next morning, they called up some friends and helped me find a mechanic, they then waited for the mechanic with me, carefully observed everything the mechanic was doing, called another more specialized mechanic, and smiled at me in the process. I arrived home 16 hours after I had planned. I had wanted to get a jump start on the day, alarm set for 6:30 am, but instead, I let my friends help me, admitted that I had no clue how to do any of the things I needed to do in that moment, and sat against a wall while a guy took my car apart in the middle of the street and the day passed without completing a single thing from my list. You know what's funny about it all, though? It was okay. My plans didn't work. I didn't know what to do. I had no clue how to help myself, but in all of that, I was shown just how wonderful the people are that the Lord has given me, and that even when I feel completely helpless, stressed, and like the world might just cave in, God whispers in my defiant ears, "Wait. You'll see"

My struggles, big or small, are all important to God. He can change a moment of frustration and desperation into a reminder that I'm not so alone after all. He teaches me to rejoice in my hardships, and helps me to develop endurance, character, and most of all hope. Because of this, I'm not so upset that things didn't go my way, that I am struggling and broken, or that I don't have things figured out. He is the one who will sustain me. He is the One who lifts me up, puts the pieces back together, and nurses me back to heath, and that is nothing to be ashamed of, that is nothing hide.

Growing Pains

There is nothing I love more than being challenged, and being pushed to the edge (and sometimes completely out) of my comfort zone. In eighth grade, my youth pastor asked me at a weekend retreat if I was anything like my dad. I, of course, responded, "Yeah, I'm a lot like my dad." So he gently probed, "So if I dared you to do something, you will probably do it?" I saw the challenge in his eyes, and quickly responded, "I think that's what that means." His reply wasn't what I expected, he looked me in the eyes and pulled a worm from behind his back and said, "...then I dare you to kiss this worm". Challenge Accepted. I kissed that worm without the least bit of hesitation and looked up at him with sheer dignity in my eyes. He looked at me giggling his favorite high pitched holy-goodness-I-can't-believe-you-just-did-that laugh and said, "Yep, I've gotta keep that trick in mind." He continued to challenge me through dares for years to come.
In order to grow, I need to be constantly challenged, encouraged, questioned, and pushed. I need someone to ask me the hard questions, push me to my edges, and to not be afraid to get a little dirty. My mentors in the States understood this about me, but here, I have yet to find anyone to challenge my desire for challenge. That's where God comes in. He knows me and knows that I need a little push (and sometimes a strong shove) towards growth. So in the last few months, I have found myself in inner battles, searching for challenge, and finding it in God's word. Sometimes, though, it's not enough, and God lets me struggle and strive to get closer to him.
In the last week or so, I have had the incredible opportunity to lean on God and let him love me in the way that only He can. Though this sounds awesome, it wasn't too fun in the moment. It was one of those weeks where nothing seemed to be going right. The $35 fix on my car turned into a $600 project, and on top of that, I was hit in the face with loneliness greater than I have ever felt before. So what did I do? I snuggled up with my baby blanket and prayed that something good would come of this. I prayed that I would learn what it meant to let go of my cares and worries and let God guide me, no matter the cost. I prayed that He would bring people into my life, that I wouldn't grow bitter, and that I would thrive as a woman of God completely and totally devoted to Him. I eventually fell asleep, and awoke with a new found sense of security in the Lord.
When I fell in love with Guatemala and it's people nearly a decade ago, I had no idea the blessings and love that God would reward me with when I followed his call to move. There are days that I encounter situations that make my heart ache and my entire body go numb but in the same moment, I can feel the overwhelming and insurmountable comfort that comes from the love of Christ. I have never completely understood the Beatitudes until now.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Being poor in spirit requires putting aside your pride. Mourning breaks your heart. Being meek usually means being overlooked. Being plagued with hunger and thirst is miserable. In order to show mercy, you have to been wronged. Making peace means you are surrounded by violence. Being persecuted has the ability to break your spirit. In order to receive the blessings of the Lord, I have to be willing to be broken and challenged. Growing hurts, but if it brings me closer to my Heavenly Father, then I'll take it as a dare with no hesitation and dignity in my eyes.

engadiministries.org
givewithahava@gmail.com

Words and Pride

Every morning I wake up and am confronted with words I don't know. Being a writer and a word lover at heart, this drives me insane.  In order to effectively communicate I have taken up dynamic facial expressions and hand motions that I would never do ordinarily for any reason whatsoever. I can tell you with no doubt in my mind that there are times I look like an absolute fool.
Needless to say, my pride has gone straight out the window.
When I lived in the States I would do anything to spare myself from being wrong. I would only answer questions that I knew I knew the answer to. I would sit at the back of my class and never make eye contact with my teachers. I was quiet, pensive, some might say thoughtful. Here, I don't have that option if I want to learn.
Every day I have the chance to learn something new or to stick with what I know, and every day I have to decide which one I want to choose. Learning involves messing up. It's embarrassing, and at times, I would rather sit in my room and watch movies in English than go out and risk messing up. Most days, though, I pray for the courage to ask questions, to make a fool of myself, and to learn.
Everyone around me has become my teacher.
It's humbling to say the least.
The Lord has me in a place of complete dependence on Him and absolute humbling with each and every day. It is this call, this love, this passion that makes it all worth it. I want nothing more than to speak freely with those I am starting to love more than I ever could imagine. God has given me a heart for these people, and thus a heart for their language.
My pride is gone. I have no choice but to go for it, to mess up, and to learn so that one day I can speak, interact, and love as those surrounding me.

Grass Roots

For years my family had this tradition that on your birthday everyone in the family would go around and give you a blessing. So the younger kids would say things like "You're so funny and I love the cakes you make" and the adults would talk about what a blessing you are and how "God is going to use you" in the next year. It was a great tradition. I looked forward to it mainly because my love language is encouragement, but I'm sure there were others that dreaded it, which is probably why we don't do it anymore.

On my thirteenth birthday, I remember that one of my brothers (you know who you are) called me grass. The speech started out with loving compliments, but eventually I found myself listening to my brother tell me why I am the family lawn. In my mind I remember thinking, ".... organic? earthy? what? grass?"  I cried, not because grass isn't awesome but mainly because I am overly sensitive and as a newly thirteen year old I didn't really want to be grass. I wanted to be a rockstar or something. 

Now that I think back, though, I understand what he was saying.

When I think of any good Oklahoman grass I think of thick, lush, dark green, soft to the touch, moist grass. It's the grass you roll around in with your dog and have picnics on at the park, the kind you run through as a child when you play tag with friends, the kind that neighborhood friendships and communities are build on. Grass... it's usually overlooked. You don't think about the beauty of it, or why it's there, rather, you take advantage of it. It's not just to be looked at. Grass is to be played on, to be trampled by happy feet, to create a soft spot to land when you jump out of a tree or trip over your own feet. It's to be used. Without people walking on it and having picnics, there is no need for grass. 

A couple weeks ago we had a team come in and we went to the Ranch (our second property in Zaragoza that I'm basically in love with) and what was our task for the day? To pick grass so we could plant it at the Refuge. We picked the perfect little seedlings out of the field that surrounded us, and pulled the pieces of grass out of the weeds that were masking it.   At the end of the day, we drove back to the Refuge and transplanted our freshly picked grass in a place that it could flourish.  As we planted the grass in the drizzling rain, we knew that this small task, planting sprigs of grass three feet away from each other, isn't something that is just going to look pretty. Rather, it's going to hold the earth together so the rain can't wash it away. The roots are going to spread. The grass is going to take root. The green lush is going to spread over the whole hillside. 

I want our boys to be this grass. Right now, they are surrounded by weeds. But after years of rain and nurturing they will spread, grow, cover their land, and be the roots that hold their community together. I want them to take root in the Lord and grow. I want them to spread to all the nations. I want them to be the ones that build up their community and make it a safer, more beautiful place to live.


They all have gifts and dreams, and I don't want those to go to waste. I want the boys to feel important, to be confident, and know that they are loved and adored. I want them to feel like they have a reason to grow, that there are people who need them. They won't be overlooked anymore, because we are picking them out of the dirt, and pushing aside the weeds, and giving them a place to grow.  

Laughing with Jesus

I have to be honest: I miss laughing. My best friends in the States would leave me with a hurting belly and sore cheeks after eating dinner together or playing frisbee in the parking lot on nearly a daily basis. I laughed with my parents over the stupid TV shows we would watch. I laughed with my brother as we wrestled over our favorite blankets on the couch. We laughed all day, every day.
If any of you know me well, you know that I love deep conversation, I thrive off of it, but I also thrive off of witty humor and pure hilarity. I love making witty and sarcastic comments. I love to laugh at my own jokes. I love being tickled. I love when you get to that point when you are laughing so hard you can't breathe. I love that awkward silent moment after a joke and before everyone explodes into laughter. I love having to bend over to hold my stomach because I'm laughing so hard I can't stand up straight. I love it. All of it.
It's hard to laugh when you have no clue what is happening around you. It's hard to make jokes when you can't speak a language. I don't understand jokes. I don't understand why people laugh. So instead of having deep and heartfelt conversations and laughing so hard I can't stand up, I've found myself in constant silence. Listening. Learning. Growing closer to the Lord.
In the silence that is my life, I've found a refuge in the One who made me with this overwhelming desire to laugh. He understands, and lets me laugh at myself. He brings a joy to my life that I wouldn't have known otherwise. I've found myself talking to God as I drive home from work, walk around Antigua, and clean my little room. I make jokes to myself at the dinner table and I laugh at myself and He laughs with me. The other day some guys whistled at me as I walked down the street and I said, "Can you believe that, God? Why do they do that?" And He laughed at me. He laughed with me.
Though I miss having friends, I love have having God. I miss laughing, but I love rejoicing. I cry because I miss things, and He laughs because he has a plan.
It's wonderful to serve such and incredible loving Father, a father who knows your every thought, your every desire, your every heartache.
Last night I told my mom that I had too good of friends in the States, that I should have never made friends so I would never know that right now I am lonely. And at that, she laughed. And I laughed knowing just how stupid I really am.  The Lord gave me those friends, and gave me this time of silence so I will know what it's like to depend on Him, to make Jesus my best friend, to laugh with Him, to cry with Him, to walk down the street leaning on Him.
It's not easy, this life of silence and solitude, but it's good. It's good for me to know what it's like to let Jesus hold me and talk to me and whisper His secrets in my ear. It's good for me to have to rely on the Lord for comfort. I have no other choice but to run to him in the good times and the bad. After a day of joy, I run to Him. After a day of sorrow, I run to Him. And he holds me all the same, and reminds me that He is my comfort, my healer, my friend.

engadiministries.org

Painting Paradise

A couple weeks ago, we went with one of our teams into Paradise to paint the soccer stadium and hang out with some of the kids. As we lugged down the huge paint jugs and all of our supplies, the kids and families met us and asked us if they could help us paint. Of course we said yes. As we started to distrubute the supplies and get started painting, kids came from all over the neighborhood. (One thing I have learned quickly from spending time in Paradise is that when it comes to gringos, news travels fast when we arrive.)  After painting for a few minutes, there were more kids on the stands than there were gringos. Looking into their sweet eyes, we couldn’t help but give the kids the brushes and let them go to town, painting their stadium. It was truly a beautiful sight to look up into the stands and see the kids painting their own thing. I think the kids got more paint on each other than they got on the stands, even the dog was painted blue at the end of the day, but with each swipe of the brush and uproar of laugher as they got paint in my hair or accidentally painted a huge stipe across my legs as they walked by, I was infinitely blessed. I loved getting to know their precious faces, and asking their names over and over again, and listening to them giggle when I messed up what I was trying to say. They just smiled up at me with those big brown eyes and there was nothing I could do but hold their paint covered hands and giggle at the fact that I had no clue what I was saying. 

As we painted, we talked about what they wanted to be when they grew up and which subjects in school were their favorite. I stumbled through my broken Spanish and marveled at them as they taught me the words to say, pronouncing them slow and without accent. We ran around chasing each other with paint, and laughed as they put their hand prints on my T-shirt at the end of the day, forever making their claim on my life. 

As we painted and played and talked, I got to tell the kids that at the end of the week I wasn’t going home. That I would see them again soon, that I loved them too much to leave.  The looks on their faces were sometimes puzzled and other times full of joy as they realized that this was my home and that all of our laughs and broken words wont just stand as an incredible memory, but rather the start of relationships. 

I went home that night and played conversations and memories over and over in my head.  Josue, one of the best little painters out there, wants to be an architect. Julio wants to be a doctor. Yoselin wants to be a secretary. They all have dreams, just like I did as a kid. My dream was to be a missionary, and after years of encouragement and lots of prayer here I am. Now, my dream is to pay it forward. 

My dream is to make their dreams a reality. 

Engadiministries.org

Not so distant

I knew being a missionary in Guatemala was going to be hard, but in the last day I have been hit with the realization that it is going to be harder than I thought. Yesterday when we went to the work site to pay our workers. Don Chepe, our block mason, told us about how his wife was very sick. She has diabetes and is no longer reacting to insulin. Her blood sugar is staying at about 550. On top of the diabetes, she also has a lung infection as well as a urinary tract infection. In the last few weeks she has been having a series of strokes. She is beyond sick, and Don Chepe is still at work, making our vision come to life. We prayed for Don Chepe, his wife, and the rest of his family as a team and then we all went back to work. Just another heart breaking day in the life... but it wasn't over.
At dinner we were listening to a CD that our church had given us and one of the pastors voice came on and Juan Carlos solemnly said, that's pastor (I forgot his name, but we will call him Alberto), their pastor and close friend. At that moment the entire table became silent. I sat there quietly knowing something was wrong and soon Eric, the other intern who also lives with us, told me the story of how Alberto died. He had gone with a friend to pick up a car in one of the more dangerous neighborhoods. The gang members captured him, shot him and put him in the back of the car. They then called the Police and told them they had "left a present for them in the back of the car". This was two months ago. Everyone started crying. Sandra, my Guatemalan mom, said that they hadn't had the chance to cry about it until now. My heart continued to break.
I love these people like they are my own, and can't imagine the struggles they go through. Every day I'm here the hardships become more real. A lot of the time I think about the problems of Guatemala being so removed from me, but in all reality, they aren't at all. In that case, they are removed by two degrees. Their troubles aren't so distant anymore. I'm not so distant anymore.

That's why I'm here.

engadiministries.org

Tall White trees and cobblestone streets

In the last few days, I have been surrounded with some of my absolute favorite things. I've been surrounded by colors, bright and beautiful, people, sweet and simple, and nature that shows God's finest handiwork. Cobblestone streets, crazy drivers, and Spanish constantly surrounds me as I yearn to learn. It's funny how the language has struck me since I arrived. In the States Spanish is so easy to drown out, but here, I have no choice but to try to pick apart every piece of it, hoping that one day I can speak as they do. I'm completely overwhelmed with gratitude, peace, confusion, and information overload. I have learned more in the last 4 days than I did in the last month I spent in the States. I've been sucking information in like my life depends on it (because it does) and trying my best to live and breathe the culture as if it was my own. It's not as hard as I thought it would be. I'm not as nervous or sad as I thought. I'm just me, living in the place I like to call home.
The family I am living with is precious and absolutely wonderful, yet it is in that house that I have found my biggest frustration: not knowing the language. I feel stupid most of the time because I have an answer to the questions they ask me, and I understand full well what they are saying, but for the life of me, I can't find the words to respond and so I just smile meekly and say, "Si", "Esta bien", "Gracias", or "Okay", and most of the time a complete combination of the four.
Today was the first day I had access to the internet since I got here. It's funny how much I didn't really miss it. In the time between getting on the plane and now, I have learned to play chess, tried loads of new foods, learned to drive a standard in Guatemala, watched movies, walked around town just for fun (does that ever really happen in the States?), visited the places I have come to love the most, laughed with my dad and brother, and experienced my new life to the absolute fullest. I love it more than I may even know. Though it is my job to communicate with people in the States, I really don't want to spend my life on my computer, at least not for the first little while. I'm trying really hard to adapt to this new culture, language, people, etc, and english, and the internet isn't much help in that situation, so balance is key.
I know many of you have a million questions that you want answered about my life here, but the truth is that I don't really have the answers yet. I'm a huge jumble of emotions. I am content. I am relieved. I am thankful. I am free.

engadiministries.org

Toxic Charity Book Review.

I’m very interested in what it might look like to implement a lot of the practices that I learned from reading When Helping Hurts from the first class, so reading Toxic Charity was a great suggestion concerning community development and how churches and organizations, religions and secular, can give help to those who need it without demeaning them or making them feel lesser than the giver. The author is blunt yet sensitive in presenting the critique on our ways of giving. In the very first chapter, the author immediately presents the reader with a list of rules of how to give compassionate service in a healthy way that is beneficial to both the giver and the receiver. Lupton’s rules are simple and set a great foundation for giving of any kind. He challenges the reader to take The Oath for Compassionate Service, as he calls it, which is a follows:

1. Never do for the poor what they have (or could have) the capacity to do for themselves.
2. Limit one-way giving to emergency situations
3. Strive to empower the poor through employment, lending, and investing, using grants sparingly to reinforce achievements.
4. Subordinate self-interests to the needs of those being served
5. Listen closely to those you seek to help, especially to what is not being said-unspoken feelings may contain essential clues to effective service.
6. Above all, do no harm.

This oath will ensure a kind of service that will be successful in creating an environment where the giver and the receiver both feel empowered through service and being served.
Paternalism is our greatest enemy when it comes to helping the poor, or as Lupton calls them, the “have lesses”. Avoiding paternalism and encouraging people to do what they can to help themselves immediately shuts down most of the service that is seen today. Our culture is very concerned with helping people and giving to the less fortunate, which is great, but it seems that though the intentions are pure, the help does more harm than good. For example, when a single mother loses her job and is evicted from her home, giving her and her children an apartment free of charge and providing her with food and clothing for the children “until she can find a job” may not be the best thing for her. In fact, it creates a dependency that is unhealthy. Soon, you may find out that this mother isn’t searching for a job as intently as you would have expected and hoped. Who can blame her? She is being given food and clothing, and a place to stay for free. Why work when you’ve already got everything you need?
Our society says that all aid is good aid, when the fact of the matter is that often times our aid falls into hands that misuse or abuse our aid, making seem that not giving aid is more helpful than actually giving aid in some regards.  For example, trillions of dollars have flooded into Africa in the last decade and still very little progress has been made due to corrupt governments and the fact that our aid actually puts people out of much needed jobs. The greatest problems with dead aid is that many have no clue what is happening with their money once it is given and relief aid is often given too long, which keeps a community down instead of encouraging it to pick itself up.  Providing emergency type aid is not usually necessary except in cases such a natural disasters. It is temporary and should quickly move to rehabilitation which over time should move to development. Rehabilitation and development are harder and take a lot of time, so often, they are pushed to the side and supplemented by quick fixes that ultimately don’t help much over and extended period of time. The sad thing is, people simply don’t know the difference. The US is extremely uneducated when it comes to aid giving. We need to find a way to figure out what to do with our money that is healthy and beneficial. I hope that after time the news will spread and rehabilitation and development will become the new goal when it comes to raising money.
I think often times the poor are forgotten when it comes to trying to help them. We have this preconceived idea that the poor need us because they can’t help themselves, which is ridiculous. People in poverty have loads of gifts and abilities that as an outsider looking in, we would never know without building relationships with these people. The poor are not completely helpless and inept, they are important, capable, gifted human beings that for some reason or another have found themselves in a place where they need some help. Those with less know their situation, their community, and their lifestyle a million times better than we do. Don’t you think we should ask them about their own ideas for changing their own situations, communities, lifestyles? Often in our attempts to do something for someone, we find ourselves doing to them instead of doing with them. It’s a top down approach. We are at the top throwing down our ideas and gifts on top of people whose own ideas and gifts are being ignored. Sounds a little brutal to me. On the other hand, when we take the approach of giving in a way that is from the same level, it is easily reciprocated, and then you have the chance to learn and give back and forth to each other. There is no fear, there is no power.  That is the beauty of giving, and serving in a way that inspires ideas, and does not create a spirit of dependence or fear, but rather a spirit of fulfillment and beautiful community. Sounds a little like a relationship to me.
I have basically taken it upon myself to tell everyone I know about these books in order to change their view on poverty alleviation and what it really means to give. These books have changed the way I view ministry, life, and service. It has helped to transform my thought processes, and the way I respond to opportunities to help out. I pray that I will use the information I have learned for the glory of God and that these wont just become a list of rules to follow, but rather a mindset and way of life. I have already had conversations with my boss in Guatemala about how we can change little things in our ministry to make sure that we are empowering the people we give to regularly. It’s been a fantastic starting point when it comes to brainstorming ideas. It feels like what I have learned from Toxic Charity is more applicable in my life than what I learned in the first twelve years of my education. It has changed my worldview, and messed up my world in a very good way. I’m inspired, and the Lord knows what happens when I get inspired. You, on the other hand, will have to wait and see.

Converging it up

A couple of weeks ago the church that I intern with held an event called Converge. Basically the idea was for four different non profits that are based here in the States can come together, get to know each other, and get to share what all they have been doing in the last few years. This included Dry Bones from Denver, Water4 who bring water to countries all over the world, Kibo group a group who works in Uganda to encourage health and prosperity in the villages there, GPS Tulsa, which is the group that I am a part of, where we help students find their way in life. All of these groups are crazy different, so it was incredible to see them all coming together for one common cause. As I sat on the panel of people from each group, I almost felt unworthy. All of these people were doing such incredible work for the Lord. It was an exciting yet humbling experience.
As the night continued, I got to know Abraham and Ronald, the men from Uganda, pretty well. They told us all about their tree planting project, through which they have planted 37,000 trees in the last 7 years. These trees are taken care of by the village people, and will one day restore the deforestation that is happening all over Uganda. While talking to Ronald, I asked him what was the most different about the United States from Uganda. At the question his eyebrows shot up and he smiled a little bit and in his beautiful accent said, "well, not much is the same at all. I think the most different is that when my neighbors hear our babies crying, they will come over to our house and ask us how they can help us. Here, I don't think I've seen neighbors talk to each other at all." To this I just kinda smiled and nodded and told him that in the US most everything is about the individual, and it sounded to me like in Uganda everything was about the whole. He smiled again and said, "yes, I think you are right."
It was amazing to hear the stories of Ronald and Abraham and just build a relationship with them. I loved getting to know them and their stories. And that's what it was all about. Building these relationships with people so very different from myself, yet so much the same. Though we live on opposite sides of the world, we both worship the same Lord and work to bring Him glory through our actions. Our lives are so very different, yet our hearts are the same.
Converge was a blast to be a part of. I am so proud to be a part of something so unique and powerful. I think God is smiling.

Vocational Sweetness

We are just now finishing up our Career and Vocation class, and though it was a lot of work and a lot of writing, I learned a lot about ministry,  myself, and who God has made me to be. During the course of this class we met with camp coordinators and ministry folks to F-16 pilots and FBI agents. The diversity was clear, and it was amazing hanging out with a wide range of people and hearing their stories and advice. Since it's late and I'm exhausted, I'm just going to give you the top five things that I learned:
1. "The truth is fine." Rick Poplin, the F-16 pilot, said this phrase over and over during our time together. He encouraged us to not exaggerate any of our situations, good or bad, because in the end, the truth about us, who we are, who God is, and our lives, is enough. We don't need to lie about little insignificant things to boost our ego. We don't need to make ourselves feel worse, or better, really, about something than it really is, because at the end of the day, our reality is enough to sustain us.
2. You don't have to be a super outgoing, energetic, upbeat person to lead in ministry. Dave Jewitt taught me this one without even trying. I've struggled with this a lot in the past few years because I have known for a fact that God has been calling me to ministry, and I felt like because I didn't like talking to large masses of people, or leading people with a loud voice, that I wasn't going to fit into the mold of what someone in ministry needs to be. Talking with Dave encouraged me to use my strengths, and to not try to be like someone I'm not. I can be my chill, quirky, slightly introverted self, and still be used by God to effect the masses.
3. Kinda like the last one, God uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things. Dr. Kyle Jones was apparently at some point just an average guy. He didn't stand out in the crowd, which is hard for me to believe considering that now he is building bridges between warring tribes in Africa through medicine. Kyle basically has my dream job. He is a doctor of family medicine in a small hospital in Africa. He is amazing. It was incredible for me to just sit across the table from him, so when I was told that this guy is slightly introverted, never top of his class, or the big man on campus, it was a little bit unbelievable for me. It just goes to show that God makes us ordinary people extraordinary, and through us does unbelievable things.
4. Our God is always faithful when we are acting within our calling. When we met with Denise McKinney  she told us what it is like to be a woman in ministry. She told us of her struggles as she went from one church to the other turning in applications with no responses. She said that she knew that God had called her to do this ministry, and though it seemed hopeless, she wasn't going to give up. After months of job searching Denise finally walked into the church that would soon hire her to do exactly what she wanted. God knew what He had planned for her, it just took patience. Patience is one of the things I've always had a hard time learning. I want to know that God is taking care of me right this very minute. I don't like the mystery. I don't want to wait, but at the end of the day, God is still there, faithful as ever, always working for my good. 
5. Gifts turn into passion, and passion turns into calling. Tom taught me to do what I love and to let God take control and guide me toward my calling. He taught me to continue to follow after Christ, and do the things that inspire me and to let God guide me, and push me in ways that nobody else can. Listening to Christ, was a huge factor in this, and he reminded us to continue to listen for His voice and follow our hearts within reason.

The Anti-Resolution Resolution

Every year I make all these outrageous New Years resolutions to finally start working out (which has been on my resolution list for the last 3 years), and all kinds of things that in the end cannot be accomplished without wasting the rest of my free time for the matter of doing all the things I thought would make myself a better person. I start the year wasting my valuable time with my friends so I can sweat to a Jillian Michaels' work out video then clean my room in the attempt to "live an organized life" (what does that even mean little 15 year old self?) etc. So, instead, in an attempt to actually live the life I have always wanted and not live by this crap checklist that I've made for myself, I have bid my stupid resolutions adieu and just starting being the woman God has made me to be. It's quite freeing, actually.
I always made fun of those people that talk like a new year brings a new person or that the struggles of the last year suddenly disappear with a date change, but oddly, my year happened to begin with many "fresh starts". As the clock struck twelve, my heart began to grow lighter, and I began to rejoice over the little things and let God handle the big things. As I have written in my previous posts, I often find myself under the impression that I can carry the world on my shoulders all alone, but the honest to God truth is that that is just straight up dumb. This year, my heart will be light, while my burdens will be many. It will be the year of constant adventure, exciting change, and heartbreaking goodbyes.
I'm one of those people that has never been afraid to show my emotions. I cry in public often, and laugh hysterically when appropriate. So the emotions that come with moving away and starting a fresh new life are abundant. I am scared to death, yet I have never been more anxious and excited. This year is going to force me to grow up. I will live in the moment every moment, because I know that if I let myself, I will spend my valuable time looking towards the past or future, which is almost as great a waste as working out or cleaning my room just because I told myself I have to.
So Hear's to the new year. Here's to growing up. Here's to learning new things. Here's to adventure. Here's to being the woman I was made to be.

Mumford and Sons basically defines my life these days. So here's a little taste.