Location is everything.

Sometimes there are tons of thoughts swirling around in my head and they don't quite seem to connect with my fingers. People always talk about having a caffeine IV so they didn't have to drink coffee, sometimes I wish I had some sort of opposite IV that just extracted all my thoughts straight from my brain. Writer's block is a punk that I wish I could counsel into non-existence.

I'm American. Yes, I grew up all over the world, but even then I got to live in some of the most industrialized and well-off countries in the globe. I have never experienced real starvation. I have never slept in the cold without a roof or heat. I travel on airplanes and drive on highways in my 2012 Honda like it's no big deal. My life is so comfortable. And I don't even understand why.

It's currently 1 am in Germany, and I should be asleep, but insomnia plagues me so harshly here and sleep is never my friend. So in these late hours I watched a documentary, Virunga. [It's beautiful. If you have Netflix, give it a viewing because it's definitely worth your time]. It's a compelling and moving look at how "conservation is war," focused on the Virunga National Park in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

War is breaking out all around the park as they fight to keep the endangered gorillas and the park safe from rebel groups, and oil companies, and destruction. Obviously the point of the documentary is to move one into action to support the park and do whatever they can to help stop what's happening too it. Sure I felt that a little bit, but there was something bigger that I got hung up on.

I couldn't, and can't, wrap my mind around the fact that somehow I ended up comfortably splitting my time between the US and Germany. Sure, my country has been at war for as long as I can remember, but not within our borders, I am fleeing from nothing. And that these people in the DR Congo ended up in a place that has been at war for what seems like ever. Power is always shifting, everything is corrupt, and people are always running. The movie showed scenes of people literally running down the streets as a new rebel group moved in and took over the village. I don't run, not even for exercise. I don't run, and that is these people's whole lives. Running.

When I think about it I realize that I don't think about this much because it's hard. It makes it hard to see what's good in our world. It makes me doubt my God because on the large scale these world seems so overtaken by evil and darkness that I find it so hard to believe that he can even begin to penetrate the clouds that cover so much ground. I get mad about that fact that I've been whining all week about how much I want a fancy dSLR camera. As I type this I want to punch myself for being so utterly selfish and blind.

I'm American and I live in my own little world. My eyes are blind to the fact that there is real evil out there that tears apart families and physically hurts in a way that I will never know. My world is comfortable so I don't care. In my world my God is mine, all mine. I am so quick to forget that he is the God of the nations. That he is the God of these people in the DR Congo that are fighting to keep gorillas safe and bring peace to their country. He is the God of the Germans that live next door to me.

In church on Sunday there was an African family that lit the advent calendar. When they were done that father was saying a prayer. I don't know if he had planned out ahead of time what that prayer was going to be, or if he just let the Spirit speak through him in the moment, but he got to a point where he began to cry. He was saying something along the lines of, Father, let those we know who have not come to know you experience your love this Christmas season. You could sense that his tears were those of heartbreak, that he was thinking of a specific person whom he wanted nothing more for than for them to know Christ, but they were also tears of hope. That he knew the Lord was faithful. That he would make himself known when he deemed the right time. I've seen some Americans cry like this, but it's rare. I admired this man as he prayed, and wanted to have the same hope and conviction that he did. Why does this seem to be more common among people who don't hail from the great US of A?

God is my God, but he is not solely mine. He is the God of the nations. I am lucky, I am so lucky that I am too quick to forget how lucky I am. Somehow I get to live in a place where having a Macbook and an iPhone and a queen size bed are normal and expected. By some miracle chain of events I ended up in a place where industrialization happened and economies became robust, and owning cars that drove on thousands of miles of maintained highways became the norm. My brain wants to explode thinking about how if I was just born in a different geographical location my entire life would be 200% different.

I don't know what to do with this. I think this was more for me. To get all my thoughts out of my head and wrestle with them on a page rather than just all up in my synapses, but here ya go - chew on the implications of this with me.

A Great Insufficiency.

Fall leaves are beautiful, but they are dying. It's kind of a morbid thought, but they literally turn different colors because the cells that produce and process the chlorophyll that keeps them green are dead and no longer able to keep leaves looking like leaves. You don't look at lots of green leaves and marvel at their beauty. People don't travel half way around the world to see leaves in the height of summer, but in Fall on the other hand, well that's a different story. There's a bed and breakfast in Floyd that is completely filled in October with people from England and Australia and other countries that have literally traveled half way around the world to watch leaves die. I totally get it because I'm such a fall lover, but when you really think about it the whole thing is kind of wonky.

I've been overwhelmed with the notion of insufficiency. But it's more than just simply insufficiency. I think that a lot of the time we are able to see our own insufficiency and it overwhelms us, blinds us to all else and we are consumed in the sheer fact of facing our own short coming. That's part, but not the whole of what I've been overwhelmed by lately. I've been overwhelmed by the fact that there is an incredible amount of BEAUTY in insufficiency. Just like watching leave die, watching someone embrace and live in their insufficiency is beautiful. When we are broken, and cracked, and have nothing to give it leaves more room for the Lord to take over. When we have carefully stitched ourselves together and tied on our mask of perfection there's no room for Jesus. 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, "For my power is made perfect in weakness." His power is made PERFECT in weakness. Not just good, not just okay, but PERFECT. Wow.

He fed 5,000 people with 5 loaves of bread and 3 fish, and there were left overs. The insufficiency of those people and the disciples insufficiency to feed those people was surrendered to Jesus, and he took it an ran with it. He didn't just make it enough, he made it exceed what was needed.

In Exodus God starts weaving Moses story through 2 midwives that outwit Pharaoh, and not just any midwives - Hebrew midwives. Slave women. Pharaoh tells them to kill all the baby boys when they were born, and basically they tell him "Yo, the Hebrew women are beasts are the babies are already born when we get there." They lied. Exodus 1:17 says, "But the midwives feared God and did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, and let the male children live." They knew that they couldn't change the world on their own, they knew that Pharaoh was crazy powerful, but they handed over their lowly job to the Lord, and to put it in the words of my pastor - "He used this insufficient army." He used these two midwives, Shiprah and Puah, to save the male children of the Hebrews in Egypt, to save Moses, and to deliver his people. His power was made perfect in their weakness.

Moses had a speech impediment. In Exodus 4 he flat out tells the Lord don't send me because I can't talk well. He's not comfortable with his weakness, he tried to use it as an excuse to get out of doing something that he found scary. The Lord saw his weakness and saw more room to work.

Real life: last Friday I gave a club talk hours after I was sent home for throwing up at the elementary school. I wish I could club talks like that every week. It's one thing to cognitively be aware of the fact that I'm weak and insufficient, it's another thing entirely to actually be physically weak. To know that there is no other way I will be able to stand in front of that room of kids and keep it together for 15 minutes with out the power and perfection of Christ. To be driven to a point of complete separation from self, and complete reliance on the Lord is a beautiful place to be.

I'm overwhelmed by how much more the Lord can do through me when I am weak, when I am insufficient. Yet I am so quick to hold on to my faults, to cover them with a mask, and make them look like perfection. I am so quick to hide my insufficiency, when in reality that is where the Lord flourishes. I have a great insufficiency, I am so cracked its crazy, but yet the Lord fills those holes with perfection. He works perfectly when I am incapable.

My God is so good. My great insufficiency is beautiful because he is present in it.

AND because no post occurring in October is complete without some pretty pictures of slowly dying yet beautiful fall leaves, here's a peek at the beauties at my 2nd home in Floyd (also a great reminder of the beauty of weakness/insufficiency):

A Change.

I'm not one who typically runs to the Lord in times of need and despair, and if I do I typically run to prayer and not to the Word. There are certain things I know about myself, and this is one of them. I'm a military brat, I run to myself, retreat within myself and draw on my own strength to deal with things that are hard. Its incredibly tiring and not how we were created to confront situations.

I'm also not an emotional person. That's another concrete fact about myself. I'm a military brat, I was taught to put on a facade of strength because I'm supposed to be strong. I'm slowly learning that I'm broken, that emotions are okay. About a year ago a wise person preached at our church, and he said something along the lines of "we should be praying for our emotions to be aligned with the emotions of those in scripture." I shouldn't apathetically be reading the Word. If the Israelites are crying, I should be crying; if the disciples are dancing with immense joy, I too should be dancing with immense joy. This idea rocked, and continues to rock, my world. The notion that feeling is godly, that I am not called to be numb, but rather to have my heart in line with the Lord and therefore my emotions as well is just something that I can't really comprehend.

Today this two ideas came slamming together in my life. One of my teammates called me with news that saddened me deeply. It didn't directly effect me in any way, but I felt. I was sad, and distracted, and frustrated, and mad at a string of events that didn't effect me and that I had no control over. As I sat trying to study for a test I was overwhelmed, distracted, on the verge of tears, and unable to comprehend why this was happening. My first instinct was to write because I'm weird and that's how I process my lack of emotions, but being aware of my tendency to shy away from the Lord in times like these my second instinct was to pray. But I'm also aware of how quickly I run to that rather than God's living Word, so I decided to go there. To the word.

As it turns out I opened right a passage that helped make the situation vividly clear. It didn't reveal God's specific purpose, but rather his heart behind why this happened. I was still overwhelmed, but I also began to feel a sense bittersweet joy. I'm still mad that this had to happen to my friend, that hard things have to happen, but I'm joyful because this means that the Lord has great things in store, that he has something in the works that we aren't even aware of yet.

As I was reading through John 15 this morning (my favorite right now, check it out and dwell on it) I wrote in the margin, "Abiding in Jesus means that he will take away things that will hinder my ability to produce fruit. It won't always be easy, but it will always be good because God is good." It's cool how the Word can change attitudes toward a sucky situation in short amounts of time, and that God really does work things out for good - even if we can't see that initially. It's cool that the Word really is active and able to relate to my crazy and broken life.

Triangles and a Triune God.

I did ballet until I was 16. I definitely didn’t always love it, but it’s always been the absolute most beautiful thing in the world to me. I’ve never been an amazing talker so I think the fact that dance is communication in the absence of words drew me in a little extra to its beauty. There’s a simple complexity to it. To just watch it you’re simply blown away by the sheer beauty and elegance of what you’re seeing, but when you really contemplate what it takes to produce the complexity of movement that you’re watching you’re mind is absolutely blown. Even as a dancer I don’t always know exactly how all of that works.

I picked up Tim Keller’s Jesus the King (formerly The King’s Cross) this week, and haven’t been able to put it down. Pretty much every idea or concept Keller presents is astonishing and profound and beautiful to me, but the one that got me the most was his comparison of the trinity to a dance. I think it was actually C.S. Lewis that actually pioneered this thought – which just makes it even better – but none the less its an astounding idea. I get this picture of the three persons of the trinity – Father, Son, and Spirit – dressed in flowing white gowns just laughing and twirling around each other. Maybe even grabbing hands every so often or spinning or dipping each other, just have endless amounts of beautiful, graceful fun. (I know this picture is incredibly stereotypical stupidly flawed, but that’s the only picture brain can produce that makes any sense so that’s what I’m gonna go with, cause it’s still beautiful).

Six months ago I got a tattoo. It’s a tiny little triangle on the inside of my wrist (my sweet sister Beth’s artistic representation of the trinity). I originally got it as a kind of memorial/reminder tattoo. I got it to remind me of the pain that I felt, and still feel, surrounding Eric’s death, how I NEVER want to feel that again, and how that solution to that is to spread the news about that amazing power and love of Jesus that saved and changed by life and gives me eternity. A reminder that my life is permanently temporary, but with Christ that doesn't even matter.

The fact that it represented the trinity was just kind of a side note. But in the last six months, specifically the last few weeks, I feel like my eyes have been opened to a totally new and exciting view of the trinity.

I used to think that I was invited into a relationship with Jesus. Which I most definitely am. But the sweetest and coolest thing is that it’s so much more than that. I’m invited into a relationship with all three aspects of God – Father, Son, and Spirit. But it’s so much more than a relationship that I’m invited into, it’s a dance. An elegant, intimate, beautiful, fun, no holds bar dance. I spend my days trying to portray to Jesus and the beauty of a relationship with him to middle school girls, but I forget that's it's actually this incredibly complex, but also beautiful simple dance with a Triune God, not just Jesus.

This picture to me is overwhelming. My amazing and hard to understand triune God wants to engage in a dance with me. This most beautiful and elegant art that I am so in love with. And that is simply incredible to me. 

My sweet ink that reminds me of the beautiful dance with God I get to tell my friends about. Triangles are pretty powerful.

To Where Are You Called?

"It will not do to say that you have no special call to go to China. With these facts before you and with the command of the Lord Jesus to go and preach the gospel to every creature, you need to ascertain whether you have a special call to stay at home." 

-Hudson Taylor

Go read the Great Commission (Matthew 28:19). What is the first thing that comes to mind? To leave? To get away from wherever you are and go somewhere exotic to tell people about Jesus? That was me. I thought that the only way to proclaim the good news of Christ was to get up, hop on a plane to the middle of nowhere Spanish speaking country, and just start screaming JESUS LOVES YOU from the hill tops. Okay maybe not that ridiculous, but the thought may have crossed my mind once or twice. I didn't have a heart for my own country. I don't know if I thought that American was beyond help, or if I was just blind to our plight. In my eyes American didn't need me, they already had Jesus.

I'm not exactly sure when I realized how wrong I was, but the straw that broke the camel's back for me was a documentary that I had to watch for one of my classes, ironically. It was a Frontline special called Poor Kids, which chronicled the lives of 3 kids living in poverty in the US completely through their eyes. I sat with my hands on my head, my jaw dropped in astonishment, and tears running down my face. And for those of you that know me you know that if something makes me cry it's pretty freaking powerful because I don't cry.

I don't really know why this video was so powerful. I mean I lead WyldLife in a pretty rural area, a lot of the kids I know their get free lunches and are technically homeless. Poverty isn't a new phenomena to me. I'm very aware that it exists. I even knew before watching the video that 2 million people in our country went without dinner tonight because they couldn't afford it. But for some reason this struck a cord that is so tender and sensitive that I'm getting worked up just thinking about it.

We are so quick to leave America. I remember in middle and high school that staying in country for a summer mission trip was seen as "subpar" and definitely not as cool. If you went to Nicaragua for a week out of the summer you were like so super Christian doing the hardest of work. Middle and high school friends - that is a very large pile of cow manure, going to Nica is awesome, but so is going to Appalachia or Iowa.

(Don't get me wrong, international missions are still awesome and the Lord definitely calls people to that. I'm thinking of my friend Kate and how clearly the Lord has called her to Nicaragua to serve him there, that is incredibly sweet and very much for his kingdom. But I think that so many of us are so often quick to dismiss how desperately our own country is in need of the gospel and that we are in denial of the fact that the Lord is calling us to stay put and serve him recklessly here in America).

I am confident that Jesus is the solution. I don't know how exactly that he can draw millions of people out of poverty, or give them a permanent roof over their heads, or make sure that their stomachs are filled when they start to growl, but I have absolutely no doubt that he is able to accomplish all of that and then some. We as humans, as Americans - as privileged as we are - are incredibly insufficient (and greedy, let's be aware and seriously address this in ourselves. I know its a struggle for me), but God IS sufficient. As we discussed in Floyd leadership last night, shouldn't the knowledge of this encourage us to step into even more difficult situations confident in the fact that God is sufficient and powerful enough to accomplish all? In John 16 Jesus says, "In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world." He has overcome the world. All of it.

A few months ago I would've told you that I was going to hop on a plane to anywhere but here when I graduated from college, but my heart has never been so broken for my home. I have never felt so called, for the first and only time so far in my life, to stay home. Its weird and I don't know what it will look like but I have never been more confident that here is where I belong.

A House of Flies.

Last year Magnolia was not the most fun place to live. I think back to the pictures we took as a house last year and how they were a mask that we put on to the outside world. They made it look like we had our act together, that we were all best friends, and that we are insanely hot (that one has been true the whole time). But in reality the only things that within the walls of our house were hurt and loneliness. Of course there were good days where this wasn't the case, but for the most part it was. Mag was devoid of Jesus, devoid of community, and devoid of true friendship.

Thankfully my roommates and I are pretty awesome people and cam to the realization that our first year in our house was miserable. We had more bad things to say about that year than we did good. We realized that the way we had been living was not glorifying to God and not honoring the incredible blessing we had been given of living with 6 other girls that were also crazy about Him for just a few short years. We wasted year one, but we sure did learn a lot from it.

At our pre-classes starting house assembly we came up with the one idea that has been the single best thing that has ever happened to this house of magnolia flies: hang out in common areas. If you're home, just be out where you run into everyone else. Do your homework at the kitchen table, read your book in the living room, watch a TV on the couch - even if you have headphones at least you're still out there. This one little adjustment (and a whole lot of Jesus) has transformed our sweet home in the past two weeks. We see each other more, we know more about each others lives, and it is so much more easy to take spontaneous trips to Kroger or Willard hill to watch the sunset. It's awesome.

There used to be a sign hanging above our couch that said "How good and pleasant it is when sisters live together in unity. -Psalm 133:1" and its funny to me because we looked at that sign every day last year, and I don't think we ever really understood or contemplated what it meant. It just went in one ear and out the other. We lived in division, we hurt each other without knowing it and let frustrations brew, we didn't live life together, and the live we did live wasn't all the pleasant because many of us (myself included) avoided home because it was unpleasant.

There's a song that my mom likes to quote that says, "maybe your blessings come in rain drops," and another one out there that says something to the effect of its not the sunshine that makes you grow, but rather the rain (I usually really good with song lyrics and every time I hear this one I'm like oh-man-I'm-gonna-remember-that-now and then I don't. Gosh dang it.). Unfortunately/fortunately for our house we had to go through a years worse of steady drizzle with occasional down pours to figure out what it really means to pursue the Lord and each other in our house. My prayer for this last year with all 7 of us together is that as we continue to fall even deeper in love with Jesus we will be able to more deeply love each other and experience the true joy that accompanies that.

Praise the Lord that no matter what he makes all things work together for our good!

Not gonna lie, we're some pretty happy and gosh darn cute flies. So incredibly thankful for the laughter that echoes from the walls of our home because of these girls.

Failed Expectations.

I'm distracted. And I'm troubled. This morning I physically couldn't even finish my breakfast. Why? Because a relationship has failed me. It's failed me because I packed on all these expectations, an end game that wasn't healthy, and now I'm hurt by nothing the other person did, but by what I thought should happen and didn't because I'm not in control. I'm spending my time running through conversations and situations in my head that I could engage in to fix this. I backed it into a corner and now I feel obligated to fix it. Am I obligated to fix it? Probably not. Have I acted in a way that deserves reconciliation? Most likely. 

I'm reminded of Hosea and what a picture of redemption that is. I'm not sure if it's completely applicable here, but it's comforting and convicted. I am Gomer, constantly doing what I want, pursuing my own interests and ultimately failing in the process. And yet The Lord continues to chase after me. To welcome me back when I realized the error of my ways, and even when I haven't. There's no end game with Jesus. He doesn't save us because he wants to personally be responsible for the most number of people in heaven, or because he wants a lot of friends. He saves us because he loves us, and because his love is so great that it can help but turn into the action of saving. 

I am not Jesus. But shouldn't my love for Jesus turn into an all consuming and limitless love for those around me? Yes, most of the time I enter into relationships with people that way. But all too often it so quickly turns to "I'm gonna try and love this person a little extra because I have a crush on them" or "I want her to be my friend so I'm gonna be extra intentional about that one." Why do I do this to myself? It's toxic. Instead of coming out as loving I come off as overbearing and pushy. Instead of drawing people into the person of Christ I scare them away from me. I try to do it all on my own but call it the "love of Christ" or "love for my brother/sister in Christ." 

There are a lot of conversations running through my head, apologies I need to make because I'm selfish. Am I feeling compelled by Christ or compelled by myself? I'm not sure yet. I am thankful that there is grace in relationships. That there is grace in Christ. That I'm able to give myself grace for mistakes because Christ does. I'm called to abide. I'm not called to make my own story, turn my life into a you-choose-the-ending chapter book. Trust and abide. Those are hard concepts, but I will cling to them because they are truth and because I cannot fix the relationships I have soiled with my plans, but God can. 

Untitled.

"Feel the deepest longings in your soul that will never be fully satisfied until heaven. Don't be afraid of sadness. Face the hidden sin in your heart that makes it clear how undelighted you are. Don't be afraid of the brokenness. Let the pain of disappointed longings and the guilt of terrible sin drive you to consider the gospel in a new way. Only then will Christ enter your life and deeply change you from the inside out, installing in you a growing awareness of his relentless love and sustaining hope for a better day." -Larry Crab

The world is broken. Its imperfect. As humans we are broken. We are imperfect. We cause each other pain. The world causes us pain. Sin is painful. It hurts and leaves us unsatisfied. Leaves us with holes striving to be filled. But we're so immune to the pain. We shrug it off and don't allow ourselves to experience the deepness of the hurt that is actually consuming us. FEEL THE PAIN. Let the pain and the sadness and the longing drive you ever more the Christ, where on the cross he took on pain, and loneliness, and despair, and frustration. He understands it. He's been there and he wants to help because he's the answer. Until heaven he is the most satisfaction my longing soul will ever feel. No matter what I'm really searching for he will fill the void. But its okay to feel. Its okay to be sad, and angry, and lonely, and desperate, and failed because that's a product of sin. My sin and the sin of others around me. People will fail me, they will let me down, they will hurt me and make me cry. No matter how hard I try they will never completely fulfill me. Even good relationships will only be temporary and will involve moments of hurt because my soul wants more than they can give. Every piece of my brokenness, and the hurt I experience, everything should be pointing me closer and closer to the redeeming love of my savior. He fills the spaces between my broken pieces and makes me whole. Even when I feel unworthy he does this for me because no matter what I am his. I am his family and he love me. He loves me.

"So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God." -Ephesians 2:19

I am a member of the household of God. Let that sink in and hit you.

A Perpetual Love for Sunrises.

I think that I've always loved sunrises. I'm a huge morning person, and sunrises are pretty much the ultimate symbol of the morning. Mornings are still and quiet, not many people get up early enough to watch the sunrise so I've pretty much got the whole world to myself. I love that. I'm a huge introvert so having the whole world seemingly to myself is pretty darn exhilarating.

Recently I was trying to think of what made me fall in love with the sunrise so much. I've seen a lot of sunrises in a lot of different places so it was a tad difficult to pinpoint the exact one that made me love all of the others so much more. But alas, I am a persistent daughter of a gun and I found it. The funniest thing about it is this sunrise isn't even one I watched, and it represents one of the worst days of my life, but I guess that's maybe why it means so much.

This sunrise: 

Background on this - was taken in Virginia Beach on the morning of August 21, 2011. If you've been following my word vomit on this blog for a while then you'll know that is the same morning that my friend Eric passed away. I've only ever seen this picture of it, but I'm so eternally grateful to the girl that woke up literally before the sun was up to snap this amazing picture and print out hundreds of copies for all of us to have. You may never see this, Hyler, but thanks, this picture has helped to change my life.

So why is this my favorite sunrise if it's a reminder of such an awful day? It may be a reminder of an awful day, but its also a reminder of something so much sweeter - that every day, every sunrise is an incredibly gift. We're not guaranteed tomorrow, Eric taught me that, but sunrises are a breath taking way that God wakes us up in the morning and says, "Welcome to another glorious day on earth!" Much like my tattoo* its a simple but meaningful reminder that there's no reason to not live every day like the gift that it is and to live it for Christ. 

Today marks 3 years since painfully learning the lesson tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Today marks 3 years of the sting of loss and the sweet reminder of how found I am in Christ. Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it eases them, it gives them perspective and allows you to learn from them. My life is different because of this. My life is different because of sunrises. Thank the Lord for sunrises. Thank the Lord for every tomorrow.

Watching the sunrise over the lake with my some of my sweet summer staff friends, they love me so well, woke up before 5 to indulge my crazy love in sunrises (:

*Tattoo - dad knows, mom doesn't. More on what it is, the meaning behind it, and mom's reaction if she catches that in here. I think it's a great story that I can't wait to share.

Guidance Counselor in Training.

Fun thing that you'll be hearing a lot about in the next couple of months: for the next semester I'm interning with the guidance counselor at Floyd Elementary School.

So far I've been there for 4 days. Four whole days, and let me tell you - I love it. What does a guidance counselor in training do? Well funny you asked because I'm kind of an almost expert on that topic. I spent last week meeting all of the schools 30+ new students, taking their picture, and then making a poster with all their pictures, so basically I spent the week doing arts and crafts. But that's cool. I like arts and crafts. Starting next week I'll get to meet the kids that I'll be mentoring this semester, our lunch bunch groups will be starting, and I'll finally get to see what it looks like to teach a guidance class.

There's a lot to look forward to this semester, and a lot of exciting things have already happened. I left the first day of school with an official badge, a parking spot (that someone else has been parking in, but whatever I still have one), got to eat in the teacher lounge and have my own desk. Life is good. Life is exciting.

So far, so good. After these four days I'm more than ever in love with being in a school.

Sorry, I know this is incredibly bland. More details of the good, the bad, and the funny will surface as they occur. Lord knows this is going to be one heck of a journey.

Water from the Sky.

It's been raining since Friday. Today is Monday. Society tells me that I should find this depressing, that this is supposed to suck, but it doesn't. I love this. Rain is refreshing. Rain is calming. Rain is the reminder of a promise (okay, well technically its a rainbow, but the rain has always reminded me more of Noah and the flood than any rainbow will). Rain is great at making you slow down and stop all your craziness.

When I was little I told myself that when it rained that meant that God was really sad about something so he was crying a lot. Seeing all the unrest that's happening in the Middle East and Africa right now that theory could hold. If all were watching all that crap happening to my creation I'd probably cry for four days straight and counting too. But of course 6th grade science taught me that rain just means there was too much moisture accumulated in the atmosphere. Thank you 6th grade science for ruining my innocent childhood imagination.

But rain isn't sad. It brings life. In drought stricken areas people have gods that they worship that are devoted to rain. Rain is everything. Rain is life. We're all here complaining about how we can't go outside and hike and are forced to sit around and watch Netflix all day, but imagine if you lived in equatorial Africa where it hasn't rained in months? You would probably be dancing in the streets for four days straight.

Sometimes I honestly don't know where my mind goes with these things, but I do know that I'm thankful for rain. I'm thankful that it waters my garden for free, that it washes my car, that it allows me to slow down, that it cools the air, that it makes the plants for green. I'm thankful that the Lord gifted us with something as powerful and equally life giving and destructive as rain. Water from the sky.

Through a DIfferent Lens: Champion & Emily.

Champion's basically always on my mind these days. Between missing people and remembering the things I learned, not a day goes by where something about Champion doesn't make its way into my conscience. But today Champion was heavily on my mind. Today I got back the pictures from my disposable cameras and was reminded on that whirlwind and wonderful month.

Knowing well ahead of time that my bosses would be confiscating cellphones my first thought was this: go to Best Buy and get myself a DSLR camera (and basically put myself in $500 debt the night before I leave). Thanks to the ever sensible advice of my little sister/roommate I was a smart steward of my money and spend $30 on two disposable cameras rather than a spur of the moment $500+ on a fancy camera. So off to camp I went arms with a mere 56 frames to capture my 4 weeks at camp.

Things that you should know about disposable cameras:

1. Picture quality is below average at best.

2. Literally EVERY picture is a gamble. There is no way to know whether or not it will actually turn out.

3. There's a flash, but let's be real no one knows when to actually use said flash.

4. The day you finally get the pictures back is like the best and worst Christmas all wrapped into one. 

5. I was pretty confident that there would be at least one fellow summer staffer with a nice camera so my disposable venture was worth the risk.

Things I learned because of disposable cameras:

1. In 2014 people will look at you funny when you whip out a disposable or ask them to take your picture and hand them one.

2. With only 56 frames every picture really is worth a thousand words. Each one tells a specific and special story because each picture is used with a purpose (well most of the time). 

So armed with my 2 disposable cameras and ready to be a quasi-photojournalist I went. And after getting the prints back and realizing that I am - in fact - a part of the population that doesn't know how to actually used a camera, and throwing away numerous duds, I was reminded of the story behind each and everyone (even the sucky ones). 

This is the more detailed story of my time at Champion - one picture at a time. (Sorry if you're sick about hearing about Champion. But also not sorry).

This is Emily and Bridget having a chat during one of the last days she was at camp. Emily was one of our favorites. On day one she ended up in the craft shack with a fat lip from tubing and announced to us that she wasn't doing any of that crazy again the rest of the week. Thankfully for us that meant we had a new friend to hang out with the rest of the week. (The week Emily was at camp was the week crafts was the most dead so having her come around every day was such a special treat). She never wanted to make anything, she just wanted to talk. And talk we did. (I also got to chat a bunch with Emily's leader Olivia a bunch so we really got to know her special story). 

Emily was the oldest child in her family and had dropped out of high school to be the caretaker for all the babies. Olivia told me she wasn't sure how the family would even survive the week with her away. That broke my heart. But something she kept saying as she told us about all the struggles in her life was "But I know Jesus is looking out for me." 

I'll never be able to fully understand or comprehend all of Emily's situation, but to be able to watch this girl who was forced to grow up so incredibly fast enjoy herself to no end for a week with nothing on her agenda but having the best week of her life was one of the most special things I've been able to experience. To hear her say that she knew Jesus had her back gave me so much hope and put my life in to perspective. Am I really thankful for all the opportunities I have? Not really.

Thank you for humbling me, Emily, and for adding so much joy to and brightening my first week at camp. You're a star. 

Narnia: Reflections on a Month Away.

I've found it easiest to tell people that it felt like I went to Narnia when they ask me what it's like to be back from camp. And in all honesty it's actually pretty true. Somehow by the grace of God I was transported to an alternate world for a month where time seemed to pass so slowly and so quickly all at the same time, but when I came home it was as if no time had passed at all. Just like Narnia.

Camp is an almost perfect picture of the body of Christ working together for a common cause. Granted its still on earth so its a tad flawed, but a clear illustration none the less. Each one of us has a specific and unique job that is integral to the running of camp. Some jobs look different from other, but each one has it's challenges. I came into camp with the flawed notion that life in the craft shack would be easy. That I didn't really need Christ. I was just making bracelets all day for goodness sake. (Take a second and just laugh at how dumb I am). Sometimes it becomes really clear that the Lord knows all our thoughts, and this was one of those times I was fully aware of that fact.

The first week in crafts was easy. Bridget and I literally jsut sat around and talked to campers, got to know a few of them really well and taught how to make a bracelet every so often. Life was easy. Now let me tell you about hair wraps. Week two hair wraps became the death of me. The humble little hair wrap taught me so much about patience, humility, and how inadequate I truly was. We went from doing practically no hair wraps the first week to spending 4 or 5 hours straight a day doing hair wraps. We were tired, our feet hurt, our fingers hurt, I ran out of things to talk about with girls, and the line seemed to be never ending. Hair wraps taught me that even in the craft shack I couldn't get through my day without leaning on Christ. My job wasn't overly difficult. Compared to other jobs it was probably considered easy, but it showed me that no matter how humanly big or small the task leaning on the Lord is crucial. It taught me that life is a lot better when I decide to call on the Lord's strength whether I think I need it or not, every second of every day.

Change is something that's a pretty key element at YoungLife camp. In all honesty it's basically the key element as to why we bring kids to camp - so that they're lives can change through experiencing God in a way they've never experienced before, and hearing about Christ's love for them in a way they've never heard before. We get to watch first hand as kids change from death to life through out the week. Talking to leaders and hearing the names of kids that are a long shot for accepting Christ that week or are the hardest kids on the trip, and then hearing those same kids stand up at the end of the week and say that they've turned their chair around and started a relationship with their Savior is one of the most moving things I've ever experienced. It's also a reason for a lot of change with in me too.

I'm not needed at camp. Camp isn't even needed. If God wanted to he could bring people from death to life and into relationship with him just by he sheer might. He doesn't need a YoungLife camp full of a bunch of dirty sinner, but for some reason he chooses to use it. The craziest thing is that camp isn't just for kids that don't know Jesus. I'm convinced that just exists just as much for the summer staff and the work crew and the assign team to be challenged and pushed closer to the Lord as it does for lost kids. The person I was when I drove into Lake Champion is not the same girl that left a month later. When I stopped to think about it I'm amazed that at the end of a long day when my feet were killing me and I smelled like rotten milk from exploding milkshakes I was still filled with overwhelming joy and couldn't wait to get up the next morning and do it all over again.

I realized two things at YoungLife camp: 1. Getting to watch nearly 400 new believers find the Lord in the span of one month is freaking incredible. Its a miracle that will humble me eternally. 2. Leaning intimately on the Lord brings about a joy and peace in the most trying of times that is not possible on human strength. Praise the Lord for putting me through a physical test where I was forced to see the depth of my need for him in ever situation.

Here's the verse we had to memorize and was kind of our theme verse for the month: "For you are a people holy to the Lord your God. The Lord your God chose you out of the people on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession." Deuteronomy 7:6. That's not exactly relevant to anything I've said here, but I think its a pretty sweet truth to be reminded of. God chose you, and you are his treasured possession. That's pretty legit.

I feel like these words are so disconnected and so scatterbrained (the first time I typed all this up it deleted itself somehow so having to write it a second time was beyond frustrating) and do no justice at all to all that the Lord did during my time on summer staff (praise the Lord that my words are not at all what matter!). In all honesty even a week later I'm still trying to process all the things that happened, so be on the look for more tidbits from this amazing challenge of a month.

xoxo,
Abby

P.S. Hit me up if you want to know more about this! I love coffee dates and picnics and anything that gives me a chance to share what the Lord's been doing and hear how he's been moving in your life too!!

My favorite picture from the month. This was taken a few nights before we left. The rock we're sitting on jets out onto the lake and is located a ways away from camp so it was the perfect spot for us to all hang out and share our testimonies with one another. (Shouts to my Arizonian friend Dylan for snapping this pic!)

Isabel.

This is my sweet friend Isabel. She's a little different from the other 5th graders that I know, but she sure is special. Isabel was in Jenna's class this school year, but wasn't around much because she spent a lot of time with specialists working one on one with her to make sure she was able to do her absolute best at school. When 5th graders got invited to WyldLife club and campaigners I was the one who ended up picking up Isabel week after week. At first I was super frustrated with the situation. Car rides were quiet and awkward. We found out she was neglecting to tell her mom where she was going and was therefore getting in trouble. She would call me 5 or 6 times in one afternoon before club or campaigners but not really have anything to say. I way consistently frustrated and fed-up with the whole deal, I wasn't convinced that she actually comprehended club talks or campaigners lessons and didn't see the value of driving way out of my way to pick her up.

Then I read a sermon by the ever knowledgable Spurgeon that said something along the lines of don't underestimate the ability of children to comprehend the gospel. Sure, Isabel couldn't really read every word in her bible, but did that mean she was incapable of understanding who Jesus was, what he did for her, and how much her father in heaven loves her? Of course not. She just won't necessarily manifest that knowledge in the same way as other kids, but I'm confident that she's able to understand it.

Equipped with this knowledge and a reminder that my job is to love people, pray for people, and present the gospel clearly my attitude toward Isabel began to change. As I spent more time with her I was able to figure out what worked and what didn't. I made sure to answer each phone call with a smile and think about what Jesus would do each and every time this girl called - he would definitely smile. A lot. I quickly learned that she just really enjoyed being around, so I made sure to make that happen.

As I prepare to head off to summer staff I'm actually pretty sad to leave Isabel for the month. My weekly car rides with her have become a time of great joy and something I will dearly miss while I'm away in New York. I didn't sign up to be a Capernaum leader, I didn't sign up to have to deal with kids with special needs, kids that we different than other kids - but I kind of did actually. I signed up to love kids for Jesus and like Jesus, and that means all the kids.

I'm supposed to be Isabel's leader, the one that teaches her things about the Lord, but in all reality she has taught be SO much. She's taught me so much patience, that loving people is hard, but when you keep at it and don't give up on them little things begin to all work out. She's reminded me that a relationship with Jesus looks different for everyone and that there's no one right way to love him. And she has definitely taught me that anyone and everyone is capable of comprehending the gospel.

You'll never see this, but thanks for being awesome, Isabel!

End of an Age.

I've literally started re-writing this post like 12 times today. A ridiculous amount of emotions are rushing through me and it's just a tad on the odd side. Today was the last day of school for all my friends in Floyd County so here's what that means:

• My 2 favorite high school dudes/teammates are done with high school. A very very bittersweet situation because they're both coming to Tech in the fall, but our time as teammates has basically reached it finale. 
• The 7th graders have graduated out of elementary school and out of WyldLife. They'll be up at the high school from now on and some of our strongest campaigners are now in the hands of the ever capable YoungLife team. Watching them go has actually made me tear up a little.
• The 6th graders are now 7th graders. They run Floyd E now and praise the Lord that I'm not forced to say goodbye to them just yet.
• The 5th graders are now big middle schoolers and I won't get to spend copious amounts of time with them in English class, but we'll be lunch buddies for the next 2 years so that's a definite perk. 
• Walking into Jenna's class next year will get me lots of weird looks from brand new 5th graders that have no idea in the world who I am.
• It's summer. Finally.

It's been a busy and crazy year. To be completely honest I don't even really remember all that's happened. Our beginning of the year planning weekend for WyldLife feels like eons ago. It's neat to look back though and see how much we've changed individually, as a team, and as a ministry here in Floyd. 

Before this year we'd never had campaigners (Bible study) for middle schoolers in Floyd. Now at the end of the year we have about 15 kids consistently coming every week to dive deeper into the Bible with us. Before this year we'd never had a full school year of WyldLife clubs. Two semesters, lots of craziness and 14 clubs later tons of kids have gotten to hear the good news of Jesus Christ and we've officially been in business for a whole year. At the beginning of the year we had about zero girls coming to campaigners. There are now four or five 5th grade girls that come regularly and that we'll get to keep learning with and loving for the next two years. Our team shrunk, grew, changed, is about to shrink again, and will likely grow again as well. We've watch kids turn from death to life and begin to transform and bring light to their school. We even got to take our first group of Floyd WyldLifers EVER to Rockbridge camp for winter weekend in January. 

I leave this beautiful county I so lovingly call home in just shy of a week to spend a month working at a YoungLife camp in New York and its like I'm being forced to travel somewhere but leave my heart behind. This county became my home this year. These people became my family. Last summer Floyd and the girls here barely ever crossed my mind, this summer they're all I'll think about. It's crazy to me how the Lord works when he plops you down in some random place to tell people about him. He took me - a girl who, because of my upbringing, has basically zero emotional attachment to anywhere in the world and no place to consider home - and made my heart swell, and break, and never want to leave this tiny rural county in a forgotten corner of Virginia. Placed me on a team of humans whom I fail and support, and who fail and show me the love of Christ so that I'm able to depend on him more and get a better picture of who he is. He's turned kids lives around completely on his own to remind me that I'm not an integral part of the process, but allowed me to play small roles to remind that even though he doesn't need me he still wants me. 

Transformation. That's really the word that sums up this entire school year for me. Nothing about myself, or WydLife, or Floyd looks exactly the same as it did when the year started, and that is all thanks to the almighty God of the universe who's deeply in love with Floyd County. Who laid all the pieces in their absolute right places so that I could basically spend the entire year in a 5th grade classroom as a volunteer and is making it possibly for me to continue working with ALL the kids at Floyd E as an intern in the guidance department next year. It blows my mind how much he's worked in one year and I think this scatter brained, all over the place, discombobulated post speaks right to that.

Thank God for being sovereign. And thank God for my sweet sweet Floyd County. 

Camo and a Carhartt....Floyd's effected my fashion choices just a tad.

We really love selfies - especially car selfies - at WL.

Hanging at my second home with my very large second family.

Our last (and biggest?) club of the year. Probably one of my favorite pics of all time. 

Softball: the official sport of Floyd County.

Giving back to our awesome county at ProjectFloyd.

The awesomely awkward and cool Nick and Garrett - my favorite high schoolers (now ex-high schoolers I guess) on the planet.

2 of the first 3 leaders to ever graduate from leading in Floyd. 

Taken after my 5th grade friends destroyed me at knockout (basketball is the other official sport of Floyd County).

Told you we loved selfies! Especially with my buddies who are now high schoolers!!!!

Invitation In.

I run a taxi service. My friends call it Bloodbath's Taxi Service, and kids in Floyd don't really call it anything. But no matter what it's called, it exists. It always seems like I'm driving someone somewhere and am always ready to play chauffeur when I'm needed. I used to hate this. It felt like all I did was drive around like a slave to all my friends, college or middle school, but then I realized that I loved being in a car with someone. It was an interrupted time where we could just talk.

Usually when it comes to kids in Floyd driving them home is about as far as our time together goes after club or campaigners. There are usually so many kids in need of Bloodbath's Taxi Service that I never get to go in to the house with any of the kids, and frankly am never invited to. But my sweet friend Alma threw that norm out the window this week after campaigners, and the time that came of it was even sweeter than she is.

I drive Alma home from campaigners every Monday, and I love it a lot. She's a fire cracker, loves to talk, and therefore fills the entire time it takes to get from the Gill's house to her house with laughter and chatter and all around crazy fun. Usually she's the first stop on the night's route of drop offs so with my car full of kiddos I wish Alma a good rest of her week and their ends our interaction for that week. But by some stroke of fate, Alma was the last kid I had to drop off this week. We pulled up to her house like usual, I threw the car in park, told her to have a great week, said hi to the dog through the window, and got ready to drive away. As she got out of the car though Alma said to me, "You can come in if you want. I don't want it to seem like all you get to do is drive me around." What?! Heck yes I will come in with you! (Perks of summer - everything gains an air of spontaneity).

So I went in with Alma. I met her mom, her stepdad, her two adorable younger siblings, and got to chat with her older brother that I already kind of knew. For forty-five minutes we just hung out in their dining room and talked. We talked about why I was in Floyd, how crazy Alma was, and how her brother and I will both be working at Lake Champion for a month this summer (their mom got really excited about this). It was fun. We laughed, the kids ate ice cream and it was so natural and casual, so refreshing to be a room with people of all ages just wanting to know a little bit more about each other and really about what was being said.

An invitation in. That's all it took for me to be able to see a little bit more of Alma's life. In YoungLife we always talk about "living life" with kids, and I struggle a lot with what that looks like for my ministry in Floyd because most of my day to day life takes place forty-five minutes away from where any of my girls live. But this experience with Alma taught me a couple things:

1. Living life doesn't just mean sharing my life with girls, but also sharing THEIR life with them. Its super fun to talk a girl grocery shopping with me, or to have them over one weekend to my house, but making an effort to get to know their life? I can't imagine that that doesn't have an even bigger impact on their life. To care about them enough to say, Yeah, I have to drive forty-five minutes home, but I will most definitely come into your house with you tonight because I love you and this is your life. I want to know your life.

2. Simply invite Jesus in. I've really been discovering a lot lately how we complicate life with Jesus so much more than is intended, and that I keep my life so walled off to him. We've also been talking at my church currently about being a child of God. Praying like a child, acting like a child, having faith like a child. So why is it so hard to be like Alma and simply extend an invitation to Jesus into my life?

Food for thought.

Porch Sits.

In the winter time I have a strong belief that God especially hangs out in coffee shops. Obviously he's everywhere all the time, but I think that he is extremely present in certain places, like coffee shops in the winter. In the summer though I think its on front porches that he has a special love for. I learned that "porch sits" as they're endearing referred to are something that is very country. You literally just sit on the porch. All day. And I love it. In fact the only thing that would make my sweet Magnolia better is if we had a front porch that I could sit on all day long.

Porches are awesome for sitting, but they're even better for talking. Post up in a rocking chair next to someone on a front porch and just go to town. Gab the day away. You'll be amazed at what you'll learn about life, about Jesus, about the person sitting next to, it's awesome. There's just something about a beautiful day on a back country road that makes people want to open up, to be real, to be vulnerable and to share about life. I don't really know what about a beautiful on a porch of a house on a back country road makes that happen, but that's what makes me think that Jesus really likes porch sits.

I've been reading through John 15 lately and wrestling with what it really looks like to abide in the Lord. To spend time with him with out expectation. To just be in a moment with him and quietly enjoy his presence. What does that look like? How do I actually make that happen? Porch sits.

How cool would it be to spend a day sitting in a rocking chair next to Jesus? It would literally be the best. I think what makes me so excited about that image is that its casual. When you hang out with someone on their front porch you don't have expectation of where the conversation will go, you don't meticulously plan out every word you say so that it's the most formal sounding. You just talk. There are often lulls in conversation as you enjoy the beauty of the day and the company of the person you are with. Everything so opposite of how I've thought spending time with God looked like. So opposite of the formulas and agendas I always feel myself falling into.

So let's say goodbye to our expectations, our Jesus checklists, our comparisons to others, and just porch sit with Jesus. Sit down with him and simply enjoy his company. Throw our cares out the window and spend simple but meaningful time with the man who overcame death for us.

Even Though You're Young.

When we decided to start up campaigners for Floyd WyldLife last summer none of us really knew what it would look like or what to expect. Well actually we kind of did...in true YoungLife tradition we expected there to be oodles of girls showing up every week and maybe three or four guys if we were REALLY lucky. That's just the way YoungLife works, girls are waaaaaay more into than the guys are. But of course we do ministry in Floyd and everything about Floyd is weird or pretty much the opposite of what you would expect. So that meant that our campaigners are 5th - 7th grade boys. To the point that some week girls don't even show up. The girls that do show up are rockstars, I've seen them grow a lot this year and its been so sweet to watch their hearts change for their friends. But the boys are where I've been most encouraged; which is really freaking weird because typically 13 year old boys do not encourage 20 year old girls, but hey this is Floyd and we do what we want.

Zach is in 7th grade. He's a rising track star and has one of the most genuine hearts for the Lord I've ever seen in someone his age. Zach gets it. He runs after the new kids, the weird kids, the kids who don't have many friends, who no one talks to. He invites them to WyldLife events, he loves them, and most importantly he prays for them. When I was in 7th grade I was a whole lot more worried with how straight I could get my hair and how I could get out of gym class than I was with wanting my friends to know Jesus.

I'm consistently amazed by this kid. 99% of the time I'm pretty sure his faith is a lot stronger than mine. The sweetest thing is that I know for a fact that I have had nothing to do with the awesomeness that's occurring because of Zach. It's all Jesus and that is incredibly cool and humbling. Praise the Lord that he works in such crazy and backward ways and that I'm able to find challenge and encouragement in the Lord through a 13 year old boy.

One of my favorite verses of all time is 1 Timothy 4:12.

"Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity." - 1 Timothy 4:12

And watching middle schoolers that are sold out for their God is such a sweet and humbling thing to experience. PTL that I even get the privilege to be a part of the uprising of these young people.