Jesus Calling: For Reals

Tonight, Jesus called. We ran out of this house, literally. We left all the lights on, left New Girl playing on the TV. Usually (always) I make sure to turn off the lights. But not tonight. We were so excited. We literally jumped up, grabbed our boots, and ran out to the car.

I like that. I wonder if that’s a millionth of a fraction of the way the first disciples felt when Jesus told them to follow him. Leave everything, and go. Because you’re so excited about what God is doing, because you get to join Him, because He’s invited you! um, woah.

Tonight was a crazy-happenstance-God-thing, super exciting and very encouraging!

Pressure

You forced your fingers into crevices

where young words struggled to breathe

on their own.

They held worlds in their lungs,

beginning to stand, to set loose new stars

in each exhale.

You should not have been there,

prying meaning out of these blossoming forms,

searching their darling galaxies

for something to fill your appetite,

instead of gathering up the dust

like the rest of us.

You should not have been there.
The stars weren’t yours to harvest.

(The last line shouldn't be separated. Formatting, out of my control.)

On Being A Woman

Everything must be measured.
Every breath.
Every breath must be strong.
Every response.

You must be vulnerable, but strong.
Vulnerable, but aware of who you are.


You must be strong.

Response

My sister tells me you find yourself feeling guilty about how your life is turning out different than ours. Brother, one of the things I love most about my friends is how everyone is doing such different things. For me, moving overseas is my only option. I admire people who can stay in the American culture, as of now, I can’t. I actually worry that God will make me stay. I suppose I am willing, but that is more terrifying to me than moving overseas.

I had my life planned out, then it changed. I planned it out again, then it changed again. Then I found myself in a refugee camp. Literally and figuratively, I found myself in a refugee camp. Working with refugees lets my soul breathe in a way it had never experienced before. So I’m chasing that. God might take that away from me, and I give him permission (not that he needs my approval) to do that. But for now, I’m pursuing overseas refugee ministry because it is what I love, and because for me it makes sense. It lines up.

You, I don’t know what your passion is. I thought mine was rescuing girls from sex trafficking, but then I discovered my passion is about making people know their value, and showing them Jesus, and, as strange as it is going to sound, the hearts of men. But I don’t know what your passion is. And you might not either. The point is, right now it doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about what you are going to do. Don’t worry that it’s different from me. It will be different from me, because God has a different plan for you.

I don’t know what God has planned for you, but brother, I am so excited for it. But don’t rush. Don’t worry. It was actually not until my senior year of college that I even got an inkling of what I might actually be able to do with this soul breathing I had just discovered the summer before. And now I’m graduated and unemployed. So don’t worry. Don’t compare. If you’re willing, and walking, He’lll use you just the way He wants to. And it will be different from how He’ll use me. And it will be great.

Pop Pop Pop!

Fireworks. I used to hate them. I was never much for loud noises, and I didn't really get the appeal of the lights. But now, not for the noise or the designs, I like them a lot.

NYE 2012/2013. I went to bed before midnight but woke up to fireworks outside, and the people we shared the hotel with shouting and singing "Born in the USA" (I was in Austria.) I wondered what the lights looked like from the Immigration Building Floor Four in Debrecen, and in all the countries all over the world with less stringent rules for fireworks as we have here in the US of A. I like the feeling of celebration shared by everyone in the world. And then I imagined the party in the sky when Jesus restores the world. WOAH. And ever since then, that's what I think of. Fireworks. A glimpse.

Schwaig

A year ago, I meandered around Schwaig, Germany, alone. I had traveled overseas alone before, but just the traveling, I had never stayed alone. It was a big deal for me. A big step in recognizing my ability to be independent and do it. It was magnificently lonely and exuberantly liberating. My sister and brother-in-law headed to the airport in the morning, and I was left for another 24 hours.

The town was incredibly tiny and I wasn’t as explorative as maybe I should have been. I walked the premises of the entire little town- literally. I walked through the neighborhoods and ended up in a farmer’s field. I waved to an old woman on a bicycle, stood on a bridge over a stream, and found a playground. I swung for a while and talked to God before I walked back to the hotel.

I had dance parties and wrote and wrestled with ideas. I stayed up all night, as I was leaving at 4 and didn’t want to miss my alarm. More dance parties, nasty coffee, all the leftover Christmas chocolate.

And then I paid the final charges at the front desk and climbed into the hotel shuttle van with a driver who did not speak a word of English, and me not speaking any German. “Delta” was what we finally figured out and twenty minutes later I was dumped on the curb of the Munich airport, in quite the wrong spot for Delta. No matter, I found it eventually, and then waited for the check in counter to open, sitting on the cold concrete floor, praying it would open soon so I could start the journey and stop worrying about it.

And somehow I got home, even though the Paris airport was an awful experience.

I think back on the experience with thankfulness. It wasn’t fun, but it was freeing. I can do this, whatever this is.

Reasons for Winter (in no particular order)

1. Noticing my teeth are cold when I smile.
2. Some added color to my usually quite pale face.
3. Coming inside and thawing out. The tinglies.
4. Cold fingers wrapped around warm mugs.
5. Snow. It's beautiful. It's quiet. Every flake is different. 
6. Everything is fragile, raw, and vulnerable. Nothing can hide. And in its vulnerability, everything is beautiful.
7. Winter creates a strong sense of community. We need each other. The wind is too much for all of us.
8. Playing in the snow. You can play in rain, but it's not quite the same.
9. It makes us slow down. Stop. Watch the snow. Listen. 
10. Gingerbread houses, candy canes, cozy lights, cocoa.
11. Bundling up.
12. Sleeping with lots of blankets.
13. Fires.
14. Snuggling in blankets and fuzzy socks on the couch, reading a book or watching a movie or knitting a scarf.
15. Oranges.
16. Boots.
17. The wind. A reminder of power. 
18. A reminder that humans aren't really that strong.
19. The invigoration of walking outside when the snow is stinging your eyelashes or the wind whips you in the face.
20. Mittens.
21. Scarves.
22. Walking at night and seeing people's houses lit up.
23. The way a blue sky stands out so sharply against the ground, the snow, the bare tree limbs.
24. A reminder, in the gray days, to look at the ground more. There are beautiful things on the ground too. 
25. The birds what stick around, and how visible they are: Cardinals, Blue Jays, etc.
26. A good cold day to clear out my sinuses.
27. There is always something to be thankful for. Thankful for your warm coat, your warm house, the heat at your friend's house, that you have socks...
28. Tea parties. There's something marvelous about a tea party in the winter time, I think.
29. There's been a lot of really good poetry created around/about/during the winter.
30. The way it smells.

I'm adding more from my friend Charlie.

 31. The joy of watching a puppy or child experience snow for the first time.

32. The horrible pain of cold air in my ears because it reminds me that I’m are alive and discomfort is only temporary.
33. Taking a deep breath and feeling the chill in the deepest part of my lungs.
34. Hats. 
35. Seeing animal tracks in fresh snow and remembering that we share this Earth with other creatures that don't fully depend on us, 
36. It’s a time of new beginnings and self evaluation.
37. The surprise caused by a well placed snowball in the face.
38. Steaming up the windows when I cook. 
39. The feeling of lotion on dry skin. 
40. The sound of snow crunching under my tire/foot. 
41. Having to humble myself after slipping on ice, especially in front of other people, and remembering that something as simple as ice can bring even the most confident and powerful person literally to their knees. 
42. The ongoing battle between hot and cold that causes icicles to grow, and the light that shines through them.
43. The adventure of waking up without heat.

Adding more of my own.

44. Being able to see my breath!
45. Eating snow and icicles.
46. playing on playgrounds is more exciting: sliding down slides, jumping off the swings.