12 American Habits I lost while living in Eastern Africa

1) Standing in cue & waiting my turn – Because, even though there may be a cue… it really doesn’t mean as much. To stand in line and wait your turn is a sure recipe to not get served at all.

2) Wearing a seatbelt – Because often there isn’t a seatbelt. Or if there is it doesn’t work. Further more. the public transport is often so full there aren’t empty seats. So I stand. Often, contorted in a variety of gymnastic-worthy positions, due to the cramped space and pressing together of humanity.

3) Speaking my mind / Sharing my opinions openly – I still have opinions, yes. I just recognize I am a visitor here. An outsider. And I don’t have the whole story from which my opinions should be formed… I only see a part. And those around me do not freely express their opinions. What right have I as the foreigner? None.

4) Standing up for myself when someone wrongs me & telling people off – When I have lewd comments yelled at me, or get called “white foreigner” for the umpteenth time, or have things thrown at me or people spit on me… I remain silent. Collected. Unfazed (on the outside). Because speaking out and showing anger is not appropriate and can even be a sign that you are “mad” (mentally unstable). I have learned the hard way that addressing such behavior directly actually only makes it worse. So silence is the best option.

5) Expecting things to happen in an efficient time frame – My African brothers and sisters are never in a hurry. Life is about people, relationships, and events… it’s not about tasks. So tasks can be extended or postponed for a variety of reasons, and it’s ok. Our relationship is more important. We have time. As one friend said recently, “Time is running towards us, not away from us.”

6) Requiring a large personal space bubble – Whether it’s in public taxis, on the train, sitting in church, on a bus, in someone’s home when there is a wedding or funeral or birthday or birth, in a supermarket aisle, in cue, in a cafe or restaurant, or even simply walking down the street… space is found or made for more souls. Personal space? What’s that? More like communal space… everywhere, at all times. No that’s not exclusively your chair, or seat, or table, or stool… for there’s always room to share with one more person.

7) Expecting stores to stock an item indefinitely – I see sesame seed oil and dill pickles at the supermarket. Counting my cash on hand, I decide to buy them next time. But a week later when I return, the entire aisle is restocked with completely different items. Those, which I have never seen before in stock, are gone for good. One week you find 2 kg bags of shredded coconut, then never again for two years. Toilet paper multi-packs are everywhere, then disappear for 6 months. Normal. Just go with it. When you see it, buy it… or resolve to live without and not mind.

8) Monthly or bi-monthly shopping trips – Very limited pre-packaged food, and fewer preservatives… means all cooking is from scratch, and much healthier. I love, love, love this, even though it takes more time. So much better for our bodies. But it also means that food doesn’t have a long shelf life. Milk & bread turn after 3-4 days. Our veggies aren’t refrigerated and last about a week. So it means more frequent shopping trips and fresher food.

9) Using a planner/schedule – I still have a planner/calendar – I just only use it for checking the date or writing down when I paid bills… because scheduling/planning things much in advance is out. Especially planning a day in any sort of hourly schedule… just ain’t happening. Ever. There are too many unknown, uncontrolled variables… your taxi breaking down, not getting a taxi. the mail not showing up, a random friend stopping by, an unexpected visit from a neighbor or landlord, the internet goes out, the water is off, the power is off… just go with it. Life is more spontaneous…and exciting.

10) Impersonal patron/client relationships – Because buying/selling is also about relationships. Going to the same cafe matter. Using the same market stalls and building relationships with your stall owners matters… it brings better prices, better quality produce, credit when you are a little cash shy of your bill, warm greetings of your welfare when you miss a week, and so much more. Greeting the guards you walk by everyday – they notice when you aren’t there or things are amiss, and they check on you. Impersonal interactions throughout the day are unheard of. Relationships – personal, friendly, growing constantly. Does it affect efficiency? Actually no, it builds it – because, when I walk up to my bread selling stall, she just looks up, smiles, and says “how many today?” Or my local supermarket, when I get ready to check out will ask me whether I am forgetting my eggs today (and I often am!).

11) Not getting to know my neighbors – The kids are always at my door when my Love gets home from work. They know it means free bananas. We share laundry lines, garbage day reminders, and huge smiles when the water comes back on after a several day absence. My adopted mom/grandma below us is always ready to make me practice my language learning phrases, teaches me the names of local spices she is pounding on whatever day, and shares tastes of her homemade treats. They watch for me when I’m away, or even when I’m home alone. They make sure I don’t miss out on any important information, as the newbie. And they are quick to help anytime. I’m learning to do the same whenever I can.

12) Relying on power/water/phone/internet systems to work all the time – because it most likely will be off at some point. Roll with it. Before I moved to East Africa, I never hoarded water and backup batteries. Now my life schedule revolves around when the water is on – and filling every possible container in my house. Washing on water days. Reading and writing snail mail letters on no power days. Always having backup everything on hand, just in case. It was baffling to my African friends… which was baffling to me. “You don’t stock up?” I ask… “Why?” they reply. “It’s just life.”

"until the LORD gives rest to your brothers..."

⁸ So we took the land at that time out of the hand of the two kings of the Amorites who were beyond the Jordan, from the Valley of the Arnon to Mount Hermon. ... ¹² “When we took possession of this land at that time, I gave to the Reubenites and the Gadites the territory beginning at Aroer, which is on the edge of the Valley of the Arnon, and half the hill country of Gilead with its cities. ¹³ The rest of Gilead, and all Bashan, the kingdom of Og, that is, all the region of Argob, I gave to the half-tribe of Manasseh. (All that portion of Bashan is called the land of Rephaim. ¹⁴ Jair the Manassite took all the region of Argob, that is, Bashan, as far as the border of the Geshurites and the Maacathites, and called the villages after his own name, Havvoth-jair, as it is to this day.) ¹⁵ To Machir I gave Gilead, ¹⁶ and to the Reubenites and the Gadites I gave the territory from Gilead as far as the Valley of the Arnon, with the middle of the valley as a border, as far over as the river Jabbok, the border of the Ammonites; ¹⁷ the Arabah also, with the Jordan as the border, from Chinnereth as far as the Sea of the Arabah, the Salt Sea, under the slopes of Pisgah on the east.

¹⁸ “And I commanded you at that time, saying, ‘The Lord your God has given you this land to possess. All your men of valor shall cross over armed before your brothers, the people of Israel. ¹⁹ Only your wives, your little ones, and your livestock (I know that you have much livestock) shall remain in the cities that I have given you, ²⁰ until the Lord gives rest to your brothers, as to you, and they also occupy the land that the Lord your God gives them beyond the Jordan. Then each of you may return to his possession which I have given you.’
²¹ And I commanded Joshua at that time, ‘Your eyes have seen all that the Lord your God has done to these two kings. So will the Lord do to all the kingdoms into which you are crossing. ²² You shall not fear them, for it is the Lord your God who fights for you.’
Deuteronomy 3:8, 12-22 (ESV)

I am struck by this passage. It hits a deep chord that resonates in my spirit. Yes. Yes. "Until the Lord gives your brothers rest." "Until they also possess the land which the Lord your God will give them."

What is the promised land? Hebrews 4 alludes to it being an analogy for entering into God's rest. Entering into His grace and rest from works of the flesh. It is a place dependence on His spirit, His power, His grace. It is the abundant life. Life IN Christ. The promised land, flowing with milk and honey, full of abundance and rest from the enemy who was defeated by His strength when they entered.

So why does this passage affect me so deeply? I've had so many conversations with so many believers from so many places. Not nearly enough as I would like... and I'm thankful for the opportunity live and interact with so many different brothers and sisters. But I see many who are new in their faith, or who are young in their faith, and are striving to understand the freedom of His grace. Who are still very much bound by rules, expectations, cultural norms, etc. Who are struggling with lies and don't have the truth in their own language. Sure, they have it in perhaps another language they try to access it in - but it is not clear, it doesn't make sense, they don't understand.

I feel the Holy Spirit nudging me to action. To taking up their struggle with prayer. To stand with them against the lies, speaking truth... maybe even standing with them to translate the truth into their own language and cultural context.

When I feel tempted to say, "I've had enough. I want to rest. Let me sit back and revel in my east-of-the-Jordan-River inheritance..." His spirit whispers, "What of your brothers and sisters... they have yet to claim their inheritance. No, My child, it is not time for rest, it is time for action. Until your brothers and sisters also receive their inheritance and their rest... the possession I have for them... then, and only then, is it the proper time to rest."

You see... there is no "fend for yourself" in His sovereign realm. There is only community, unity, and "one anothers." May I never, ever forget this, Lord. And each time I am tempted to pitch my tent, drive down stakes, and settle down in my own inheritance on this side of the Jordan... urge me out, and forward, with my brothers and sisters... until we can all together possess our inheritance of faith and rest.

¹⁰ And Joshua commanded the officers of the people, ¹¹ “Pass through the midst of the camp and command the people, ‘Prepare your provisions, for within three days you are to pass over this Jordan to go in to take possession of the land that the Lord your God is giving you to possess.’”
¹² And to the Reubenites, the Gadites, and the half-tribe of Manasseh Joshua said, ¹³ “Remember the word that Moses the servant of the Lord commanded you, saying, ‘The Lord your God is providing you a place of rest and will give you this land.’ ¹⁴ Your wives, your little ones, and your livestock shall remain in the land that Moses gave you beyond the Jordan, but all the men of valor among you shall pass over armed before your brothers and shall help them, ¹⁵ until the Lord gives rest to your brothers as he has to you, and they also take possession of the land that the Lord your God is giving them. Then you shall return to the land of your possession and shall possess it, the land that Moses the servant of the Lord gave you beyond the Jordan toward the sunrise.”

Joshua 1:10-15, ESV

on my bucket list

I've been wanting an African name for years. Or even just an African nickname would suffice. Yet, my ASL sign-name stayed even after several years and multiple Deaf language communities. After a text message yesterday, I was struck with the realization that I DO have a spoken language African nickname... and have all this time... I've just been in staunch denial of what it is. :-p "Beti."  #Bettyisanoldladyname #washopingforsomethingelse #certainlynottribal #ohwell #winsomelosesome

My Amharic name is Betaniya  - which is really not that different, but has emotional roots now when I hear it in a different context. :-)

endless transitions

To adjust --> "familiarize oneself with; to acclimate; become accustomed to; come to terms with..." And in our case, to adjust to rapid change & constant transitions.

There are some days I mentally tick off the list of major transitions in my life over the last two years, just to remind myself that I'm not losing it, and having days of just be-ing are ok... needed, even. It's not to applaud myself or give excuse for laziness. It's just the reminder that this is NOT normal life for MOST people... and to give myself some necessary grace on the days I just can't seem to tell up from down.

Just coming back from 3 months Stateside. Coming back to a sink that isn't draining, a toilet that is leaking, and feeling the squish of water that has seeped under the kitchen flooring and will need to be replaced. Coming back just to throw down our bags and run to our teammates' house to help them pack up their lives to go home... for good. Coming back just to say goodbye again.

Yet also coming back to elated neighbors... the smiling faces of the kids in our complex who have mastered the word "Chocolate??" :-) Coming back to warm wishes of "happy holiday" and "happy new year" as we rung in 2008 on the Ethiopian calendar. Coming home to the hugs of friends who pretend their eyes are not misty from missing us. Coming home to relatives who try not to call us to give us time to rest and settle back in.

Transition. Job changes. Home changes. Relationship changes. Marital status changes. Team changes. Physical social network changes.  Weather changes. Visa status changes. Yet... I am reminded I have a loving, faithful, sovereign Father who is UNCHANGING. A Rock. Yesterday morning, as I sat in my corner chair, morning sunlight peeking through the curtains, He lead me here in Isaiah 44, verse 8: "Do not tremble and do not be afraid... ... Is there any God besides me, or is there any other Rock?" No, Lord, there is not. You alone. My Rock. And then this beautiful promise in Isaiah 43, verse 15-16: "I am the LORD, your Holy One, the Creator..... who makes a way through the sea and a path through the mighty waters." My Rock. My Anchor. The Sea-ruler, Way-maker, & Storm-calmer. The Holy One, my Creator. You alone.


And I opened my laptop to find what tasks awaited me, and found hope, encouragement, affirmation, and challenge from others who walk this journey - so very different, and yet parallel my own. I am convicted to re-think ministry when local partnerships just aren't working well. I am validated and heartened by those who know the heart-rending of adjusting to constant comings and goings of teammates and friends. I am strengthened by women who understand and know the weight and indignity of harassment in our daily environments and refuse to be quiet about it.

And I am struck by how very odd it is, that those who ministered the most to me yesterday, were not even people I have ever met in person or would venture to call my friends. But they are brothers and sisters who know my journey struggles and joys, perhaps better than those who know me well. And I am reminded that I am part of something so much bigger and grander than this little chaotic world of my own. And this thrills and burns my heart to praise and rejoice. For He is the author of the story. And we serve the same Father. And He knows the end from the beginning. He is the Rock. The Anchor, in a life of endless adjusting, changing, and transition. And you, fellow bloggers and writers, have touched my life, and spoken into my story. Thank you.

Linking up with Velvet Ashes today, on the theme: "Adjust"

Will you trust Me – for today and for tomorrow?

 It was a hot July evening in 2012, sitting on the grassy bank of a stream, as the evening light began to fade and the mosquitoes started making their presence known. It was a quiet place to think. A place to get away and alone with my thoughts... which, this particular evening, was a scary prospect.

I had been away from East Africa for a year now, yet I was still awaiting the morning I would wake without a heaviness in my chest and an ache in my heart of missing Africa with every fiber of my being. I was back in the States on purpose, to further my education, and prepare for a move to SE Asia. That had been the plan all along. At least, that had been my plan. In fact, I had spent the last year reminding myself of this. And I was no further along this evening than I was the first days of arriving "home" to American soil.

My heart was in knots. My spirit in turmoil. And to add to the plot, there was also this one guy... the one I kept resolutely factoring out of the equation when his name was whispered continually through my mind. After all, we were just friends. We were of different cultural, linguistic, and social backgrounds. We lived on different continents. We came from very different communities. And yet, my mind (and my heart) were continually drawn back to him. Despite all my denial, we were skyping on a weekly basis and corresponding even more frequently.

I was a mess. All my "well laid" plans and expectations were now a complex ball of limbo. Internally, I was battling fear of being my own worst enemy and making the wrong choices and the wrong decisions and royally messing everything up. So, that night on the bank of that stream, I was too consumed with swarms of fear and confusion and questions without answers to even heed the swarming bugs.

As I poured my heart out into a journal, hoping the verbal processing would bring some sort of order to my mental chaos, I wrote until I could no longer see the page through tears. I finally dropped the journal into the grass and cried out, "Why are You silent!? I NEED answers. I need to KNOW what You want me to do. I don't know, and I need to know. Why won't You just tell me??"

As the words faded into the buzz of mosquitoes, His voice gently flooded into my agonized spirit, "B, do you trust me for today?" Still in an attitude of frustration and impatience, I irreverently snapped back at Him that since it was already night time, that was a dumb question. Unfazed and ever patient, He whispered, "Ok then, will you trust me for tomorrow?" Realization flooded through me, that this was about to be a significant decision point. Mollified, I said yes. "That is all you need to know. Trust me, love." He finished tenderly.

Each morning following that evening encounter, He whispered the same two questions to me when I woke: "Do you trust me for today? Will you trust me for tomorrow?" He was asking me to surrender my need to know, my need to plan, my need for the answers... to, rather, trust Him, and His love, and His sovereignty, and His goodness and guidance. Yes, Lord, for today and for tomorrow, I will trust You.

And I discovered that in trusting Him--one day at a time, and walking in trust and obedience THAT day, and then the next day, and then the next--I found peace in His capable hands. He shifted my focus from the problems, the confusion, the limbo, the questions, to His heart.

Today, almost 3 years later, I am amazed to see what God has done with that simple trust. You know, that guy--the one on a different continent who I kept factoring OUT of the equation. He is now my husband. And I still wake up each morning with a love and ache for Africa, as I wake up on her soil;  she is now my home.

Linking up this week with The Grove @ Velvet Ashes.

"to be a help" or just "to be"?

THIS. I have been looking for THIS quote for over a year now. It is one of those that has shaped my own view of "ministry."

"I found a very subtle snare... I sought their fellowship in order that I might minister to them, 'be a help,' you know, to these 'weaker' ones. What a rebuke came when I sensed my real motive--that 'I' might minister. Love hacks right at this, for she refuses to parade herself. I learned to recognize no 'spiritual planes,' but simply to LOVE, purely, in every group. Trying to 'be a help' even has a smell of good works in it, for it is not pure. Our motive is only to BE--do nothing, know nothing, act nothing--just to be a sinful bit of flesh, born of a Father's love. Then you see, Beloved, there can be no defeat." 

(Excerpt from "The Shadow of the Almighty: The Life and Testament of Jim Elliot")

What do you think?

how to fold the laundry (married life musings)

You know, those ingrained habits we all have? Those ones we don’t see until suddenly someone else is there and, somehow, someway, revealing all these things you were unaware of about yourself?

Like, how you fold your laundry. Or that you actually, like, had deeply rooted feelings related to how the laundry is folded. I mean, c’mon, really? Who cares? Well, apparently you did. Hah! Joke’s on you.

Thirds or quarters? Length-wise or width-wise. Put in the cabinet facing backwards or forwards? Fold out or in?

But the biggest question is: Does it really, freaking, matter? Well… No. But then again, kinda yes.

No, it doesn’t matter, ultimately. There is no right or wrong way to fold laundry. There are “more effective” ways, and “less wrinkling” ways, and “space saving” ways… but there is no law or rulebook on how laundry MUST be folded. Just as there is no law or rulebook on how you should wash laundry, or how your should take a shower (with or without water spraying against the wall or straight down or whatever), or how you should cut vegetables up, or when you should take the garbage out, or what categories your should organize your bookshelf into, or how to squeeze that infamous toothpaste tube. But sometimes… it certainly feels like there should have been a rulebook… Am I right?

Now, I had always considered myself quite flexible. I mean, seriously… I have moved over a dozen times in the last 8 years, living in multiple countries (sometimes at the same time), learning bits and pieces of multiple spoken languages, not to mention countless sign languages. Crossing cultures and adapting… All the time. I’ve had more roommates in the last decade of my life than I can count (no, really… more than I can count). So… I figured, yeah… I’m set. This whole adapting thing will be no sweat. WRONG.

My last roommate before marriage was the best and worst thing for me. Our relationship and living together was effortless. Like, we never, ever had to think or talk about it. It just meshed, and flowed, and sailed along with all the ease of a tailwind. A blessing, because she came a crucial, stressful and overwhelming season of my life and job and just picked up all the pieces and wove them into something organized, manageable, and shared. And, though we’ve traveled the world together, shared hotel rooms, shared clothes and food, and shared some crazy experiences… honestly, I have no idea how she folded the laundry. Whether she kept all her preferences in check (I doubt this, highly – nobody can do that for 2 years living with outspoken me) or we just complimented each other that well… it did not prepare me for switching to a lifemate, who isn’t even going to try to hide preferences… because this is supposed to be about middle ground and compromises and blended lives.

So back to the laundry… in this and many other things, I’m learning to let go of how I think it should be done, and just rejoice that I have a Love and Life-mate who wants and enjoys doing things like helping fold laundry, wash dishes, clean the house, cook meals, etc. I am so thankful. And yes, in some ways, it does kinda matter how you fold those towels, pillow cases, and blankets. Before, when they were thrown in the box on top of my closet, you had to fold them to fit into the box. But now that they go in that new cabinet, the old way of folding them no longer works – cause they stick out and prevent the doors from closing. So, even this girl with all her particularities, it learning how to re-train and re-fold. And, get this, all our randomly sized and shaped towels and blankets all have to be folded differently depending on their shape/size because they won’t fit into the cabinet any other way. Bahahahaha… don’t tell me God doesn’t have a sense of humor. Or that He doesn’t have a vested interest in continually pushing me beyond my own personal boundaries. Smile. Cause He does.

In conclusion: I love the lessons and stretching of married life. I love my husband. I love this new journey we are on together. And yes, I will give up my unspoken rulebook all over again and again, for this beautiful adventure of compromise and blending lives.

a decade of (single) ministry: standing at the edge of what's familiar

In less than 3 weeks from now, I will stand before a gathering of witnesses and formally commit my heart and life to my long-awaited Love. Our meeting, friendship, courtship, and engagement stretched across 4 years... with great chunks of time spent in different countries, continents, and timezones. In these past 6 months especially, however, the theme of this post has been winding its way around my heart and mind.

You see, I've spent the last 29 and a half years of my life single. I didn't date in high school or college. I did have a ridiculously dramatic & immature "more than friendship" in college which ended (by God's mercy), albeit with a broken heart. I did have one courtship with a good friend after college, which was brief and successfully showed us we weren't suited for marriage to each other. Yet, the majority of the formative years of my life have been as a single woman - high school, college, career, ministry, and then moving, living, and serving in multiple countries and communities.

This past summer, as I co-taught a summer course at a Stateside University, I was asked a couple times by other faculty members (wholly unaware of my pending nuptials) if I would teach the young ladies on what it is like to live and serve overseas as a single woman. In the past, I have happily accepted; but after a draining and overwhelming year for many other reasons, I declined. Only hours after saying no, I realized... I was standing in the last window of time where I could feasibly talk to fellow single women about the struggles, joys, and challenge of living and serving overseas as a single woman. Because in less than 3 weeks, my credibility goes down to almost nil. Not because I haven't served as a single for over a decade. But because I will be married. Married at younger than 30 (just barely!).

My voice will soon be added to the dismissed voices of other married women who "don't understand," or "don't know what it's like, because you married 'young'" (which really just means younger than the person who is being "advised"). I know, because I've been there on the other side, and I've said these same things. (Examples: When I am 26 and told I should talk to another young woman who recently married about "how to wait gracefully" because "she waited so very long for the right guy too" and come to discover she is 21 years old. When I read books on how to patiently trust God to script my love story by someone who married at 18 years old. When another authoress writes on how to find the right guy and yet she is still single at 40.) Credibility, for singles, is kinda (very) important.

_________________________________

Someone once said the present is really just a thin line which is constantly translating the future into the past.

Living life as a single woman is easy for me. Singleness is familiar...comfortable even. I know its ins and outs, both Stateside and overseas. I know what to expect, what not to expect, and all that is in between. I know its joys and its sorrows. I know its versatility, its unique opportunities, its special challenges. It is safe, predictable, assuring. No, it hasn't always been easy, but it hasn't been all that terribly hard either. Yes, making decisions as a single woman can be overwhelming... finding someone to process with can be hard... but it's still just me calling the shots for, well, me.

And yet this morning, I stand on the ridge between a familiar place called singleness and an unfamiliar realm on the other side called marriage. In less than 3 weeks, I will be transferred to inside the boundary lines of that new world. So, as I stand, still on the edge of this familiar territory, I have a few things I want to say.

I am grateful, appreciative, and so thankful for the beautiful gift of singleness for the last decade of ministry. And for the blessing of un-attachment in my formative teen and early college years as well. I would not be who I am today nor in the place I am today, had the Lord not thought it good to give me this precious gift of undivided attention and focus. Thank you, Jesus. It has been an incredible, beautiful journey with You alone as my Lover, Companion, Provider, and most Intimate Friend.

I have been able to do things that only a single person can do... make spur of the moment decisions to go last minute places and meet unexpected people and do unplanned things. I have done countless back to back trips, sometimes without stopping to rest in the middle. I have met so many people and found new family in friends in far off places... people who loved me, cared for me, and took me in... because I was single, and they knew I needed them.

I have been able to pour out and spend myself, my life, my energy, my attention -- fully for Christ, and for others... that they might know Him and understand His heart better. I'm so thankful for friends, mentors, and a God who all urged me not to put my life on hold and wait... but to get out there and live it to its FULLEST with the glorious gift of singleness. I have been able to live undistracted... unattached... with a sole focus and purpose... and I am so, so, so thankful beyond words.

I love my fiance. More than any person on this planet. I am SUPER excited about the journey that lies ahead, and having him be the one at my side to walk the way with me... the ups and downs. TOGETHER.

But, for these remaining weeks, as wedding planning takes over our lives, we remind each other this too is just a season and the real deal lies on the other side of the necessary evils of invitations, clothes fittings, shoe shopping, decor choosing, and car rentals.

In the meantime... I am enjoying stretching out and having the entirety of my queen size bed all to myself. I am enjoying the remaining days of doing whatever I want whenever I want (well... within the reasonable hours of a given day and time not already eaten fully by aforementioned wedding preparations). I am enjoying cooking and eating the things I like, having the early morning hours all to myself, only washing one person's clothing, only factoring in my own movie likes/dislikes when I choose something to watch, and not feeling guilty spending a couple hours online reading facebook, email, or blogs in the evening. Because... very soon... that is all going to be a thing of the past.

Already, it sinks in. As every future decision now factors in TWO personalities, TWO plane tickets, TWO nationalities, TWO perspectives on where to live, TWO peoples likes/dislikes factored into every equation, and so much more in dual.

As I said. I am excited. It is right, and good. But it is also different. Unfamiliar territory. Anticipated. And yet... still much of an unknown learning curve, as we are ever continually woven into ONE.

I relish the journey with this incredible man holding my hand and Christ as our Faithful Guide, no matter what terrain we traverse together. Yet, this morning, and also during the last few months, I have been reminded of HOW very, deeply grateful I am to have had this beautiful, FULL, blessed, precious gift of a decade of singleness to have be given by Him, for Him, and back to Him.

God gives good gifts. May we be fully present to receive them and enjoy them in the today.

rain clouds & thunder

I was flying to Kauai, for a mental health break. Flight paid for by colleague-friends who recognized I needed some much needed breathing space before returning to my home and work overseas. We took off from Portland, the rain and the muck. And it was really coming down.

Thunder, rain, lightening... all things I don’t really mind if I’m warm, safe, and dry. In fact, I have come to truly respect and appreciate  powerful thunderstorm. But I don’t like flying through them… not so much. Because they always mean something scary: turbulence.

Now, turbulence while flying is normal. And as much as I’ve flown in my life, it is something that isn’t really all that bad anymore. I’m more likely to die in a car accident or crossing the street. But ever since a flight from Philippines to Thailand, and a very scary swing and drop turbulence moment… which forever has imprinted itself on my stomach in particular… I’m not as big a fan as I used to be. Severe turbulence these days can bring me sweaty palms, shortness of breath, and a pounding heart.

But this day… I was so overwhelmed and exhausted… it didn’t so much matter anymore. It had been a whirlwind trip to the States, home, working, and teaching at various organizational events. Things were stressful in both my personal and public life, filled with tension and stress. So Hawaii had been the answer and solution to my needing a few days … just … away.

As we started to ascend, the wind and rain and thunder and lightening pummeled us. I stared out the window, in awe of what we were courageously, stubbornly attempting… to ascend and soar in the midst of this crazy weather. The turbulence, even taking off, caused us to shimmy back and forth on the runway as we lifted off the ground. I was listening to Tenth Avenue North’s album “the Struggle” and “Worn” on my iPod again and again, repeated.

The storm, as we climbed, actually became worst. I could hardly see out my window, as rain pummeled against it – gray and wearying. The clouds became, darker, blacker. The thunder became louder. The lightning even more bright and ominous. And then, not knowing how many minutes had really passed, we came soaring out the other side… and the beautiful, unworried sunlight burst forth against a vibrant blue sky, blinding me. Once I regained my eyesight, I looked down at the other side of the clouds… and how very tame and mellow they looked from the other side.

Spiritual truth revelation: There is a place we can dwell in Him, above the storms of life. From our perspective, they can be terrifying. Looking only from the lowest point. But when we let Him lift us into the place of His love, His grace, His mercy, and His goodness… we are reminded He is Lord OVER the storms, and He is sovereign. And we are being carried in His arms.

sunrises whisper hope

For as long as I can remember, I have loved sunrise. From the time I was only 6 years old, getting up at 5:30am with my maternal grandpa – hearing him making coffee in the kitchen (though it was hot cocoa with marshmallows for me). To crawling out of bed, wiping sleep from my eyes, for early morning fishing trips leaving the house at 6am with my dad and older brother.

Sunrises… early morning… soothes my soul and whispers through my spirit of new life and hope.

In 2006, my family uprooted and moved to southern Oregon. I was only a year out of college, a year into my career as an interpreter, and a year into a new year out of an unhealthy relationship. I was also in a season of limbo, trying to figure out what exactly God was doing and where He wanted me in this big world and in life. We moved to a little map dot in the woods, just off the lake. That lake… in some ways… became a place of calm for me, a refuge. I would find myself, in the midst of roiling questions in my heart and befuddlement in my mind, sitting in my car at the lake in the wee hours of the morning… facing where I knew the sun would rise.

Because of the lake, in the cooler seasons, fog would be thick covering the lake, and the mountains just behind. It was always a gamble, whether or not I would actually get to see the sun itself. At first, this would frustrate me. To get up, brave the chill, and sit alone in the cold, gray semi-darkness… and not even get to see a sunrise, especially as that was exactly how my soul felt many of those mornings in that season of life.

Some mornings, the sun would rise in glorious might… rays shooting majestically through the fog, burning it away with ferocity… daring it to try and resist. Other days, the sun would come up softly, gently, quietly… slipping into the sky without fanfare. The fog remained, and yet the light of day still came.

The Lord spoke sure truths into my spirit through those many mornings we spent together on that lake… waiting for the sunrise together.

Whether or not I can see it — whether or not it is veiled by fog or clouds — the sun still rises. Every. Single. Morning. Whether or not I “feel” it – God’s mercies are new. Every. Single. Morning. His love is real, present, NEAR… regardless of the fog or clouds in my heart or mind. He is still there. Faithful. True. Unfailing. DAILY.

Sometimes He chooses to rush in with power and glory… pushing aside all the fog and darkness and confusion, with a triumphant authority and ferocious love. With LIGHT and TRUTH. And other times, He is content to be there, still NEAR and no less present, but without the fanfare and lights… stealing through the circumstances in my life, pulling me to TRUST and worship Him even in the mundane and unremarkable days… being faithful to praise and obey even in the grey.
He whispers through my spirit, reminding me…

“The path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, that shines brighter and brighter until the full day.” (Proverbs 4:18, NASB)
and
“The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot comprehend or overpower it.” (John 1:5)
and
“God is Light, and in Him there is no darkness at all.” (1 John 1:5b)

And my soul finds itself calmed and at peace, cradled in His love, hope, and faithfulness.