Picture This

(Jay and Eli listening to devotions on Christmas Eve, sporting the matching jammies from Mom)

(This break, we’ve gone to the pet store to play with the puppies a bunch.)

(Kharis and I saw Buttermilk Falls had been closed down for the season, so we walked around the road block and took a few pictures anyway)

Semester 2

Two tests to go and Bible school is half over, which means I'm halfway to halfway prepared (or at least as prepared as I can be) to going overseas.  So what have I learned?

Today, as we closed out Acts with Adam Demark, he said something that I thought, in my humble opinion, was profound.  He said, "The book of Acts with the word 'unhindered,' not the death of the Apostles Paul, because it isn't about Paul.  This book has always been about the Holy Spirit who will always be triumphant while you and I are expendable."  And rather than being offended, it was probably the most comforting I've heard in a while.

His statement paired well with a challenge we received from Rick Barth in Bible Basis of Missions.  He was talking about discerning God's will and he stated, "I don't want a shout.  I want to be ready to hear the whisper." Meaning we should be so in tune with God's heart, so filled with the Holy Spirit, that God's will isn't a question.  Time and time again this semester I've been reminded of good ol' Roger's (that's my dad) words of wisdom all through high school and college.  "Is your heart to glorify God?  Then whatever you do won't be a mistake."  Pursuing God's heart isn't just half the battle of figuring out life, it's the whole battle.

So again, what have I learned?  At least from this most recent block (maybe I'll tackle the whole semester another time) life might not be easy, but that doesn't mean it was ever intended to be complicated.

warm water

warm bed. warm hands.

warm thoughts. warm sand.

warm water; in a glass, not a bath,

no, no ice, it’s plenty nice

just warm.

cold water sweats and 

warm water gets cold;

lukewarm is consistent,

doesn’t make my brain freeze

or tongue blister. if you please,

i like my water warm.

cold is refreshing, true,

if it doesn’t crack a tooth

with climate change and

lukewarm won’t cool me down 

but i know it can swish around 

my mouth with ease.

hot can be cozy, can relax,

until one sip too hot, too fast

and everything tastes like ash for days.

lukewarm won’t warm me through 

but it’s safer than being burned to

crispiest crappy you’ve ever seen.

“i’d rather you were either 

cold or hot, instead of neither

here nor there.”

and i’m scared 

because cold means sweating 

and hot means playing 

with some kind of heat I

probably can’t handle.

warm bread. warm butter.

warm cookies. warm supper.

warm water; 

it’s familiar, not the best

it’s the middle of the rest

i guess

i’m scared of going all in 

to find that

cold warms up and hot cools down 

and in order to maintain

i have to change,

consistently choosing discomfort.

i like my water warm.

warm breath. warm breeze.

warm coffee.  warm sheets.

but warm life?

warm life...

not cold, not hot,

just meh. maybe not.

recently taken

(Tribal Cup with Marty and Andy)

(Anna and I tied for the win in an ugly sweater contest. Plot twist, I actually had no idea there was a contest.  I genuinely thought my sweater was cute.)

(Some of the faces I get to work with every day.)

Basic November Thinking

I’ve been reminded of how much God actually, really, truly loves me lately. (Which means I’ve had a lot of reasons to be thankful lately, but it’s November and my inner non-conformist can’t write that sentence without cringing and imagining poorly drawn turkeys.) 

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been given more little notes and food presents than I thought possible.  Honestly, that statement is true of this entire semester, though. My sweet friend Lydia left a note in my backpack to tell me how God’s light and peace has been especially evident in my life this semester. Another friend, Maggie, gave me a card filled with encouragement.  Someone else, who chose not to leave her name, left boxes (YES, PLURAL BOXES) of Larabars on my desk with a small card that brought me to tears.  I’m overwhelmed because I know I don’t deserve any of this, and God continues to show His love for me through the people around me.

For whatever reason, He has blessed me with more community than I ever asked for that show me love in ways I have never experienced.  It’s a constant flood. Between the girls living on 4th floor with me, to the mentors that open their home to me, to Tanner and even some of his friends...guys, I feel like this crew of Christians is beyond anything I could imagine and it doesn’t even touch Heaven!

God continues to teach me, too.  My class is just wrapping up classes on Theology and 1 Corinthians. My last paper for 1 Corinthians was on head coverings and, can I just tell you, it rocked my world.  I’m finally beginning to understand and wrap my head around the concept that the Biblical metaphorical headship of a man “over” his wife does not contradict the concept of equality.  Being created as complimentary beings does not place one sex over another. I love it!

Anyway, that’s where I’ve been at for the last chunk of time.  ✌🏼

more picture memories

(Emily, the lovely lady in the middle, and her husband open their home to me at least two or three nights a week.  They’re basically my school parents.)

(My CM chicas:)

(Definitely a garbage picture, but I like it anyway.  If you look closely, you can see where I have a butterfly bandage on my finger, where I lost a fight with a squash knife.)

Keepsake

I took sometime this afternoon to tuck some sweet notes of encouragement away in my journal.  This school never ceases to amaze me with the amount of people that go out of their way to show love to others.  The body of Christ is alive and active and I am blessed to be on the receiving end of its care so often. 

We’re half way through with semester numero dos, so I thought I might just take a minute to be fired up about some of the truth we’ve been talking about in class lately.  This week closes out nine-week studies on both Life of Christ and Prophets (mainly Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel), and a three-week study on Man and Sin.  Man! I could spend forever ranting about how much sense Ezekiel makes when your perspective is to be in awe of and enamored with God’s radical glory.  Or about how comforted we can be in the reality that we’re all born dead and only once Christ is alive in us, that’s life!  The feelings of shame, fear, and guilt are signs of spiritual death and once alive, we are free from those chains! Can I get an amen?!

Have you ever heard the phrase, “To whom much has been given, much will be required”? Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s a verse in one of the Gospels. But either way it’s true!  I’ve been on the receiving end of so much care, and God has definitely been desirous to pour me out in return.  My introverted self has been taxed almost to the max.  I can’t remember the last time I was left alone to recharge for more than an hour in the gym before sunrise.  And yet, I have joy and the ability to continue to show love to the girls I live in community with on campus.  

praise

YAHWEH

He is as He is.

I AM.

Unfathomable.

Beyond the edge of the universe yet intimately breathing life into every cell of creation: God.

 THE God

(note the big “G” God,

and no

lower case nonsense),

outside of linear thinking and movement yet working within those confines for my sake. YAHWEH

God Who sees, hears, knows—

holy;

God above and below.

He’s an enigma, out of reach like a seed in water, unattainable and yet! He abides.

Constant

as twenty-four-hour days

so God

chooses to remain.

He meets me where I’m at and stays there

until I say, “Here I am, send me.”

“Abide

in me and I in you.”

His Word—

alive, speaking truth.

From age to age, He doesn’t change;

outside of time, so He is unaffected by seconds ticking by.

YAHWEH

He is as He is.

I AM.

Unfathomable.

red wagon naps

Monday:

I’m supposed to be writing a praise psalm right now and instead I’m sitting at work, staring into the gloomy October void.  Circumstancially, my heart has very little praise in it right now.  Long term, my heart is good... Short term, I’m self conscious, over thinking, and maybe a little down.  And that’s fine.  Really fine.

Let me explain how this particular Monday feels: One of the fourth graders in our after school program came up front to sit with me because of a headache.  For the first fifteen minutes, the poor guy was a Tasmanian devil—1,000% out of sorts.  Like, he sat on a wagon and incessantly rammed himself into the brick wall.  Now, he’s curled up in the same red wagon, snoring for at least half an hour.  

Like my nine-year-old friend, I feel like I’m bashing my face into a wall, antsy and irritated.  And, if I had to guess, once I take a deep breath, I’m going to find myself in a similar, much needed comatose as well.

lately in photographs

(All my dorm girls out for tacos)

(After school kids prepping me for Halloween)

(Jo and I enjoying the last sunny/hot day)

this is for the best

I think I need to admit this to myself, as much as I should confess it publicly: it's all been a lie.  Autumn can't possibly be my favorite season  I mean, the crisp air is great, the color scheme is flawless, squash is in season and hot lattes are officially cozy.  You'd think--scratch that!  I thought it was my favorite season, hands down.  It should be!  But the sun is slowly spending more time wrapped in clouds and the days are growing shorter and cooler and I just want to be a hermit, wrapped in blankets like a human burrito.  Actual favorite season: July (also known as summer, but let's be real, they're basically synonymous in the northern midwest.)  Anyway, the weather is still nice enough for a morning/early afternoon walk and Lord knows I'll be taking one of those every day till snow sticks.

Shifting seasons aside, the past two weeks of class have been good.  Great, really.  Two weeks ago, it seemed like everyone was follow a theme of walking through trials, rather than trying to just get rid of them.  This exhortation was ridiculously timely.  1,000% honesty, there was (and continues to be) increasingly turbulent emotional situations in my dorm, to the extent that has us all asking, "When is it going to stop?"  The encouragement, though, is to walk through this.  So that's what we're going to do.  Everything I'm walking through, publicly or privately, is literally God's best for me and His glory.  And it's good.

Then, this week, the resounding note for me, at any rate, was, "Be who you are."  Now, I know that sounds very 21st century, but hang with me for a minute.  First, we were in 1 Peter during leadership chapel.  The challenge was to obey Christ's call to "be holy as I am holy," the point being that this is only possible because we, as believers, are literally dead except that Christ is alive in us.  All holiness is possible and even expected, if we're truly living our faith because every action will be dictated by who is truly alive in us: the great JC Himself.  Later, in Prophets class, we were finishing the book of Isaiah.  In the final chapters, Isaiah describes Messiah's armor WHICH IS THE SAME AS THE ARMOR WE ARE CALLED TO WEAR IN EPHESIANS 6.  Bros!  Be who you are!  Not only is Christ alive in you, but he's equipped you for battle, son!

I'm still fired up about it.

gluten-full or gluten-free

Brief prelude: I love food.  I also have a sweet tooth. Also, there’s a bakery twenty minutes away that makes vegan, cane sugar-less scones.  And I have some really great friends that went to experience that with me. (With the promise we’d go to a second bakery for them afterward.) Life is good.

(The first bite of a chunky monkey scone 😍)

(Marty, Acacia, Jenny, and me)

(Too many choices. Also, I dress like a hobo. It’s fine.)

Everybody Else is Doing It

There has been an outline for this update in my notebook for at least a week. Actually, 6 days.  In any case, it was a thought process long before it even made it to my notebook.  So here I am, and here you are, and we’re about to have story time.  I’ll wait right here if you want to go make us some tea.

Ready?

Okay, so all my friends started writing their monthly updates, and I was like, “Well, I try to update a couple times a month, but I’m definitely due...what do I even say?”  It took me a while, but like I said, I made an outline, and for sure number one is blessings.  I cannot begin to describe how floored I am at how God continues to provide for my needs daily.  

I’ve been stressed about food and finances coming into this semester. What can I afford, what is my weekly budget, how do I live on $18 a week and remain healthy?  But man! does God provide! We’re talking a random gift of $100 specifically for groceries within the first week of school.  Now the past two weekends, a local farmer has been dropping spare produce off FOR FREE. And my roommate is working at a farm where she is not only allowed to bring produce home, but they’re sending stuff home with her specifically for me.  God is GOOD, my friends!

Point number two: Emanate.  Students from my school had the opportunity to spend the weekend at a training center for missionaries up in Canada.  We spent our time in their “jungle camp,” living in homes made from materials similar to those a missionary in a bush location might have to build.  The first day, we sat in sessions that laid out the experience of learning new language and culture.  On our second day, we were challenged to consider the cost of missions, and to consider the cost worth it.  

And that’s about it!  You and me, same time next week? I’ll bring the snacks to make it easier on you.

Bye for now :) 

This spider was straight up posing with the sun at Emanate. He deserved a feature on the blog.

praying this morning

Abba, Father God,
it hasn't been that long since we've talked
but there's a burden
lingering on my back as if I've
been ignoring You.
Can we please talk, God?
Just the two of us in the quiet,
us in the garden,
working through how this old, heavy weight
behind my eyes grew
to the point, oh God,
where I keep cracking my face into
crumbling concrete and
that's a metaphor for forgetting
everything You do.
Like how my life, God,
would be nothing (no, really, nothing;
like in a trash can,
like no recycling, just straight refuse)
if not, God, for You.
Abba, Father God,
my Security,  my Foundation,
my Resurrection,
replace this weight with holy freedom
to wholly worship You.

I Actually Have Friends

(Part of my crew this year 😊 Left to right: Wesley, Mike, Emmie, me, Tanner)

(Emmie and I at Lake Superior for leadership training, even though you can’t see the lake. It’s there. I promise.)

(We’re very thug. And dramatic. And ridiculous.)

(And this picture is actually from my Montana trip with Gracie this summer, but I can’t talk about friends and not show off her beautiful face.)

People used to encourage me to be more outgoing and make friends because no man is an island, right?  Well, they were right and God has blessed me with some amazing human beings.

Leading by Following

I am back in Waukesha! FINALLY!  Of course, nothing slowed down like I hoped it would, but isn’t that how the cookie always crumbles?  Looking back on my last few posts, I realize I haven’t shared very much at all about this next year.  In light of that, I’m going to spend the next few paragraphs bringing this blog up to speed on the Bible school front.

I think (and by that I mean I’m 90% certain) I mentioned that I was chosen for leadership at the end of last semester.  I was kind of surprised to receive a leadership role going into my sophomore semester, but obviously stoked as well. The role I was given is a Christian ministry leader, which helps facilitate daily cleaning tasks on campus.  It sounds like I just got promoted to school janitor, and in some respects that might be true, but Christian life is about service that brings glory to God.  With that perspective, I’m honored to be chosen as a leader.

As a student leader, I was required to return to campus a couple weeks early for training.  Wow.  I don’t know if I can accurately express all the things God taught/reminded me of over the course of the last week.  We took part in seminars, small group sessions, and team building activities and each portion taught me so much.  But I think God used the free times and personal relationships to hammer home two key concepts from the training. First: humility is a daily decision to rely on God’s power; the moment I think I have achieved something because of my own merit, I am poised for personal and leadership failure.  I need to be ready and willing to follow God and learn from others. Second:  my actions and speech must be consistent with each other.  Integrity is vital for leadership, relationship building, and a successful  Christian life.

Now training is done.  Freshman are arriving and classes commence on Wednesday.  Just a glance at my course schedule for the next few months gives me goosebumps in both anticipation and apprehension.  We’re starting off big—Life of Christ, Prophets, Hermeneutics II, and Psalms right off the bat. Like every other transition in my life, I’m shaking in my boots...but really, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Looking Back

It’s been two years since I lived in Columbus.  Two years.  In some ways, I can’t believe it’s been so long, but it’s also hard to believe it hasn’t been longer.  There’s a desire (for better or for worse) to look back at the person I was then and draw up a list of the ways my life is different now.

Here’s the only way that can be a good thing: If this list brings me to my knees saying, “Lord, thank you for the work you have done and continue to do in my heart.  I know it’s all you, so thanks for using me.”

The temptation is to look at myself with the thought, “Wow, you’re so much better than you were then.  Look at you go, Viv! You’ve got this life thing in the bag.”  SO MANY LEVELS OF WRONG!

I guess the best part of driving into Reynoldsburg, OH yesterday was finally understanding one of the big takeaways God gave when I lived here.  I’d recognized the circumstance before, but I didn’t grasp the importance of it until I was driving into town, talking on the phone with Tanner as a sort of “stay awake” insurance. 

 Despite my niceness/kindness and my desire for the Lord two years ago, I was looking back on two years further back.  While I gave some of the credit to God, the proud self-exultation I mentioned above is pretty close to what I was thinking then.  I was convinced I was better, that I didn’t need to worry about my old pitfalls, that I was strong enough now. And that thought process landed me in just as much of a garbage situation as I had been.  So what is the lesson?

There is pride in every human heart, including mine.  Fostering it at all is a really bad move.  Every good thing is from God; every centimeter of growth is to God’s credit.  Vivian without Him is a haughty piece of trash, destined for mistakes and bad circumstances.  In light of this, my prayer is that God would continue to humble me and work in my heart to keep my perspective His perspective.

Just for kicks, here’s a lovely photograph that has nothing to do with my non-nephew who already loves me even though we’ve only met twice.

Summer Poetry pt 2

control freak:

not afraid to die

just afraid

I won’t know it’s time

chronic doubter:

knowing God’s promise

but still needing

to check and make sure

class A windbag:

convinced I know best

though history

proves otherwise true

cleansed by Christ’s blood:

empowered by the

Holy Spirit

to die to myself

chosen by God:

free from old habits

with liberty 

to live in His truth

control freak,

chronic doubter,

class A windbag,

but then Grace.

And the Valleys

I feel like I start every post the same way these days. “Hey, I swear I had the best intentions to update weekly, but I fell short again, so I’m going to try to cram three weeks into four paragraphs. Thanks for sticking with me! (Has anyone stuck with me?)” To quote my little sister, it’s fine. Really, everything is fine.

June faded into July far too quickly and July began with me on a Montana-bound airplane with Gracie and her cousin Katie. (Quick plug for Glacier Nat’l Park.  You need to go.  If you think creation has made you stand in awe of God before, just wait till you’re standing on a lookout across the peaks of the Rockies. Wow.) Actually, I’m going to continue off that parenthetical statement.  For the entire duration of our trip, I had one overarching question ricocheting from one side of my brain to the other:

Where did the mountains come from?  Did God create them in the very beginning, or are they one of the results of Noah’s flood?

At first this question doesn’t seem like a big deal, right?  It’s like, “Whatever.  They’re awe-inspiring anyway.”  But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to matter.  Here’s why: if God created them in the beginning, they’re just a testament to His creative power.  If, however, they are from the flood, aren’t they then a lasting testament of God’s intolerance for sin and His rightful power to bring terrible judgment?  And what if the answer is both?

For most people the distinction might not be very important, but I’m a mountain-loving kind of girl.  Every time I look across the craggy peaks, my heart swells.  This trip didn’t take that swell away...it just provided the contrasting valley.  It almost said, “Yes, these mountains attest to the glory of God AND how that glory cannot dwell in the presence of sin.”

That was kind of a big deal for me.  In fact, it was such a big deal that I’m going to end this post here.  Think about it.  And I’ll be back before too long.

I Wrote This on a Newspaper

Seriously, I did.  Not for any particular reason, other than I wanted to see how it would look (I’ll attach a picture at the end).  Of course, surrounding circumstances were such that I haven’t updated my blog recently and there was no normal paper at my disposal.  

It strikes me as funny that I have this ridiculous impulse to maintain a significant measure of privacy surrounding my personal life AND YET, here I am, prepairing to bare a portion of my soul to the internet.  What gives? In all honest truth, there are portions I reserve the right to keep personal, at least for now.  It’s only fair.

Rewind. Why don’t you have any other paper to write on, Vivian?  Good question with a simple answer.  I work on a fruit farm and it’s a rainy day.  I have to remain at my post, but if no customers arrive, I am free to fill my time as I wish (i.e. write this blog post).

But, Viv, how do you have customers at a fruit farm? Aren’t you doing field work? What happened there? I’ll tell you. Bohringer’s hired a woman to run their u-pick wagon for the summer, but there was a misunderstanding and she is only available on weekends, while the farm needs her every day.  The solution: yours truly.  Now I do field work from 5 a.m. to 8 a.m., then I run the wagon until 6 p.m. and tell people where to pick strawberries and take their money when they’re done.

Not a bad gig, you say.  And in most cases and many places, that is true.  There’s always a catch, though, and I’m starting to realize God consistently uses the snags in my life to teach me what I need to know.  This snag is my lovely introversion.

Some days the flow of cars is slow and I relish spending time consciously focusing on the needs of each person.  Just now, as I’ve been writing this, I stopped for fifteen minutes to talk to a woman who is extraordinarily passionate about the New York State Museum. I didn’t even know that was a thing!  But I love those moments because I am able to engage with them in God’s love and smile and truly care about what they have to say.

The busy days are, without a doubt, more difficult for me. People scurry in and out of the field like ants on hyperdrive as I try to direct the newcomers and make change for the exiting pickers quickly and concisely.  Those two jobs seem easy enough, but wait until you have six carloads of impatient people waiting on each line and then tell me it isn’t overwhelming and stressful. On our busiest day this season, I held it together until I got home and thought about making dinner. At the very notion of cutting up squash, I burst into tears.

I share this, partly because it’s real life, but mostly because I rejoice that God sustained my “too much people” meter throughout the entire 13 hour day.  He let me smile at each customer and help them graciously. Who cares if I had a meltdown at home?

Another reason to rejoice is that I officially have enough money to pay for my next semester at EBI in full! (Amen, amen!)

And while the work hours are long, my life has had some play in it as well.  Gracie and I were able to take our almost annual lazy day at the beach a couple of weeks ago, and enjoyed a weekend camping trip before that.  Last weekend I enjoyed some really awesome fellowship with Emmie, who is interning with Ethnos360 at Wayumi in PA. 

Now my summer is already beginning to wind down.  I’m excited for the adventures yet to come, but I’m also stoked for everything the next semester will bring.

And I think that’s it!

Summer Poetry

whispering.

rustling.

waving.

who can guess what the grass is

saying?

gusting.

rushing.

blowing.

who can say where the wind is

going?

listening.

watching.

waiting.

i don’t know why but i am

trying.

(Just some thoughts from the strawberry field earlier this week. And below are two of my favorite views recently.)

PS: Life is good.

Weeding the Weeds

(Looking at a field of baby plants that I helped place in the ground is actually a pretty incredible feeling. Featured here: super sweet corn)

(It’s a bad picture, BUT THOSE ARE LITTLE RASPBERRIES!)

(And the first red strawberry I’ve seen this season 💛)

The days are still long and hard.  Every day this week has found me bent over the bushes like an Entwife, but the hours of solitude are a gift in many ways.  People laugh when I say I pass the time talking and singing to the little plants I’m tending...and maybe it is slightly odd. Somehow though, I find the more I speak softly into the silence, the more it becomes a conversation between God and I that has nothing to do with the bushes.  I’m content there, grateful even, as every day the desire of my heart is more firmly established to do this and every other work as unto my God and King.

The First Work Week

(Boxes of strawberry plants.  So far I have helped plant over 20,000)

(One of the older strawberry fields)

(The backend of the tractor we sit in to plant)

(View of Bohringers fruit farm from Vroman’s Nose)

Blueberry Bramble

One week into the summer, I have dirt-stained hands and a sun-baked nose.  Each morning my car flies over the backroads snaking through the low mountains I grew up on until I reach the valley.  From down in the strawberry field, the world is diminished into a circle of farm land fenced in by the same mountains, all of which are encompassed by a bright blue bowl of sky.  The early summer sun smiles down from on high and my heart sings.

Work on a farm isn’t easy.  By noon, the odd breaks in my skin ooze blood as I wash my hands for lunch, but within an hour I won’t be able to see the blood for the dirt caking around the wounds. It is work, though. The labor is honest with visible results; my sense of accomplishment is just as real as the sweat beading down my back.  For the first time in my life, a hard day’s work is just that.  Nothing more, nothing less.

As the summer goes on, I’m sure I will lose my rose-colored glasses and there will be days that I complain about my worn muscles and dust-filled eyes. Today, however, learning how to help living things grow, discovering new ways to be a good steward of the land God has entrusted to us, and...I could go on line after line, gushing unintelligibly about my love for my God and all the good things He has made.

This wouldn’t be a true post by yours truly without a little lesson from the week.  Yesterday morning found me in the blueberry field, clipping away at invasive saplings and grapevines.  I worked my way down the row of bushes until I came to a cluster completely overwhelmed by dried morning glory, young vines, and even ivy.  The blueberries were almost wholly choked out, but as I began to slowly free the bushes from the bramble, I also began to understand something I think might be almost profound. 

 If I were to grab a fistful of the antagonizing plants and pull them out, I would kill the very plant I’m trying to save.  The detangling process takes time and care and effort and I remembered the parable of the good seed choked out by weeds.  Never before have I understood how truly overpowering invasive plants can be.  The anxieties and woes of this world are like that.  God freely gives each of His children a blueberry bush of purposeful joy, of eternal perspective, of desire for His glory. And yet, we have other seeds in the soil of our lives that seek to leech off the good plant, to climb over it to reach better light and support.  We can’t help those seeds being there, but if we are poor caretakers, the blueberries will swiftly be overgrown, unrecognizable for the plants we failed to nip in the bud.  

It’s the beginning of a thought that might, in fact, be beyond basic, but it is also profound. At least, it is profound to me.

The Blue Monster

“Do you ever feel like a sad, blue monster?”

“All the time.”

Note that the kid who answered that question is eight years old.  All the same...I relate, kid.  I relate so hard.

And yet, so much else is racing through my mind.

This morning, one of my friends asked me what one word would sum up my entire freshman semester at EBI.  Why do people do that? Why do we whittle things so far down that we can barely grasp what they are meant to embody?  My word was unexpected.

I have grown, but not in the cataclysmic ways I imagined I would.   This growth is a seed, just barely dipped in a stream, tucked away in warm earth, just beginning to break down the outer shell with its very first shoot. When I take stock of all the files waiting for storage space in my cluttered mind, God is ever present.  He has made me softer, more willing to stop and listen than to hurry up and fix it.

At the very beginning of the semester another new friend encouraged me to write down wisdom in a notebook separate from my school notes.  I didn’t.  But at the very front of my Bible, I have written two things that have been beaten over my head over and over the past few months.  I’ll share them with you and end this post with that.

1) Renewal of fellowship has always been God’s plan. He never planned to not send Christ.  This is integral and foundational and simple and also comforting.

2) Draw courage from God’s past faithfulness.  He is consistent.  If He’s been faithful once, He’ll be faithful again.  And that’s that.

Listen up, kids

This post is late. Very, very late. But sit on down and let me learn you a thing or two about vomit.

Oh yeah. Vomit.

Thing number one: if you leave vomit in an enclosed area for an extended period of time, when you open that area you will be slapped across the face with the scent of aged puke. 

Two weeks ago, that is exactly what happened when I opened the upper chapel bathroom, bright and early Monday morning.  All I needed to do was to make sure there was enough toilet paper.  Instead, the scent of foul chicken and stuffing forced its offensive tendrils up my nose.

Thing number two: if vomit has been left unattended in a sink for a period of twelve hours or more, it will be nearly impossible to clean without a paint scraper and a nose plug.

But I did it.  I got me some rubber gloves and a bottle of cleaner, and I did the best I could.  Come to find out, the toilet was entirely clean.  Not a trace of vomit on the thing.  My mystery puker decided his or her best course of action was to hurl their cookies into the unfortunately small sink, and finish the job in the trash can.  I sincerely hope they also had diarrhea, because that’s the only reason I will accept for the state of everything.

After I did my best to clean the sink, it still had to be plunged by maintenance.  We laughed about it through our disgust and you might think, “Surely that qualifies as a solid Monday.”

You’re wrong.

Tops an hour later, I dropped my phone (license, school ID and all) into an entirely separate toilet AS I WAS TRYING TO TAKE IT OUT OF MY POCKET SO IT WOULDN’T  DO JUST THAT!

And I said, “Why, Jesus?”

But it’s fine and I’m still using the toilet phone.

Sunflowers and Friends (the radio show)

Bek bought me a sunflower, just because (4/13/18)

Bek and Lydi after building their bunnies (4/7/18)


Sunflower blooms I’m growing from a kit Jo gave me (3/23/18)

Emmie, Jo, and I at Pewaukee Lake (3/17/18)

Joanna and I standing on Pewaukee Lake (2/10/18)

Sunrises

Sunrise over Lake Michigan (4/8/18)

Sunrise over Holy Hill (3/29/18)

Sunrise over campus (2/17/18)

Comforting?

What does it mean to be holy in a sinful body? What does it mean to be truly humble in our relationships? How do you reach the ones who are so far retreated inside themselves, even they have forgotten the way out?  In lieu of answers (which I’m working on), I want to share a sort of poem almost directly lifted from one of my recent conversations with a twelve-year-old girl.

I say, what’s your favorite part about school?

Leaving.

I say, okay, so what’s your least favorite part?

Coming.

The teachers, she says, spend all their time

yelling.

The teachers, she says, spend no time 

listening.

They say, she’ll make it through just fine 

complying.

They say, she just needs to stop all her 

fighting.

Really? That’s what they say to be

comforting?

Really?

Thirty-five Days

Four years ago, I never imagined I’d be finishing up my first semester of Bible school in thirty-five days.  For all intents and purposes, my life was void of direction and I was struggling to put the pieces of life back together after college.  I knew what I believed in...but how was a girl supposed to live that kind of thing out?  At any rate, the last thing I was going to do was waste money to learn things I already knew to postpone the process of figuring it out.

But here I am. For better or worse, here I am.

My first semester at EBI is drawing to an end and, as always, I’m feeling reflective.  At first, I thought my experience here would be just like everyone else’s: class would rock my world, my theology would shift radically, neurons in my brain would fire off into unexplored territory. And while classes are good and the community is healthy and encouraging, that isn’t what my semester looked like.  So does that mean there’s something wrong with me?

A friend of mine used to compare life to seasons.  She said that our lives experience the long sleep of winter and the rapid growth of spring, the vibrant joy of summer and the bittersweet autumn.  I’m no expert, Johnny, but this feels like winter.  The things we go over in class are things I know, and while that’s okay, it concerns me.  God has to have more to show me; He is an infinite discovery that I shall never reach the end of. So why, at Bible school of all places, does He feel so far away?  Does He even want me to be here?  Am I even in His will wanting to be a missionary?

For better or worse, here I am. At least for thirty-five more days, and three more semesters. But then what?

Here I am, Lord. 

Here I am.

When I Think of It

I hate that I only

think to share what’s on my mind

when it’s down, far down.

My head weighs heavy

on my shoulders like the crown

of a displaced king,

so I think of how

I could write it down, get it

out before it grows

into a deep pit

of steady quicksand, slowly

overwhelming me

until I can’t breathe.

I hate how I don’t think to 

share the good things more.

Three Ways

You wouldn’t necessarily think of drinking water and talent in the same category.  I’m here to change your thought process.  Put about an inch of water in the bottom of any average sized glass. (Seriously, DO IT!) Raise that cup over your head at an arm’s length.  Now tip your head back and try to pour the water into your open mouth.  A group of us tried the other night... I may or may not have received an impromptu shower.

That thought is a bubble, prismed and feather light, bobbing through air.

You might also think working with children is one of the easiest jobs in the world.  You might be a little right, but you might also be a little wrong.  The thing with kids is they’re people, too.  They have good days and bad days and days when they feel left out or misunderstood.  In many ways, consistency is their lifeline.  When I inadvertently contribute to the dreaded inconsistency they experience, it’s deflating to say the least.

These thoughts are Japanese beetles clinging to screen behind my eyes; maybe harmful, maybe not, but putting me on edge all the same.

We all agree some interactions are difficult.  Maybe it’s a conversation gone wrong or a careless phrase overheard.  It could be a difference in perspective or culture.  Difficulty can arise out of sleep deprivation or anxiety.  For someone who values peace and unity, pointed words and misunderstandings are not easy hurdles.

These thoughts are an anvil, pressing through my brain to the soles of my feet.

Do you see the picture?

Thoughts for thinking and

thoughts for meditating and

some thoughts for dwelling.

Different People

It’s funny how different names create a different person within the same body.  Miss V is alert.  She knows what we’re doing today and what’s allowed and how to fix things that hurt.  Vivian, on the other hand, is just happy to keep her eyes open through classes, asking God quietly why her body is the way it is.  Viv is a friend who hopefully listens but probably doesn’t have the answers.

Every day I am all three of these people, at the very least. Sometimes a new name appears and I have to figure out how she fits into the grander scheme of characters inside of me.  They’re all me.  It’s not a question of being genuine.  The question is how that name fits me and how I fit the situation.

Maybe there’s some crazy spiritual message here, but I don’t think so.  I’m learning to be careful of over-spiritualizing situations that might just be normal situations. Does that make sense?  I believe God is active and present every moment of every day.  That doesn’t mean every moment has an underlying revelation.

How much of what I thought I knew about the Bible is really wonky interpretation that I’ve read into the text?  It’s a scary, humbling thought. And that’s where I’ll leave you.

R.O.U.S.

Last night, one of my friends and I wanted an adventure.  We tossed around ideas for a while before we landed on spontaneous tattoos.  Or, at least, as spontaneous as I can be.  

After a quick Google search for a parlor that accepted walk-ins, there was a longer search for something we might want permanently inked in our skin. For indecisive people, I felt like we made timely decisions.  Anyway, we were at the parlor by 7:30...and they were already busy.

We entertained the idea of finding another tattoo parlor in the nearest city, but didn’t really feel like going to a sketchy area.  Who really wants to get abducted when they’re trying to some art on their body, am I right? Ultimately, we turned around en route to a diner instead.

Just outside said diner, however, we spotted something moving in the road. A small raccoon? An opossum? Good grief! It was a rat, roughly the size of a small cat!  Needless to say, we were appalled and instantly decided that a rat could only get that large if it consistently ate diner food...so we didn’t go to the diner.

Out of sheer amazed disgust, we also decided to pull over and observe the R.O.U.S. Who knew Westley really was wrong! Rodents of unusual size do exist!  But as we watched, the scene intensified.  The rat waddled around a curve in the street. Joanna and I gasped. Car Number One caught the rat’s tail with a rear wheel.  Joanna and I screamed. Car Number Two pummeled the rat squarely into the asphalt with both sets of tires. 

I regret to inform anyone who reads this that as the poor rat began his death throws, we laughed. Gales or horrified laughter shook us until our sides ached.  I even peed my pants a little bit.  I couldn’t help it! 

After that, we went to the grocery store.  That’s all there is. There isn’t anymore.

Two Things

There are some things I will never become accustomed to, no matter how often I experience them. Like receiving a gift just because, or becoming violently ill. Both of these happened since my last post, by the way. Just thought I’d clarify.

The gifts came first.

One of the girls on my floor is pretty sensitive to people with dietary needs.  Her fiancé has a fairly limited diet, so that paired with her own struggles leaves her with a tender heart.  We shared concerns and tricks of the special food trade late into the night recently.  A few days after our talk, I came back to my room to find two cartons of berries on my desk. No note, no explanation, until another girl told me who had left them. It made my day.

The week turned into the weekend.  Saturday morning, Bekah, my roommate, asks, “Have you checked your mailbox recently?”

“No. Should I?”

“You should probably do that.”

Now, I don’t know if you have ever heard of the Giving Keys, but they’re a charitable organization that seeks to provide work for homeless men. A few people at school have the key necklaces they make.  Each key is unique, engraved with a word that is significant to you.  The cool part? When you meet someone who needs your word more than you do, you give it to them.

I wanted one. A lot. Specifically, a gold one with the word “abide” engraved in it.  Because abiding is so much more than just staying or living.  It’s actively choosing to stand in something, to continuously dwell. For me, it carries the weight of daily deciding to rest in God’s love, contentedly defined by Him. Anyway, the keys aren’t cheap and like the penny pincher I am, I didn’t buy one.

But Bekah did.  And it was waiting in my mailbox.  I’ll let you imagine my water works.

All of this gave way to violent illness this morning. I mean, violent. It was reminiscent of food poisoning in the Philippines—you know, that time I ate faux-hamburger and nearly died, then ate it again just to make sure and experienced the whole thing for a second time.  Well either Denny’s did me a dirty or I had a killer stomach virus.

Even in this sickness, though, I’m content. A couple of my friends have taken turns stopping in. Gracie and I got to talk on the phone. I slept more today than I’ve slept in weeks. And I’m okay with it.

Snow Days

Just some sights I saw this morning.

Red Eyes

I think I’ve written something by this title before. If you don’t mind, would you go back and check for me? Please and thank you.  If  I did, this is Red Eyes 2.0.

My desire today is to be honest without contention. (Is that the word I want?) The point is, I don’t want to be a whiner. You feel me?

Red eyes for two reasons. Or, rather, two facets of one reason. My stomach is in full rebellion, so I have red eyes from no sleep and red eyes from the horrible, terrible, awful, lingering gas that refuses to stay in my stomach. It’s clear the room gas.  It’s please kill me now gas.

But I guess nothing breaks the ice like a good fart, eh? These farts literally melt glacial planes. “If you smell something, it’s me.” “Oh it’s fine....OH MAN! IS THAT YOU?”

This is the part where I should have an object lesson. You know, when I say something about what God is teaching me through this and it’s funny but also healthy, embarrassing growing pains. Maybe humility? Or lay off the pistachios or canned pineapple or bananas or whatever did this to me? Excess of anything will ruin my guts for days, so remember moderation? Nah, it’s probably humility.

Until next time, humans.

Feel the Burn

When I took biology the first time I went through college, we learned about lactic build up in muscles.  For those of you who might not know (though I assume pretty much everyone knows this), that build up is what creates the burning sensation in exerted muscles.  According to Ms. Laberti the burn isn’t even good for you!  Her advice was, when you feel the burn, step back till it subsides, then continue.  Working out that way is supposedly better for your body.

But who listens to their biology teacher, right? So I do my best to push through the burn every day.  When I feel like I can’t take the burn anymore, I force myself to go another ten seconds. I’m proud of myself in the moment... 

(Hang with me. I have a point at the end of this.)

Then I get to the stairs. Four flights of them. And all I want to do is complain about my aching butt.  There I was, forcing my shaking legs up the stairs this morning, and the same thought that has been haunting me all week rose up in my mind:

How often do I complain just because it’s convenient or relatable? Is that really how I want people to relate to me? Because we have vent sessions every time we talk? Or do I want to let that die as Christ lives in me? Because God’s joy should be evident in every part of this crazy, busy life. Especially through the burn.

No Amount of Coffee

How many days do I begin in the dark pre-dawn? I would venture to say nearly everyone, ever since high school. In my mind’s eye, I can see the morning star blink awake to wash my face in his radiance.  The world would be silent and steam would rise in wisps from the mug in my hands. If every morning could begin the way this day dream depicts, I imagine my life would be the picture of serenity. 

But that isn’t how I greet the rising sun. Instead, I propel myself toward the empty weight room to sweat for the better part of an hour before the sun awakes.  By the time I hustle back to my room and get through the shower, I’ve missed the first glimpses of light.  The sun is fully risen and my chance to say good morning to it with coffee and God’s Word is gone.

The mornings race away.  It isn’t how I want to be, but I try to fit too much into too few minutes. Maybe my pessimist is showing. 

Classes have begun.  I love learning and studying and discussing with people who share my core beliefs and love for God.  But that doesn’t mean they are exactly like me.  In fact, I am constantly amazed by how different we all are.

There is no lack of activities, either.  Everyone seems so friendly and close knit.  They play sports and games together every day with little or no regard for actual skill.  It’s hard for me to not hold my breath for the other shoe to fall.  Maybe it will.  But they tell me it won’t.

So why is this post titled “No Amount of Coffee”?  Partly from a line stuck in my head. (Shout out to The Weepies.) It is also a reminder to me.  No amount of anything will give me the extra time to make everything squeeze into inconceivable blocks of time. Stop trying to make the impossible work.  Just go do and do right.  Is that really very complicated?

Step One (or is it Step Two?)

Dorm rooms.  Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve never actually lived in one until today. Well, yesterday. Anyway the point is that I escaped dorm living for nearly a quarter of a century. No more.

After a brief stay at my parents’ home in NY, I have relocated to America’s Dairyland. A vegan in dairyland.  Granted, I actually didn’t know Wisconsin’s slogan until I got here and read the blurb on every license plate, but the facts don’t change. 

Both of these realities are inconsequential in the grand scheme of life. It is shocking how much thought insignificant things can hijack though. These temporary inconveniences are silly. I know they are.  I know I should be focusing on the fact that I’m in Dairyland for Bible school. The focal point of each moment should be, “how can I serve God radically right now?”  That’s how it should be.

How it is, is that I am afraid.  I am tired. I am uncomfortable. And these might just being growing pains. And everything is probably going according to plan. And obviously, Vivian, your humanity is ridiculous and if you would just chill out and trust God to give you the peace He literally promises to give, it actually will be okay.

Breathe in.

Step one was getting here.

Breathe out.

I am here.

Breathe in.

Step two is staying here.

Breathe out.

God is here.