Erin Flew the Coop

Weakness, the Badge of Honor

2012-01-11T15:27:00.003-05:00

I'm in my 4th week at my new job. A job I didn't exactly see in my future. I applied in the midst of my obedient streak in November - I literally applied and then shed a few tears. Didn't give it a second thought. Until they called for an interview. I agreed and sat in the parking lot the morning of the interview fighting every urge in me to drive away without going inside. See I didn't want to go back into nursing. I loved baking. But it wasn't making a very good living for me. And I either had to give it 120% and pursue my own baking business with no turning back...or head back into nursing. And ironically enough, God gave me both options. In the same week. The very same week I was let go from the bakery (which closed two weeks later). I was let go from one job and offered two. One I wanted very much. The other...well, I didn't. One was full of exciting uncertainty. The other a road I went down for three years after college - I knew pretty well what to expect. One was full of financial questions. The other financial stability. One was not God's plan. The other was. It was a challenging few days until I figured out which one was which.

Accepting the nursing position was interestingly the choice filled with peace. I was grateful for an answer. But I didn't see why. Maybe I still don't. What did become evident in that week though, as I prayed for clarity in how to best glorify God, how to best see the Supernatural at work, was that allowing Him to return a passion and love for nursing would glorify Him more right now than starting a baking business in Charlotte. And talk about needing the Supernatural to work! There was (and is) work to do on my heart. I wasn't ready to go back into nursing. But would I ever be without just actually doing it? Maybe it's like parenthood. Can you be fully ready for it before it happens? I don't think I was ever going to get to that "ready" stage without just doing it. So I'm doing it.

But you know what? Some of the same frustrations that drove me away the first time are here again. Oh, don't think I didn't see this coming. I was well aware that these challenges would find their way into this job too. So now I'm faced with how to combat them. I am confident this job is where God wants me for now. And I'm confident He wants it to be a less frustrating experience than the first go-round (an experience that resulted in my flying the coop and the very beginning of this blog). My Charlotte coworkers were awesome. Those I'm with now are incredible too. The job itself is joyful. The routine and charting and million little things you have to do that take away from care-giving absolutely drive me up a wall. And that's the part of my job I'm not good at. All the little crap that doesn't matter. I do the job, and do it darn well I think, I just stink at the tedious little stuff that covers your butt and makes JCAHO happy. So it's a place for God to enter in....for me to submit. Just over a year ago I got a tattoo symbolizing to me God's strength perfected in my weakness. It represents this verse:

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me...[f]or when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

I have looked at that tattoo a million times this week. I am facing that weakness now and realizing how significant this weakness, this badge of honor is. It's a way for me to become less, for God to become more. It's really the only way to succeed. But I have to allow Him to work in me. I need to beg of Him to be strength for me. Because I am weak. And it is hard. But I am learning. I will learn how to wear this weakness well.

What is your badge of honor? Are you wearing it well?

Obedience, Part II - Willing Spirit, Weak Flesh

2011-11-14T10:19:00.001-05:00

So a few months ago I wrote about obedience. It was part one of two, implying there was more on the subject I wanted to say but part two never quite formulated in my head. Until now. And it's not with joyful heart that I convey this post. Heck, maybe I asked for this by writing about obedience in the first place. Either way, here's my latest thoughts on obedience.

I've been doing a study this semester with my small group ladies called, Jesus, the One and Only by Beth Moore. It's fantastic. Throughout this study I've really become aware of Jesus' authority in our lives. He has power. He IS power. He exhibited that repeatedly throughout Scripture, throughout the course of His ministry. And He exhibits that in our lives, and I think longs to exhibit more authority if only we'd ask for it. I've also become increasingly aware of His compassion. This was my prayer. I wanted to feel what He felt, in a sense. To have my eyes opened to what He saw. Holy cow. I will never understand the weight of what Jesus carried as He walked step after painful step on this earth, but the window into His heart that I have seen has marked me. It's heavy. His burden was unbearable. No wonder He went off to pray alone, to plead on our behalf to His Father to intercede in our lives. For healing. Restoration. They were a lost people, just like we are. How His heart broke as He saw firsthand the result of sin, shame, disobedience. The pain must have been unbearable. And He wasn't even hanging on the Cross yet. As I've had my eyes opened, even just a little bit, it has increased the sense of burden for others in my life. For family, for friends, for youth group girls, for small group ladies, the list goes on and on. Sickness, complacency, broken relationships, death, unsettled hearts. I struggle with the weight of all that. I've yet to figure out how to manage it, but I'm getting there.

In the midst of this increasing burden, I find myself struggling to be obedient once again. To be obedient in spending time with my Father. I feel a pull for more. Like what He wants to show me, what He wants to say to me will require more time than I'm currently giving our relationship. And I fail to give it. This morning I overslept again. Not enough to be late to my job, but enough to be late for my date with God. It's a scene that is all too familiar in my life. And I'm wrecked. Why in those moments of clarity, when I'm not sleepy or groggy or huddled under the covers, why in those moments is it so clear? My mind says, Just get up! It's not that hard, is it? But something clouds my mind in those early waking moments as my alarm clock is blaring. I read in Proverbs 31 about the woman of noble character. She gets up while it is still dark and accomplishes more than I could hope to. I want to be her. But I'm not doing a very good job. What's so frustrating is this isn't a new struggle. It's been present in my life for years. I've been acutely aware of it in recent months, as I sense God drawing me in, I sense myself wanting more.

As I (once again) fought with feelings of guilt, disappointment, and frustration, I thought Man, this whole getting up on time thing is really a thorn in my side. I want it gone! Paul wanted his thorn gone too. But it remained - to remind him that God's grace is sufficient for him. That God's power is made perfect in weakness. Which is hard to swallow. This grace thing. I continually stand in amazement that God continually gives it. I would have given up on me long ago. No more grace for Erin! Yet in those moment of clarity, those moments of surrender and heartbreaking humility, I am repentant. But by mere definition of the word, doesn't that mean I turn from my ways? Yet I still fail. WHY? My spirit is sincere. But my flesh is so weak. I don't want to do the things I do, yet I continue to do them. I wonder if it breaks God's heart more to see the sin and disobedience in His children than those that don't yet know Him? I know better. And yet I still disobey. And yet He still gives me grace. But grace doesn't erase consequences. That. is. heavy.

And so I move on in my day, unable to go back and fix this morning. Or the other hundreds of mornings where I chose broken sleep over moments with Peace. But there is hope. I am redeemed. I am loved. I am forgiven. That will never change. And in addition to that, I have a God who supernaturally protects me. His Spirit is IN me, interceding for me when I no longer have words to say. I must pray and trust that God can pull me out of this. And that He'll use this lesson, this pain, for good.

Acorn Dreams, Revisited

2011-10-27T00:15:00.002-04:00

So a few months back I wrote about acorn dreams. How God gives us dreams, a desire to see something come to fruition, but He requires us to give it back to Him to plant and grow. This past weekend as I was driving into the mountains of North Carolina visiting this amazing lady, I listened to a podcast sermon from September that I'd missed. Kevin Queen was shedding light on the fire of faith that Paul talks about in 1 Timothy. As believers we have this fire burning in each of us and we're called to pass it along. It's a great message, you can watch/listen to it here. Somewhere in the midst of his words I felt hugely convicted. I don't know exactly what KQ said that sparked it, but I was instantly reminded of my acorn dreams. I sensed God asking me, If they're so important, why aren't you praying more for them? Hit me like a ton of bricks. Tears welled in my eyes and I realized how after awhile, after giving the dreams back to Him, praying about them, I sort of lost sight of them. I wasn't praying for them with the fervent passion I once had. Praying with expectation. With a purpose and a vision.

I contemplated why this had occurred. In my case, I think it happened due to a few hiccups in life. And time. Time always has a way of weaseling in and distracting us. I was reminded to not let my heart drift. Keep my gaze steadily on Him. Pray for those dreams. And believe. Because He who promised is faithful.

No wonder the Bible talks about praying without ceasing. There's so much to talk with God about...the only way to cover it all is to converse with him nonstop!

Obedience, Part I

2011-09-26T17:18:00.003-04:00

There is a large part of me that hasn't wanted to write this blog...for a long time. It's been brewing for months, believe me. I've wanted more clarity, more organization to my thoughts. But God won't let me let it go. The word "obedience" is coming up everywhere - my thoughts, Scripture, facebook posts, sermons, songs. The time has come to get my thoughts out there, so bear with me. Caution: this may take more than one posting; I will do my best to make it worth your time.

In all actuality, my pondering of obedience and God really began in 2008. My coworkers at the time and close friends will tell you I fought a hard war all over my hands with warts. Holy cow, they are stubborn little devils. What started as one quickly turned into more than 30 in little clusters all over the fingers on both of my hands. Thinking back, I can remember trying to hide them. They were a huge source of embarrassment and self-consciousness. Sitting in church, I'd fold my hands in certain ways so people couldn't see them. I'd keep my hands in my pockets or fold my arms when in conversation. I tried several things to get rid of them. I should have bought stock in Dr. Scholl's wart remover. I used duct tape like it was going out of style. I had them frozen by a dermatologist. I had them surgically removed and burned until my hands looked like a bloody war zone. And they grew back. Every time. I began to research medical reasons - vitamin deficiencies, chronic dry hands, soap chemicals, etc. Nothing seemed to make a difference. I eventually began to think that maybe God was trying to tell me something and until I listened, the warts would remain entrenched in my skin. Like there was an area of disobedience that was causing them to remain. Finally I read that my body needed to recognize the wart cells as foreign and that attempting to kill them all at once would be overwhelming and unsuccessful. The key was to target one, blast it, get it to go away completely, then hit another one, until the body gets the idea that it's foreign and bad, and then it will take on the fight itself. It worked! It was amazing. After years of treatments and money, it took two weeks to conquer the first one, then they all disappeared. Every single one of them.

How does that relate to obedience? I think we can get overwhelmed with so many areas in our lives that we want to see change happen that nothing we do works. If we are able to focus on a spot or two, really dig in and seek change, the momentum will move on to those other areas. It's starting with the small things. Little steps. Just like a parent does with a child. A child isn't taught all areas of discipline at one time. That would be too overwhelming. A set up for failure even. It's really a process. Growth. Obeying once leads to obeying again. The level of trust increases as the child demonstrates their ability and willingness to obey.

And as I was telling a friend last week, obedience sure does feel good. It just feels right. And you can't be neutral. You're either obedient or you're not. There's no halfway. If you're asked to take out the trash and you take it halfway down the driveway, you weren't obedient. In the same way, if God tells you to stop and say hello to someone you've never met before, and you pretend you don't hear the prompt, you weren't obedient. Being in a place where you can't hear or see doesn't make you more obedient - you're just blind to what He's asking. And I've experienced firsthand how disobedience hurts. We all have.

Sometimes I find myself asking, how do I know it was God that spoke that to me instead of just me thinking it? Does it matter? If it's a good thing, if it's beneficial, isn't it better to have done it and it be of me than to not have done something God was asking? It goes back to trusting Him. I am currently reading through the book of Daniel. Man, that guy trusted. Can you imagine finding yourself being thrown into a den full of ravenous lions and completely trusting that God will care for you? But life feels like that sometimes, doesn't it? A den full of ravenous lions. And we're expected to trust and obey. Easier said than done, eh? But it's steps. One leads to another. God is a lamp unto our feet (Psalm 119:105). He didn't say He was a lamp a mile ahead on the road. He's the lamp at our feet. Guiding the next step. And then the next one. No wonder obedience feels good. It's us walking down the right path. The guided path. The steps may be so small at times we wonder if we're getting anywhere, but if we're listening to our Father, really listening, He's got us right where He wants us.

What a Relief!

2011-09-20T00:35:00.000-04:00

Goodness gravy, I about tackled an 83-year-old man today. Just out of the sheer joy of seeing him again. Peter, my favorite regular at the bakery (I'm not ashamed, everyone knows it), and a man who I call my friend (read more about him here and here) has not come in to the bakery for several weeks now. I have been worried sick. I've asked every one of the other mall walkers if they've seen him, I've asked all of my coworkers if they have. I've even had some of my blog readers ask about him. No one has seen him or heard from him. I knew the Brit had a trip to his homeland planned for this fall, but I knew it wasn't this early. Something had happened. I could just sense it. I have prayed for him often, wondering what was keeping him from his daily morning walk through the halls of the mall and his cup of Columbian coffee with a splash of cream. Of course my mind went to a million different reasons, but I kept telling myself that his good friend who looks after him surely would have let me know if something serious had happened, or (ack!) if he had died. She just would.

So today I was helping a customer and out of the corner of my eye I see an elderly man walk in in a suit coat and dress pants. He slowly walks up to the coffee bar, his back to me, and starts getting out his wallet - an action he's done a million times before. It's Peter!! The familiarity of this scene hits me and I mumble something to the customer as I race across the bar to embrace Peter. I exclaim his name as I hug the heck out of the frail trembling man. He proceeds to tell me about his three week stay in the hospital with pneumonia, being released, then readmitted because he lost 30 pounds in a week. Boy could I see it. He was so frail. So much the same Peter he always has been, yet different. He couldn't hide his exhaustion. His hand shook when he brought the cup of coffee up to his mouth. He had walked from Nordstrom to our store and needed to sit. Usually this man walks two miles with hardly breaking a sweat. He said he had come to the mall the day before to run an errand, but waited until today to come to the bakery because he knew I would be there today. Ugh, it melted my heart. After fixing his coffee the way that he always does, he made his way to the couch to regain his strength before making the trek back home. It brought me such joy to sit with him, hear all about the past several weeks, share with him how much of a scare he gave me, and let him know that he must call me if he has a need for anything. I hugged him again just before he left, receiving a kiss on the cheek.

I'm so glad to have Peter back home. My how I've missed him.

Acorn Dreams

2011-08-15T19:57:00.001-04:00

This past weekend I had the opportunity to relax and refresh with my fellow youth group leaders at the Simpsonwood Lodge. The beautiful retreat center just outside Atlanta is nestled in miles of wooded land. Turning into the driveway, I could sense my sprit coming alive as I drove past tree after tree. Friday night we ventured into the woods for a bonfire complete with worship, prayer time, and ending with S'mores (of course!). It was truly an amazing time. God must have thought so too as He showed up with rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightening nearby as we sang and prayed. The Holy Spirit was definitely moving in our midst.

As amazing as that was, it wasn't my favorite part of the weekend (it was a close second, with a Spoons marathon coming in at 3rd). First place slot goes to Saturday afternoon. Setting: the Prayer Labyrinth. Characters: me and God. Plot: acorn dreams. Let me elaborate...

We had a few hours of free time, and I knew right away I wanted to check out this place. I set out with my Bible, journal, and trusty ipod. Walking up to the Labyrinth reminded me of my favorite place in the botanic gardens in Christchurch, New Zealand. My heart instantly began to beat faster. There's just something about walking with God in nature - it's like that's how it was supposed to be or something (oh, to be in Eden!). I took off my shoes, let the music begin to flow, and began walking through the maze. Partway into it I looked down and saw an acorn. A perfect acorn. It stood out because it was shiny and colorful, unlike the gray rocks, dirt, and fallen leaves amongst my bare feet. It was like a treasure. I knelt down and picked it up, turning it over in my fingers. It took on the symbolism of a dream. A dream you or I would have in life. The walk of the Labyrinth is life. We follow the twists and turns, sometimes able to see ahead, sometimes longing to look back, but only present in the steps we are taking right at that moment. Along the path are twigs and branches, things that may trip us up, but then there are also acorns. Seeds, implying life and growth, which will one day become oaks. I continued walking, thinking about what my dream in life would be. Then I happened along another one. I picked it up to join the first one in my hands. I pondered another dream that God has given me. As I continued to slowly walk, I saw how these acorns, these dreams, cannot remain in my own hands. If they do, they will never survive. On my own I don't have the ability to give them life. Only God can water them with living water. Only He can provide the ground in which to grow them. If I kept them, they would die.

But why does God give us these acorn dreams along our path if we can't keep them? I think because He desires for us to pick them up, hold them awhile, create a space in our heart for them, then give them back for Him to plant. They give us glimpses of what to long for, what to turn our eyes and ears toward. But they are His to have. He plants them in due time. He waters them with His eternal water. He grows them. And then He brings them into our lives again at some point. But only if we give them to Him...completely.

So I walked with these two acorn dreams for awhile, through cool shady spots and hot sunny spots, continuing to slowly make my way to the center as I let my thoughts rest on the acorns. There was a little basket holding written prayers of others nestled amongst some rocks in the middle. I sensed it was time. It was time for me to release the acorns, to let them fall into the basket, out of my hands and into God's, releasing them to the One whom I trust more than any other. To the One who holds my heart. I let them drop with a sense of peace. Trusting that their presence along my path wasn't an accident. Trusting that one day "[t]hey will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor" (Isaiah 61:3, NIV). I am eager to see how he grows these little acorns and brings them back into my life!

What are your acorn dreams? Are you holding onto them?

Dream. B-I-G.

2011-07-07T18:10:00.000-04:00

I went to the library today in search of a few books (duh). After a rather unfruitful hunt, I sat down to continue my current read, Radical, by David Platt. It's such a good book, but I just couldn't focus. There were too many things running through my head. And it was too quiet there. I needed some stimulation. Something in pace with my brain so all these thoughts could come out instead of getting lost in the silence of the library.

Naturally, I went across the street to Starbucks. While searching my car for a pen (it never fails that when I change purses, I forget to transfer something of great importance), I happened across a Starbucks gift card. Certain it had no charge on it, yet hopeful I wouldn't have to scrounge together enough change for a cup of tea, I decided to give it a go. Ladies and gentlemen, that little plastic goodness was loaded with 10 bucks! Thank you to whomever gave it go me. May you be blessed with a life full of caffeinated beverages. The tea must still be coursing through my veins...I'm losing track...

So, I opened up my brainstorming notebook, which I had conveniently remembered to grab just before I pulled out of the driveway. I stuck my earbuds firmly in my ears, Brooke Fraser and Needtobreathe (who else?) pounding through the tiny speakers. My pencil - there was no pen to be found in my car - firmly in hand, and I began to dream. Dream BIG. I let it all loose. Formulating ideas, jotting down visions from years past, passions, desires. All of it interweaving in some great stream of chaos. I'm sure those around me could have glanced at my face and wondered at its contortions more than a few times. But I continued to write, attempting to piece together some semblance of order to my thoughts. To gain some knowledge as to the purpose of my history, my experiences, that have all brought me here, to this place, in this moment.

The afternoon was glorious. Intertwining Scripture and lyrics and thoughts. I felt like an author or songwriter or artist on a mission. I'm not sure if any of what I wrote down would make sense to anyone. Well, to be honest, it probably would. But I'm not going to share it. Not yet anyway. I'm praying you'll get to see the fruits of my purging session soon. For now, I've just told you about it, an effort to hold me accountable in a way. The brainstorming did happen. Something will come to fruition. I dreamed big. And I believe in the God who gave me these dreams.

T.r.u.s.t.

2011-06-30T13:50:00.002-04:00

Alright, it's time for me to stop reading everyone else's blog and post to my own. Any other bloggers out there who've ever felt the push to blog about something but for whatever reason try to avoid it? Sheesh, that's not like any other area of my life at all....(if you didn't catch the sarcasm, you can soon read more on how I like to avoid giving attention in my life to where it's needed most and the lovely aftermath that results in...whenever I do get around to blogging about it). This morning's distraction? Max Dubinsky's writings about "the relentless truth of life, and the honesty of creativity; nonreligious views from a man who is mad about God's unconditional love." Beware, you might kiss your productivity goodbye as you pour over his words like I did. And then you might just become a fan on Facebook. And if you're really gutsy, you'll follow him on Twitter. But don't worry, I won't call you a copycat.

As for today, I'm finally giving proper attention to a curious little five-letter word that is currently wrecking me. T-r-u-s-t. Yup. It's pretty simple isn't it? You trust your bed to keep you warm at night. You trust your coffee to properly wake you up in the morning. You even trust your car to happily take you from place to place without protesting.

But do you trust God? Do you trust Him enough to give up yourself, your life? Give up everything you've wanted, everything you are. To trust Him. Because that's what He requires. See, the more I press into Him and spend time with Him, the more I understand what being a Christian really isn't. It's not attending church every Sunday, accepting Jesus into my life, listening to Christian music, and turning to Him only when life gets tough. It's a day in day out submission to His will. It's living for Him. Not me. Nowhere in this does it include my desires. My plans. My wants. But oh it is so. much. more!

All I have to do is say goodbye to a comfortable little home filled with a husband and kids, the constant smell of baked goods wafting from the kitchen, and the cozy little glow coming from the fireplace we're all sitting around. Easy, right?...Right? I'd like to say yes, but in all honesty, it's not that easy. It's not that easy to give up dreams you feel are woven into the very fabric of your DNA. Desires that have been around for as long as you've been playing dress up and house (or, in the guys' case, micro machines and legos.) It's everything you've imagined, everything you thought you were created for, sacrificing it all for the sake of bringing glory to the name of my Saviour.

All He's asking me to do is trust. Trust that His plans are bigger than mine. Trust that His plans for me are for good and not for evil. Trust that He will direct my paths, if only I seek Him. His Letter to me is filled with this promise. The desire to get me to see what a life lived with him really is. Here are just a few samples:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil." (Proverbs 3:5-7, NIV)

"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him and I am helped." (Psalm 28:7, NIV)

"But I trust in you, O Lord; I say 'You are my God.' My times are in your hands." (Psalm 31:14-15a, NIV)

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." (Romans 15:13, NIV)

"My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken...[t]rust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him for God is our refuge." (Psalm 62:1-2, 8, NIV)

And you know what happens when we do? We see how His love is better than life! He gives us "his great and very precious promises, so that through them [we] may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires" (2 Peter 1:4, NIV). We are more than conquerors through His love, and nothing can ever separate us from Him (Romans 8: 37-38). We just have to trust Him. With everything we've got. Giving up everything we've got.

Why have I been wrecked by this? Well, for one I've recently left my job at the bakery (for reasons I will explain in a private message to you, just not in this blog). It was time. I'd lived in stagnancy long enough. So I once again find myself in a place of questioning what the heck I am doing on this earth. I've helped deliver babies. I've traveled the world. I've brewed countless cups of coffee and decorated cookies and cakes. I have a passion for baking. A passion for writing. A passion for Jesus. And telling people about Him, particularly students. It is one crazy ride. I have yet to see how it all ties together, but I trust. I'm challenged with it every day I wake up. It's a choice I have. I don't have to trust, but let's face it, the alternative to trusting God would be trusting myself, and when has that ever seemed like a good idea? So I literally wake up every day and claim God's truths, which give me the confidence to trust. He's concocting something fantastic up there, something greater than I could conjure up on my own. And that's the point. If it was up to me, my life could maybe be good, nothing fantastic, and certainly not anything that would point to God. But when I trust Him with all of me, well, then I leave Him room to come in and supernaturally work in my life, ultimately bringing Him glory. His fingerprints need to be all over my life for anyone to see it's not of me.

And since this life isn't about me, well, I'm trusting Him.

Home

2011-06-10T01:45:00.001-04:00

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.
-Nelson Mandela

601 Sharpe Street - my childhood home

I first read this great quote years ago but was reminded of it again last Thursday. My brother, sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew, and I were traveling (all in one minivan!) to South Dakota to surprise our Grandma Jucht for her 80th birthday. Our trek across country had gone quite well so we found ourselves a bit ahead of schedule. After 20 hours in the van we were hungry, to say the least, and happened to be passing the exit for our hometown, Vermillion. We decided to take the exit and pick up a Pizza Hut pizza to devour in Prentis Park. (Both hugely nostalgic points of interest.) It instantly felt familiar. The feel of the grass between my toes, the warm wind on my face, the dandelions, the bugs, the trees. We swapped memories as we finished off our meal. As we drove the main streets of the town, my siblings and I marveled at how spot on our memories were. We recognized the slide at the pool, the sign at the front of the park, the library, our schools, the ball fields. It was almost as if the town had been frozen for the past 16 years. It was so much the same, albeit a smidgen smaller (or had we gotten bigger?!). One must-see sight was our old house: 601 Sharpe Street. We could hardly believe how unchanged it was - the same soft blue paint, the same cement steps along with the same black handrail. The maple tree still stood proudly out front, only bigger and grander now. Floods of memories came to mind: the countless mud pies I made on the curb after it rained, my dad standing in the front yard throwing me as high as the roof so I could catch a glimpse of the backyard, sitting on a blanket in the front yard reading books with my mom, climbing the weeping willow in the backyard and singing for hours. It's where I learned how to walk, talk, and ride a bike. Some Friday nights we'd order a Bigfoot pizza from Pizza Hut, rent a movie and VCR (yes, that's right, we'd rent the VCR too!) from Hollywood Video, and settle in the basement for family night. I could go on and on...

A whole heck of a lot of life has happened since we left that house. I learned how to drive a car, went off to college, had my first career as a nurse, traveled the world. I've learned and experienced so many things, yet when I set foot on that soil, there's something in me that feels so right, so at home. It's as if I never left. I think that's what it's like when we spend time with God. We were created to be with Him, to relation with Him in perfect holy union. But things changed, we sinned and the world became a different place. We could no longer know God in the same way. But He had mercy on us and we were saved by the sacrifice of Jesus. We can now turn to God and relation with Him as His redeemed creation. It's like returning to how things were supposed to be. Nowhere else on earth feels quite as right as when I'm sitting with my Father. He is unchanged. We go through life's twists and turns, altering each step of the way. And then we rest in His presence. It's everything familiar, it's everything peaceful. It's home sweet home.

Agua

2011-05-21T02:45:00.000-04:00

I need to go to a pool. Or a lake. Or the ocean.

I'm craving water. Not like a glass of water to drink. And not a body of water for laying on a beach towel and tanning either. I want water I can submerse myself in. Be fully consumed by the stuff. I've had this recurring water theme for awhile now. I remember being struck by the profound implications of it a year ago while on a hike with my mom. (check out Peace Like a River) There was a stream flowing along most of the 8-mile trail. It hit me that streams are moving, constant; powerful at times, softly flowing at others. Never stagnant. Just like God and His love. This week I was reminded of an image I had a few years ago when I was on a run at Freedom Park in Charlotte. It was a cold autumn morning...and it was raining (my favorite time to run!). The park was vacant save for the geese and worms. I paused for awhile by the pond and gazed at the water. I had an image of me taking off my jacket and shoes and diving in. As I hit the water and was fully submersed, I was filled with the most incredible feeling of peace. It was as if I was surrounded by God's love, completely covered. If only I would jump in the water. But I didn't.

For some reason that image and all the feelings that went with it stuck with me. I was reminded of it on Thursday on another run, this time at Little Mulberry Park (newfound addiction, thanks to my friend Jenna). There's a pond there, too. And it got me thinking of water again. That feeling of diving in and being perfectly at peace - is that what it feels like to completely trust God? I've been working on trusting Him. Like really trusting Him. There are some things in my life going on right now that require me to give Him everything. To faithfully put one foot in front of the other and trust for no other reason than He is God. But that's reason enough.

This morning I was pondering what trusting my Father really looks like in my life and listening to the Passion Here For You album. David Crowder's "Sometimes" started playing. (listen to it here) The song is magical in the way that it builds instrumentally with Crowder's bold voice piercing through. It makes my heart beat faster and a little bit feel like it's being squeezed tighter and tighter. He says "It's Your love that we adore, it's like a sea without a shore, we're lost in You, we're lost in You." I'm thinking sheesh, this is just what's been on my mind. And then my favorite lines hit:

Don't be afraid, Don't be afraid
Just set your sail and risk the ocean
Show me grace
Let's risk the ocean

THAT is what I want! I want to risk the ocean...and rest in God's grace, trusting Him wholly to guide me. And you know what, I believe He will. Why? Because He promises this in His Word - it's all over! Jeremiah 29:11-13, Psalm 138:7-8, Psalm 34, Mark 11:22-26....I could go on and on. He just asks us to trust Him. And we have no reason not to. Hebrews 6:17-19 tells us "it is impossible for God to lie." Since all these promises are true, I have no reason not to trust. And Crowder says "don't be afraid"...but golly, that's easier said than done! It feels kind of scary...so I want to go to the ocean. I want to dive in, feel the cool water surround me, the peaceful feeling of gliding through its currents and imagine my Heavenly Father guiding me just the same.

Be Like a Child

2011-05-10T06:50:00.007-04:00

I've just gotta tell you about the way the Lord answered a prayer yesterday. It was a Monday morning; enough said...but let me elaborate. My soul had been discontent all day Sunday. When this happens I tend to not sleep - I have a hard time closing my eyes at night because I think some epiphany will hit me while I'm awake and wasting time, namely facebooking (please tell me I'm not alone in this!). So Monday at 5:45 hit pretty hard when I'd only fallen asleep a few hours before. Naturally, I overslept and had to rush to get ready for work. God's grace came to me as I arrived at work and discovered I was the only one there and didn't have a key. How is this God's grace? Well, it provided a perfect opportunity to pull out my Bible and read as I sat on the patio to wait for my boss. My soul opened up immediately. My soul was weary and dry. I asked God to speak to me - I felt like I hadn't heard Him in awhile. I reminded myself that the Holy Spirit was IN me. He is with me every day, everywhere I go. And I asked for peace. I've felt a block when I come to the Lord, as if I don't have the words to say. It's like I'm almost back at square one asking Him how to pray.

Soon my boss arrived and the day began. But I couldn't shake this needing to hear from God. A couple hours later, as I found myself behind the counter being the morning barista, wiping down the counter for the hundredth time, it hit me. A memory hit me - a memory so vivid I could almost taste it. I was in the Drum Cafe in Christchurch, NZ. I was sitting at a table, back to a wall, looking out the window. Bible open in front of me. Amelie Soundtrack playing in the background. There was a German couple sitting a few tables over. The smell of warm breakfast food surrounding me. It was cold and rainy outside, but I was nestled in this little cozy nook for hours. I remember feeling really content. And I also remember journaling about this day. (I journaled nearly every day on my trip, which I've been grateful for countless times.) As I tried to figure out why this memory flooded my head, the only thought I had was to read. It's as if someone kept saying over and over Drum Cafe, go read your journal, Drum Cafe, in December, go read, find the words. So at 11:45 last night, I did. First page of my journals in December say, "Found myself in Drum Cafe in Christchurch today. Drank a delicious hazelnut latte...did my devo in the shop today..." I was reading A Pilgrim Finds the Way. These are the words I copied down from page 60:

“Children: for them everything is a “game.” They are “deadly serious” about everything. They do not “worry” about food, clothing and shelter. What they need they just ask for, and keep asking till they are satisfied, whether it be material things or attention or affection. They “trust” everyone instinctively. They speak right out what they are thinking. They are inquisitive and searching. To them everything is new and wonderful. They ask questions not because they have doubts or because they want to gain control, but in order to learn and understand. They need to be constantly reaffirmed about their worth and value.” The pilgrim here seems to be meditating on Jesus’ command to become like little children if we desire to enter His Kingdom. We can learn from this how we should relate to our Heavenly Father."

Are you kidding me? My answer, loud and clear. God was saying, come to me as a child comes to me. I don't expect you to have this all figured out. Simple words. Just express your thoughts. See, typically I like to come to God having my desires figured out and expressing them to him in a mature composed way. I found myself coming up short. I didn't know how to put it all together. And this right here was telling me I don't need to. Ask like a little child asks. Inquire with the curiosity of a 5-year-old - and let me tell you, after living with one, that's one heck of a lot of curiosity. I'm reminded of Luke 18:15-17 where Jesus rebukes his disciples for sending the children away. He says, "let the little children come to me...for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these."

I smiled to myself and thanked God for giving me this answer. Even if it took all day for me to eventually sit down and read my journal. He was faithful and kept reminding me. And when I was obedient, He put the answer right there.

More Haiti Musings

2011-05-02T03:29:00.001-04:00

I have pages and pages of journal entries from the trip. My last blog entry simply wasn't enough to truly capture what the 9 days held for us. So after debating the best way to not bore everyone to death and yet share more about my experience, I've settled on laying out some snippets from each day - believe me, you wouldn't want the whole of it! Feel free to skim, browse, or skip altogether...

Day 1: Saturday, April 2, 2011
Ok, weariness evident by falling asleep before takeoff on first flight and sleeping through it! Never done that before. Starting a trip this weary isn't ideal, but not much I can do about it now. This is such a great group of people. I'm really excited to be with them all week. Admittedly I feel unsure of the actual work we're doing - am I prepared? Uff-da. God's gotta carry us from here...
My contacts have been in for 28 hours so far...
Listening to Phil Wickham's new album - I feel like being on this plane is crossing the line between Heaven & Earth.
Mountains = love for God...
PRAISE GOD! No luggage lost, all flights on time...
Met Dave and Beth Watters (World Hope missionaries in Haiti) today. LOVE them! So great to hear their story, see them shine Christ's love. So inspiring...
Being in town reminded me so much of the Philippines only on a larger scale. The mountains cried out God's majesty. They were awesome! I felt such incomparable love in my heart for God. A deep love. A love He keeps pursuing. He amazes me. I've teared up several times since being here and it's only day 1. God is stirring in my soul - I want to decipher his message!

Day 2: Sunday, April 3, 2011
Omelette for breakfast - lots of onions and a "hot dog" in it. White bread and a banana...
Off to the mountains after that to do VBS/church with the kids, then fed them lunch. So grateful for Aaron's natural oil stuff to help with car sickness!... (Seriously, Aaron...it was a lifesaver!)
Loved interacting with the kids! So cute and eager, once we got past shyness they were so engaging. Did David & Goliath skit/story with them. Sang song, played soccer, jumprope, bubbles. Served them a wholesome meal - food stretched to feed everyone! - very wholesome meal, quite possibly the most filling meal they'll have all week...
Felt very weary after getting back "home." Supper - rice and beans, some pasta stuff, potato salad, plantains, fish (literally a fish on the plate...with eyeballs).

Day 3: Monday, April 4, 2011
INADEQUATE. That's the best word to describe how today went for me. I felt like I didn't have enough to give. I didn't know enough medications. I didn't speak the same language. I didn't have a pen or paper when I needed it. Everyone needs something - water, food, better nutrition, vitamins, prescription meds, antibiotics. The Haitian doctors asked me what and how much to prescribe. There were so many more things we could have used. But even then it's only a short-term fix...
I need to turn to God more, more prayer, more relying on Him. I felt very alone today - it was a great morning, but the further into the clinic we got, the more alone I felt. My heart cries out to do this [medical missions] more though. Not sure what to do with that...
So I feel better after talking with the group - there were lots of good experiences that everyone had - I saw lots of neat moments: Sarah teaching hygiene, Brad with his hand on a child's head praying, Lauren fitting a woman for eye glasses. I did what I could.

Day 4: Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Today will be better. I'll know more what to expect. I'll be familiar with the meds and doctors. I have a better grasp on what we can and can't do for people. Human interaction - smiles - touch - that's what we have an unlimited supply of. 2 Corinthians 12:9 came into my head last night: "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." Believe and be satisfied, Erin...
Things I want to remember but may not be able to explain: extremely rough road driving up the mountain; driving through the river (literally), people washing motorcycles, tap taps, their clothes, themselves; goats, pigs, donkeys all around; piles of trash and burning trash; plastic bottles everywhere; buildings along the street are vacant but people are everywhere; children walking in school uniforms; women with stands of fruit, veggies, rice and goods; heat; sun; smells...
Saying "bonjour" or "bonswa" with a smile will almost always break a barrier...
Another clinic today. Felt less inadequate. Saw about 100 people. One child with a fever of 104, another with malaria, another with ringworm, another with scabies. It was so hot out there...
Debrief time on the rooftop of our hotel with our team. Great time together sharing testimonies. Each story is so full of meaning. God's fingerprints all over. I love hearing their stories, such depth and feeling...
Heard a Haitian church service in progress down the road from our hotel, so we went to join them. Such a neat experience - encouraging for both the Haitians and us. Pastor spoke on John 3, the Vine and the branches. Clint sang a worship song. Neat to meld together as brothers and sisters, singing in two languages yet in unison. Very cool.

Day 5: Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Didn't sleep good last night. Was hot all night and dreamt. Will fake being refreshed this morning. :)...
Another great clinic today - saw about 110 people, mostly children. Lots of headaches, worms, trouble sleeping, coughs, fevers, etc. Gave out probably $5000 worth of meds...
More great testimonies tonight!...
I smell. Gross. But I shower every night. I feel great though. No sickness! No sunburn!!!

Day 6: Thursday, April 7, 2011
Morning alone time on the rooftop. Cherished moments each morning. I wouldn't trade this time for anything in the world. Reminds me of David on rooftop with His Lord. 2 Cor. 12:7-10...about thorn in Paul's side to keep him humble - possibly like my feelings on inadequacy? Feeling like I'm never smart enough, can never remember enough, never measure up to those I compare myself to. Brings back memories of times in high school, college, nursing job, etc. I've struggled with this for years...
Plantain soup for breakfast. Verdict still out on that one...
Went to school down the road for VBS with 5 and 6 year olds - little Haitian Coopers! :) We colored pictures with them, shared the gospel with them, prayed over them - their little heads bowed and hands folded...would melt even the hardest of hearts. Got to play with them after class. Pat-a-cake, Ring Around the Rosie, holding their hand and spinning in circles, singing French songs. We danced and twirled. Lovely beautiful laughs and smiles...
Went back to the Haitian church tonight. Clint led us in worship, Brad gave the message. We laid hands and prayed over them. They laid hands and prayed over us. Extremely powerful moment. I felt great heat on my head and hands as the pastor prayed over me in Creole. Such intensity. Such peace. Whew, it was a very Spirit-filled moment.

Day 7: Friday, April 8, 2011
GREAT God time this morning. Up on the rooftop again - it's a beautiful morning. Bright sun, a bit of fog/mist over the mountains in the distance. Shane & Shane, some Chris & Conrad ("I'm At Home" and "You're the One")streaming through my iPod. Psalm 145. My heart is so full and at peace...
Went to the dedication service for MaryLucy's school. What an amazing school - very conducive for a great learning experience. Our team sang "Our God" at the ceremony. I love that song!...
Headed back to the school down the street. Lindsey, Brad, and I went into a class of 15- to 20-year-olds. We shared the gospel with them. One kid named Johnny came forward and became a believer! They asked a ton of questions on what it is to be a Christian. Questions about nightclubs, drinking, premarital sex, tattoos, earrings, girls wearing pants, pornography. It was a neat time of discipleship. They kept going and going with questions. They were hungry to be led. Each of us jumped in where we could to explain and guide and speak truth. We prayed over them at the end. Such a need for believers, Christ's hands and feet, to walk with these teens...
After dinner tonight we debriefed with Beth. She is so kind. God is working in and through that woman all over. She has such a dear heart and said great encouraging words about us and to us, and described what re-entry to life in the States will be like. Had great team-building time afterward. Sitting on the rooftop in the dark sharing stories, laughing until our sides hurt. We were all very aware that moments like that are rare. Cherished the time to get to know each other better. Yay for Transitional Community bonding time!

Day 8: Saturday, April 9, 2011
Packed up this morning. Braided lots of hair for the girls on my team. GREAT God time again on the rooftop - my last morning! Beautiful time with my Father...
Loaded up and drove back over the mountains to Port au Prince. Honestly, I don't have the energy to describe everything I saw on the drive. The memories are etched on my heart. Pictures capture some of it, but it's why you have to travel yourself. There's something about the sights, smells, feelings all combined together. It can't be captured completely in a picture. Thank you God for allowing me to experience this.

Day 9: Sunday, April 10, 2011
Time to go home. Part of me isn't ready to leave. Part of me will never leave. And another part of me is so ready for a hot shower it's ridiculous.

Whew! You made it through (or skipped a lot)! Congratulations. Thoughts on life after Haiti - the struggles and life lessons coming soon...

Haiti

2011-04-13T23:53:00.001-04:00

Man, what a trip! I thank you for patience in waiting for the stories. I wish I could have written while in Haiti, but honestly, it might have been a distraction. Being there was the most at peace I've been for awhile. We had a really busy week, but there were so few distractions. I had no cell phone. No internet. No movies. No bills to pay or errands to run. No emails to return. It was truly living in the moment. Being fully present with the tasks before us and trying to take it all in. And boy was there a lot to take in. Crowded chaotic streets, women carrying baskets and bags of goods on their heads, bleating goats, honking horns, children laughing, burning piles of trash, malnourished people and animals, the list goes on and on.

My amazing team in the 12Stone parking lot at 3:30 AM - ready for departure!

All 21 of our suitcases! THANK YOU for all your donations!!!!

trash on the side of the road

crowded streets

beautiful children

stunning mountains

me (on the roof of our hotel) with a tent village in the background

I can tell you it is a truly beautiful country. Beautiful people. Beautiful landscape. Every time I see mountains I fall deeper in love with our Creator. These mountains proved no different. We drove through breathtaking scenery on our way from the capital city of Port au Prince to where we would spend the week in Jacmel. All ten of us and all 21 of our suitcases made it safely to Jacmel. It all went so smoothly we could hardly believe it! We concluded God's favor was on us and tucked that encouragement away as we started the week.

There are stories upon stories to tell, but for now I'll share with you three of my most heart-capturing moments. The first one was on Monday during the clinic we held in the mountain village of Terra Rouge. A shy young woman carrying a tiny bundle slipped onto the rickety wooden chair in front of me and one of the Haitian doctors. She moved the blanket in her arms to reveal a four-day-old sleeping little girl, her daughter who couldn't have been more than 5 and a half pounds. She was a precious baby, but she had an eye infection. Through the help of interpreters we discovered that some unclean water had accidentally splashed into the baby's eye at birth. The eye was swollen and matted shut. We gave the baby what meds we could. I had the privilege of holding her while the mother learned how to open the medicine bottle. Can you imagine? She was a young new mom. Her baby was sick. She had no other alternatives, so she swaddled up her newborn and made the long trek to the clinic. She was determined to give her baby a fighting chance. She had the sweetest smile. And she was so grateful. It broke my heart to see her walk away. How far did she have to walk to get back to her hut? Would her baby's infection cause blindness? Would she even live? What pain was the mother feeling after delivering a baby a mere four days earlier? Her determination and strength was beyond inspiring. I will never forget the look on her face as she thanked us before walking away.

The second moment involves a patient on the opposite end of the age spectrum. A few days later we were doing another clinic in a different area. Several elderly women came through - some for glasses, others for stomach issues, others for rashes or wounds that aren't healing properly. But one woman stuck out to me. Like most of the people coming through the clinic, they willingly wait hours to get to the doctors. While they waited in line, our team got to love on them - blowing bubbles, playing games, massaging lotion into overworked hands. This particular woman had her nails painted in the most lively bright shade of red you can imagine. She carefully eased herself down on the bench as I prepared to take her blood pressure. I noticed her red nails right away. I knelt down to hold her palms in my hand, showing her I was admiring her beautiful hands. I "ooohed" and smiled over them and when I looked up into her face, the look of kindness in her eyes was paralyzing. It was like this 70 or 80 something-year-old woman had stepped back to her childhood, like a child showing off her new dress. Her clear eyes shone with gratitude and the multitude of wrinkles on her face deepened as her mouth curved into a big grin. I thought to myself, I'm looking into the face of Jesus. And it had never looked more lovely.

The last story involves several children at a school we visited to do VBS. We spent the morning in a classroom of 5- and 6-year-olds. Precious little children in their pale blue uniforms. They were more attentive than I've ever seen kids that age, hanging on every word as we shared with them the story of David and Goliath. We laughed as the story was acted out, giving several kids the opportunity to fall to the ground as Goliath did. We colored pictures with them, swapping crayons and oohing and aahing over their colorful creations. We shared with them the gospel and prayed over them, each one bowing his or her head as the words were spoken. After the class was dismissed and we'd visited with other children, I saw these kids out in the quad area outside. I went over and started interacting with them, attempting to play games through our lack of verbal communication. They smiled and giggled and fought over who would get to hold my hand next. We started twirling each other and dancing even though there was no music. I asked them to sing for me and the next thing I knew I was part of a circle of 8 or so children who are all singing in French. We're holding hands and walking/running in the circle, like we would if we were playing Ring Around the Rosie. I didn't know what the words meant, but it melted my heart to hear their voices singing in unison and see their eyes looking to me for affirmation. It has never been more fun to share laughter than with those eager little ones.

Oh the Roller Coaster

2011-04-01T00:47:00.000-04:00

Man alive, these last two weeks have been busy! Work, small group, youth group, out of town, a musical, a million little errands to run, bills to pay, prayer night, baking...whew. I'm tired all over again just from typing it all. I'll be honest, I'd hoped to be more well-rested for the trip to Haiti, but there just hasn't been enough time. In fact, I'll make this short so I can get a few more zzz's before departure.

As April 2nd creeps closer and closer, I've felt the ups and downs of the roller coaster all the more. Thinking about the people we'll meet, the work we'll get to do, the medical care we'll provide, the games we'll play - takes me pretty high up! But then there's the errands, the daily life that still needs to be lived, the thoughts of inadequacy or that feeling of having forgotten something - it can bring me down. The frequency in which I vacillate between the two has taken me by surprise. Literally one minute I can be up, the next minute down. It's amazing, however, how those little moments of solitude and prayer can change the mood. Just opening up the communication with God brings such peace. I have to challenge myself to counter every negative thought. Thoughts that not much can be accomplished in only 9 days...or without a building and medical supplies who can we really help?...or I''m just not equipped enough for a trip like this. They're lies. And I'm grateful for our great and mighty King who will accomplish His will for me (Psalm 138:8)! People often ask me if I'm nervous for the trip. To be honest, not a bit. I'm so excited to travel again (after a over a year since my last trip, it's about time!)...and this time I get to go with people! It's a testament to God's faithfulness that I have no fear. I've struggled with fear a bit in my life, and still do in several areas, but He's helped me conquer this trip. I only have excitement and anticipation, not a hint of fear on the horizon. I believe God has significant things in store for our team!

Speaking of our team - they're pretty incredible. They're hearts are crying out to serve. We've prepared and prayed and opened ourselves up. We've packed up 20 suitcases with crafts, clothes, medical supplies, and games. The time is here to allow the Spirit move in, around, and through us.

We'll be landing in Haiti in about 34 hours...!

Apathy Acts Like An Ally

2011-03-14T00:01:00.000-04:00

As the departure date for Haiti approaches (April 2nd!!!), I find myself increasingly eager to begin the trip. I've received all my shots and pills, I've collected gear and supplies, I've fasted (13 of 21 days done so far) and prayed. And yet I'll never feel fully ready to go. At the end of the day, I may be safe from Typhoid and Malaria, I may have a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope, but I'll never feel fully prepared. That's where I get to do all I can do and trust God to do the rest. I get to give Him my weaknesses, my failures and shortcomings, and see Him shine in the midst. I fully expect Him to work in great ways in our team and in the people we meet. And the more I pray, the more my heart yearns to engage with the Haitians, the more my perception of their pain comes into focus. I cannot imagine what changes they have been through in the past 14 months, nor can I begin to understand the depth of sorrow they've experienced. But I long to be with them, to share a smile, to validate their pain, to encourage and pray with them.

Brooke Fraser's "Flags" has been my theme song of the month. Click here to listen to this amazing song. I sense my emotions triggering when I hear "reality has left you reeling" and it's just downhill from there. It's rare to end the song with a dry eye, yet Brooke's poignant prose speak of something oh so hopeful. It's got God's promises spelled right out:

You who mourn will be comforted
You who hunger will hunger no more
Oh the last shall be first, of this I am sure

In Luke 6, just after choosing His disciples, Jesus makes these promises to them. It is with this truth settled deep within me that I will pray with expectation as I walk on Haitian soil. That is the hopeful part...but there's also the part that haunts me every time.

While apathy acts like an ally
My enemy and I are one and the same

Uuuugh, it just makes me grown inwardly. How often am I apathetic towards those who mourn, those who hunger, those who weep? Do we turn away and move on or turn towards and press in? It's easier to just move on, but we're called to press in. The Great Comforter has commissioned us to be His hands and feet. We are the physical embodiment of His Spirit on earth. If we turn the other way, who will be there? I'm challenged to think of where I miss opportunities, where I let my busyness distract me from seeing the need of those calling out. Preparing for this trip has made me aware of not only the needs in a far off country, but also the needs of those in our own circles. Sure it takes courage to fly to a foreign country and share Christ's love. But isn't it just as courageous to extend your hand to those right here?

In light of recent natural disasters - the earthquake in Christchurch, NZ (which was close to home for me) and now the wreckage in Japan - I'm also challenged to not just feel sadness at the weight of the tragedy, but to DO something! No, we can't jump on a plane to every country in need, but we can pray...unceasingly. Let's set ourselves apart from the enemy, raise our weapons, and fight the spiritual battle in prayer for them!

Disobedience Hurts

2011-02-21T23:44:00.000-05:00

We all know the scenario...alarm goes off at some ungodly hour of the morning, in a groggy state you reach over and hit snooze...again...and again...and again...until finally you rouse to some level of consciousness that reminds you there was a reason your alarm went off when it did. You finally stumble out of bed and wearily begin the day.

That was my morning. And boy was I mad. Not at my alarm. Not at my bed for being so darn comfortable I never want to leave it. I was mad at myself. Plain and simple. I had my morning all divided up: 30 minutes with God, 30 minutes to shower and get ready, 30 minutes to eat and get out the door. I don't like to rush in the morning, so the 30 minutes schedule works quite well. Unless you get up 30 minutes late. I had to skimp on something. I couldn't bring myself to completely cut out any of the three activities (let's face it, it would take some serious security to step out of the house and work a full day with no makeup). So if nothing was removed from the schedule, how would I get ready on time? I ended up shortening all three. It was the best solution I could come up with in my sleepy state, but it made me sad. I did get everything done, but I had to rush. And I skimped on my time with God. That was the most saddening. It doesn't matter what I might say to Him, my actions speak clear as I reach over and hit snooze for the third time. And I think really? I would really choose an extra 5 minutes of sleep over spending that time resting in the presence of my God? One who satisfies all desires, who has plans to prosper me, the One who created the mountains and yet formed every detail of my being. This morning I chose sleep over all that. And I was so sad. I couldn't shake it for some time. I know He is also a God of mercy and grace, a God who redeems me every day, but I let Him down - I let myself down. And like a child who disobeys his parents, I was hurt by the disobedience. No, God didn't ground me. He didn't send any lightening bolts either. But I missed out on time with Him. I was the one who suffered for my own actions. Disobedience pulls me away from Him, the opposite direction of where I want to go. So I was left to spend the rest of the day changing my trajectory. Although my initial actions, before I even rolled out of bed, didn't put Him first, I had the opportunity to set it right. At some point I had to stop being mad at myself and move on.

You can bet I'll be faced with the same dilemma tomorrow. Satan (and pretty much everyone else) knows I'm not a morning person. He's very aware that the less time I spend with my Father, the more likely I am to listen to his lies. So it's not just about that extra 30 minutes of sleep. That decision sets the spiritual tone for the day. It's a small action that can win or lose the first battle I'm faced with each morning. This morning I lost. But I've got a battle plan for tomorrow. And I've got God and the angel army on my side. I will win.

My Divine Valentine

2011-02-15T00:01:00.002-05:00

I'm gonna go ahead and call myself out on this one. "Divine Valentine" is just plain cheesy. No way around it. But it's also true.

Today has been one of the best, if not the best, February 14th in my adult life. Let's face it...as a kid, it's the greatest day next to Halloween...pretty decorated Valentine boxes, secret admirers, gobs of free candy...what's not to love? Then you enter adulthood. Single adulthood. And the holiday seems to generally be a slap in the face. There have been years of, let's see, loneliness, bitterness, pity-partiness (yes, I'm aware that's not a word, I had to match the theme). The list goes on, but who wants to dwell on that, ay? This year this day was different. I woke up almost tangibly aware of God's love. The lyrics to "Your Love Never Fails" were running through my head - even before I swung my feet off the bed. Then on the way to work I listened to one of my faves - Phil Wickham's "Divine Romance." And it hit me: I've got a Divine Valentine. No bouquet of roses delivered to work or doily-esque cutout heart with words of gooeyness written on it or a kiss on the cheek. BUT, He did give me a natural world full of life and color! He also gave me His Word full of promises (my eyes treated themselves to Psalm 139 this morning). And the sunshine kissing my cheeks as I drove home with my sunroof open....that moment couldn't have been beat. Walking into work I heard a most beautiful birdsong. I got to talk to Him all day - even while I was at work. Then I got to end the night with my small group - a great time with fabulous ladies!

So I could have spent the day belaboring the fact that I had no date (although I did receive the sweetest card from my dad, just as I do every year...and I hope he knows how much I look forward to getting his card every year). But sheesh, had I spent all my energy focused on the negative I would have missed out on so much! It was a seriously lovely day.

What an Experience!

2011-01-27T23:41:00.002-05:00

Ok, I've stared at this blank screen for minutes now, trying to find words to express what is within me, grasping at some way to eloquently explain the details of Monday night through Wednesday morning. Forget eloquent, I'm just hoping for adequate at this point. Here goes...

Monday evening I began to send support letters to friends and family for my upcoming trip to Haiti. The key word in that sentence is began. You see, I never got a chance to finish. Within 48 hours of sending the first letter, God had provided in a big way! I woke up Wednesday morning to find my personal need of $900 met. Done. Finished. I hadn't even sent all my letters! I was fully prepared to embark on at least a month-long endeavor of support-raising. I've seen it firsthand. I lived with a dear friend who does full time missions. She and several friends have shared with me the joys and trials of support-raising. To be honest, I've more often heard of the trials. So I bolstered myself with a prayer of faith (probably the size of a mustard seed...) and approached the dreaded task. I'm not one to love math, but even I couldn't help but try to work out equations of "this many people would need to give this much to meet my need..." Each time popping the math bubble in my mind with an abrupt reminder of God's faithfulness.

And faithful He was. Our Jehovah Jireh not only confirmed my call to go on this trip, but He also caused my faith to deepen significantly. I spent most of Wednesday in disbelief, longing only to fall flat on my face and praise my Creator. I blared praise music louder than ever before...if that was even possible. I teared up time and time again. I almost did a cartwheel down the hallway at work...almost. It was truly a feeling I've never felt before. I felt like God had picked me up, twirled me around, and set me back down to continue on with my day. The God of the Universe had given me this incredible blessing! I am, of course, beyond grateful for my family and friends. Their love and support will walk each step with me in Haiti.

While my personal goal has been met, I do however encourage anyone to continue with what you feel God is leading you to give. There are vaccines and supplies I need that are not covered in that $900. Also, anything above and beyond my personal need will go to help the other team members - and if there is any left after that, we will buy supplies to donate. I know that there are a few people on the team specifically who do not have support of their families in this trip, so they may benefit greatly from the overflow! Donate to the Haiti trip by clicking here.

I'll close with some Scripture that speaks to where my heart is firmly planted:

Psalm 52:8-9

...I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever. I will praise You forever for what You have done; in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good. I will praise You in the presence of Your saints.

Psalm 95:1-7

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before Him with thanksgiving and extol Him with music and song. For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to Him. The sea is His, for He made it, and His hands formed the dry land. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care.

Praise Him!

Those That Wish to Remain Unnamed

2011-01-20T23:51:00.001-05:00

Fear. It's a four letter word that likes to hold significant power, yet it doesn't get this power on its own. We have to give it. It's amazing how much it can affect the outlook of my life, my week, my day. At the same time, those I interact with on a daily basis probably have no idea of the fears that nag inside. We all have them. So how do we get rid of them? How do we remove them from our lives, reclaiming all that God intends to be ours? We name them. That's right. Giving them a name, calling them out, shining light on them (ugh, I don't like the sound of this either), that is what causes them to shrink and disappear. So, without tons of explanation, I'm naming some of mine. For all to see. I've had friends who've done this via blog. I sense it's freeing. And scary, but mostly freeing. So here goes...

I fear failure...I began to conquer this after arriving in New Zealand - I apparently need to reconquer.

I fear missing the point of why God has me here...in this world, in Georgia, in this season of life.

I fear not being able to follow through on the point of why I'm here...lacking gumption.

I fear all things financial...enough said.

I fear I will have to "go it alone." (Wording from U2's "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own.)

I fear getting hurt...it's a fact of life, but I'd sure as heck love to avoid it.

I fear hurting others.

I sense God desiring me to purge these fears. As I said in my last post, He's working on some things in me. I think He has some things to show me that require a progression, a deep-set call to continual attention, not just a sudden change. I feel like my verse of the year is 2 Corinthians 12:9:

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

As God began working these things at the start of the year, something became clear early on that I am seeing come to fruition. And it took some fear conquering to get me on board. Ever since my experience in the Philippines, I've been longing to go back. And I believe I will someday. But first, He's asked me to go somewhere else...

HAITI. I've been accepted to travel with a team from 12Stone Church on April 2-10!!!! I felt the pull to apply one night while I was listening to Louie Giglio talk at Passion2011. There was a heaviness in my heart for this country and an excitement that I could be a part of the hope in the rebuilding. I had heard of the opportunity a few weeks earlier but to be honest, I felt nothing. I talked myself out of it before I even gave it a shot. Fast-forward a few weeks to the first weekend of the year. Getting the last-minute opportunity to volunteer at the conference, I knew there was a reason for me being there. Worshipping with thousands of others seeking God. Meeting a dad and his daughter from Haiti who have suffered greatly from the earthquake. Talking with a doctor who pinpointed the reason for my medical burnout. He encouraged me to pursue nursing outside the US, in a place where getting medical care is a luxury, where red-tape, protocol, and all sorts of other passion-killing things aren't even on the radar. All people want is proper medical attention. I had lost sight of the need for medical care. It's common and expected here. And so much of it on the healthcare provider side is so far from the personal interaction. It's paper and charts and computers and red tape and people making decisions from behind a desk that have never walked a day in the life of a nurse. And so I'm going to Haiti. A medical team of me and 9 others will be serving in any capacity we can. And I'm pumped! Beyond excited. I'm begging God to wreck me. Yes, you read that right. To...wreck...me. To take these now named fears and give them no ground to stand on. To blow them so far from my life they'll quiver at the thought of returning. It will take vulnerability. And transparency. And emotion. Just a few things I like to shy away from. One could even call those weaknesses in my life. But that's just the spot for God to enter in and reveal His power!

The Pull and Tear.

2011-01-08T05:13:00.001-05:00

There is a certain pull on my soul as one leading a life following Christ. The world and all its expectations try to tell me one thing. Beliefs and faith tell me another. It's easy to feel the pull to become one among the crowd, to be "normal" along with everyone else. We have TV ads, magazine articles, educations even telling us who and what to be. Pursue this career, move to this area, read this book, watch this movie. The world even goes so far as to tell us when we should be married and starting a family. But then there's Jesus. He also tells us what to be. He doesn't say anything about being one among the crowd or being normal. His life, in fact, was quite radical. He shattered expectations on so many levels. And I believe we are called to do the same.

But there's still that annoying pull. That innate desire to go with the flow of life, of the world's expectations. Sure I desire to be settling down, getting married, starting a family. It feels OK to follow this for awhile, but at the core I know something is wrong. My focus begins to shift off the One who leads me and starts to settle instead on instability. I wander off the solid ground of Truth, and my footing becomes shaky. But all the while I'm praying for God's will to be done in my life. Praying that He would become greater and I would become less (John 3:30). Praying for Him to have His way with me. Society and cultural norms call loud and clear (even when we don't want them to). Yet God's still small voice is ever-present under the din of worldly temptations, if I would only listen. I sense the pull getting stronger toward the true, narrow path. God's Spirit is moving in me, pulling me back to Him. And then it happens. The pull gives way to a tear.

I've lived in that pull the past few months. Desiring some sort of safe, comfortable, normal life. One where I might meet someone and "settle down" - whatever the heck that means. Basically desiring a life that I can fit into a box. Here's where the problem starts: God doesn't work in boxes. He is so outside of the box its ridiculous! But in my prayer for Him to have His way with me, what did I expect? Did I expect comfortable or radical? Safe of crazy? To be honest, it was the comfortable and safe. I tried to see how God would work all the while limiting Him to the safe box. Longing for a way out of what seems to be this holding pattern stage of life, I looked to how He might be shaping the future. But then there's Crazy Love. His crazy love! What does He want for my life? Marriage and family? I don't know. I just know I've felt the pull to get a routine, a sense of a comfortable life. And God can be in that. But I'm sensing that's not for me right now. He's asking for more. Something more radical. And so I tore.

It happened this past weekend as I volunteered at the Passion 2011 conference here in Atlanta. There's just something incredibly moving about worshiping with 22,000+ university students, serving for an amazing ministry. It will take awhile to unpack the great messages I heard, the enlightening conversations I had, the passion that was rekindled. I was reminded that this life is all about Him. It's really not about what I want. It's about me bringing Him glory. That's it. That's why I'm here. So what happens in the wake of the tear? Well, I don't know exactly. I can say so far that God is entering in and beginning to change my outlook and my mentality on a few things. It's strange, there's seemingly less certainty in this spot, but oh the peace! The joy of knowing He's at the center of it all. The exact "tear moment" that happened this past weekend is something I'll elaborate more on in the very near future. All I'll say for now is it involves a more radical outlook on my current purpose, more fully embracing this Crazy Love and beginning to pursue expectations outside the box. And it might just involve me taking a short trip outside the country...

My Friend Peter

2010-11-20T16:32:00.002-05:00

Friday was a good day. Scratch that. Friday was a great day! First off, it was Friday, thus making it automatically a good day. It never lets me down - it begins the weekend...every week. I began work at the bakery at 8:30, as usual. But this morning my coworker, Liz, and I decided to spice things up a bit - we played Christmas music!!! Now, hold on a second, I can just hear you arguing that Thanksgiving gets cruelly left out as we speed ahead full on toward the 25th of December. Well, for those who care to know, Thanksgiving is in fact one of my favorite holidays. Simply put, playing Christmas music beginning November 1st (now your eyes are really rolling!) in truth helps me get in the holiday spirit altogether. Come up with some Thanksgiving music and I'll play it. Until then, I'll revel in my holiday music collection as I enjoy Thanksgiving as much as Christmas. I don't discriminate.

Now that that's off my chest, I can adequately move on to what turned a good Friday into a great one. It involves Peter. I've mentioned him before. He's a mall walker. An elder British man who seems to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder while still having a soft side hidden somewhere in the crusty exterior. He came into the bakery the other day while I was in the back room. One of my coworkers said, "Hey Erin, your friend Peter is here." It struck me as funny to refer to him as my friend. He is, of course, but admittedly it's an unlikely friendship. Peter and I have never had more than a 15 minute conversation (although the one 15 minute conversation we did have provided a rather large window into his life story). I've never run into Peter anywhere but the bakery. We have no relatives or friends in common. He is 57 years older than me. Prior to yesterday I'm not even sure he knew my name. But we see each other five days a week...and he's my friend. I always inquire about his agenda for the day. Our exchanges often remind me he's quite the quipster. But he makes me laugh, and I feel like there's a part of him that enjoys my extra-cheery smile and "Have a great day, Peter!" as he walks away with his coffee in hand.

During our "life story" conversation, he shared with me that he would be 83 on November 19th. Apparently I misunderstood this, as it's actually his mother's birthday, but I swear to you he said it was his. We'll chalk it up to miscommunication due to either his old(er) age or my inability to sometimes understand his accent. Either way, I was under the impression that Friday was a day to celebrate Peter. So I did. Awhile back we made British flapjacks at the bakery. He loved them! His eyes lit up as he recounted memories of his mother making them. He's been on me to make them again - one day he said, "I'll see you later, now go make some damn flapjacks!" Well, I took him up on that. I made some Thursday night and boxed them up for him with a card tucked on top. I was so excited to see him at his usual time on Friday morning! When he told me it wasn't his birthday (but it was his mom's), I pressed to know the actual date of his birth. He wouldn't budge. So I told him I declared yesterday the day we would celebrate it since he wouldn't tell me the real day. I told him if his mom wasn't born, he wouldn't be born. Reason enough for me! He agreed and read the card. I busied myself as he read my attempt at dry cynical humor as well as honest kindness. The look on his face and the exclamation that came from his mouth as he opened the box of flapjacks was the moment my day became great. He looked so smitten. We got to talking about his weekend, his plans to go to the fresh market to stock up on British items as well as a stop at the British bakery for pastries. He commented on how it can be lonely at his age..."after living with someone for so long, it's quiet when they're not there..." He thanked me, picked up the box and his cup of coffee and said, "This is the nicest thing anyone could have done for me" and was out the door. I held back tears as I turned back to the tasks at hand. There were no other words that could have brought me more joy.

It was a great Friday, indeed. Next Friday has a lot to live up to...

Cookie Cutters (as promised...) and Treading Water

2010-11-02T21:42:00.001-04:00

I once told someone "Cookie cutter cookies are good. Cookie cutter friends are bad."

It sparked a conversation. And a promise. A promise to expound on the meaning of my words via blog. On the eve of this dear friend leaving the country to pursue God's calling on his heart, it seemed an appropriate time to do just that. I've thought a lot about friends lately. How you gain new ones from each life stage. I keep in touch with friends from high school, college, post-college, and world travels; now I'm developing relationships with people here in Georgia. But that doesn't mean I love those from cities past any less. To be honest, no two of my friends are alike. And I like it that way. They all bring something unique to the table, I connect with each of them on different areas. It's kind of like the Olympic rings. Yes, I just compared my friend network to the Olympic rings. They're all different colors, they all connect somehow, but they all stand alone in their own way. That's why a cookie cutter wouldn't work for friends. Aside from being too much of the same thing, there would be no challenge, no interest. It'd be just plain boring. Let's face it, none of us would be who we are if it weren't for our friends.

And so tonight, one of those uniquely shaped non-cookie-cutter friends is stepping on a plane to a distant land (although distant is now relative thanks to Skype). He is following God's call. Giving (up) everything to help bring the Kingdom to earth. Moving to Thailand for a year is no small thing. Neither is the work he will be doing there. Lyrics from Bebo Norman's "The Hammer Holds" comes to mind.

But my dreams are not the issue here, for they, the hammer holds
The task before me seems unclear, but it, my Maker holds

This move, this act of obedience, it's what life is all about. It's radical made normal. It's accomplishing something that a cookie cutter friend never could.

Ok, I've been wracking my brain for some great segue into the "treading water" part of this blog, but to no avail. So I'll just jump in. (Ha, no pun intended.)

I was worshipping at church a few weeks ago and assumed my usual worshipping position: both hands halfway raised or one halfway and one all the way. With eyes closed, I had an image. I saw a child reaching for his parent, obviously with both arms stretched high. I thought, why don't I do that? Why don't I sing to my Father with both hands stretched upwards, a gesture of surrender, of asking to be held? There's something humbling about doing this as an adult. Sure children do it all the time. They fall and cut their knee, they want something to eat, they long to see up on your level...they raise their arms up in the hopes of being picked up. Doesn't our Daddy want us to do the same thing? Raise our hands to Him in a gesture of surrender, longing to see up on His level? I hadn't thought of this again until Friday night when I was worshipping at a conference. One of the speakers used this illustration of both arms of a child reaching up to his parent. God's subtle reminder of something He revealed to me, His words echoed in the voice of another.

At this same night of worship, I was hearing God speak to me about faith. I'll admit not much scares me, but I am seriously afraid of swimming in the ocean. Like past the point where my feet will touch. I don't mind swimming pools. But you put me in the ocean without a life jacket and it's panic. Heart pounding fast, shortness of breath, the whole shebang. But I'll go as far as my feet will take me (with my height that isn't very far!). God was pressing in about trusting Him to take that bold step of faith into the water. I told him I was afraid of the ocean.

He immediately responded with It's ok. I'm not asking you to tread water. I'm asking you to walk on it.

The War

2010-09-18T23:43:00.000-04:00

The past week and a half hasn't exactly been the brightest and cheeriest of times. What happened, you ask? No specific event or circumstance. It's just that something seemed "off." I wasn't myself. Each waking second seemed to present a new set of challenges. And not big ones, ones that days earlier would have been no problem. But in that time, it took everything I had to do things right. And the thoughts in my head were pretty stinkin' horrible. I felt a warring between my "new creation" and my old fleshly self. Like serious warring. I didn't like me one bit.

Sleep seemed to be the only escape. So I slept a lot. For some reason, however, I'd wake up and nothing was different. As much as I wanted it to be, I just couldn't make it different. And everything was affected. Interactions with family. Conversations with coworkers. My relationship with God. And that was the worst. I'd pray, but I just didn't feel anything. I'd look at the Scripture hanging on my bathroom wall (telling me I'm redeemed, that the God of the Universe knows me by name...some big stuff!) but couldn't bring myself to read it. I didn't feel it. I was ashamed at my own selfishness, at my own lack of interest.

But I learned something this week. I learned that when you don't feel it, you DO IT ANYWAY. You read Scripture anyway. You pray anyway. You worship anyway. Through the course of these days, I found myself worshipping at church in two different services. If you've read just about any of my posts, you'd know music speaks to my soul. So you'd know then how difficult it was for me to be in the worship setting, feeling nothing. But I found myself singing anyway. Did it feel dishonest? No. Because I believed it. My mind knew the Truth. But my heart just didn't feel it. This is not to suggest that we shouldn't be honest in our worship, but sometimes speaking those words reminds us that we believe it. And this past Wednesday, in the midst of serving the middle schoolers in youth group at church, my heart was called back, awakened, reminded of how to feel for our God. My head knew all week what to THINK, but I just couldn't get past that...until I found myself amidst a sea of middle schoolers singing these words:

Change my heart and make it Yours, everything I am for Your Kingdom's cause

Talk about a humble statement. It took a whopping declaration of humility to burst my balloon of selfishness that had been throwing a pity party for days. This life is simply not about me! Yet there is a great God who loves me anyway. That is weighty stuff when you're in the midst of selfish self-loathing. I KNEW the love, but I just didn't feel like reciprocating it. And yet God loves me. Seriously? That is incredible! His love eventually broke through and awakened my heart again. In worship. In giving back. In serving.

I awoke on Thursday morning with a cloud lifted. I felt like a completely different person. Same circumstances, same routine, but an entirely different outlook. I took that experience with me yesterday to a leadership retreat (for the middle and high school youth group volunteer leaders). All the youth pastors, including Brett Moore, pastor of middle & high school at 12Stone's Flowery Branch and Hamilton Mill campuses, spoke some great words. But one sentence he said broke through on a very personal level: "It feels like we are warring with someone (pause for dramatic effect) because we are." We are warring with "...the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Phil. 6:12). Satan is out to cause fear and failure. He doesn't want us to succeed! And when we are on the verge of great things, he has to try harder. But God's love is stronger and unceasing. His peace eventually began rushing into my soul again. It pulled me out of my funk. It showed me two things: there is a very valid war being fought in our midst every day, and that when you just don't feel...you do it anyway. I have a sneaking suspicion this lesson may come in handy down the road with a marital relationship...or maybe married couples feel like loving all the time (aaah, if only!).

Mall Walkers and Senile Old Men

2010-09-09T22:30:00.002-04:00

If there's one thing I've learned from working at the bakery - located in a busy mall - it's that the mall is no longer just a place to shop. (You thought I was going to say something about baking, didn't you?) In the early morning hours, the mall is actually an indoor track for the 60+ population. Ask any one of them and they'll tell you that one loop around is a full mile, unless of course you don't go into all the inlets, then it's just half a mile. Oh yes, we've got the power walkers, those that mosey their way around, some clad in tennis shoes and baseball caps, some in khakis and polos. They are certainly of their own unique breed. Quite a few of these mall walkers - who rarely miss a day - make a stop off at some point for their morning cup of coffee, and sometimes a danish or two. I always get pleasure out of seeing them, asking about their morning walk as I ready their usual cup of joe. Sometimes they're late. Sometimes they seem pretty tuckered out from their laps past the risque storefronts (I often wonder if it's more from disheartened spirits than from physical exertion). Sometimes they miss a day. I like to think they enjoy being known and inquired after. So I inquire.

There's one gentleman in particular I enjoy seeing. I've taken him on as my project. Meet Peter. He's an elderly, widowed, hard-of-hearing, borderline senile British man. And he likes his coffee simple. None of that flavored "rubbish" - his face will contort into something dreadful if you even ask him if he wants something other than Columbian. Today he chastised me for opening the gate late. He was sitting at one of our umbrella tables in the hallway; it's his usual resting spot before he comes in for his caffeine fix. I always ask him how his morning is. He typically grunts some answer in response. I've gathered he has a rather despondent outlook on life. One morning his response was particularly cynical.

Me: "How's your morning going?"

Peter: (looks at his watch and responds in a defeated shrug) "Well, it's only 9:30, there's a lot of it left."

A few days ago I asked him his name. He seemed surprised and almost looked as if he didn't believe I'd just asked that as he gave his offhand answer. I've made a point to call him by name since. And yesterday he responded that he had a lot of errands to do upon my inquiry to the rest of his morning. Exciting errands? Not even close according to him. I tried to get him to see that it's all in the journey and anything can be made exciting. He didn't buy it. He quipped back something about "you young folks."

But today I feel like I made a breakthrough. He wasn't gruff. He was almost pleasant. I thought I'd thrown his morning off-kilter when I opened the gate 7 minutes late (which, to be technical is still 23 minutes earlier than the mall actually opens). I noticed, however, that Peter was all dressed up. Far beyond the usual khaki shorts and polo, he was in dress pants, dress shoes, and a button up. I never really got down to why he was so dapper. I commented on him being "spiffy" - which he promptly denied. But when asked how his morning was, he actual responded with "not too bad" and proceeded to comment on my shirt. It's progress, folks! When you only get mere minutes to interact with someone, you've gotta take what you can get. I'm hoping these daily few minutes might just make an impact with Mr. Peter. Not only do I get to hear my beloved British accent, but I get to work towards my mission of being a bright spot in this man's life.

If you ever feel like getting a workout and not having to pay for it, come take a stroll around the mall. And be sure to stop in at the Kneaded Perk - I'll be glad to fix you a cup of coffee. And I'll even ask you how your morning is going.

Plagued By Lyrics.

2010-08-28T15:17:00.000-04:00

It certainly wouldn't be the first time. And due to my love for music, I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. I wake up with a song in my head, perform daily duties with songs in my head, and lay down at night with a song in my head. It's like my own soundtrack to life. Sometimes they're lighthearted and fun, other times they pull my soul down a melancholy path. The latest lyrical prose to circle my mind? Phil Wickham's "Always Forever" - a beautiful beautiful love song to God. I listened to it the other morning on the way to work. Well, more accurately I sang my heart out to it. Until I got to this line:

"I would lay down my life / Just to be by your side"

My brain stopped dead in it's tracks. I asked myself the question, Would I? Would I reallly lay down my life if it meant being by His side?" I mean sure, if it came down to that. But doesn't it come down to that every day of our lives? Isn't that what we, as believers, are called to every day? We lay down our plans, our hopes, our dreams...every day...for Him. That's weighty stuff. But oh the return! The rest of the song describes what God is to us when we lay down our lives to Him:

"You are the hand that catches my fall
You are the friend that answers my call
You are my day, You are my night
You are my love and all of my life...
You are the grace that covers my sin
You're everything the beginning and end..."

Wow. That's the God we serve.

Think. Pray. Love.

2010-08-24T22:28:00.001-04:00

I know, I know. You can't believe I swapped the "eat" part of that for "think." Seems all I write/talk about these days is baking. But, surprise! There's more going on in this little brain than you might think. I am an INTJ after all (a Thinker with a well-developed feeling side, but a strong thinker nonetheless). You know when you're around someone who can't stop talking and you find yourself annoyed to no end? You eventually stop listening and try to think of ways to expedite the end of the exhausting one-way conversation? We've all been there. Well, that was me and my brain on Saturday night.

It all started with a 2+ hour sit through the movie Eat. Pray. Love. I was eager to see this movie (even though I hadn't read the book...shame on me!) because it's one of my faves Julia Roberts (playing Liz) in the role of a woman who travels for a significant amount of time...something I rather connect with. As the movie played out I found myself wanting more - more of Liz' inner thoughts...her processing through the journey...her conclusions afterward...and how they would affect her from that point forward. I also found myself wanting the smells. Sounds funny, ay? Well, that was one thing that struck me in every country I was in. The aroma of different places. The underground tube station in London. The botanic gardens in various cities. The crowded streets of downtown Cebu. The crisp mountain air in New Zealand. It completes the experience. A movie can only portray sights, sounds, and often they can evoke an emotion. But they can't make you smell it. Nope. That's only something you get by being there.

I was also struck by brokenness in the movie. People's brokenness. It was the central theme to just about every character in the movie. It pervades every human heart on this earth, whether we realize it or not. It's a thought I've had several times in the past few weeks and months. I began to pay more attention to that on my journey as I walked the soul-filled streets. I guess being around strangers tunes you in to actions, movements, words, and facial expressions in ways you maybe overlook in people you know well. I recently had a rather significant breakdown moment in my car. I was driving past my old house in TN - a place and time where life and circumstances were vastly different. The weight of the changes came crashing down, resulting in a temporary emotional breakdown of sorts. I tried to pull myself together so I could safely drive away - then a thought hit me. How often do we pull up to someone at a stoplight or pass someone on the Interstate who's experiencing the sadness of brokenness? It's hard to do anything about it when we're all driving in our own little (or big) cars. But what about our coworkers? The cashier at Walmart? The guy who fixes your car? People we interact with daily. Are they carrying around the weight of brokenness? Tragedy, accidents, hurts, healing, fear, anxiety? Do we see it? What can we do about it?

I can't begin to say I've got all the answers to these questions. All I know is that I can't help but pray. I think of Kendall Payne's song "Paper Skin." What truth in those lyrics! How God's heart must break continually for His people. May our eyes be opened to what breaks His heart. May more of His Kingdom come down to earth as we live in Jesus' redemptive love. As we all walk around with paper skin.

The DTR.

2010-07-19T23:14:00.000-04:00

It's dreaded in most relationships. Things are going smoothly...and then, bam!...the DTR hits (that's "define the relationship" for those of you long-married folk). But when it's a DTR with your employer, it is highly anticipated! Since my start at the bakery, I've been awaiting a DTR conversation with the owner. Last week it happened.

I'll spare you the play-by-play (but oh was it exciting), and tell you the gist. They like me. I like them. They want me to stay and learn more. I want stay and learn more. They want to give me more responsibilities (such as decorating basic cakes - not custom cake orders/wedding cakes yet). I want to get more responsibility. They want to pay me more. I want to earn more. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal, ay?

I think so. I was so pumped after our talk. The owner communicated how significant it is in a mom and pop business to have employees that are trustworthy, in more ways than just with money. She explained that they could get any baker/cake decorator off the street but that it was much more beneficial to pour into an eager employee that needs a little growing and has great passion. It appears that for the time being I get to be that eager employee that they pour into. Rest assured I will soak up everything I can. Techniques get to be sharpened. Skills honed. Passion nurtured.

I am currently eating, sleeping, and breathing in a confectionary world...and I love it.

Music To My Ears

2010-07-09T22:58:00.000-04:00

So I was at work today (yes - I got a job at that bakery I mentioned in my post!), and the baker turns to me and says, "I'm not one to tell people what do to, but you should pursue a culinary career." I paused in my current task of quartering strawberries for fruit tarts and asked her why I would do such a thing. She said, "Because it's easy to see it's your passion. You love it. You should really do what you love."

In just over a month of working at the bakery/coffeeshop, at least one person has already seen my passion for baking. What a joy! Does this mean I'm doing all sorts of glamourous things at work? Nope. I'm starting from the bottom up - cashiering, cleaning tables, making sandwiches and coffee drinks. I've already learned to do some other fun stuff, however. I'm icing cookies, filling creme horns, dipping things in chocolate and drizzling them with goodness, packaging up goodies for sale, and loving every minute of it. I'm eager to learn. I'm keeping my eyes open always. As there are specialty cakes being made around me every day and wedding cakes being produced every weekend, there is so much to take in! The next step isn't clear at all. Home sales? Taking classes? Continuing what I'm doing and gaining responsibility as they see fit? Lots to figure out....but I'm settling into a work routine again (receiving my first paycheck since September was nothing short of a blessing) and am glad to be here. Georgia is feeling more and more like home. Come visit - I'll be the one covered in sugar and baking books.

Peace Like a River

2010-05-12T13:18:00.000-04:00

I must start by saying it never ceases to amaze me how a song will "take you back." I am currently sitting in a coffee shop and "Desperado" came streaming over the speakers just as I began to think through this posting. It instantly broke through my thought process and took me back to another place and time. I always find it interesting to see how circumstances and thoughts have evolved since that "other place and time." Whew! Ok, back to my original thoughts...

I was blessed to have the opportunity to spend this past weekend celebrating my mom. It was a delightful time together, with the highlight being an 8-mile hike deep into the Smoky Mountains. And before any of you go thinking I drug my mom on this hike, you'd better think again! When presented with several (shorter) alternatives, she unwaveringly opted for this one, which claims to take you along a "narrow footpath" on a "moderately strenuous" climb through "virgin forest" to the spectacular 90-foot cascades. Let me reiterate: 8-miles on a narrow moderately strenuous path...and she made it every step of the way! It was indeed moderately strenuous, but also true to its description, we were rewarded with a glorious view of the waterfall while enjoying our much-deserved lunch before heading back down the mountain. It was my first time hiking since returning from NZ, so needless to say, every fiber of my being was singing as we set out on the path.

One thing I loved about this hike was that we were never very far away from water. A few times we weaved through rocks to cross creeks or balanced on bridges over the rushing water. Hearing the sound of it rushing and babbling while we climbed further and further up was splendid. It was the perfect backdrop to introspectively put one foot in front of the other. As I conversed with God, I was reminded of something I learned several weeks ago in my small group: peace is like a rushing river, not a stagnant pond. The weight of that thought hit me as I passed through the lush green forestry. Sure there is serenity in a pond, with its quiet waters providing a smooth top as one looks across it. But there's no change there. And life has certainly taught us all that the only thing that doesn't change is change itself. So change we must. And through it all, God is offering peace like a river. It'll twist and turn. It will wildly rush through banks, it'll gradually trickle over rocks. But all the while, it is peace. Yup. That is the kind of peace God offers. And it's sure as heck the kind of peace I want. I'll take the constant river peace over the unrealistic pond peace.

As I hiked this past Sunday, I found myself not wanting to be far from the water at any particular time. Its sounds were rejuvenating, filling, a constant reminder of the peace found in the Holy Spirit, present within me...at all times...through all changes.

There Is No Coast

2010-04-28T13:23:00.000-04:00

There is no coast.

It's my new motto for life. (I have several...I just keep adding them to the list, but that's another day, another blog.)

I'm not referring to the East or West Coast. I'd be a fool to contend that they don't exist. A car or a boat can coast. Even on a bike when you're riding it and you pedal really hard and really fast so that you can sit back while all the scenery whizzes by you, legs throbbing. That's coasting. Coasting exists, for sure. But what about coasting in life? Like day in, day out coasting. I don't think it's good for us. When we coast we take our eyes off the prize. We allow ourselves to be too easily distracted by things that don't matter, things that actually take us further from our destination.

When I think of coasting, I think of being passive. You can't be active and coasting. I get more careless when I'm coasting. Particularly on a bike. I can think of more than a few occasions where I pushed myself hard, gained some really great speed, then sat back to rest and soak it all in...only to be jolted back to the task at hand by a rock, twig, or curve in the road that tried to throw me from the two-wheeled fast-moving metal contraption. I quickly began pedaling again (or braking, depending on the situation) and chose to focus, lest I end up in a twisted mess of metal.

So what about coasting in life then? Do we do the same things? We work super hard at something, make some progress, get some good speed going, then sit back and ride on that for awhile. And what happens? A crash? A setback? A curve that causes us to wonder how the heck we got to where we did?

Just a couple weeks ago, I was feeling really good about some progress on internal things. I'd been working hard, trying to utilize the time I have now to take in what I can until my time soon becomes taken up by a job. Then I went out of town for the weekend, started to coast, and (even worse) started to enjoy the coasting. I didn't want to start pedaling again. It was easier to sit and just let things go by. Easier to not engage. Until something went wrong. Until thoughts started going down an alley that was darker than expected. I recognized this particular alley and concluded, after a bit of wallowing in self-pity and frustration, I'd better turn myself around and pedal quickly out of it. Which meant I could no longer coast. I had to actively pedal. Diligently begin working on the things I left behind. Was it fun? Initially no. But then I got out of the tunnel. I began to see some new scenery. I began to feel the accomplishment of working for where I was going, and not just pedaling harder and harder barreling through it just so I could rest again. I can't just sit back and expect to go great places (and I'm not just referring to literal places, sometimes it's often thoughts, emotions, spiritual places I need to press into). Slow and steady wins the race. Sometimes it's flat ground. Sometimes God takes us up hills. Sometimes He goes down them with us. But I am challenging myself to keep from coasting. To keep from losing sight of the goal, the promises. Each day I must take what He is offering, because what He offers on a daily basis is better than what I can store up and coast on.

Letting Go

2010-04-21T14:34:00.000-04:00

I won't say I've had an epiphany. And I'm far from having "things" figured out. But I do know I felt a level of excitement yesterday about a job that I haven't felt for a long time. Possibly ever. Job-hunting has been a large part of the past two months. To be honest, nothing in the nursing realm seemed the least bit enticing. I even turned down an offer for nursing in an office setting (which still feels like the right decision). Coming to realize my lack of desire for nursing has been a mental struggle. In the past I have felt so called to that. There was never any question as to what I would major in in college. Nursing. All the way. I got my "dream job" after graduating. I enjoyed it. On some level I felt that I was good at it. But there was something nagging in the back of my mind telling me this wasn't what I thought it would be. Sure, it brought joy, but the thought of doing it for the rest of my life made me cringe. So I worked for three years, saved up, quit my job and took a trip around the world. I felt no more ready to go back to nursing when I returned home than when I left. Crapit! That wasn't supposed to happen. So what do I do now? I have a degree in something I don't want to - a degree I'm still paying for.

I've run the gamut of things I could do...nannying, secretarial work, interior designing, floristry (grasping at straws here...I know nothing about flowers!), personal shopping, etc. etc. One thing that won't leave me alone is how much I love baking. All my friends and family know it. The other day I recalled the Christmas gifts I gave to my friends in high school - boxes filled with cookies, bars, caramels, and a loaf of bread. What 17-year-old does that?! Just about everyone I know is aware of my desire to someday run a bakery. But in the reality of now, what do I do with that? I know parts of the equation - the beginning and the desired end, but the pieces in the middle are a bit unknown. But I took a step yesterday. One that seems so obvious in some ways, but yet it was so hard. I began pursuing jobs in bakeries. Duh. Why was that hard? The thought of letting go of nursing. Not a fear of missing it, but feeling like I've let someone down. I went to school for four years, worked another three...and what do I have to show for it? Working at an entry-level job that has nothing to do with my degree? I've had to tell myself What does it matter?! Seriously, what does it matter? If there was anything I realized on my trip around the world it's that God doesn't work in expected ways. Yes it would makes sense to work as a nurse. It just does. But God's plan isn't always going to make sense in the world. My passion is baking. Every fiber of my being longs to be swallowed in a world of batter, dough, frosting, and sugar! It's where I come alive, where my heart gets creative and energized.

So back to the excitement of yesterday. I walked into a bakery, resume in hand, heart pounding out of my chest, and introduced myself to the owner. After a very positive interaction with her, I walked out and thought That is where I want to work! I didn't walk out with a job (yet!), but what I walked out with was almost more important than the job. I felt a part of me come to life. The sounds, sights, smells of the place filled me with excitement, and I knew I was in the right place. Right now, that's enough for me. I'm hopeful for things to come, excited to see what is in store, and still telling myself it's OK pursue this...

The Kid In Me...

2010-03-11T00:50:00.000-05:00

Ok. Kids are so much fun. I knew living with my niece and nephew would be great, but seriously, this is fun! I chuckle to myself daily as I witness their goofy antics and funny phrases. Here's a list of some of my favorite observations...

-I get a "Hey, Auntie Erin!" every time I leave my "studio" in the basement and come up the stairs...whether it's the first thing in the morning or the 10th time I make the climb for the day...always a wave and a greeting, without fail.
-Kids' treasures are unbeatable. Just yesterday my head was adorned with these purple wildflowers picked while playing hide-and-seek. I also awoke to a slithery black, yellow, and red snake sitting outside my door this morning! Don't worry, he was two-dimensional and harmless, but cute as a button considering he was the crafty creation of my 5-year-old nephew.
-Kids can use "just because" to explain just about anything. Tonight for example, they found it considerably more fun to pour their strawberry yogurt smoothies onto spoons and slurp it up like medicine rather than to drink it from the bottle. Did it result in a large amount of the pink sticky liquid dribbled on the table? Of course! But it also resulted in several laughs, and heck, it was probably good for their hand-eye coordination! There are certainly times of exasperation as their moments of "just because" generally produce more work and cleanup for Mommy, but who doesn't wish they themselves could be carefree and silly like that on a regular basis?
-I've come to appreciate movies for adults. Don't get me wrong, kid movies are fantastic (I've recently become a fan of Nim's Island and Imagine That), but there are definitely those that have no plots and, let's face it, no actors with any real ability to act. Does cause one to be thankful for a movie with a little depth.
-Since we're on the topic of media, let's transition into books. Children's books are incredible! And it's a good thing because you often find yourself reading the same ones for several consecutive nights. I don't know what it is that causes them to pick the same George and Martha book for the 10th time in a row, but it makes for a great opportunity to practice accents. Haven't mastered the kiwi accent yet, but I'm working on it.
-Listening to kids play together is often hysterical. The things their little brains come up with is so creative. It always begins with "And pretend that..." to be followed up with "and then you say..." both phrases being repeated about 50 times in the course of a 10-minute play session.
-Last, but certainly not least, I've learned that conversation (at the dinner table or otherwise) is primarily focused on bodily functions and noises...always involving lots of giggling. And when passing gas has been labeled as a "fierce weapon," it makes it all the funnier!

The job search still continues...I had an interview today that went well, but it just doesn't feel like the right fit. It's a lengthy commute - the job really isn't what I'm looking for and, because of that, I'm not the employee the physician is looking for. It wouldn't be fair to him to pursue this when the job would just be a stepping stone for me. Prayers continue! I'm still trying to think outside the box with writing and baking, while at the same time finding something to pay the bills...............

Time Traveling

2010-03-02T22:11:00.002-05:00

I've now been back in the States for two and a half weeks, but let me go back in time to just after my last post. The last week of my trip is way too important to skip over. There are several people that helped make that time incredible, starting with the Wilkinsons. I met Jane and Digby and their family on the 4-day Abel Tasman hike I did in January. If you think spending four days with someone will give you an opportunity to get to know them, try four days in nature hiking and living in tents! They live on the North Island, so when I made the trip up there I knew I wanted to see them if I could. After a long day of traveling, walking into a warm home to a welcoming greeting and hug was more than I could have asked for. In addition to a great meal, I also received great conversation, encouragement, and of course a hot shower and a bed. I would have loved to have spent more time here, but unfortunately time didn't allow for that. I headed out the next morning to check out three cool volcanic mountains, Mt. Ruapehu, Mt. Ngauruhoe, and Mt. Tongariro. As I drove to National Park (yes, that's the name of the town near the base...how original!), I was struck by their beauty - much different than the mountains on the South Island. Clouds hung on their peaks as I drove up to them. I still can't correctly pronounce them, but enjoyed spending the day hiking in and around them, fully expecting Frodo or Sam to jump out from behind a tree. I then spent the evening with a close friends of the Wilkinsons, staying with this family at their "bach" (holiday home) on Lake Taupo. I was so grateful to have a safe place to rest my head again this night. They were a lovely family. They invited me out on the lake with them, giving me an opportunity to see the lake from a perspective I wouldn't have otherwise been able to see.

The next day I spent in the lakeside town of Taupo. Somehow I found myself on a 14 km (8 mile) hike in the middle of the afternoon which pretty much wiped me out for the day. Sleeping that night in my car didn't prove to be very difficult since I was so pooped! (I can only safely type this now, as my dad has seen me in person, verifying that I lived to tell about the experience and I promise it's not as sketch as it sounds...Dad, just so we're clear, I spent a total of three nights in my car, hitchhiked once and picked up a hitchhiker once...BUT know that I will not do this in the US...and please don't kill me...it would be a shame to make it all the way around the world only to lose one's life upon returning home :).

I should have spent the next day working out my sore muscles, but I chose to spend a great deal of it inside watching football. I was in Rotorua, the SUPERBOWL was on, and MY team was playing! I wasn't going to miss this. The day proved to be really sad and really great all at the same time. The game itself was quite sad, but the venue was good, and the company was even better. I met a several Americans at the Irish pub, and I found it funny how much I enjoyed hearing other people who spoke like me. I guess it had just been so long. I also met someone who was spending two weeks biking around the North Island. Our conversation began with music (as most great ones do!) and continued into wonderful spiritual talk. We basically spent the rest of the day sharing ideas and challenges, as well as encouraging one another. We parted knowing the Lord had His hand in the day and were thankful for the inspiration.

The next day brought travels to Auckland - my final destination before boarding a plane home! This fact alone had me greatly anticipating my arrival, but so did the fact that I would be staying with friends of my cousins in the Philippines!! Grant and Kim have 6 children, one biological, two from Russia, and triplets from the orphanage my cousins, Paul and Marlys, run in Cebu. When Marlys knew I would be staying with them, she told me I would be greatly blessed. I had no idea how right she would be. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know each of the children as well as Grant and Kim. It was exciting for me to see adoption on this end. I was honored to be a part of their lives for 3 days. Not only did they share with me their adoption stories, and include me in precious family time, they also took me on a day tour around Auckland, showing me all the great spots the beautiful coastal city has to offer. Each of them touched my heart in a dear way and sent me off with prayers and hugs and smiles and words of affirmation as I drew the 5-month journey to a close.

Needless to say, I am eternally grateful for the kindness showed me by people that hardly know me. It impacted the end of my trip in a way that made me feel very cared for and also was a reminder that the trip was really being planned by Someone much greater than me. After checking in my luggage and saying thankful prayer after thankful prayer that it wasn't overweight, I settled into my window seat on a plane home. I noticed the same feelings of excitement and eagerness that greeted me as I boarded a plane leaving the States. It was a welcome feeling, proving that the trip had been all it was intended to be, and I was ready to go home. After three lengthy flights (the last one with Paula Dean...unfortunately, she was in first class...I was, well, a great ways further back in the plane), I landed in a snowy Atlanta. Quickly realizing how lucky I was to actually BE in Atlanta as all flights after me were canceled from the snowstorm, I raced to the exit hoping my luggage would be there but really wanting to see my family! I was greeted by a smiling brother and brother-in-law, the two brave souls who ventured out onto the dangerous roads. I quickly broke into tears as the joy of seeing family after 5 months away hit me. We made it safely home and after my niece and nephew tackled me, I spent the next few days smiling and soaking up everyone's presence. It's good to be home. (Next blog I'll jump forward to current time...:)

"I'm Comin' Home...

2010-02-11T18:59:00.000-05:00

To the place where I belong"

I've had that song stuck in my head for the past few days. Just writing quickly as I'm in the airport in Auckland! In just a bit I get on a plane headed for the US. I'm so excited that my fingers are shaking.

The past few days have been absolutely incredible. I am in disbelief at how God has provided such amazing people to bless the ending of this trip. I will blog more when I have time to process and type. I just couldn't have had a more perfect ending.

Thanks for journeying with me. It's not over yet.... :) More to come if you're interested...

The Beginning of the End...

2010-02-05T14:58:00.001-05:00

I write to you from the waters between the North and South Islands of NZ. No, I'm not simultaneously typing and swimming. I am on the Interislander Ferry, watching the green rolling hilly islands slowly pass by. To be honest, the day started off a bit sad. Saying goodbye to the McCormacks - Michael, Karen, Holly (13) and Theo (13) - wasn't easy. I have so enjoyed my time with them. My last week on the SI was spent well. Holly and I ventured out to the World Buskers Festival held annually in Christchurch. We saw one man get out of a straight-jacket in about two minutes, another lady sing and dance with a few men from the crowd (no doubt embarrassing their children!) bringing on more than a few laughs, and to top it all off, we saw a man juggle bowling pins on a tight rope...on a unicycle!!! The next day the whole family went on a day trip to one of their favorite exploring spots, taking a dip in the swimming hole and laying in the lovely sun. Theo also introduced me to the Lord of teh Rings movies this week. My very first viewing...fitting for my time in New Zealand as lots of it was filmed here! Ah, and how could I forget the outing to Willowbank Reserve. We meandered through countless sections of wildlife, feeding and petting as we went. Among my favorites were hand feeding the wallabys, the ostrich (he was crazy!), horses, pigs, sheep, and lammas. We saw several birds, including the native (and very funny) kiwi bird - a rarity to spot since they don't come out in light, as well as dancing lemurs, chattering monkeys, and very hungry deer. To end the week, KAren cooked tow of my favorite dinners - a chorizo/twice-baked potato/egg combo, and baked chicken with roasted veggies - including pumpkin and kumara with a basil vinaigrette sauce. Yum! I baked cookies (balled biscuits here) for the family one last time, then said my goodbyes this morning as the kids went off to school. A lovely family and a blessing to me in my stay on the South Island.

Last week I went on a fun road trip to Queenstown - a town nestled on the edge of Lake Wakatipu in the middle of a stunnign mountain range. ON the way to QT I went for a day hike in Wanaka which rewarded me with some great views and a cool breeze at the top. I also stopped in Arrowtown for a walk through teh old Chinese Miner's village. After turning in my completely free rental car (gas...er...petrol included!...yay for free relocation websites!) to Queenstown, I sat on the dock and gazed at the ridgeline of the Remarkables, browsed through the shops, rode the Gondola waaay up high and took a couple rides down the Luge (one of three in the world!), then enjoyed a gelato cone by the water. Of course, I moseyed through the Botanic Gardens and once again fell in love with the roses. Watched the sunset from here, then also returned in the morning so I could see the sun start peaking over the mountains before catching my bus back to Christchurch.

I feel like I have exhausted the South Island to my pleasing. I am ready to see what the North Island has to offer - volcanic mountains, for one. Once arriving on dry land again, I'll embark on a 4 day road trip weaving my way up to Auckland and most importantly to a plane that will be taking me home! It's the beginning of the end, and I welcome it with open arms and a brain chocked full of incredible memories.

Crackers and Wine

2010-01-31T04:38:00.000-05:00

My mom once described this trip as a cracker. Sound strange? Let me explain: say life is like a wine-tasting, each new wine is a new chapter in life. What happens between the different kinds of wine? You need a cracker, a piece of bread, something in which to clear the slate - not erasing past wines, just making room for the next flavor. This trip, it is that cracker cleansing my palate in between wines, in between chapters. This trip was a chance to create distance between my life and me, and in that distance somewhere discover the things that were taking precedence in my life and the things that actually need to be taking precedence. It has been a struggle to pinpoint exactly why I felt a need to go on this trip. I had the perfect set-up: a good job, great friends, a lovely house - all in a city with so much to offer. I was tasting a great wine. But something was changing, something needed to change. And before I could realize how or why it would happen (I may never realize the why...), I needed a cracker. If there had been no cracker, no cleansing of my palate, no stepping away and creating distance, would I appreciate the new wine as much? Would its properties, its unique characteristics of vintage, color, and flavor, be lost on me?

I am leaning towards 'no' in answer to the first question, 'yes' for the second. It is the only way I can make sense of this 5-month hiatus. Yeah, it's the trip of a lifetime. Sure, it made sense to do before I was "settled" (whatever that means). Yup, it's pure and simple fun. But that's not enough for me; there's more to it. I believe it also had a purpose to bring me to a point where I was ready to see the next chapter, or at least see the first few words. (And thank goodness it's usually only a few words or sometimes a few letters...if God showed us whole paragraphs or chapters at a time I think we'd often revolt or want to call it quits - at least I know I would!) I don't think I was at a point in life where I was expecting more - of myself, of my circumstances. Things were good, why change? I was OK with the way things were, and noticing that in and of itself was enough reason to eat a cracker. Eventually the wine becomes tasteless or runs out. You'll have to move on, try a new one. But isn't it better to make the change whilst you still have a good taste in your mouth? Isn't it better to take the next step with the confidence of a good ending to the last chapter?

In eleven days my next chapter begins. In eleven days I will return from this journey, palate cleansed. I don't know much of what it will look like, but a few things have become clear to me. First off, I will be living in a new city...Atlanta, Georgia will be home (and only a shooort drive from the Charlotteans that hold a dear place in my heart). I will finally be in the same city as my sister! That to me equals infinite excitement, not just because of her, but her whole family. Life just seems to have deeper meaning with my niece and nephew around. There is only so much an auntie can do from a distance...but put her in the same city as the little munchkins and opportunities abound! Secondly, I will pursue baking. As a side job? As a small business? Not sure exactly, but excited about the options. Thirdly, I will be looking for a job...but this is a bit unclear. A job doing what, exactly? Oh to know what this looks like! Nursing? Something else? I find myself struggling to think outside the box and yet be logical and go with what is known. Prayers are most welcome.

So, this new chapter, this new wine. It's yet to have a name. I've yet to recognize and grasp all it's qualities. But I'm ready for it nonetheless. I'm eager to know it, to embrace it with the sweet aroma of the last one still going strong.

Eleven days and counting...

Short For A Change (The Post, Not Me...I'm Always Short)

2010-01-15T20:56:00.000-05:00

It's Saturday afternoon. A gloomy, cold, rainy day, in stark contrast from yesterday's hot sunny display. I have just returned from a brisk walk to the library, attempted to chop some wood - that was comical, and am (quite willingly!) resigned to spending the night with my nose in a book in the company of Belize and Yoda, my furry friends. I'm hoping that tomorrow's weather cooperates with my desire to head to the Botanic Gardens.

In other news...I have an official date for my return home: February 12th (which is also, I was pleased to find out, when the Olympics begin). A mere four weeks from yesterday!! I have no doubt it will fly by, but I am also quite eager to squeeze the snot out of my family and friends. I am loving every minute of this journey, but I have sensed an increasing desire to head home and start the "next chapter" of my life. More on that next chapter soon...

As The Smoke Clears...

2010-01-11T22:17:00.003-05:00

The other day I was riding the city bus, listening to my ipod, as usual. It was a sunny warm day; I was in a rather introspective mood. I scanned to Needtobreathe's music and clicked shuffle. One of my all-time favorite songs came on, "Through Smoke." I mentioned this song in my very first blog post, including the particular lyric lines that were significant to me. As I sat on the bus that day, soaking in the city, observing the other occupants around me, hearing those lyrics streaming in my ears, I realized something: the smoke had cleared. The thought hit me like a ton of bricks and tears burned my eyes. I bit my lip and smiled. There have been numerous times on this trip where I thought if it ended tomorrow it would be worth it and I would be content - I've seen and experienced so many things. But not until this day did I realize that my questions - questions that weren't even clear to me - were being answered. I no longer feel like I am searching through smoke.

Now that's not to say I've got my life all figured out...the opposite, if anything! And as some questions find answers, other questions arise. But I've figured a few things out. I've learned that, for me, life is taken day by day. Something that was easy yesterday might be hard today. Something that makes sense today might not tomorrow...and that's ok. With each new day comes new opportunities to make yourself a better person. I can be comfortable with who I am, but I don't ever want to be satisfied with who I am. Kendall Payne says in one of her songs, "I'm not afraid to be me...Every battle leads to another war/ Every day I'm reminded of what I'm fighting for/It's never easy and it's never the same/But it's worth all I've got and so I'll give it again." What I've also realized is that to be able to give it all you've got, you have to be getting nurtured. That can take many different forms, and will probably take several to be successful. For me, Scripture needs to be a vital part of every day. Not just reading, but memorizing (which I tell myself I'm not good at because of my horrible short-term memory), burning it in my heart. In this process I've discovered verses in my memory bank from when I was 10. I was surprised to find I could still quote every line (encouragement for all Sunday school teachers and parents...those verses you help kids memorize...they STICK!), so quickly dusted them off and put them to good use again. Another important thing for me is journaling. I've always done this off and on, feeling guilty when I don't do it, as if the journal would be hurt or something - does anyone else have this phenomenon? I would just get too busy to sit and write, letting the thoughts collect and jam up inside creating as my friend lovingly calls it: analysis paralysis. Well, although it's slightly less personal (I don't think the journal will mind), I've started typing out thoughts each night - much quicker and so useful! Third self-nurturing thing for me is reading. It's one of the first things to go when I get busy, but I so enjoy it. In the grand scheme, these things don't take much time out of my day, but they make a huge difference! They keep my brain from freezing or becoming stagnant. And somehow they help make a connection between my brain and my heart, something that doesn't always come easy for me.

I had the opportunity to be nurtured in a big way this past week - 4 straight days of backpacking on the Abel Tasman Coastal Track. I joined forces with 10 other people, 2 families and Mike - a guy who loves the AT so much he wrote a book on it (www.abeltasmanbook.com)! We set out with our tents, food, sleeping bags, and sleep mats, ready to conquer the sand, the bush, and the water. It was a beautiful walk, much different to the Milford Track with is snowcapped mountains. The AT is speckled with magnificent golden beaches and clear blue/green water. It really felt like we were tramping through a tropical island. I concluded that the sound of rhythmic waves softly crashing on the shore is the perfect sound to drift off to sleep to. It was fun to get to know those in our group, conversing and laughing together, pushing each other on when we were tired. Hours of sunlight and 32 miles later, we finished the track all together. Now for a few days of resting up...

A Garden.

2009-12-30T19:59:00.002-05:00

I read a book the other day that said, "Everything important had happened in a garden... God created the garden for man and placed him in it. Adam and Eve fell into sin in a garden. Jesus taught in a garden. Our Lord prayed in a garden. He was betrayed in a garden. And He arose in a garden..." I think this is why I like gardens so much. In some way I think being in nature - the mountains, the beach, the plains, anywhere that modern technology is far gone - this is where there is peace, life, and for me, the ability to connect with God. I spent Monday learning the history of NZ in the Canterbury Museum, then I strolled through the Christchurch Botanic Gardens - my favorite by far! It was an overcast chilly day in late afternoon, and the wind was making its presence known, not in a frustrating makes-you-want-to-bundle-up-tighter kind of way but in a brace-yourself-and-put-your-face-into-it kind of way. The kind of wind that fills you, gives you energy. The magnificent trees swished and swayed in a way that commanded attention. Even with the sun covered in clouds, the colors of the flowers and shrubs shone with glory. I found my way to the rose garden...holy cow, this was impressive! My love for roses has grown over the past couple months. Since Christchurch is a quaint city and as close to an English town as you can get without being in England, there are roses everywhere. Anyone with the slightest hint of a green thumb has several varieties spilling forth from their yards. I'll admit, I had no idea there were so many different kinds of this flower - way beyond white, red, yellow. This garden was exceptionally colorful. I found my way to a stone structure in an alcove and nestled in to read and pray.

Yesterday I hiked in a more large-scale garden, found at Hanmer Springs in the alpine forest. After a short, yet beautiful drive, I parked the car and headed up Conical Hill. I was shaded from the sun and wind by large pines on the way up. Once at the top, I was rewarded with a spectacular view of the village and the surrounding mountains. As I passed the time up here listening to some new music and reading, I looked out to see a storm heading in. In the distance, ominous clouds slowly rolled in over the tops of the mountain peaks. Once back in the village, I was assured by a few locals that driving home would be no problem - and that I should stay and soak in the thermal pools that Hanmer Springs is known for. I consented and dipped in the warm steaming naturally-heated water while cold rain threatened all around - it was nature's hot tub! Pressing my luck as far as I felt comfortable, I then headed back home so I wouldn't be driving in the dark. Oh to have this at my fingertips forever! This amazing scenery is within hours of these NZ residents. I'm already thinking of where and how to take advantage of what the US has to offer upon my return.

As for Christmas Day, it did end up being a Christmas to remember. I ushered in the day with a candlelit Christmas Eve service. Then Christmas morning I went to two services at the Anglican Cathedral in the centre city. It was a unique experience for me as it's not tradition in our family and the church is unlike anything I'm used to. The boys' choir sang beautiful and slightly eerie melodies, we partook of communion, the large congregation sang traditional carols (with a NZ accent), and we recited lots of stuff - admittedly, I found this a bit annoying, and I felt a bit detached from God. It was neat to do all this in the large cathedral with a massive Christmas tree and stained-glass windows, though. And after the service they rang the bells. I can now officially say "I heard the bells on Christmas Day." I then joined a family for lunch and gift exchange, took a quick nap, then joined another family for their Christmas dinner. This included the traditional Christmas crackers (a cardboard tube wrapped in festive paper and twisted to resemble an oversized candy, you pull one side as the person seated beside you pulls the other end resulting in a loud pop and a treat spilling out with a tissue paper crown which everyone dons for the duration of the meal), turkey and the fixin's, summer dishes, and Christmas pudding complete with charms baked in it (in our case, coins from different countries around the world that we were to pray for). It was a lovely day, albeit no amount of hospitality replaces that of family. I missed them dearly, but was grateful for a phone call to my brother and skype time with the rest the following day.

Ok, enough rambling! Happy New Year everyone!

Note: book quote from Francine River's Leota's Garden - I highly highly recommend it.

It's Gonna Be A Christmas To Remember...

2009-12-23T23:41:00.000-05:00

Truer words have never been sung. It's already Christmas Eve for me (yeah, I get to experience everything before you guys by about 18 hours) and this morning I was listening to some music while eating breakfast. It happened to be 8:15 am and I heard Amy Grant's voice streaming through with those lyrics. I'll be honest - it brought tears. Then tears again at 8:45. I knew they would come. I almost welcome them - it means I'm alive, I'm feeling. And I always learn something through them. I say this not make you feel sorry for me or to get you to think I'm having a miserable Christmas - because that wouldn't be true. It's a great Christmas, just very different. For the first time, I'm away from family, in a country that celebrates this holiday in summer. I've learned a bit though the experience - being by myself significantly opens me up to self-reflection time. It has made me increasingly more grateful for my family - and all the great memories I have of Christmases past.

I've also reflected on the first Christmas - Jesus' birth. I had new respect for Mary this morning - as I face the day with no family around, it's hard to not feel a little bit lonely. Even if you're around people, it's just not the same as family. But Mary - man, she had it rough. Later on in my music listening time, I heard "Breath of Heaven/Mary's song." Her words "I am waiting in a silent prayer/ I am frightened by the load I bear/ In a world as cold as stone/ Must I walk this path alone?" I might feel alone, but it's nothing compared to what Mary was feeling.

I also have new respect for missionaries. A lot of the ones I know are in summer season this time of year as well. And of course they're away from their families. I've thought about it before, but it's something different to experience it. Gives me more to think about in upcoming Christmases - prayer for missionaries, being more aware of those who don't have family or a "home" to go to. It's means heaps to me that families - people I'd never met until last month - are opening their homes up to me during this season. So, all that to say it will certainly be a Christmas to remember...a good Christmas to remember.

I Love the Lord's Timing.

2009-12-20T18:17:00.001-05:00

Wait, did I just say that? Yes, it's true. Sure there are times when impatience gets the best of me. But right now, in what the Lord is revealing, I am aware that His timing is flawless. And I do so love to see a plan come together! The past few days have been lovely, but I wasn't aware of the events coming together to reveal one of God's truths, something in which I needed to be reminded.

I've been reading a couple books, of which I was just about to finish. I knew that on Friday the family I was living with would be heading to the States for 5 weeks, giving me lots of time to read. I had the weekend all planned - I didn't care if I didn't get anything done save spending ample time on the couch with a few good books and some Christmas movies (I felt a bit like Cameron Diaz in The Holiday when she gets to her quaint little home for a getaway). But what books? Thursday my answer came. I received a package of two books from my dad. Perfect! I would spend the weekend lost in a book. Soon after taking the family to the airport, I began my weekend of recluse. The past couple weeks I've also been listening to a sermon podcast series, taking my time listening to it, savoring every minute. I had put off listening to the next sermon because I liked the feeling of knowing it was still coming - when I listened to it, it would be over, and I'd have to wait until the next week to hear the next one. So I was saving it (I do this with clothes too - when I get knew clothes I like to save them for a couple weeks, looking forward to that moment of wearing them...I like the anticipation, I guess). I had intended to listen to it Friday, but found myself busy with other things - finishing a prior book I was reading, and watching one of my Christmas favorites, Home Alone (it was, afterall, my first night home alone). Next came Saturday - the day I started a new book, the day I listened to the next sermon, the day I had my hope rekindled in an unexpected way.

God spoke through the words in the book, the words of the sermon. I was a bit blindsided, not even realizing that I needed this hope. But as the day progressed, I became keenly aware of a few areas of my life that I trusted God with, but in which my hope had dwindled. Hope is so important. It keeps our hearts fresh and alive. When we hope, we have dreams, we live with expectancy - expectancy that God will do great things. On the contrary, a life without hope is dead. The Bible speaks of it often. On Friday as I read His Word, He brought me to Romans 15:13 - "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." He was prepping me here, bringing hope to my attention. Then Saturday I read Hebrews 10:23 - "Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful." And today, 1 Corinthians 2:9 - "...no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him." How exciting is that? I don't know about you, but that makes me hopeful, expectant of good things. So I started Sunday with a newfound hope, an excitement of God's plans - grateful even that He doesn't reveal them ahead of time. Where's the fun in that? And what a perfect time for rekindled hope, with Christmas Day approaching - a day we celebrate the birth of our Savior, the One who gave us hope in a world torn apart, the One who became hope for us, the One who rekindles our hope.

Four Seasons in One Day...Oh, I Believe It!

2009-12-14T15:37:00.002-05:00

As I sit here typing this morning, I am in the company of the glowing Christmas tree (adorned with Santas and American flag ribbon - refer to pic in last post) and the tunes of all my favorite Christmas songs. I've got a steaming hot mug of tea with a splash of milk. I'm left with my thoughts as the family has gone to do their last-minute shopping. Time seems to be standing still. Do you ever have moments you wish you could pause? This is one of those.

I woke up yesterday to a bright sunny warm day. The forecast, however, warned of a brooding storm. So, of course, I ventured into the city to nestle into a warm cozy coffee shop to watch it all unfold. I was not disappointed. Clouds quickly rolled in, followed by massive wind gusts. Sideways rain pelted the buses, cars, and pedestrians as they bustled about. Couldn't have been a more perfect scene. As the chill grew outside, I was all the more thankful for the warmth found just on my side of the large window in front of me. Minutes later the sun shone through and the wind calmed. Still minutes later, it all rose up again and made people scurry for cover. On a cold, overcast, rainy day, the light on street signs and restaurants has a glow that is warm and alive, inviting - particularly in this holiday season. I soaked up this warmth and life as I rode the bus through the streets, even enjoying the walk/run in the rain from the bus stop to our house. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

Weather like this proves what everyone says about Christchurch: "You'll easily experience four seasons in a day!" I guess being along the coast of a small island rich with mountains in close proximity to contrasting plains will result in this phenomenon. I quite like it. It keeps you guessing. It provides me with warm sunny vibrant hours, cherishing the feeling as friends and family entertain winter at home, and then there are still the windy rainy cold hours to remind me of winter and everything familiar in December. The winds play a crucial role in the weather scene here. The Nor'easter, the Nor'west Arch, Southeasterly, and Southwesterly. Being on the Southern Hemispere, the south winds are cold, north winds are nice and warm - particularly the Nor'westerly, dumping all the rain on the West Coast as it travels over the South Island leaving hot dry winds for Christchurch. I love the Nor'west Arch, but apparently it makes people go crazy - something like a full moon. There is more crime as people get moody and crazy. Not sure why I love the wind - maybe it's because I associate wind with storms, there's an expectancy, a feeling of things to come. Maybe I'm just crazy. Whatever the reason, I'm not ashamed to admit I love the wind and the energy it brings.

Well, the family is home. Time is no longer standing still. I'm off to see their purchases and seize the day.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas!

2009-12-08T16:12:00.008-05:00

The tree is up, the decorations hung, and while Thanksgiving Day did little to remind me of the holiday season, I have better hopes for Christmas. The warm weather (it's summer here!) will try to throw me off course, but I am equipped with a glowing Christmas tree, It's A Wonderful Life, Home Alone, a city full of tinsel and Christmas cake, and enough Christmas music to last a whole year. It will for certain be different than any December 25th I've experienced, but I am eager to check out some churches, see where I can volunteer, and feel the warmth of family and friends as they send their love (via skype :) and gather together back home.

After a few weeks of tenaciously playing the hunt and wait game that job-searching involves, I took a couple days to see more of this beauty-filled country before hunkering down and working. Two days in the West Coast with my homestay family was no disappointment! Driving through the Canterbury Plains to the Southern Alps via Arthur's Pass was undoubtedly breathtaking and only slightly nail-biting. We traveled through one lane bridges - sometimes shared with trains as well - over braided rivers, hugged the curves as we met campervan after campervan, and searched for music to fit the mood of the ever-changing weather. After checking in to our beachside motel and placing our complimentary milk jug in the fridge (what would tea be without milk?!?!), we drove off to all the family's favorite spots. In just over 24 hours, we searched for greenstone on Nine Mile Beach, tramped our way through a hidden path to a secret beach to watch the tide, slipped and slid around Punakaiki Cavern, and had a bonfire on the beach complete with sausages, smores (NZ-style), and our own set of fireworks. We also spotted a fair share of livestock, walked across the swinging bridge in the rain at Hokitika Gorge, did some adrenaline-pumping off-roading, and spotted the most beautiful rainbows nestled in the mountain peaks on the way home. A few firsts happened on this trip: I discovered the goodness of Jaffas - a orange candy-coated chocolate that tastes just like a Sixlet (my favorite childhood candy) only bigger and definitely more mouth-satisfying; I sat around a fire on the beach (glorious!); and tried the rich and creamy Manuka honey that NZ prides itself on. Two days of jam-packed fun!

To continue feeding the thrill-seeking adventurous spirit that invades every visitor in this island of a country, I went for a white water rafting trip down the Rangitata River yesterday. It was my first time on Grade 5 rapids and to experience that with the backdrop of the Gorge (also the backdrop for the scene of Edoras in The Lord of the Rings) was enough to make my heart rate rise to a wild level. In three hours of rafting, we had the opportunity to jump off a 3 meter cliff and a 9 meter cliff. And since I've embraced the motto "Do it now, you'll never get the chance again!" I jumped off of both. Being in a wetsuit kept me warm so the chill of the glacial water wasn't as shocking as the fact of knowing I was swimming in untamable rapid water! (I'm front, right in the raft below...)

Enough thrill for one week, well, a few days anyway. Back to reading, journaling, and hopefully starting a job in a few days. Speaking of reading, I've been delving into Scripture - experiencing it in a new way - discovering again the lives of the apostles, the accounts of their journeys as they spread the good news of the gospel of Jesus. As I read the other day, it hit me that the Bible is the same as it was a thousand years ago, the same as it will be in another 200 years. As we read it, God speaks through the same stories over and over - often offering reminders of hope, guidance, encouragement, and sometimes new lessons are revealed. So when I'm frustrated with myself for needing to learn the same lessons over and over, I can see that God knew that would happen - so He provided Scripture to remind me over and over. It's unchanging, but always relevant. He's unchanging, but always just what I need. That doesn't mean I should settle for learning the same lessons over, but I can rest in knowing God expects it and loves me in the midst of that.

Lyrical Connections

2009-11-23T20:34:00.007-05:00

I’ve often said that without music, I’m not sure I could feel. Of course that’s not true, but I can’t deny the way music unlocks something inside me, allowing me access to thoughts and feelings seemingly kept just out of reach. I was reminded of that again this past Friday as I walked through a store. Brooke Fraser’s “Shadowfeet” played in the background, bringing me an instant feeling of familiarity and warmth as I was missing home. My friend Jessica introduced me to Brooke’s music several months ago, and because Brooke is a New Zealander, it’s not at all uncommon to hear her streaming through radio waves all throughout the country (“walking, stumbling, on these shadow feet...”). Before coming to NZ, I came to know her music well - her calming words of truth and hope, the graceful melodies. I am certain God arranged this meeting as hearing her music now is something of comfort in my home away from home. Another small way God is reminding me of His provision.

Another reminder came the following day. Saturday mornings have a long-standing tradition for my house-family. They load up the kids and dog, make a morning trip to a local bakery for a delectable treat and a coffee, then head onto the beach to stroll amongst the waves and sand. This particular Saturday I was once again hit by lyrics streaming overhead as we stood waiting for our hot cups of caffeine...

Just give me a chance to hold on

Just give me something to hold onto

It’s so clear now that you are all that I have

I have no fear ‘cause you are all that I have

A few lines from Snow Patrol’s “You’re All I Have.” I’ve heard the song several times before, but hearing it after a few days of extensive time spent with the Lord, it came to mean something new. For me, this song meant that God is all I have, I have nothing to fear because I have Him. I’m pretty certain that’s not the meaning the writer had as he or she penned the lyrics, but it means that to me. My heart took these lyrics to the beach and silently sang them as I walked. I love it when supposed secular songs have underlying spiritual meaning. I notice this quite often actually. Just today in One Fine Frenzy’s “You Picked Me” and Matt Nathanson’s “Car Crash.” Why do so many songs have spiritual ties? I wonder this time and time again. Part of me thinks it’s because of the undeniable Creator and the way He makes everything spiritual. Even if a writer doesn’t see the connection, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. I think whether they realize it or not, there is something inside of them that longs to connect with the spiritual, that longs to have the peace of God. Their lyrics are crying out for it.

Journey Within A Journey

2009-11-12T17:12:00.006-05:00

I am quickly discovering on my journey around that world that there will be many journeys within that journey. This past week I had the privilege of hiking the world famous Milford Track. A four day, three night 54k/33.5m hike through the Southern Alps from Glade Wharf to Sandfly Point via MacKinnon Pass.

It all began with a 10 hour bus ride from Christchurch to Te Anau. I met some neat people on the ride, befriended the bus driver (always a good idea), and gave my brain and heart an opportunity to engage. The first reminder God gave me - especially in the face of fear - is that He will always be enough. I couldn't tell you how many times I listened to the Shane and Shane song "The Blood," but I can tell you it was enough times for the message to really sink in..."The blood, oh the blood, the blood/It washes me/For it's only by the blood/He makes atonement for my soul/It will always be enough." Over and over, 'til I got it, really got it.

Next came a lesson on learning lessons. I think all these years I've had it wrong. Once the lesson is actually realized, see that's when the work is just beginning. It's a little bit like when I was baptized as a young girl. I remember thinking, "Alright! This is it, I've arrived. I've made the decision to become a believer in Christ. I'm done." Little did I know I was only beginning the journey of a lifetime, with lots of work ahead (oh to be young and naive again!). God teaching me a lesson - and me actually getting it - is great. But then it's up to me to apply it to my life. That takes work. And that's where the breakdown begins for me, I think. Once I realize the lesson, I can't just file it away and move on to the next one. They require a little more attention than that.

I knew as soon as I arrived in Te Anau I was in for a treat. The next few days in the mountains were just what the doctor ordered, and God had me primed right where He wanted me. The morning after the bus ride, I checked out of the hostel, eager to meet up with Karen and Mike (two friends from Charlotte who were tramping the track with me). Walking to the check-in point, I saw a rainbow over the mountains - God's first love message! Karen and Mike arrived within minutes of my arrival. With everything needed for four days of tramping through the unknown wilderness strapped to our backs, we took a bus ride and a boat ride to the start of the track, and then began putting one foot in front of the other! What followed was four days of witnessing firsthand God's glorious creation. It's hard to find words to describe it. Everything from lush rainforest to ominous snowcapped mountain peaks, babbling brooks to wildly rushing waterfalls, quiet still air to madly whipping wind. I kept thinking to myself, "God, you've gotta be kidding me!" He wasn't.

We slept in huts each night - no electricity, no fires, just gas stoves. 40 trampers from all over the world, cooking together, laughing together. Trampers from Holland, Scotland, Germany, England, Australia, the US - what fun! If a day of hiking with 50 pounds on your back wasn't enough shock for our muscles, Karen, Mike, and I rose to the challenge of swimming in 41 degree F water - fresh from the melting glaciers. Uff-da! That's stinkin' cold!!! Honestly though, I'm not sure if I've ever felt more refreshed. On day three we headed over MacKinnon Pass - sunny and spectacular. Breathtaking views! I even got to use "the toilet with the world's best view" (check out view below). Mike and I finished the day off with going behind New Zealand's tallest waterfall, Sutherland Falls (480 meters). I was soaking wet, had an ice cream headache, and found it difficult to breathe, but the feeling as the water pounded all around was such a rush! Day four, hiking through trees with a million shades of green, over bridges and rocks, with birds singing all around...a perfect ending. So, a million sandflys, 15 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, one massive dark chocolate bar, 3 sets of sore legs, and countless shared struggles and triumphs later, Karen, Mike, and I finished the incredible walk.

This, my friends, is what it's all about.

Stupid Four Letter Word

2009-11-03T04:04:00.004-05:00

Fear. I sense myself being paralyzed by fear. It's an odd thing, really. I can fly from country to country and navigate around cities and airports on my own without the slightest hint of fear. I can think it easy to galavant around for 6 weeks in different places, meeting up with friends, knowing in some sense that that part of my trip was "just for fun." But I find myself afraid as I settle in New Zealand. I first began to notice the ever-growing feeling as I sat on a plane crossing over the Tasman Sea, speeding full force into an unknown realm. Tears welled in my eyes as I stared out the window - tears of excitement, anticipation, weariness, and...fear. It's not a fear of safety, nor the people, nor the country. I fear myself.

I am afraid I will fail on this journey. I am afraid I will miss what God wants to show me. I am afraid I will return the same person I was when I left, only broke - and I will be the one to blame. I think I am feeling the weight of the trip now as I get to know Christchurch and look for a job. I am noticing that tendencies I didn't like about myself in Charlotte...lack of discipline, drive, organization, etc...well, all these things have followed me here. Was I running from them? No, I don't think I was. I just began to feel like change wasn't possible where I was. I was stagnant and caught in my life. I needed a catalyst for change. And for me, that was this trip, my move to New Zealand.

I've come to realize I learn the same lessons over and over. I wonder if God gets tired of teaching me? Why am I not able to learn the first time, change, and move on? I find myself coming back to some of the same old things. But I guess that is me. I am who God created me to be. As me. John 15:16 says "You did not choose me, but I chose you..." It doesn't say, I chose you because you are strong, wise, fearless. God chose me (and created me!) because I am me, and He will use me, as I am. So then, what do I do with me if I am frustrated by me? I am still searching God for the answer, but I do know that each time I learn the lesson, I get to be a better version of myself. I will always be me, but I can be a me that is better. So I guess I have to back up. I will tell all of these self-imposed expectations to find a new home.

So I head into these next few days and weeks with the goal of accomplishing what I set out to accomplish - one-on-one time with God in his pure creation. In that I will not fail. It's that simple really. That was my goal. That still is my goal. All other things will fall into place as I learn and relearn lessons. God has this thing. Way more than I could ever think He does. I am still me, the same me that walked onto a plane in Charlotte, the same me what will get off in March. What happens in between isn't always gonna be easy, but it'll give me the opportunity to get to overcome my fear as I get to know God, and therefore myself, a bit better.

Psalm 139.

*A special thank you to Sarah for being my sounding board and opening my eyes to a few things.

Ratatouille...

2009-10-30T05:25:00.005-04:00

I'm in NEW ZEALAND!!!! And my first glimpse of the Southern Alps was truly breathtaking...other people on the plane must have thought I was psycho to take so many pictures through a plane window, but the snow-capped mountains were truly gorgeous!

BUT, first things first. I must recount what happened today while I was home alone with the pets (and inadvertently locked in the house). I'd spent a quiet morning with Yoda, the cat, and Belize, the dog - unpacking, organizing my room, doing a little yoga. The cat had begun to act a little funny, slyly crawling around the kitchen counter and by the stove hood. I didn't think much of it, but did wonder what he was up to. I had just begun to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when Yoda spastically sprung a paw up to the hood and brought it down with a rat in tow! The cat had just literally snatched the rat from somewhere inside the corner of the hood. Yoda jumped down to the floor with the little rat in it's mouth, squeaking all the way. I stood there dumbfounded. I had not a clue what to do! I was afraid to look over the counter to see whether or not the rat would set himself free. I just kept hearing muffled squeaking and the cat adjusting the grip. I thought to get the cat outside, but then remembered that the door was locked and I had no key. So here I am, stuck in the house with a cat...eating...a rat. I was pleased

when the squeaking finally stopped, grateful that cat didn't want to play with his dinner long. At this point, I continued making my sandwich so as to keep from watching the murderous event take place, even though I had lost all appetite. I tried to get the cat out the kitty door, but he wasn't too keen on moving with his meal and I didn't want to push the subject as he kept growling with the dead rat hanging from his mouth. He did take it to the corner of the kitchen where the crunching commenced. Little did I know that after the squeaking came the crunching...of rat bones! I had to turn the TV on to drown out the sound...and utilize techniques learned in my nursing profession to keep from hurling the food I had yet to eat. I cleaned the blood up from the floor where the rat lost his life and proceeded to the living room to try my hand at eating my pb and j. When Yoda was all done, I peeked in the corner to check out the remains. Guts, a foot, and a tail. That's what he left behind. I'll be honest, I didn't touch any of it. I just couldn't bring myself to clean that up - plus I needed some proof so my house-family would believe me when they got home!!

Speaking of house family, I must tell you that they are just the kindest people. Michael and Karen and their kids, Theo and Holly have welcomed me into their home without even knowing me. I've been given a cozy room and been shown the ropes of the house. It's been a joy getting to know them and my time here has only just begun! Theo said I could stay when he found out I had red chucks just like his. And Holly let me beautify my toenails the first night I was here (after 6 weeks of walking, they desperately needed it). Wonderful people!

I feel much better leaving you on that note.

I'm attaching a few pictures of my time in Syd to this post as I didn't have them on my computer for the last post. You'll see why I've fallen for the jacarandas...

Has The Weeping Willow Met It's Match?

2009-10-26T03:22:00.002-04:00

It's called the Jacaranda and is peppered all over the landscape on the East coast (well, ok, Brisbane and Sydney anyway) It is incredible. It's purple flowers are in full bloom now. Just about everywhere you turn, whether in the city or in the mountains, you can see these lavender beauties. They're from South America...and I'm hoping they're found in NZ too. (Pics to come soon.)

The past few days have been spent exploring Sydney...it's beaches, architecture, gardens. I spent a morning walking through the Botanic Gardens, then walked along the coast from Bondi Beach to Bronte Beach. Both were beautiful. Note, however, that walking barefoot on the rocky/sandy/sometimes paved coast walk will do a number on the bottom of one's feet! They recovered before a dinner with my lovely hosts here in Syd at a Thai restaurant and drinks at Clock in Surry Hills. I had a late breakfast in Darling Harbour yesterday in the midst of massive downpours. It was absolutely lovely - a covered deck seating allowed me to be in the midst of it without getting a bit wet. In between downpours I strolled through the Chinese Gardens - they were free for the day! - and then decided to dry my feet while watching a movie (Couples Retreat...ha, I know, a funny choice to watch by yourself...it was entertaining and prompted more than a few laughs). I managed to catch the late service of Hillsong Sydney and called it a day! Today was another rainy day, so after grabbing some chicken noodle soup at a little bakery (yes, I grabbed dessert too...chocolate hazelnut cake, if you must know) I meandered through the Rocks area of downtown, noting some quaint pubs and shops. Thus ends my journey through Sydney. One final note on the city...sitting on the bottom level of the train is glorious - I can see everyone's shoes as the train pulls out!

Some thoughts (pros and cons, to be interpreted as you wish) regarding solo traveling...

+I can go wherever I want to go - if I want to see something again or linger for awhile or take 27 pictures of the same thing, no one is there to argue.

-Putting sunscreen on my back is virtually impossible - I haven't asked a stranger for help...yet.

+/-Without a set plan I can happen upon some amazing things, but on the flip side, there are times I feel like I'm just barely missing something huge.

+There is lots of time for one of my favorite sports: people-watching.

+I can linger in a bookshop until my eyes hurt.

-Sometimes I just desire a conversation with someone who knows me, and I don't want to engage with my own thoughts.

-Being plagued by indecision is easier to kick when you're with someone - it's the little things, for instance, deciding where to eat or where to sit or where to pee, they can be easier with a buddy.

-Getting dessert with a friend is great because you can get two different things and share...when it's me, I can only try one thing on a menu of enticing delectables, much to my chagrin.

-Sometimes I just want to be silly, and although I could be silly by myself, I think it would draw unwanted attention. :)

++No one is here to judge the health value of my meals...meaning dessert can be (and often is) the entire meal.

+No one will think I'm strange for analyzing a sweet treat (ie. taking pictures/notes) for future recreating reference.

+I have affirmed that I love taking pictures - so I must buy a "real" camera (you know, the ones with a lens bigger than the actual camera) and then travel around the world again, taking real and official pictures...ha!

Back to Brisbane tonight to enjoy one more day with the Aussies!

Random Act of Kindness

2009-10-23T09:06:00.003-04:00

This'll be a quickie, but wanted to share with you a story that happened today...

Somewhere between Cebu and Brisbane, my camera charger went on holiday - without me and without telling me where. My camera died just before heading to Sydney, so I knew soon after arrival I would need to try to locate a charger (and I was quite fearful of how much this endeavor would cost me, but I needed a camera...) So I headed out this morning to conquer Sydney, or a bit of it anyway. I was sent to a store by my friend here. A couple amazing things happened! One, I had no trouble at all finding the store. Secondly, the man who asked to help me walked straight up to a charger and then asked for my battery to make sure it worked (more service than the one place we tried in Brisbane for sure!). It worked! But thirrrdly, he gave me a discount. Just for the heck of it. A $90 AUD ended up being $58 AUD. He said he thought it was on sale, but I'm virtually certain it wasn't. He walked me to the cashier and told her the new price. As she checked me out, she mentioned that that was a really great price, and she said "he can do that, he's the owner." Crazy! I'm not sure why he felt the urge to help me out, but I felt really blessed. First off I had a charger for my camera...and secondly it didn't cost as much as feared! It definitely put a bit of a bounce in my step.

After getting the camera sorted out, I headed into the city to take in a few sites. The Sydney Harbour Bridge, the famous opera house. Next I took a ferry to Manly Beach - a great little spot with a couple beaches, some old cool homes, etc. I walked around for a bit, then laid on the rocks on the beach to cool off. Loved every minute of it. Ended up catching a bit more sun that anticipated but am grateful for the beautiful day.

I just finished making peanut butter cookies - first baking since I left the States! It felt quite good to bake again. So come on over! :)

Potato Potahto, Tomato Tomahto

2009-10-20T04:07:00.007-04:00

As my friend Bill said today, I am now being dished back all the fun I poked at him for his British accent...the Aussies are quite keen on pointing out the "wrong" things I say in my purely American accent. Well deserved, I suppose! I am well into my 5th full day here in Brisbane and am anything but caught up on sleep. There's too much to do! I hit the ground running upon arrival Thursday morning: catching an early breakfast, stopping at Bartley's Hill for an overview of the city, and getting a city tour from Joel, my friend here in Brizzie, all before settling at his house. A couple hours to recoup and we headed into the city for a quick bite on the South Bank (my first Australian kebab) and then met one of his friends who joined us for a viewing of Julie and Julia. I was a bit tuckered out from a rather sleepless night on the plane, but stayed awake through the entirety of the movie. Maybe it was the Malteses that were being thrown at me (like Whoppers), or maybe it was the large amount of caffeine consumption, really though I think it was because it was a great movie. We headed up Mount Coot-tha next - what a view! The overlook provides a stunning view of the city - it is huge (just under 2 million) and the lights are spectacular.

Friday was a beautiful day - every day here has been actually. Sunny, mid-70s, a light breeze. I first went to window shop at a shopping centre with Joel's fun sister - we bonded over cooking/baking and loitered around several bookstores. It was strange to be back in a place where my skin color was in the majority and where poverty isn't screaming at you from every street corner. A part of me felt more at ease, but a part of me is still unsettled knowing what exists even though I don't see it on a day to day basis. Next Joel took me to the Roma Street Parklands, a park in the city full of lovely trees, flowers, wildlife. We then stopped at the Queen Street Mall (not another shopping mall, but a market area of sorts...a street of shops, musicians who are "busking," etc. where no cars are allowed) before heading to dinner with a group of friends at a Himalayan restaurant. It was my first experience with authentic Himalayan food - we had a few entrees, family style. I'd for sure do it again!

Saturday night was an interesting experience - I went with Joel's brother, Isaac, and a few others to "the Valley" - an area full of clubs, bars, a few brothels on the outskirts. Wait, wait,

don't worry - we didn't go to party. We actually evangelized to people on the streets. Isaac and his friend go every Saturday to help spread Christ's love and Message. It was a unique experience - spent time prayer walking through the streets, praying over certain buildings, initiating conversations with some, buying meals for a few homeless, giving out water to those who needed something a little less stiff, checking on several already passed out to make sure they were ok. The group of three I was in also went to the Lounge - an area where a handful Aborigines hang out. It was sad to see young kids, some under 10, drinking and generally up to no good. We brought a cooler of pop and chatted with the kids. Isaac is clearly building relationships with these kids. It ended up to be a late night, finally turning out the light as the sun was already starting to rise, but grateful for the experience and encouraged to see light in an area of darkness.

Needless to say, a Sunday afternoon nap was in order. I slept well with a tummy full of homemade butter chicken, a traditional Indian dish, and Tim Tams. I then headed into town to meet up with a relative...of sorts. Susanna is in Brisbane with Campus Crusade for Christ and just so happens to be my uncle's niece. It was a delight to meet her, sharing stories of times with our cousins - it was strange to discover we "share cousins" but have no relation to each other. We rode the CityCat which is a ferry stopping along the South Bank in the center of Brisbane. Some cool views from here.

Since then I've enjoyed a meal of French crepes, a walk through the Botanical Gardens (which, at this point, appear to be rather dead) where Bonnie and I perched ourselves in a tree for awhile and people-watched, and hiked in Mount Nebo and Mount Glorious. I have yet to spot a roo, but I did find it interesting that the mountains are filled with palm trees - a new site for me! I played Tarzan (well, Jane I guess) on a few cool branches and enjoyed seeing the differing ecosystems of the US and Australia.

A few more adventures to be had here before I head to Sydney on Thursday!

Cheers!

From the Land Down Under

2009-10-17T03:35:00.003-04:00

I'll be honest, it was a bit of an experience getting here. I could make the story quite long, but will inform you of just a few of the things I learned...

1. Overweight luggage is NOT fun.
2. Trying to lighten weight of overweight luggage in middle of Filipino airport is even more NOT fun...I was rummaging through frantically searching for heavy things I could wear - traded my chucks for hiking boots, wore a couple jackets, put books in my carryon (BAD idea)...
3. Delayed flights are not always a bad thing...I would have missed my flight due to aforementioned rummaging had it not been for the divine intervention of a 1.5 hour delay (they even gave us free lunch...that's right CSC followers...one more opportunity to eat Jollibee...mmm.)
4. The Cebu Airport is NOT joking when they say 7 kilos total weight for your carryon. Due to checked baggage excess (I dropped the weight down from a $200 charge to a $116 charge), I loaded my carryon bag with a couple books. BAD idea. They weigh this too and won't let you through if it is over. Who else does this? I've not seen it before. They've never had a problem with my carryon bag and my "purse" which is actually quite heavy.
5. Prayer works. As I continued to get more desperate (I didn't want to start chucking things into the trash, but didn't know what else to do!), the workers were starting to feel more and more sorry for me. First off we don't speak the same language. Secondly, I probably looked a bit frazzled as I realized I would either have to throw things away or somehow call my family to come all the way back to airport and pick some things up. After offering the weigher guy - the only thing standing between me and the plane - some pesos to "please just let me through" another guy walked up, they discussed, and finally just let me go through. Me with my carryon luggage totaling 21 kilos...yes that's 3 times the approved limit weight, thank you very much.
6. Free lunches are blessings after nervewracking events.
7. Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs is a funny funny man.
8. Skyping with family in Hong Kong airport can aid easing any lasting nerves.
9. Briskly walking laps around terminals at HK airport is easy due to it's size...but note it will draw many strange looks from other travelers as you pass them for the 5th time.
10. Free carts to sit your carryon luggage on and push around the airport are crucial to a pleasant layover experience. I am appalled at my previous stupidity in denying myself the luxury of this great feature.
11. Going through overweight luggage experience can easily make one oversensitive to luggage. Man in elevator at HK airport said, "It's too big!" when I stepped on. I went instantly hot and said, "I'm sorry, what was that?" to which he replied, "The airport. It's too big!" Ha, I guess not everyone was noticing the piles of jackets on the cart.
12. Keeping track of sleeping pills even throughout luggage rummaging is key. I had not, so when it came to "lights off" time on the plane, I had NO idea where they might be.
13. Sleep is more likely to come when eyes are covered. Will check "comfort and convenience" baggie provided by the airline next time BEFORE the duration of the flight...provided eye mask would have worked significantly better than sweatshirt sleeve or free blanket (yes, I put it against my face...I can't believe it...I must have been really tired).
14. Tim Tams and Flight of the Conchords do wonders to brighten up a morning.
15. Seeing overweight luggage wind it's way around baggage claim conveyor belt after almost 24 hours of seperation is quite like a glorious reunion.

Ok, well, there you have it! All that to say, I made it to Brisbane with luggage in tow. The first couple days have been great - more on that soon. Right now, dinner is calling and I am not about to ignore the call.

Goodbye...Or Until I See You Again?

2009-10-13T00:06:00.002-04:00

Oh dear. My time here is coming to a close, and I'm none to happy about it. These two weeks have flown by. I have been filled with such joy as I've gotten to know the kids, the workers. It takes many willing and kind hearts to make this place run - and after two weeks here, it's obvious that CSC is filled with love. The kitchen is always busy (lots of mouths to feed!), the nursery playroom is full of energy - toys, music, laughter. The older kids are so great with the young ones - taking time to hold them, help them learn how to walk, sing about the Lord to them, teach them to dance. Then there are the women who work in the laundry room, others who clean, others who help maintain the beautiful property. So many who give of themselves daily to make this place not only a safe haven for these children, but also a home filled with love, teaching, and encouragement. The Lord is clearly working here and it is a joy to witness.

It has been such fun getting to know everyone here. Their kindness in opening up their lives and homes to me leaves me grateful. Always a smile, a hello. I know the past 30 years hasn't been an easy road to walk down for those involved with CSC, but the Lord's strength has carried them through! What life experience they have. They have seen great sorrow and yet continued great joy.

So tomorrow I fly to Australia. I know it will be a great time as well, but everyone that makes CSC what it is - they hold a dear place in my heart. So the question is, is it "goodbye" or is it "until next time?" If I had my way...well, I think you know what the answer would be. I will be praying for an opportunity to visit again...if they will have me. I am eager to see if/how the Lord will orchestrate seeing this place again.

Off to the land of Oz.....

Glory Reborn

2009-10-12T11:03:00.002-04:00

Disclaimer: this post is about the birthing center I visited this week....those readers not medically inclined may be bored with the medical jargon, but there's nothing too graphic, don't worry.

So on Thursday last week I went with Marlys to Glory Reborn (www.gloryreborn.com), a free birthing center nestled in the heart of Ceby City. As we walked up, I saw at least 20 pregnant women sitting in chairs to the side of the clinic, some there for education classes and some there for a prenatal check up. The clinic is in an old apartment building. They have two levels of small apartment space. I found myself having to get used to the "openness" of things here - front door stayed open, windows open, mere curtains seperating me from women being triaged, most people barefoot as people here leave their slippers (flip-flops) at the door. We were greeted by a friendly staff woman when we entered. We then waited for Hillary to come show us around. Let me introduce Hillary to you - she is, in a word, amazing. She had a strong vision for this birthing center after a mission trip to Cebu 10 or so years ago. She moved out here with her husband in '03 to start this place from the ground up. Since opening they have successfully delivered over 1700 babies...no demises or maternal death. Praise God! Through the tour and lengthy discussion with Hillary, here are some things I found out...

They deliver about 37 babies/month. No epidurals for these birthing ladies! If they really really want something, they can have Demerol IM. For repairs, lidocaine unless a 3rd or 4th degree, in which case they revert to something stronger. There are four doctors that work with the clinic - they are staffed at a hospital, but will attend high risk deliveries at the center. The place is run by midwives and nurses, the head midwife lives in an apartment adjoining the center.

Screening is significant for patients they accept. They like to know all history possible, significant things being HIV, Syphillis and Gonorrhea, previous pregnancies/deliveries, the usual stuff. They rarely choose not to accept a woman - really only two cases: if you're greater than 7 months and/or a VBAC unless she's has a previously successful VBAC. The women are also dischared from the clinic if they miss 2 appointments. Hillary informed me that word gets around the communities fast - you want to get in at the clinic, and you MUST go to your appointments. Rarely do they have to discharge women. Good medical care is hard to find...and free good medical care is virtually impossible to find...these women learn quick. (Oh, there were days we all wished we could discharge at Presby..."I'm sorry, you'll have to go to the OTHER hospital because you've not attented all your prenatal appointments. Thanks and have a great delivery.") At one of the city hospitals, there are three patients to a bed. Then add in the "helper" to care for the patient - usually a family member or friend - and the babies...that's over 9 people to ONE bed. At the federal hospital we went to today, there are 5 laboring mammas to a bed. Next time you have a patient complaint about the TV remote not working, inform them they could literally be sharing a birthing bed with 2-4 other laboring women, in a room full of beds. The wards here are literally a huge room with tons of beds, some curtains, and women all over. No birthing suites here! At the center, there is one small room for deliveries - two beds and two monitors, and one small room for postpartum moms - two beds as well.

Initial tests include a CBC, T&S, GBS, and a UA. STD's are tested on an individual basis. *Important note - the rate of their premature babies is significantly reduced when they treat STD's during pregnancy. The mom's all received their prenatal vitamins free from the clinic, and they are also told to bring with them to each appointment one cheap item from a checklist - a syringe, bulb, cord clamp, etc. - so at delivery they have the few needed supplies already there.

They do care for high risk patients. Lots of women have GDM. Preterm labor is rare. They will vaginally deliver breech babies, unless it's the first of twins. They have had 100% success with their versions...in my three years of L&D I saw a few successful turns (maybe this is because their babies here are 5-6 pounds at delivery?). If complications during delivery, they will be referred and taken to a private hospital (they used to refer two hospitals, until they found out the women they sent were being turned away if they were too busy...at this same hospital the patients were given a list of anesthesiologists they had to call up and bargain a price for them to come in and to the c/s, if no one agreed, there would be no c/s...can you imagine?!?!). If they deliver vaginally, they stay at the center 24 hours, c/s deliveries stay at the hospital 3 nights. They will do pitocin drip inductions at the center - but not for primips. Continuous monitoring for inductions. They will also AROM - monitoring for 30 minutes after, I think. Intermittent monitoring if everything looks ok.

Hillary also informed me that condoms are never used here and the Filipino mentality of acquiring HIV is: I'm in the clear as long as I don't get pregnant. Sheesh!

So there you have it. No whirlpool tubs, no epis, no MAC, no 4-SERV, no JCAHO, no fetal demises, no labeling speci hats and barf canisters...just lots of babies! (Sounds kinda good to me...kinda.)

Hope things are well at good ole' Presby Birthing Care...miss you ladies!

A glimpse.

2009-10-08T22:13:00.006-04:00

Aaah! There's so much to update you guys on! Every day has been fun, busy, hot, exciting. Each day is a learning experience - times full of joy, times of witnessing tragedy. I am trying to take in everything. My days have mostly been filled with helping out at the shelter. Marlys (Paul's wife) has been taking me around the city to see a few things and to run some errands (no Walmarts to stop at...) for stuff for the new house (opening soon!!). It's helped me gain a little perspective. It's taken me awhile to get acclimated here. Things are so different from what I'm used to seeing. In the afternoons, once the kids are out of school, I hang out with them. They play together in the quad area between the houses - soccer, table tennis, rollerblading, swinging, babies learning to walk, lots of laughing. I've been learning some of their games - banana split is one of my favorites. Try to picture a crazy version of rock, paper, scissors...it involves spreading your feet - you eventually win the game when the other person can no longer stretch any further...the kids have an advantage being that they are soooo flexible....but I'm bigger!

Yesterday we went to one of the homes that four of the kids are from. We were checking in on the mother who has 10 children, some still at home. I use the word home because house would not be appropriate. We weaved our way through a maze of hut after hut, little square plots built up with scraps of metal and cardboard and cement. Lines of laundry hung all around. Water ran through the paths as it was raining that day. As we walked by some huts I could hear TVs, music, people cooking, babies crying, roosters crowing (they train them to fight). The smell was unidentifiable - basically the smells of so many people living so close together...often almost unbearable smells. We stepped into this mother's home (the father is nowhere to be found) and she reached for mine and Marlys' hand to lift them to her forehead - a sign of respect. As we talked with the mother (well, I listened mostly, I don't speak Cebuano) I observed children and the hut. A shy four-year-old clinging tightly to her mom, a fourteen-year-old boy watching TV, a sixteen-year-old daughter who is four months pregnant. A mouse ran down the wall - I had to bite my lip to keep myself from running. Clothes strung up on a wire to dry, or maybe that is their permanent spot. Cement floors, wood and metal walls. A sense of safety and warmth nowhere to be found. As I said, four of the children are living at the shelter - thriving, getting food, and education, learning to love the Lord. A stark contrast from the hut in a sea of huts.

I left there with the weight of trying to understand my life, our lives, in relation to theirs. Why is it this way? What do I do about it? How comfortable am I going to feel tonight as I lay my head on a soft pillow in an air conditioned room? The Lord and I are still conversing about these questions. I probably will be chewing on them for the rest of my life.

More to follow soon. There's a day waiting to be seized!

Oh, and for my Birthing Care followers...soon to come is commentary on a birthing center I toured yesterday!!!

Maayong Udto!

2009-10-01T10:16:00.003-04:00

That means "Good day!" in Cebuano. One of the many things I am learning here in Cebu. I arrived safely on Wednesday morning, local time. The plane rides weren't bad - Qantas Airlines is the way to go! They were the friendliest of staff (not to mention the great Aussie accent) and it was the nicest plane I've been on. Slept for about 5-6 hours, off and on. Drank tons of water to help kick a cold I felt settling in my chest mere hours before leaving London (seems to have disappeared now...praise God!). Saw the most amazing views from atop the clouds - there's something about that vantage point I love. When I checked in, the lady asked if I wanted a window seat - I could've kissed her! (Would have if there wasn't such a swine flu scare...) It does make for better sleeping arrangements. Speaking of the flu...almost everyone in the Hong Kong airport was wearing masks and everything was in Chinese - first time for me that English wasn't the language of choice. Just a few things to kick off two weeks of entirely new territory, but that was only the beginning...

I was greeted by a familiar face, my first-cousin-once-removed (heh- from here on out to be known as cousin), Paul, at the airport here in Cebu, which I was entirely grateful for after the long journey and realm of the unknown. I was quickly introduced to the rules of the road...there are none. Apparently anything goes and no one will stop you. When there are cars, jeeps, taxis, children, scooters, and animals on the road, what else would you expect? Paul first took me to the shelter to meet staff and children...what a treat! It's a beautiful place - the buildings, the staff and workers, the children. I am now settled in Paul and Marlys' home. I have met so many people and feel so welcomed.

I am beginning to understand a bit more of my discontentedness in Charlotte. There was something nagging at me. Something giving me a sense I was too comfortable in my life. After my time in London, I thought a city teeming with busy people was something to wrap my brain around...boy was I in for a surprise. What a change this is. A city still teeming. But oh so vastly different. Sketchy dirt roads, poverty just about everywhere you look, armed guards at banks and restaurants. There are positive things too...amazing fruit, beautiful mountains, and most importantly children at the shelter who are eager to engage. I'm not sure I can find adequate words for what I've already experienced in just a day and a half. My heart is already breaking and mending and breaking again and growing 3 sizes too large (if I was in Whoville). With children who come in abandoned, malnourished, suffering from diseases and all kinds of abuse, who's heart wouldn't break? But it is quickly mended when I play a game with a child or share in laughter with them or be read to by a young girl or sing Taylor Swift with a group of girls. This breaking and mending. How does one process? Only God knows what affect will it have. All I know is my heart is in for a wild ride.

Stay tuned for pics and more stories. In the meantime, check out the website for the shelter (www.cscshelter.org) and Oprah on Friday - a segment at the beginning involves a reunion from the shelter!!!

Adios to The Big Smoke

2009-09-28T09:27:00.006-04:00

Tomorrow I board a plane - another trip through time zones begins. I am in disbelief that my time in London has already come to a close...just about the time I begin to feel comfortable finding my way around! I've seen so much here - the kindness of friends and strangers (who have quickly become friends), a city full (and I mean FULL) of a diverse people, a sense of history that the US has yet to achieve. It has certainly been a time of gaining perspective. Seeing a world outside my world. Understanding that God loves those I see and know in Charlotte is quite different than trying to understanding God's love for e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. He cries out to know each and every person I pass on the street. Thousands a day, in a city that truly never sleeps. That's perspective.

The past few days have been lovely. I traveled to Nottingham to hang with Robin Hood and his merry men - in my case this was Warren and his friends, Katie, Jen, Matt, Keith, and Mark. It was nice to get out of the busyness of London for a couple days. I got to see the University of Nottingham campus, the Nottingham castle and art gallery, and go in the oldest inn in England - Ye Olde Trip To Jerusalem (since 1189 AD). It's a quaint three story pub. Quite a bit of history in that place. I also had some delicious

fish and chips (my first since arriving in England), and enjoyed shooting the breeze with Warren and his chums. His request was to make him into a villain in the blog, and I realize I've just compared him to Robin Hood. He was a villain of sorts, right? That'll have to do!

Upon my return to London, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to people-watch in the park. It was a glorious day and the park was teeming with people of all walks of life. After getting my fill of people, I made my way out to my friend Drew's to fill my belly. He and his roommate and friends prepared a mouthwatering meal of steak and chicken on the barbie. With veggies, bread, some sort of amazing grilled cheese, a bit of wine, and two desserts, not a one of us left hungry. It was delightful to fellowship with such fun guys.

Yesterday I attended church in a theatre house in central London. (The famous) Hillsong Church takes place there. I cannot express how great it was to worship with such a diverse people that are so on fire for the Lord. Then last night at Ben and Hanelle's church - St. Mary's - I heard an incredible speaker. Both were an inspiration, and I'm grateful for the experience as I head out to the Philippines...tomorrow! I'm off to finish packing and enjoy one last night with Ben, Hanelle, and Drew!

Weeping Willows

2009-09-23T19:38:00.005-04:00

They are all over the parks in London! I absolutely love them. Besides the fact that they ooze nostalgia for me, they also have an intrinsic peacefulness about them. They take me back to a time when I hadn't a care in the world and climbing trees was an everyday sport. London is generally not a clean city (you should see what comes out of my nose every night...gross, I know...I had to share), but the parks provide a bit of reprieve from the hustle and bustle and the grime. I try not to be the typical tourist (you know the type, fanny pack and camera around the neck), but when I get to a park I can't help myself. The beauty begs to be captured on film. I'm making it a priority to hit up Regent's Park again before I leave. One more stroll through the rose gardens...

In addition to meandering through parks, I've also found great joy in wandering through

museums. I spent hours in the Victoria and Albert museum the other day. Listening to my ipod and taking my time on the different floors was almost like therapy. The fashion exhibit and paintings and jewelry and sculptures and...it went on and on! A feast for the eyes.

Speaking of feasting the eyes. That's about all my eyes have done since arriving. Just today I walked across the London Bridge (don't worry - it wasn't falling down), saw the Tower of London and the famous Globe Theatre, walked across the Millennium Bridge, toured Westminster Abby (Tay! I saw Mike - he even let me in FREE!), and last but certainly not least, I feasted on The Lion King. What a show! It was superbly entertaining. I laughed, cried, and was utterly amazed at the creativity and talent involved in such an extravaganza. I was also baffled at how I've previously failed to see the spiritual implications in the storyline. Maybe it's because I had just come from an evensong service at the Westminster and spirituality was on my brain, but it was obvious to me tonight. It's left me with some ideas to ponder and a mind filled with brilliant colors, dancing, and singing.

As I walked the streets today, I had a longing for community. I miss the community I left behind - people that know me, and know me well. But then I was reminded of the leg cramps I used to get as a little kid, growing pains striking in the middle of the night. I think we experience this as adults, although the form is quite different now - internal as opposed to external - but still growing pains. I decided change doesn't come without some discomfort. My thoughts were even echoed tonight in Rafiki's words of wisdom to Simba as he learned to deal with change.

One Word

2009-09-16T18:41:00.005-04:00

Grateful. As I walked around London on this blustery beautiful day, I found myself absolutely grateful to be where I am. Saying goodbye to friends back in the States and meeting travelers early on in my trip revealed that several people had a desire to do a similar journey, or a regret that they hadn't ever taken the opportunity. So as I sat in a park, had lunch with some friends, and lollygagged around I felt overwhelmed with gratitude. I'm not sure yet really why or how this trip is happening, but I couldn't help but smile to myself several times today.

I began the day with a stroll through Regent's Park - reading a bit only to be interrupted by an eager spaniel named Jim with a slobbery yellow ball. Taking Jim up on his offer to play fetch, I was introduced to his owner who engaged me in conversation for a bit. I then met a few friends

for a late lunch at Bonnington Cafe - which came about by homeless "squatters" occupying the abandoned space long enough to lawfully call

it their own; it now serves eclectic home-cooked meals by a group of member cooks. Had quite a delicious fudgy chocolate cake with cream cheese whipped cream. To walk off the meal, I strolled down the Southbank, viewing Parliament, Big Ben,

and random street shows, then rested a bit inside the National Theater where a free concert was being played - European gipsy music. The 3-man band ended with "If I Were A

Rich Man" - loved every minute! Then before the LONG walk

back to the flat, I became the ultimate tourist and photographed practically the entire riverfront that was lit up in the night sky.

But as I walked (and boy did I WALK...why take the Tube when the crisp breeze felt so good?!), I also found myself pondering what defines me. It is easy to be defined

by your social circle, your job, your past, your neighborhood, your priorities. I think being too defined by these factors can be claustrophobic. I discovered today that London is a city full of people each with their own agendas, fashion styles, and busy lives. No one pays much mind to anyone else. The people here are hard to define. It makes me wonder, will I be redefined as the trip progresses or will I discover myself becoming more undefined?

Not even a glitch!

2009-09-15T07:32:00.002-04:00

Aaah, sitting in McDonald's just after noon in London! (ONLY reason I'm at a McDonald's is because it has free wifi...) London is currently chilly with a lovely drizzle to cool your cheeks. After lugging 2 suitcases and my backpack from the airport into LDN via the Tube, I welcome some cool mist!

I'm happy to report that all travel thus far has been safe and uneventful - save the few tears and jitters at the start of the trip. Had two lovely flights here - sat next to great people each time. First flight I ended up next to a guy from my church in Charlotte - the odds! Second flight also gave me a divine appointment...the opportunity to watch The Proposal which helped calm any lingering nerves. Sleep was not something present on the plane for me though. I have learned my lesson and will get over my aversion to medication for the next flight. It'll be twice as long! No worries - a little caffeine and the day will be mine!

I'm off to explore....

1...18...2...1,000...25.

2009-09-14T00:00:00.005-04:00

1 around the world plane ticket. 18 hours 'til departure. 2 suitcases. 1,000 hugs from family and friends...

And 25 years of experience living life. But am I experienced enough for this? I sit here tonight on the verge of the biggest adventure I've been on so far in my life. I find myself wondering when did I grow up? When did that moment take place where I crossed the threshold from childhood to adulthood? Whether I can pinpoint an answer or not, I think it happened somewhere along the way. At some point I stopped asking permission to go to the movies. I eventually got to drive a car without a passenger above the age of 18. Then came a new level of decision-making, paying bills, buying my own clothes and groceries. Yes, adulthood has ushered itself in. Welcome or not.

Now this so-called adulthood is toying with me. Telling me this would be easier with someone else. Maybe even someone more adult than me. I, however, have chosen to go this alone, in the worldly sense. I travel with the greatest companion one could have, my Heavenly Father. So I stand and embrace the journey with eagerness. I will stumble along the way. Probably a lot. As flights are delayed, cities become overwhelming, luggage is lost, people aren't as helpful as I think they should be....but I will grow too, and He will teach me to regain my footing quicker and surer than before.

And I will return, still at the age of 25. Probably still questioning whether or not I'm an adult, even after hiking the Southern Alps and diving out of a plane with a parachute strapped to my back. Which then leads me to conclude, in the last hours before departure, that adulthood is less of a feeling and more of a reality. I will hold to that reality as I step onto the plane. I will slip in my earbuds, take a deep breath, and soak in the reality that my journey has officially begun. I cannot wait!

I am grateful beyond words for the prayers, support, and love of family and friends. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your encouragement as I say goodbye to the life I know here in the States and begin to take in (as Aladdin once put it...) a whole new world!

Cheers!

The Countdown Has Begun...

2009-08-30T23:09:00.002-04:00

Ladies and Gentleman, two weeks from tomorrow I embark on my journey around the world. I am experiencing myriad emotions as the departure date approaches. I can now officially say that someone can feel entirely contradictory emotions at just about any given moment, if not every moment. Excitement, trepidation, peace, joy, sadness, eagerness. In my opinion, the journey has already begun.

I've begun to say goodbye to friends and coworkers. I've begun the process of packing up my Charlotte life. A part of me has already begun to wonder what life will look like upon my return...and I haven't even left! It's a new experience for me. Other times of my life a move has been normal, expected. Moving with my family. Moving to go to school. Moving for a job. This time, however, it's none of those reason. This time I'm in search of answers to questions, some of which I can't yet name. Questions that nag at the soul until they become louder than the routine of life. Questions that demand change and exploration. I'm not sure what the answers will look like, but that's part of the joy. Whatever semblance they may have, I pray I will find them on this journey. Or that they find me.

I leave you with some lines from Needtobreathe's song "Through Smoke." They speak of something stirring in my soul.

"Before the truth will come to fill our eyes

The wool comes down in the form of fire

And when the answers and the truth have cut their ties

Will you still find me

Will you still see me through smoke...

Who do you believe when you can't get through

When everything you know seems so untrue

When I'm lost in a place that I thought I knew

Give me some way that I might find you"

Well then, 14 days and counting!