Welcome, 2015. 

May you bring laughter and much dancing; rain in the spring and harvest in the fall.
May each sunrise shout the glory of the King.
May we taste and see, every day, that the Lord is good. 
May our movements and breaths remind the world of Hope.
May our words be salty and generous.
May we always offer peace.
May we build strong walls against fear, and strong bridges into places where Love is needed.
May we have eyes to see the desperation, and may the Lord give us the grace to answer it.
May we remember to seek out the beautiful.

May the uncreated One be glorified through our fragility and weakness.

Welcome.

They tell us

They tell us the war is over.
What does that mean?
They fold up the flag
and shake hands,
they tell us the country is stronger,
but still dangerous,
What does that mean?
They tell us the war is over.
What does that mean?

a spontaneous poem, december 28

Hibernation.

back to basics,

breathing softly,

taking in the smell of snow

and growing strong from my bones

to my lungs,

reflecting on a year’s worth of dancing

a year’s worth of sounds,

which have grown old in the ground

they rest in like roots

taking heart in the spring

an oasis from fools and the folks who inspire sadness-

can you imagine,

to take a break from the cold

only to step into a bog of old papers

and ideas sour to taste,

worst we speak in haste

we speak in pain

we speak in graceless sentences

and break hearts we did not know existed.

For this, I hibernate.

Wait for the snow to teach my soles to dance
again, renewed.

I love this old house with its couch cushions rumpled and the newspaper scattered, baby toys all across the floor, and books, books everywhere.

As I walk towards home from feeding the neighbor's dog, large windows reveal cozy warmth.

This old house, I love.

Peshawar, my heart grieves for you.

Good Old Clive

oh how things have shifted.

I'm bored outta my gourd. I can't spend one more night just sitting around the house. I used to be busy 5/7 nights a week and it was GLORIOUS.

somehow, I got to where I was going.

Beautiful, Urgent Christmas

More and more I am noticing the urgency, the beauty, and the seriousness of Christmas.

As a child, Christmas was exciting because it seemed that in the month before Christmas, the world (or rather my small sample of it) became cheerful. I loved the music and decorations (still do) and all of the festivities. And then there was a lull, as I grew and saw that the world didn’t actually brighten up for the season but simply pretended to. This was disappointing and I wondered if I would ever return to the child-like wonder. But I’ve learned that Christmas is more than a joyful celebration (though it is also that). Christmas is a rescue mission. Christmas is dangerous. There is an urgency to Christmas that the world doesn’t understand.

Christmas carols are both somber and joyful, songs of real hope, not simply a bandage to fill December with false joy but a hope to fill the whole year, because Jesus came to rescue us and He’ll come again! Because a new, sovereign King has come, because the slave is our brother! Because in His name all oppression will stop! Because God is with us! Because the God of the universe took the humble way in, because we do not have to buy our way to Him, because He loves us and whatever we want to offer Him, because He came to save us when we’d gone astray, because the prophets’ words have come true!

Now that is some seriously good stuff! We have watered Christmas down to fairy tales, giving gifts, reindeer and bright lights. These are all wonderful things and great ways to enjoy and celebrate the season, but the actual message of Christmas is far more powerful, far more joyful.

Oh, I want the world to know that I sing and dance and clap because the King has come! The rescue has arrived! The dark world we live in has nothing on Him! Darkness is light to Him!

It is truly a joyous season, because

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.

For those who lived in a land of deep shadows— light! sunbursts of light!”

“For a child has been born—for us! The gift of a son—for us! He’ll take over the running of the world. His names will be: 
Amazing Counselor,

Strong God,

Eternal Father,

Prince of Wholeness.

His ruling authority will grow, and there’ll be no limits to the wholeness he brings. He’ll rule from the historic David throne over that promised kingdom. He’ll put that kingdom on a firm footing and keep it going with fair dealing and right living, beginning now and lasting always. The zeal of God-of-the-Angel-Armies will do all this.”

(from Isaiah 9, The Message)

For me, Christmas has many flavors.

I taste sorrow and darkness of the world, the unknowing.

I taste excitement and anticipation for the first time Jesus came to us and for when Jesus will return.

I taste urgency, that all people will know Him and have a love relationship with Him.

I taste joy, because the Light has won!

So when January comes, I will still be singing joy. Joy to the world, the King has come! Let earth receive her King, every season, every day!

How do you measure the transit of people?

Some Thoughts, Because That's What Blogs Are For

I didn't know my spirit was adventurous until college, but now that I know, it is hard to stay.
      I couldn't see the sunset well tonight, though I knew it was brilliant, orange like fire and pink like bubblegum, and that made me restless.
      Yesterday's strong wind made my soul ache for mountains of firs, pines, the evergreens.
      I tell myself, you shouldn't be restless. you just went. But it isn't something I can stop. Every taste of independence and adventure leaves me wanting for more.

I grew up across the river from a shooting range. The sound of gunshots always felt like home, especially at night. After I went away and met refugees, after I learned of riots and wars, I think twice when I hear them. Not out of fear, but out of wonder. How the sound of controlled gunshots is sweet to my ears, and for many others it is a sound of trauma.

My mother said to me tonight, as she washed the dishes and I dried, Maybe you're lonely here. I am lonely here, though it's not the painful lonely I've experienced many times. It is more a knowledge that I have three friends in this city. Most of the people I would call to talk about life live far, far away. I am lonely for fun, I am lonely for adventure. I am lonely to be doing things. Like George Bailey, I wanna shake the dust off this town and see the world. Only, it's less about seeing the world, and more about DOING SOMETHING.

waiting. 

And then I mentioned that I am HAVING PMS, I said it rather loud because it makes my father uncomfortable, and I rather like making him uncomfortable when I am in this mood. I would think after three daughters and a wife it would be old hat. But it's not, apparently. And that annoys me.

there are pockets of time after tragic events
when this nation of comfort-worshippers wakes up
for a time.
like now, we watch riots on the news and our hearts ache,
for a bit.

A long paragraph with no break. ha! sorry!

I was in Panera today and I overheard three mamas talking about their kids. They were talking about the technology struggle, how their children only wanted to play video games and watch netflix. How their children wanted laptops and ipads for Christmas. I couldn't tell how old their kids were, but they didn't sound old enough to need laptops. Anyway, it doesn't matter. That's not the point. The point is that my family barely even had a computer when I was growing up. (Macintosh, black and white. Sometimes we played duck hunter or the Oregon trail :) ) I was only allowed to watch PBS, and there were time limits. But I realize that now, I know a lot about certain things. I read books upon books upon books about dogs. "Boring," full of words books. I read them, cover to cover. I studied animals and I watched the squirrel family outside, I took notes about their behavior. I studied things. The TV shows I watched were truly educational. And now, I have a decent amount of knowledge about dogs and other animals. I don't credit that to school. I credit that to the reality that my life wasn't swallowed by technology.

Nanowrimo Alternative

It's NaNoWriMo! (National Novel Writing Month) I decided not to write a novel this month, but I still wanted to challenge myself somehow. I'm writing a poem a day instead (at least). Part of the joy of NaNoWriMo is there's no pressure to write well, just write. So that's what I'm trying to do with my poems. They're exercises, and I'm trying out some forms I don't usually use to write. It's a good challenge. Of my current 24 poems, I might have three good lines. This is good. It's not a concerto, it's a scale. :)

The last one I wrote was about the couple at the library today who were frustrated with the copy machine. I wrote three today, and one of them took me about an hour. It feels good to work at words.

productive

feeling rather culturally productive today. (not much productive in any other way :/ )

I'm drinking tea, I played cello and flute, read a couple of books, watched snow flurries, wrote a poem, doodled.

to wait is agony.

When I was small, people often told me that I was very patient. For a while I believed them, but then I realized that perhaps though outwardly I was good at hiding my impatience, standing still without wandering eyes or tapping toes, inwardly I was cringing, tapping my fingers against the wall, drawing a  picture.

I hate to wait.

That's not to say I hate transitions or want something to always be happening, no, I love the feeling in the air just before it snows, I love watching winter approach, whether it be with a shout from the treetops or a whisper along the river bank. I love the minutes before sunrise, as the birds awake and the sky turns gray. I am quite able to do nothing, to lay about on the couch for an afternoon, basking in the sunlight, listening to soft music or nothing at all. I like airports, train stations, and bus stops. I don't mind long grocery lines, stop lights, or speed limits.

If I have planned to wait in the grocery line, I do not mind. Or driving, I always approach with a, "I'll get there when I get there" mentality. But I hate being late, because I'm waiting on myself. I hate waiting for others who are late, because, they might not come. I hate to wait for something I don't know will happen or not. I hate to wait for a place I have chosen, and God has chosen for me, but I can't get there yet.

wrestle

I had a hard time falling asleep last night, and woke up to the sound of tension.

I had a dream that I need space to ponder, haven't gotten that yet.

I went to a friend's house. We were supposed to walk, but she felt ill and so we just sat instead, drank tea, talked ideas. In high school, she led a bible study for a small group of my friends, and I've always considered her a sort of mentor. The house is warm, full of books and paintings. (She's an artist; a painter.) Though now I've grown into myself and my ideas and I sometimes disagree now, with everyone, there is much to be learned from just listening, just resting in the knowledge that we both know Jesus, there is a safety there. She brews green tea and we drink it plain. She gives me When Helping Hurts to borrow. Another book to add to my long pile. (I love it that way though.)

When I leave an hour and a half later, I drive through the woods, an extra detour along my favorite winding road. It looks much like Fót and makes my heart positively ache each time I drive through.

I'm having a funk day. I think that's normal, sometimes you gotta take a break from being happy and wrestle the ideas, and the experiences, and God. And for me, I need alone time and space to do that. In college it worked great. Today is my first funk day here (after five months, so it's not like it happens all the time) and there is not space.

Choices

*I am worried that posting this will come across as dramatic, or pitiful, or silly. But this is honesty and I wanted to share it. It's good. :) I am content, just wanted to share some realizations I've had. :)

Rend CollectiveExperiment’s The Cost has been stirring in my heart recently. The lyrics have been perfect. I am reaching the point in the process where reality sets in. I’m glad it’s hitting now, so I have time to think about it, rather than hitting in when I actually move!

I joked a few years ago as I traveled to Austria for Christmas, “my friends are getting engaged…I’m running away to Europe!” Time has passed and friends have gotten married, had children, more engagements, settled into salaried jobs, moved into houses and across states… I’ve never been one to pine after marriage and I’m not now, but I am well aware that I’m walking down a different path. I’ve committed to two years, which could expand, and I don’t know what this side of the world will look like when I return. 

This isn’t just a trip. I’m moving, putting to test my loud proclamations of, “I LIKE being single!” Do I? I guess I’ll find out. The choice I’ve made has consequences. It’s scary, moving to a city of three million people where I don’t speak the language, alone. Alone. Singular. Solo.

I’ve never been the most courageous. I’m not an adrenaline junkie. Jet lag usually wrings me out and I don’t pick up language quickly. Overseas traveling is not easy for me, and yet it pulls me. I must go; I can’t stay. Even if it means I will sometimes be afraid, sometimes alone, sometimes lonely. It has a cost, and much as I have chosen it and want to go, there is a reality I must grasp. To be a single woman in the world of missions is accepted, and yet sometimes I feel a bit off, lacking, as friends move towards marriage, children, stability. I have chosen something else. Because I have tasted this life and I want it. In all its hard, I know it will be worth it. Because Jesus said “go” and because I am not afraid of going, scary though it is, I will go. Because he has blessed me in it. Because of beauty. 

They say to me, “it’s good to go when you’re young,” things like, “you’ve got plenty of time,” as if something is wrong with me for choosing this way, as if I’m strange to want this to be my life, instead of that, as if I will return because I have finally come to my senses and am ready to settle down.

Well, I am young, and if I didn’t start now, when would I? I am young, but my young heart is not choosing this for the ‘adventure’ or the ‘experience.’ My young heart is choosing this because it is my passion. Because Jesus said “go” and this is the way I chose to go. My young heart is going because I have chosen to believe that Jesus is worth the time, the fear of missing out, the singular.

I am young and I will follow Jesus where he asks. I have as much time as he gives me to do whatever he asks. If I were going into it with the idea of “I’ve still got time” or “it’s good to have this experience before I settle down,” I’d be cheating myself and God. No. I want to be fully there. Not as a young one experiencing some adventure before some comes home to get married and a “real job” but as a child of the Most High God, fully focused on the Lord and on the task He has set before me.

I remind myself, I’m not going alone. There is God, first of all. My God who does not abandon. There are my supporters who provide the means and pray and encourage and share excitement and their own stories. There are friends, family, church families. There is the body of Christ. There is the wonderful team I am joining, people who laugh, have passion for people and Jesus. People who will carry me; and I them.

And you know what, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The slow process of finding supporters gives me the opportunity to foster relationships in prayer and encouragement. 

This thing is bigger and better than I would have ever dreamed. I’m moving to a city full of beautiful people with my Love. I know culture shock will hit hard, relationships with teammates won’t always be easy, I’ll ask myself what I am doing and why He ever let me come. There will be lonely days (which I will fill with dancing). My heart will stretch and grow, break and become. 

In a few ways, I will seem to be alone. Humanly singular. But in a hundred more ways, ‘alone’ does not exist. It is just a lie for dreary days.

This is the realization of a choice. A timezone, a status, a singularity, an ease, a freedom, an inconvenience. The realization that spiritually this is the place I am to be, for now, and emotionally, though hard, this is exactly what I want. 

The hard places are where the beauty is. Might as well follow Jesus there, because whether it is safe or dangerous; empty or full, I wanna be where He is.

Italy and a murder mystery (or something)

1. Today I came out of the post office to see a car with a license plate frame that read "Happiness is being ITALIAN." It made me smile, as earlier in the morning I'd had a skype call finalizing the details of my trip to Rome next week. There was an Italian flag sticker next to it and a flag hanging from the rear view window and a sticker in the window that said something in Italian but I didn't know what it said. The car was cool. Silver, sleek, I imagined it belonged to a man proud of his heritage or maybe a spunky mid-thirties woman. But as I glanced in my rear view mirror ready to drive off, I noticed an elderly woman climbing into the car! I had heard her chirp, as I left the post office, "I'm back! I forgot to buy a book of stamps!"

I went on with my errands, Walmart, for a light rain jacket and a prepaid phone card, and Target for some on-sale thank you notes and a new notebook for end of the day journaling and beginning of the day prayer.

I went to Kroger after that, made a big loop, to get tilapia and other such morsels for dinner. (Okay, I don't know if I'd call tilapia a morsel, but it is a fun word!) THE ITALY CAR WAS PARKED TWO OVER FROM MINE. Note, this was quite a while after the post office sighting. It wasn't as if she'd followed me to the store. I hoped I'd run into her in the store, though I wasn't sure I'd be brave enough to mention the car, as I'd just seen her from inside my car after all, and she hadn't seen me.

I was perusing the clearance shelf, looking at a box of fancy decaffeinated black tea, when SHE APPROACHED. "Are you finding any good deals?" She asked, and I showed her the tea. Earlier, I'd been told via skype that in Rome they don't really drink tea in cafés. (I suppose it is less common here, as well.) I told her that the tea was a good deal, "if you like tea" and she said "I LOVE tea!" And that gave me hope I could still love tea and live in Italy. :)

2. I've started reading Gone Girl for my mama's book club, which I've joined. I'm not a thriller, murder mystery kinda gal. There's enough of that in real life, I don't want to read it for pleasure. Ugh. I'm only about fifty pages in and I already hate it. Not because anything has really happened yet, I mean, something happened but we have no real information, but because I can already feel the tone of "menacing" and "sinister" the back of the book warned me about. The book is a page-turner, quite riveting, I'll give it that, but I hate it. The writing is magnificent, and the characters, I think so far, are well done. So if you're into that sort of genre, give it a whirl. I am just not!

café havana: a while ago.

we respect the guest.

he gave me fourteen cents off my tea,

because he is the owner and he can do that.

i told him not to, i handed out my crumpled dollar

bill but i guess my sloppy appearance gave a case

for a poor university student

and he wouldn’t take it.

fourteen cents for a dollar. if only i

had pulled out my old wallet and taken the

dime, the pennies—

but for the line behind me, i handed the dollar for my tea,

milk tea.

and i glimpsed at life and couldn’t breathe

after an hour

and couldn’t stay

and couldn’t sleep
and couldn’t speak this young language.

On Being Called (and how I wasn't)

*Writing this, I sat in a park and watched butterflies, stink-bugs, and the sky. It's a beautiful day!

People often talk about being called. About how they have or haven't been called to this, or how I have been. This talk of "call" always makes me feel like an impostor. I haven't been called. Or if I have, so has everyone else. Quite honestly, I think the idea of "being called" is quite silly. I won't discount the incredible stories of people who have received clear messages from God to go somewhere or do something. He certainly can and does use incredible ways to get ahold of people. Indeed, sometimes we need a bit of convincing.

I do not have, by human standards, one of these stories. I simply went on a whim, fell in love, and went again. There was one sentence I heard when I was in the process of deciding whether or not to return to Hungary (in 2013) that swayed me. It was just that, "the need is the call." And oh, my friends, the world is full of need.

I believe that there are many different ways I could go, we all could go, many different paths on which God could use us. And God doesn't need our help. I wanted to go. And He either wants me to go, or is graciously allowing me to.

I wonder if sometimes we use "the call" as an excuse not to walk. But the truth is, that Jesus said to go. I know that God can redirect me as I walk, and I invite Him to do so, but I want to be walking. Certainly, we do not all walk in the same way, in the same place, at the same pace, or with the same people. But I think as Jesus' followers, we are all sent. We're all to be in the business of bringing hope.

It's not fair, my friends, to pretend that I am called and others are not. I'm not special. I'm not, without Jesus, qualified. At all. I don't have any special skills. I don't pray constantly. I'm a pretty poor lover of people, but I'm His.

I do not refer myself as "called," because I think we're all in that boat. I'm simply walking. Let's walk together.

In the morning,

memories of you exhale into

dawn’s light and leftover fog.

Still you cannot see.

Climb up,

step through.
My bones are for you.

(excerpt from RIBS by myself)

real.life.

moose pajama'd boys

The Super Moon

Mama's Book club

hand-written letters

flowers in every room

generous neighbors

cricket sounds

cool air

wearing long sleeves all day

french braids

open windows

i'm happy, yo!

"poetry, like the moon, advertises nothing" -william blissett

Significance

I have a friend named Beezy. (Not her real name, but it works well for a blog.) Tomorrow, she embarks on a yearlong journey of life in the city of brotherly love. I’m beyond excited for her. I think she’s brilliant for doing this instead of something “traditional” right out of college. (Me, I’m sitting in my bedroom licking envelopes and stamping stamps. But that’s beside the point.) Anyway, I’m excited for her. She knows this. However, I didn’t start this blog post to talk about my excitement. I started it to talk about the significance of her leaving.

A few things rushed into my mind when we said goodbye and I hung up the phone this morning.

The first was, HERE WE GO. Graduating college was a significant transition. Leaving a life of independence in my college town and moving back home with my parents was certainly a significant transition. There were other things too: milestones of driving, a friend getting married… And now, Beezy leaves for the beginning of her mission, her sending, her journey, and I stay for the beginning of mine. Here we go, because she is, in my mind, basically going to another country, not because of the distance, but because of the limited communication and drastically different experiences. Here we go, because we have begun. I’m staying back home to raise money, but it is nonetheless part of the mission, the sending, the journey. Here we go, because we have chosen the hard, narrow, slippery road, and here it is before us. We have chosen the hard places. We’ve chosen the challenge.

and Here we go, because though I dearly want to see her before I move to Rome, there is a possibility that I could leave before she gets back. Though the mountain to get there seems far too large to reach the top by my goal of next summer, it is a possibility.

I guess what I’m trying to say, is that my chum is leaving. I’m excited for her, but more than that I am keenly aware of the significance of her leaving. She’s going, and I’m preparing, and then I’m going to go too. And that’s significant.

Hap Hap Happy!

In typical Phoebe phasion, I need to go to bed. But suddenly my joy is too bubbling for that!!

So, some ramblings, perhaps?

Today I went to the grocery store (because I go there every day- I'm serious) to buy asparagus (because I forgot them), eggs, and yogurt. I went through u-scan and I took. my. time. It drives me bonkers that people are in such a rush! The woman in line behind me actually took a few steps in my direction, instead of patiently waiting at the beginning of the line. So she was sort of crowding me. I mean, I still had plenty of space, but she was crowding me with her rush. So I looked over my receipt a few times, slowly gathered my bags, slowly picked up the basket, slowly walked away. I think part of u-scan is that one shouldn't have to rush. I could have stayed there for hours if I had wanted to. I wish people could just take a breath and realize that going to the grocery store might take a few minutes.

Later, I drew Peebs and Geebs comics on the deck while the evening sun lingered, and then I received some great encouragement, and made some super fun plans.

My day was productive and is ending with joy.

Italian, skyping my pal, Kim, working on support letters. I ran out of stamps! :)
Plans with Asheebs, lovin' Geebs and Beebs, sunshine and waitin' for fall.

God is giving me people and things to fill my time.

Favorite things of evenings

taking my hair down after it has been up all day, and it is soft and smells light, holding soft waves.

walking into my room (in the summer) after it has been closed up all day, smelling the old, and opening the window to let in the night air.

the warm glow from a lamp.

finding boots, "good quality but wrong color for me" from my mother sitting on my bedroom floor. WHY YES, I will most certainly take them off your hands! I don't know enough about fashion to know if they are my color or not, to me they look simply brown, and elegant-- oh, I cannot wait for fall.

Palz

I have this pal, her name is Ashley.

Tonight, she invited me to have a beverage, and watch the storm roll in. Well, the storm had passed but the sky was gorgeously blue as the sun began to set against the woods next to the house. We sat on the porch with our hard cider. We watched the sky, the trees, the two deer across the road, the hawk sitting on the flower fence. We talked about Jesus and women's ministries. And it was a rich conversation. A rich time.

I'm so thankful that she's been here this past month. Sometimes I'm not the most affectionate person (sometimes I am), but I'm so thankful she's stuck with me through my transition and hers. She's a pal, a gem, a sisterfriend for sure.

:)

Towels

Tonight I stood in the shower and washed three days worth of grime out of my scalp. Unfortunately for me, that is a lot of grime. It felt good. And then I saw that my mother had bought new towels. HAPPINESS. And then I saw the label.

100% COTTON

MADE IN PAKISTAN

cotton

SUPPLIER 760348 RN#93677

jcp home

I am sure this will sound hypocritical to you. I am a hypocrite, after all. When see tags and labels that read "MADE IN THAILAND" "MADE IN INDONESIA" "MADE IN NEPAL" etc,  I think about the working and living conditions of the people who have made these items. But it doesn't hit me like this did. It is because I know people from Pakistan. I've got a connection to that place that I don't have to Thailand or Malaysia or Mali. Tonight I stopped and asked God to bless the man or woman who made the towel I use out of luxury. I feel bad that every label does not stop me this way. I wonder how my life would change, if truly, no one was invisible. Not even the man or woman who made my towel. I think my life would be much slower.

A quick google search of "Pakistan textile industry" leads me to a company, a city name: Karachi. It is a big city in Pakistan and I am sure there are textile workers all over the country. But it gives me an idea. The world continues to shrink.

The sky!

The world is not yours to police.

Stop with the judgmental rants.
Stop with the "my side is right always."

My friend JUST send me this beautiful text message:

"Oh Phoebe! The sky is the most perfect blue with white clouds, sunshine and a breeze, and I wish that my phone took better pictures so that I could share it with you! :) "

The world, my friends, is not for you to police.
But the SKY IS for you to admire!

WARM

I'm breathing warm air.
I'm loving the heat.
I'm listening to a cathedral of crickets.
I'm remembering to reflect.
I'm stretching.
I'm sitting on a star watching the ocean.
I'm holding time in my ears.
I'm speaking insignificance.
I'm speaking secrets.
I'm laughing.

thought.

{watching the Voyage of the Dawn Treader trailer}

How is it that a movie trailer and make my soul jump, but my own life does not? Is it that I am used to the sort of daily adventure I live, or is it because I am blind to it? Is it the fantastical, past paced adventure? But then, isn't the life Jesus gives me even more fantastical?

every delicacy

Today is the sort of day that belongs in a poem. It is August fifteenth, and for much of the day I wore a sweater and my slippers. I believe it got up to 79 degrees F, but low humidity, a nice breeze, and plenty of shade.

Jared made our last dinner of summer (at least, together as a family). By five o’clock the house and yard smelled of ingredients on the grill: smoking eggplant and lamb, olive oil and za’atar. The sky was sharp blue—I could stare at it for hours. I blew bubbles at my nieces and we sat on a blanket breathing in the smells of the Middle East right here in our backyard. I picked flowers for the centerpiece- they’re wedding flowers that didn’t bloom in time, but they look pretty now!

And when it was time to eat, we sat down to a full table of (all homemade) water with mint leaves (from a neighbor’s garden) and lemon, baba ghanoush, hummus, lamb kebabs, salad, and flatbread. A feast. I felt as though we could have back been in Syria.

and one of Syria, because I love to remember.

What is next?

“What’s next?”

You all want to know, and it’s completely understandable. I’ve given little details here and there, but it’s overwhelming for me to try and write it out. I’ve written a support letter, asking for support, but I’m not sure how to write a blog about it without it sounding awfully dry and boring.

What’s next? Well first, I should tell you that I graduated in December 2013 with my BA in Psychology with a minor in creative writing (poetry). I stayed in Bowling Green (Ohio) until the middle of June. (I worked as the baker at Tim Horton’s.)

I am going to move to Rome, Italy with International Teams for two years.

How did I pick International Teams and who are they? In the summers of 2012 and 2013, I went to Hungary with a different organization to teach English in refugee camps. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done and it fit my soul. The summers were incredibly different experiences, which showed me that I was actually interested in refugee work, not just attached to one place.

I learned a lot about people, God, myself during those two summers. One thing I noticed was that it seemed like the countries receiving refugees didn’t seem to want to receive their stories. They’re invisible in a lot of places, or at least, they’re not seen.

I was drawn to ITeams in part because of the value that no one is invisible. Another thing I love about ITeams is the goal that everyone would have access to food, freedom, and forgiveness. ITeams’ vision is to see lives and communities transformed by the power of God, doing this by bringing people together to help the oppressed.

Originally I talked with ITeams about writing for the organization, but after going back to the refugee camp another summer, I realized I wanted to be with the people. So after almost two years of talking, interviewing, personality assessments, psychological assessments, skype calls, and an endless amount of emailing, I was accepted to go to Rome for two years, to work with refugees and whoever else God has us interacting with there.

I know a little bit about the ministry in Rome, but I don’t really know what my day-to-day life will look like. I’m okay with this, because I am one hundred percent sure God knows what He’s doing there, but it’s a bit unsatisfying to have to say I don’t know whenever I’m asked.

What I do know is that social support for refugees in Italy is pretty bad. I know that there is a refugee center that the ITeams team currently runs, and that my team wants to fill as many needs in our community as we can. Whatever the needs are there, that’s what we’ll focus on. I know that we want to pass the ministry off to the Italian church, and that we don’t want to be an umbrella organization, but rather working with and alongside our neighbors in the community.

What does the timeline look like? I need to learn Italian. ITeams has a program for me to go through for that. I need to take a confirmation trip to Rome, to make sure it’s where God wants me. I need to attend training, online and in real life. And of course, I need to raise a lot of money. I’m aiming to leave next summer, but it’s not a deadline and only God knows how long it will take.

I’ll need about 36,000 dollars a year, and I need to have all my money for two years pledged before I can leave. It’s $3,000 a month, which is incredibly reasonable for Europe. The total includes all the fun stuff like taxes and insurance.

That’s what I’ve got for you right now. It definitely has not sunk in that I will Rome will be home, at least for a season.

A few things:

I’ll be sending update emails- please let me know (and give me your email address) if you want to receive those!

If you want to receive a packet of information I will gladly send you one!

I need a prayer team. I’m thinking I’ll send special prayer email updates to just the people who want to pray for me regularly. So let me know if you’re interested in that as well!

Finally, if you feel led to support me financially here and now, that would be a huge gift to me! You can donate online https://wwws.iteams.org/us/giving-form and stick my name (Phoebe Lawry) in the box.

I’d love to hear from you! What’s going on in your life? What are you learning? How can I be praying for you? Please comment or email me! 

Thanks for sticking with me through this long post, friends! (I promise most of my blog posts will be more fun!)

dreams and dreams

c                                              e
                           r

u                     l

                                       e 

                a                                       n

time passes makes 

most things

f      a      d        e

but 

CERULEAN

becomes more

vibrant

more 

vivid in my dreams--

of the Caspian Sea,

blue and blue and blue and blue

sharp

blue

you have not
been

around

and I

have

lived.

Hidden by Naomi Shihab Nye

If you place a fern
under a stone
the next day it will be
nearly invisible
as if the stone has 
swallowed it.

If you tuck the name of a loved one
under your tongue too long
without speaking it
it becomes blood
sigh
the little sucked-in breath of air
hiding everywhere
beneath your words.

No one sees
the fuel that feeds you.

I love traveling. I love the freedom of being detached from everything and everyone familiar.

Anonymity
Purpose

the intimacy of all of us going somewhere. We all have stories, stress, and probably exhaustion. Some of us have back packs, some have uniforms and lanyards. Some of us wear sneakers, some sandals.

The amount of humanity in these places is overwhelming but also beautiful.

Passengers are generally friendly towards each other, if reserved.

It's stressful and makes my digestive system go wonky and I get tired of lugging all my stuff every time I need to pee and you must always be alert and the food is redonkulously over-priced

and I LOVE IT.

Tonight we video-ed with Kristin and laughed so hard I thought Sarah and I would both puke. Shrieking.

It was kind of a hard week

Or rather, the last few days have been kind of hard. Living at home is really, really hard. And by nobody’s fault, social support has been hard to come by. Like, I don’t have it. Which is fine, for this week. Sooner or later, I’m going to move to a foreign country, and though I’ll have a team, I want to be steady. I don’t want to need people every time someone says something I disagree with. I fully believe in talking about problems with friends. But I also fully believe in sustaining on Jesus alone. And this week, these past few days, this has been my reality.

It is hard. I’m not really thriving, but I’m still walking. I’m still running.

"It was by faith that Moses left the land of Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger. He kept right on going because he kept his eyes on the one who is invisible.” –Hebrews 11:27

How I deal with the Sadness of the World

Sometimes the world is just too Sad. Sin and evil take the spotlight far too often. And if I take my eyes off of “Behold, I am making all things new” for approximately .0001 seconds, the Sadness takes over and off with my heart. It takes me a few days to realize what is going on, and then this is how I deal with it.

I put on my pink socks. I do not think to myself, “I am putting on my pink socks to vanquish the Sad,” I just think to myself that I want to wear my pink socks today. It is later when I realize their help in vanquishing the Sad in all their joyous boldness.

I walk purposefully down to the park, to the swing set and I become a child. I invite the wind to play with my hair, leaving it down and free and it whirls around my face and up my nose and into my mouth and I laugh. I close my eyes and swing until I am no longer at the park. There are no longer people around. I am no longer attached by a clanking chain of metal to a swing set. I am simply soaring.

And then I climb down to the edge of the river and sit in the dirt and listen and watch the water rush by. I think a lot. I make pretty sentences about the day in my mind but I have left my paper and pen at home, along with my watch. I am here to simply refresh, not to make anything. Not even to remember, if my mind chooses to forget, simply to refresh.

And when I have had my fill, I meander home.

Sometimes this is how I deal with the Sadness of the world.
Sometimes I get really angry.