june

 I didn't think I would actually post this month, but here I am - drinking cold coffee on my parents' couch after feeding and rocking my niece and nephew while my mom got ready for the day...and I'm typing into the void once again.

Realistically, I know this isn't a void. Way more people have popped in and read the words I've written than I ever anticipated (though the numbers are still few). Words have been elusive this past month and a half. Both journaling and speaking have taken concentrated effort that is difficult to muster.

I had goals, of course, for the time Tanner and I would be in New York. A few of them were accomplished; many of them never materialized. As we pack up to head to Wisconsin, I think that's the lesson God has slowly been teaching me this month. Slowly, because I can't seem to learn any other way. Too often, my goals rely on others' expectations of me. I want to maintain whatever status I have achieved in their eyes, and that has been impossible lately.  Not only have I been unable to achieve goals I think others think I should, but it has been made clear over and over again that no one had those goals for me in the first place.

Any standard I attempt to reach without God is impossible, and He is really only in the business of helping me meet His expectations, not everyone else's.

reflection

In two weeks and three days, I will be 28 years old. I will still be growing my hair out from an impromptu buzzcut just like I was at 18. I will still spend way too much time pondering eternity, life and death like I did at 13. I will still wear the scars on my feet from the surgery I had at 4. 

So much is the same. 

So much more has changed.

Here is a little non-poem about a cardinal:

there is a cardinal

that sings

by my window each

morning.

he flutters so close,

almost close

enough

to touch. 

his song is so simple, 

captivatingly clear. 

he’s alive in this moment. 

he’s breathing; he’s here 

and tomorrow isn’t his 

burden to bear. 

today has enough worries, 

more than enough cares, 

and even when it’s raining 

he has a song to share.

wilderness training

The last 3 weeks have been spent in wilderness training, as my brother calls it. The MTC calls it “Simple Living.” Tan and I spent the majority of that time without cellphones, limited running water, minimal solar electricity, and a litany of classes about teamwork and survival. 

Throughout that time, I kept a journal (like I do) and I wanted to share a few quotes that encouraged me out there on here.

“Yeah, I am a fearful person, but God carried me every step of the way.” -Carol C.

“You can try!” -Ezzy

“Do I treat you like you’re a part of me?” -Kris H., quoting someone else

“Conflict is a classroom.” -Jim T.

april showers

 I think I've posted a blog with this title before, but as usual, I'm not going to go back and check.  this stage of life is both fast and slow. it's hard to believe we're almost finished with our first year of missionary training. half way. mind boggling.

so what does the unfaithful writer say? how do I catch the faithful readers up on recent events? it seems that, since January, it has been more and more difficult to catch my thoughts on paper. I mean, even my instagram is a graveyard. what surprises me most is that I have guilt over that. like, if I'm bad at texting AND social media now, by the time we get overseas, I won't have any friends or emotional support. that, of course, takes all the control and puts it in my hands--leaving God completely out of the picture. yikes.

why the title april showers? it's raining outside. it's been raining for days, yet the whole world around us is in bloom.  I also think it's ironic because I have been to more baby showers in the past year than in my entire life, which is saying something because I have five younger siblings and a whole lot of family having babies as I grew up. that isn't a pregnancy announcement, by the way. just in case you were suspicious.

other recent events include burning the absolute garbage out of my hand on a skillet a week and a half ago. the burns currently look like someone glued halved dates to my first and middle fingers. unrelated to the burns, I've taken up dehydrating mangos and apples to make my own dried fruit for a three week long "wilderness" training.  It's "wilderness" because we'll be in the woods about three miles from our actual house, but I think it'll be fun to see Tanner in an extended camping situation.

my thoughts turn to the steady march of time. so many of our friends this past year are graduating from the training today. the excitement for their commencement into ministry is amazing! the gnawing ache of goodbyes as a lifestyle is less so. I remember almost four years ago when I left the Philippines, I wouldn't say goodbye, just "see ya later." God gave me so much comfort in that, and it's still true, but life does not stand still between meetings. children grow up. family dynamics shift and change. friendships strengthen or fall away. hugs don't reach through phone calls or videos. and it isn't just family and friends that change! we change, too, and how do those changes reconcile when we all come together again?

april showers.

waiting on may flowers.

let’s be on the same team

Tanner and I have recently been talking to our mentors about personal and marital growth, as well as hopes for the future.  They were talking about perspective shifts that transformed their relationship, and this statement was at the top of the list. They said whenever they get in an argument or a passionate discussion, one of the most helpful things is when one of them pauses and says, “Let’s be on the same team.”

The idea wrapped up in that statement is that if we, as a unit, are on opposite teams, neither of us ever wins.  If our marriage is a competition, and I crush Tanner in winning against him, we both lose, because our marriage suffers.  However, if we are on the same team, we both win, regardless of whose thought was “right”. 

I want to be on Tanner’s team.  I also want to be on my fellow trainees’ team.  I want to be on the universal Church’s team.  I want to be on God’s team.

How often do we face an uncomfortable situation with the statement, “I hate the idea of doing this thing, so I know God is going to make me”? Yikes.  That mindset completely pits my hopes against God’s great good thing for my life, and if I push and strain against Him, Jonah’s story proves the point: in any relationship where I fight to win over the other person, we both lose. God gets rejected and my hopes are ultimately crushed. 

I want to face the future by aligning myself on my husband’s team, and together choosing to be on God’s team. If we’re trying to win, I’d much rather win God’s way together.

nora

seven years ago, 

I wrote about a girl named Nora. 

she was me and 

I told the tragedy of my life. 

and it sounds melo-

dramatic because it is, and yet

that’s what I did.

I wrote about gut-wrenching grief, and

sorrow, and guilt,

about imagined happy endings

and reality

as bitter and harsh as it seemed

to me.

seven years ago,

still seems so starkly present sometimes

those dreams still alive

and yearning for people and places 

unavailable

so strings of past possibilities 

snarl around spools of

present realities and it sounds

melodramatic 

because it is, but that’s what I did.

and sometimes it’s hard

not to do what you’ve done forever.

seven years ago

I had no clue how much I would grow

or what I would try

to hold on to, or that I’d want to.

and seven years is

not as long as I thought it would be

so there is still grief

and dead dreams and guilt and some sorrow

but there’s still hope and

imagination for tomorrow.

If you had told me seven years ago that the burdens I carried were not only shared by God, but not necessary for me to carry at all...I would have believed you as I shifted the emotional weight around inside to make it more bearable. 

I am where God has me today, and today I’m remembering the burdens, not carrying them. It all sounds so melodramatic, but in seven more years, I wonder what I’ll look back on and say “Oh...sweetie, if only you knew...” And I think that’s part of living. And those are my thoughts today.

thoughts on psalm 16

“the Lord is my chosen portion

and my cup.”

that means I chose him and he

had already chosen me,

insignificant me —

led and kept by holy God,

held and protected against all odds.

he is a mountain

so i will not be shaken.

the Lord is my portion:

behind,

beside,

before —

the Lord is my companion

and he will not abandon

my soul.