Dear Men...

Maybe it’s the countless conversations I’ve had with girls, listening to them complain about their boyfriends or brothers or fathers. Maybe it’s the magazine article I read, just yesterday, stating, “There are so many good women out there who are prepared and ready to be godly wives and mothers. So where are all the good men? I’m sorry to tell you, but not many exist anymore.” Maybe it was hearing the words “I think you married the last good man” issue forth from no other mouth but my own. Maybe it was all those things put together that made me realize something:

For some reason that escapes me, women have convinced themselves that there are no good men left.

No men worth waiting for. No men who will come into her life and treat her right and not be a jerk.

 And I have no idea why.

Honestly, I don’t. Sure, there are bad men. There are jerks. There are boys masquerading as men that wouldn’t know maturity if it slapped them in the face. There are those men. But there are those women too, though I don’t hear much about them. And I can’t take it anymore, this constant hating on men, by everyone.

So this is a letter, to you, men, not so much an explanation as an apology.

Because you are constantly being torn down everywhere I look. By women, by other men, by the church, and by our culture. The Facebook page of a church I follow recently posted “Men, girls want to have babies, not date them.” The popular TV shows and movies portray fathers and husbands mostly as bumbling idiots who are lucky to be married to a woman that knows what is going on in life. The messages you hear constantly only serve to tear you down, and for that, I am truly sorry. I’m sorry that we haven’t done more to build you up and encourage you in your manhood. I’m sorry we blame your entire sex for the faults of some. I’m sorry that when you’re chivalrous, it’s expected and sometimes we don’t thank you, but if you’re not, you’re a jerk and we make sure you and the entire room knows it. I’m sorry we have told you time and time again that there are no good men left, because chances are we were talking to one when we said it. I’m sorry that we have impossibly high standards, and somehow expect you to be the type of men that only exist in Nicholas Sparks' novels. I'm sorry that we've reduced you in our minds to people who only think about sex and sports instead of realizing that you have passions and hobbies and dreams like anyone else.

And I guess I wanted to say thank you, too, because I know so many good men that don’t get half the thanks they deserve. Thank you for when you look out for us. Thank you for when you let us wear your jackets when it’s cold and we didn’t bring one. Thank you for complimenting us when you want nothing in return. Thank you for putting up with all the lies about manhood that are consistently and forcefully shoved down your throat. Thank you for helping us understand how you think. When you are told none exist, thank you for being good men anyway. To my friends, brothers, and father, to all the men that I am proud to call a part of my life, coming from a girl who once foolishly bought into the lie that there are hoards of good women with no good men to be found...

Thank you for proving me wrong.

 

I want to add here that this is in no way an attack against women, either. I realize not all women constantly attack or belittle men. I just know that I have been guilty of this, and it was a perspective that desperately needed to change in my own life. Perhaps this is just a reminder that words have power, and ideas have power, and please won't you believe there are good men as readily as you admit there are good women? And in the end remember that, as humans, we're all bad. There is no good in me or you except by the redeeming work done in and through us by Christ. And He works in both genders. I leave you with this, which really is the point of this whole post:

"And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works...encouraging one another." -Hebrews 10:24-25

Ready or Not?

7 am, morning traffic. Buses don’t fare well in traffic like that, so back alleys it is. I’ve never gone the secret way to the airport before. After three trips to Haiti, there is still so much I’ve never seen. The half hour ride isn’t long enough to say goodbye to all the things I love about this country. And remind me, one more time, why we took the back alley roads? All the sudden, sitting in traffic for two hours doesn’t sound like such a bad proposal anymore. But there it is, coming into view. This is my least favorite part of coming to Haiti...you know, the part where I have to leave again.

I look back at the faces of fifteen smiling teammates. They’re amazing, all of them. Some are excited to get home, some are REALLY excited to get home, and some are not yet ready to leave. And so the question comes, as I know it will, from the girl sitting beside me. My friend, one of my best friends, who is getting to live my dream by living in Haiti. But I have to leave, and so she asks:

“Are you ready?”

And I don’t even have to think twice before I answer. Ready strikes me as an ironic word to throw around when you’re leaving a place that has become just as much home to you as your own bedroom. Ready implies that you want, need, and are excited about leaving...and I am not any of those things. Ready is when you’re okay leaving 63 happy, smiling kids that have become a part of your heart. And when you’re not only leaving your Haitian family, but one of your own as well? Who is ever ready for that?

Haiti has changed me. That’s putting it lightly, really. Haiti has ripped apart everything that I thought I knew and wanted in life and reconstructed it differently. I get a lot of crazy looks when I say I want to live there someday. “Why? With all the danger, and filth, and poverty, and disease, why would you ever want to live in Haiti?!” That’s what they say. And all I’m sitting there thinking is “Why, with all the joy and beauty of the people, would I NOT want to live in Haiti?”

It’s not for everyone I guess. I get that. God works in my heart consistently to keep me committed to this calling. I have mental and emotional breakdowns like everyone else, convinced that I could never make it in a third world country. But somehow, I always come out the other side steadier than when I went in, thanks to Jesus. So I’m all in, for this crazy idea of mine that wasn’t actually my idea. I want to go for this. I need to go for this. Ready? This is what I’m ready for.

All that flies through my head in the space of a second, because I don’t even hesitate with my answer.

“Are you ready?”

“Never.”

How We Took Label Reading Too Far

If you hang around me at all, it won’t take you very long ‘til you realize that I am somewhat health conscious. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m a health or fitness nut, but I try to at least maintain some level of healthy eating and exercising.

Oh yeah, and I read labels like it’s going out of style.

 I’m a huge fan of checking labels, seeing what foods are made of, if they’re good for me, etc. And I highly encourage it. Knowledge is power, and reading labels to make decisions is an incredibly useful tool.

There’s just one problem with this trend of label checking. Anyone ever notice that we do this with people too? We’ve taken label reading to a whole new level, and our culture is inundated with labeled people.

She’s the fat one.

He’s the jock.

That guy? Oh, he’s just the nerd.

She’s such a slut.

And I bet it wouldn’t take you to terribly long to come up with labels that you have been stuck with over the past years.

You’re the abused one.

You’re the goody two shoes.

You’re the ugly one.

You’re the partier.

You’re the poor one.

You’re the stuck up one.

You are...You are...You are.

And I am here to suggest for a moment that you are NOT. You are not a label. And neither is anyone else. 



Photo by Open Hands Photography.
 Design by Rachel Probasco

See, when we start labeling people, all it really is is an excuse to write them off. Because it’s hard to reach out and make relationships and maintain friendships. Keeping everyone at an arm’s length ensures that we never get hurt, so we label them. And it makes us feel better because we would never be friends with someone like that. We could never reach out to them...after all, we have our own reputations to keep up, our own images to maintain, our own labels to live up to.

And as much as I am a fan of label reading on food packaging, I am on a mission to destroy reading labels on people. I guess it’s because God never looked at me and saw a label. He didn’t see me as the ‘broken one’ or the ‘insecure one’.  He saw me as His creation. He saw me as beautiful and perfect simply because I was His, and that was enough. And because I have not been labeled by Christ, I am called not to label others. Because no one deserves to be written off because of their past. No one deserves to be ignored because of their mistakes. No one deserves to be told they’re not good enough because of x, y, and z, because they are just as valuable as you are. They are worth just as much. They are loved the same.  

So would you join me in starting to look at the people around you through the eyes of God, and not through the filter of their labels? Because, I promise you, you’re going to meet some pretty incredible people. I can’t tell you the number of relationships I’ve made recently because I stopped reading labels.

The gorgeous one...yeah, we’ve been friends as long as I can remember. And she’s not stuck up or mean or self-obsessed. She puts me to shame with her refusal to label people, and she will stick by her friends until the end.

The slut...yeah, I know her. She’s actually a daughter of the King, and she’s learning from her mistakes and moving on. And she's going to be a fantastic mamma, you just watch.

The nerd...yeah, I dated him. A more attentive and caring guy you’d be hard pressed to find. And even though it didn’t work out for us, he’s going to make a great husband for someone, someday. I know it.

The talented one...yeah, she’s my best friend. And I almost let the label of talented and pretty and popular keep me from becoming friends with this girl. Through the countless conversations, memories, and jokes that we share, this girl keeps me grounded. Can’t believe I almost missed out.

These are just a few of the people that have come in and out of my life, and each one has challenged and blessed me in some way. These are real people. You are a real person. We are all living in a real world where we were created to be beautifully, transparently, and vulnerably real.  And labels have no place in a world like that.

You're Only Brave if It Scares You

The other day, I went to the dentist. After getting roughly three thousand molds made of my mouth, which took over an hour, I was wanting to leave badly. My dad was there watching, and he made a remark that amused me. After the nurse had taken the last mold, he said, “You’re so brave!” To which I promptly responded, “Dad, I’m not six anymore. I’m not brave, because that didn’t scare me. Annoyed, yes. Brave, absolutely not.”

                But it got me thinking, how many times in life do we listen to the praise and admiration of others who think we’re so brave for doing something that they’re scared to do. It happens to me all the time when I come home from mission trips to third-world countries. People often remark, “Wow, you’re really brave. I could never do that.” But the thing is, I’m not brave for hopping on a plane and going to Haiti. I’m not brave for spending time working with poverty-stricken areas of Mexico. I love doing that. Those are the things I live for. They don’t scare me, they excite me.

Just because other people are scared of something doesn’t make me brave for doing it.

But I’ll tell you what does scare me. Saying goodbye, that scares me. Change? Terrifying. Letting other people down...quite possibly my biggest fear in life. And yet I don’t normally get a pat on the back when I say goodbye and manage to keep it together. I don’t usually hear anyone praise me for my bravery when I adapt to changes in my life. Because people can’t see that, or measure it, or grasp it. But to me, those are the times when I feel brave. When I look my fears in the face and win. And even more so when they knock me down and I get back up, that is when I'm being brave. Trusting God and letting other people in makes me brave. Letting go of something I thought was everything I wanted makes me brave. Finding His strength is perfect in my weakness, when I so hate being weak, that makes me brave, because that scares me. 





                So my question for you is this: What scares you? Because it is that exact same list that makes you brave. Not what you do that I think is scary. You might be in the military, and I would say that you are brave. But if it doesn’t scare you, then you aren’t brave. If you are a sports star, or an actor or musician, I would say you are brave. But if you love to perform or aren’t scared of the field or the stage, then you aren’t brave. You might be a parent, and I would tell you you're brave. But if you've been dreaming of it all your life and couldn't wait to have kids, then you're not really all that brave. 

And stop letting people tell you that you are, because you will start to believe them.



And you’ll forget what bravery really is. Because it is not facing other people’s fears, it’s facing your own.  You’ll become complacent in this image that other people have made for you, and you’ll think that you are living some great adventurous life. But you aren’t, unless your dreams or your aspirations or your job or your activities frighten you. So get out there and find something that scares you to death, and go do it. Because there is nothing quite like standing up, facing your fears, and being really, truly, honestly brave.



Slightly Mixed Up Inside: Musings and Challenges on Valentines Day

Valentines Day.

The day where dating/married people get happier, and single people get depressed. At least, that's the stereotype, and my facebook wall seems to support this quite strongly. I have seen more cynical posts about love in the past 24 hours than I would care to admit. However, the mushy, I'm-so-in-love posts are starting to get old too. But it did start me thinking, because there seems to be no middle ground in the love/hate relationship people have with this holiday.

For me, Valentines Day mostly means I feel slightly mixed up inside, because I feel the inner romantic playing tug of war with my inner cynic, and my heart is not sure yet which one wins.

This day makes me happy. Because I am privileged to get to watch some pretty incredible relationships start and grow and work. I mean, really work. I get to see love in action every day-old love, new love, love that's been through much, and love is still young-and that's pretty amazing. I get to see my parents, still obviously in love with each other after nearly 30 years, and it inspires me. I get to watch my best friend date one of the most amazing, solid guys I've ever met, and it makes me laugh at those who say you cannot know love when you are young. And even though I don't have a boyfriend, I have a whole group of amazing guy friends that make me feel loved, protected, and cared about They're awesome...and ll this makes me happy.

This day also makes me sad. Because I would be lying if I told you that I am always 100% thrilled being single. There are days, and plenty of them, where I wish I had that special someone who completed me. Where I wish to be madly, truly, deeply in love with someone amazing. And it's hard, because I have loved like that. And sometimes, you have to let go, or something doesn't work out, and you get hurt. I know that, I've been there, and today brings the memories rushing back...and all this makes me sad.

I think that's the great paradox of this day. Learning how to be happy that others have something that you wish you had yourself. But you can learn and grow in every difficult situation, so here are my challenges for you this Valentines Day:

Learn how to be happy for those who are happy.
Seriously, go tell your "taken" friends that you are so glad that they have someone who is special to them. Tell them you hope they have a great Valentines date with their significant other. Tell them your proud of them. Tell them you love them and are supporting them in this. And actually mean it.

Go rock being single.
Honestly, this one should not be that hard. Being single is so very underrated, and it can actually be a blast. Don't sit around and mope. Don't be depressed. Don't dump on all your happy friends, and don't get together and commiserate with your unhappy friends. Go out and live your life and love every second of every stage of life you're in, because time is a gift. Be happy and be full of life now, because if you're waiting for someone else to complete you, you will never be complete.

Go rock being not-single.
Ok, I already know you guys are on cloud nine today, because, as I mentioned before, I've had just about as many "my-significant-other-is-amazing" facebook status updates as I can handle for one day. But I'll give you a pass today. Go have a blast being not single. I'm so happy for you.

Remember that you are already loved more than you could ever imagine.
God is madly in love with you. Just try and fathom that thought for a moment. The Creator of the whole universe, of stars and angels and all things good, looked at you and loved you enough to die for you. And the One who made your heart knows what makes you happy and hurt and passionate and tired and excited. So let Him fill the deepest loneliness and longings as only He can, because He is love, and He can make you whole.

That's all I've got for you tonight, but hopefully it got you thinking.

 Happy Valentines Day.

Somewhere, I Stopped Beleiving...

Junior year of high school was rough. In fact, that’s putting it nicely. Junior year chewed me up and spit me out. I semi-recovered over the summer, and I had high hopes that senior year would get easier.

It didn’t.

 Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to complain. I live a crazy wonderful, blessed, albeit difficult and sometimes messed up life. I don’t expect it to be easy. And this past year, it hasn’t been. It’s been more hard than I know what to do with sometimes, but looking back, I think I realize why.

Somewhere between losing two of the most loved, trusted people in my life, I stopped believing that God was in control.

Somewhere between losing my best friend in the whole world, I stopped believing that God was enough for me.

Somewhere at 35,000 feet in the air, locked in an airplane bathroom and crying my eyes out, I stopped believing that God would accomplish the things he started in my heart and life.

Somewhere in the middle of losing my youth pastor and his wife, I stopped believing that God knew what He was doing.

Somewhere between losing the boy I was madly in love with, and still not being sure I wouldn’t give anything to hear him say he loved me again, I stopped believing that God had a plan for my life.

Somewhere between the dark, sleepless nights and the long days spent fighting off wave after wave of emotions, I stopped believing that God cared.

Somewhere in the middle of my weakness, I stopped believing that God was my strength.

Somewhere in my darkest hour, when I found myself completely and utterly alone-not from lack of people who cared, but for lack of people who could ever really understand-I stopped believing that God was with me and I was never meant to do this alone.

Somewhere between comparing myself to my gorgeous friends and being bombarded by a culture with an impossible standard of perfection, I stopped believing that I am beautiful, simply because God created me and I am His.

Somewhere in focusing on my pain, I stopped believing that this life is about One person...and it is not me.

Somewhere between seeing God as far away and as someone who was asking me to give up far too much, I stopped believing that He’s Daddy too.

Somewhere in the midst of this year, I stopped believing that God is God, and I am not.

It’s not that I made a conscious decision about those things, it’s just that I was fighting so many battles, I lost sight of the One who could actually help me win them.

But, starting right now, I am choosing to start believing the truth again. Not because I am strong, or great, or have much faith. But because God is gracious, and faithful, and goes to the ends of the earth to bring us back. Because He cares, and He is there, and He is so, so good. Because He is showing me more and more that His ways are higher than mine. Because He loves much, and forgives much, and keeps no list of my wrongs. Because He has been right there all along, waiting for me to open my eyes, ears, and heart, and realize it. And it doesn’t mean life gets easier or better or happy. But we can do hard. We were created for it. We are given everything we need to do this life-and do it well-because we have been given Jesus. I’ve tried life without Jesus, and trust me, it doesn’t work. So, I am done with not believing. I am done with feeling sorry for myself. I am done with getting caught up in the temporal things of this earth.

I am choosing Jesus.

I am choosing to do hard.

I am choosing to believe.

Dinner With a Perfect Gentleman

I ate dinner with a gentleman tonight.

I watched as he pulled out his lovely wife’s chair, took her jacket, and made sure she was comfortable. I watched him genuinely care about how everyone around him was doing. I watched him notice that I was freezing cold, and immediately offer me his suit coat. I confided in him that I had no idea what order to use the six pieces of silverware laid out for our three course meal. And as he quietly, kindly gave me an etiquette lesson, I was left wondering, “How does he know that? I didn’t know guys cared about these things!” When I was asked to pass the creamer, with its delicate pitcher and accompanying saucer, I remarked how I was nervous that I would break something at this much-too-fancy dinner table. He just smiled and said, “You’re doing a good job.” I watched him laugh, and make everyone relax despite our formal surroundings, and I realized that he had put me, too, completely at ease in an environment where it was not easy to do so. I was extremely disappointed, but impressed, when he excused himself early from dinner to go pick up his two young sons from their grandparent’s house, so his wife could enjoy the rest of the party knowing her kiddos were in bed.

Yes, I ate dinner with a gentleman. A perfect gentleman. I leaned over to his wife after dinner and said, “You’re husband is the best, but I think you took the last gentleman on earth. Because few of the guys I know treat people the way he does.” And she smiled, as if she knew some great secret that I did not, and replied, “Rachel, there’s a boy out there who is just waiting to treat you like that. I might take a while to find him, but he’s there.”

I must say that she has more confidence than I do, but she did make me think.

 Why do I sometimes search so hard for love and acceptance that I will settle for a guy who walks all over me, treats me like dirt, and in no way views me as something to be treasured? Why do I set myself up for heartache?  And I realized something there, at that dinner table: I settle far too easily because I get impatient, discouraged, or worried that if I don’t take whatever guy happens to show interest in me, I might never get one at all. 

It took eating dinner with a perfect gentleman to realize that I want a man like that. It took seeing the way he looked at his wife, the look where you can tell that he is just madly in love with her, to realize that I want someone who looks at me like that.  It took watching him live out character, humility, and kindness to realize that true men really do exist. Thank God that He opens our eyes to the mistakes we are making. Thank God that He gives us a second chance, and helps us do it right this time around. Thank God for new hope.



Thank God for perfect gentleman.

Breaking Down Walls and Picking Locks: A Plea For Action

Can I ask you to do something for me?


Next time you see a person who puts up walls, break them down. They're not trying to isolate themselves, they just want to feel safe. So break down their walls and care and ask them how they're doing...really, and show them what safe really looks like.


Next time you see a person who threw away the key that opens the padlock on their door, pick the lock. They're not trying to shut the world out, they just don't want to get hurt again. So surprise them with a smile, or a gift, or a kind word.

Next time you see someone who has all but hung a neon 'KEEP OUT' sign around their neck, break in. Not harshly, or in a demeaning way. Carefully, gently, and with lots of love. They don't really want to be alone, they just want someone who will actually stay with them through thick and thin. So be that person.

Next time you see someone who's crying, upset, or having a bad day, forget social norms for one moment, and just go ask them what's wrong. And don't try and fix them. Trust me, they've got people trying to do that already. But that's not what they need. They need a shoulder to cry on, not someone telling them to smile. They need someone who lets life be not okay, because life is so very not okay sometimes, not someone who tells them that everything happens for a reason. And don't tell them to be strong or that this will make them stronger, because it's okay to be weak for a little bit. But you can tell them you're sorry that their life is upside down...that one might actually help.

Next time you see someone who just wants to be loved, and who will do anything to get it, don't tell them they're beautiful. Don't tell them they're worth so much more than that. Don't tell them that they are valued. Go show them that. Go hug them, talk to them, smile at them, and just be with them. They don't need one more cliché thrown in their face. But they could probably use a friend.

Could you do something for me? Next time you see someone who's broken, would you just take a minute to make them feel amazing? Because, and I'm speaking from experience, all they want is to be okay. But no person should have to settle for just okay.  So could you help them? Could you go outside your comfort zone? Could you break down walls, and open doors, and show someone their worth?  Could you live with abandon and realize that it's so much more fulfilling than staying inside the box of what's normal and accepted. Because you could be brightening someone's darkness for just a moment, or you could be saving their life.



You never know.



He's my Hero (Times Two)

Picture this:

A girl, completely alone for an hour, sitting outside her locked car. Not only is her car locked, but the only key she has for it is locked inside. And not only is the key locked inside, but also her cell phone, her purse, her guitar, her jacket, and her shoes. Oh yeah, and there's a storm brewing.

Sad picture, right?
Well, that girl is me.

Yeah...I've had better days.

But now picture this:

Once that girl gets a hold of a phone, she knows exactly who to call. He picks up after a few rings.

"Dad, I know you're at work, and I know you're busy. But Daddy? I need help."

So, he does what Dads do. He calls the insurance agent, the locksmith, and then me.

"Hey hun, the locksmith is on his way."
"Hey Daddy, I know it's a lot to ask, and you don't have to, but could you come? I don't know what I'm doing."
He didn't really want to. He didn't really have to. He had a million and one better things to be doing than rescuing his daughter in the middle of his workday.
But he's my Dad, so he came.
He's my hero.

And I realized that that's exactly how it works with my God.

He didn't have to come. He didn't have to die. He probably had a million and one better things He could have been doing. But He came anyway, because He's my Dad.

Everytime I call on Him to ask for help, He never fails. Everytime I have to tell Him I don't know what I'm doing, He doesn't scold me for my ignorance. He just stays by my side. And He rescues me, every day, from so many worse things than a locked car. Because He's my Dad, and I'm his daughter.

He's my hero.

Looking at the circumstances, I've had better days. But looking at the two Dads in my life that are there in a heartbeat whenever I call, all I can think is:

"I am So. Incredibly. Blessed"

Across the Sea

My heart is far away tonight. Somwhere across the sea. Where what seems to be angels voices sing you to sleep and wake you up. Where you can look at the sky at night and actually see the stars. Where you can not speak a word of the same language but still be best friends with an orphan, becuase love breaks all barriers. Yes, my heart is far away tonight, in Haiti.

I'm longing for home.

Next Time, Remember...

Next time you look in the mirror and all you see is what other people tell you you are and what you should be, just remember: What you're worth is not determined by what they think of you. Who you are is not made by what they say. Your value is not found in their opinion of you, whether they approve, disapprove, encourage, discourage, hate, or love you.
They  ≠ You.

But there is Someone who sees who you are on the inside...the things you hide from everyone else...and loves you anyway. There is Someone who is crazy about you, just the way you are. There is Someone who took one look at you, in all your brokenness and fragility, and decided you were to die for. That Someone is who determines your worth. That Someone is who makes you who you are. That Someone is the only One who's opinion matters. So next time you look in the mirror and all you see is a you who has been told time and time again that you're worthless, that you don't measure up, that you're not good enough, remember that there is Someone who loves you.

                     His name is Jesus, and He came to break that mirror.

This One's for My Girls

This one’s for my girls. For every single one of them. For those who love me at my worst, and make me my best. This one’s for K. I wish you knew how beautiful you were, and how much you deserve...don’t lose heart. This one’s for A. I know each day is a fight to just keep living life. I wish I could take your pain, you have no idea how much I wish that. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not worth something, because you’re worth is not found in what they think of you. This one’s for K, who’s been knocked down and ignored by so many leaders who were supposed to be there for her. You are so strong...never stop fighting. This one’s for A, whose heartbreak I understand so well, because ours were broken the same way. I hope I make your life half as bright as you make mine. This one’s for J. You are so beautiful, and loved much.  Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. This one’s for A. You are crazy beautiful and talented, and someday this pain that we’ve been through might all make sense. This one’s for E. I know you feel alone, knocked down, and judged. Keep love in your heart, I promise things will get better. This one’s for M. You’re one of the strongest girls I know, and you are gorgeous inside and out. Don’t you let the world change who you are, ‘cause who you are is beautiful. This one’s for H. Your love for God and life is a beautiful thing to see. Don’t let that boy get you down, you deserve so much better. You’re never alone. This one’s for M. We’ve been through it all girl. I love your heart and your laugh and your style. Keep on going. This one’s for A. Someday, a man is going to come in and sweep you off your feet. Wait for the right one, I know he’s coming. I’m so proud of who you’re becoming. This one’s for R. You are breathtaking in more ways than one. Watching you live life and getting to share it with you, for the short time we were together, will always be counted among my greatest blessings. I just wanted you to know that. This one’s for E. Keep fighting, keep striving, keep pushing on toward Christ. You are loved very, very much. This one’s for B. I know growing up is hard. Don’t cave to the pressures the world puts on you. You are so much better than that...stay strong. THis one's for S. You have no idea how much I wish I could've been there for you more, how much I should have been there. Forgive me. You're cut out for greatness, go get it. And never forget the One that loves you most.

This one’s for me too, I guess. Because we are each other. We share hurt, pain, laughter, tears, joys, triumphs, failures, love, sorrow, jokes, songs...we share life. Yep, this one’s for my girls: Don’t ever stop chasing Jesus and letting Him be everything you need. You are beautiful. You are crazy. You make my life full of sunshine. You mean the world to me. You are loved.




These are some of my girls...yes, you can be jealous.

 

This is Goodbye

I’m sorry things didn’t end up different. I’m sorry that somehow things changed, though I swear I couldn’t tell you when or why. I’m sorry that things didn’t work out between us, because we would have been amazing together. But I have to move on. I have a life and dreams that would look great if you were in them, but I’m not going to wait anymore, because quite frankly, they look just as good without you. I don’t have the time or the heart to let this go on. I can’t say I’ll miss the stress. I can’t say that I’ll miss the sleepless nights, and I definitely won’t miss feeling like I have to perform for you. But I am sorry that this is the end of something that held the promise of being so good. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.

So this is me moving on.

This is goodbye.

This is me getting over you.

How Dare You

To all the people who think they know what’s best for me. Who think they know what goes on in my head. Who think they have even the faintest clue what makes my heart heavy or happy. To those who think they know what I’m passionate about. Who think they know what keeps me going when I’ve been beaten and feel like staying down. To those who think they know why I fight, why  I love, and why I trust.  To all those who have the audacity to tell me what is best for my feelings, my life...my heart:

How dare you pretend to know who I am.

Yes, it looks foolish. And no, I don't care.

Yes,

I realize it looks foolish to sit at a table by yourself while you’re eating, and smile from ear to ear for no reason at all.

yes,

I realize it looks foolish to go running in the rain and randomly start doing cartwheels.

yes,

I realize it looks foolish to rock out to music in the car and sing at the top of my lungs.

yes,

 I realize it looks foolsih to be at a coffe shop by yourself, reading a blog, and almost fall out of your seat because you're laughing so hard.

yes,

 I realize it looks foolish to dance around the kitchen while I’m making dinner.

BUT...

quite frankly, I don’t care. Becuase people do foolsih things when they're happy. And sometimes, just being alive makes me happy.

So excuse me for cutting this short, but it's raining outside, and nobody's dancing in it...yet.

Wishes...

Of all the things I wish you knew. Of all the things that run laps back and forth in my head every. single. day. Of all the things I wish I could just walk up to you and say, this is what I want to tell you the most.

Maybe one day when I'm brave and you're listening, I will. When I'm strong and you're ready, we'll go there. When I figure out how to articulate myself, and you figure out how to commit, something might happen.

One can always wish...

"You Will Find Rest"

She stared down the little blue book from across the couch. 

The Bible. Her Bible. She knew it held the words she so desperately, desperately needed to hear. So full of hope and commands and heartbreak and victory and freedom and pain. But perhaps it was the pain that scared her. Becuase these words that so healed her soul also cut her like a knife sometimes. 

So she stared.

 She wasn’t sure if she was ready to go one more round with her emotions. She’d been through a lot lately, trying her best to drown her feelings in tears. It didn't work though, because they kept coming back to life and making a home in her heart.

So she stared. 

Finally though, faith trumped fear, desperation overcame dread, and she reached for the book. But instead of opening it, she brought it close to her face. She breathed deep the scent of ink and paper and countless early mornings. But those weren’t the scents she was looking for. She was wishing to catch a whiff of Mexican dirt, from that mission’s trip that changed her life, where everything in the world was bright and fresh and new and still okay. She longed for the aroma of spaghetti for breakfast, sweaty kiddos, and more hugs and kisses than a human deserved...that would be the smell of Haiti. She was trying her best to breathe in crunchy leaves, and snow, and capture the flag in the dark while army crawling through mud, all from the fall retreat where she still had those who mattered most to her. She breathed deep, as if with catching a hint of these smells, she could will her life back to how it was. As if she could take control and rewind back to when she was happiest. But she couldn't, and that fact was almost enough to start the tears all over again. Yet, even though all the Bible held now was precious memories that tore her heart out, it also held the words she knew would mend it.

So she read.

She remembered.

Even though the memories were like a bullet ripping through her heart, she remembered. Because when she did that, she saw her Jesus. She saw Him in the Mexican sunrise and the Haitian heat. She saw him in the laughter of the “her” children. She saw Him painted over her sorrows like graffiti on a wall. Even when her world seemed to be turning itself inside out, she still had Him. And He wouldn’t let her forget where they’d been together...and where they had yet to go.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." -Matthew 11:28-30

Maybe We've Missed the Point...

I think that sometimes Christians get so caught up in action. We get so caught up in doing and going and serving, and we rarely take the time to build our relationship with Christ. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love serving. I would die if I wasn’t allowed to help people, that’s just the way God made me. I love going on mission’s trips, youth group events, retreats...I love going. I love doing...because when I’m doing, life is easier in so many ways. And action, action is good. It is just plain wonderful. We're called to move this world fpr Christ. We're called to shake it to its core. We're called to be Christ, and that means doing something. 

So don't get me wrong, I am not against serving. But sometimes I wonder if we've missed the point.

 But I think that so often we get caught up our actions and, all of a sudden, the things we do is what we reduce our Christianity to.  I think we forget that God is all about relationships. He wants to talk to you. He wants to spend time with you. He loves hearing you laugh, He wants to comfort you when you cry, and He wants to simply do life with us. And sometimes communication means talking. Sometimes it means listening. Sometimes it means silence. Sometimes it means just being. 

And that’s okay.

It’s okay to sit there and be quiet for a while. To read your Bible and then soak in the fact that God wrote something just for His children...that means you. To sit there and be in awe of a God who created the universe, and yet wants so badly to have a relationship with y.o.u. One of my favorite things to do is just sit with Jesus and just breathe, just be, and know that there is someone that will always be with me. Becuase when I see Him around me, and I feel Him within me, it awakens me to the beauty of life in a whole new way. And it is a beautiful thing when you look inside yourself and know that you’re alive.

Somewhere Between Fiction and Reality

She didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was she had to get out of the house...now. So she did what seemed to be her escape too often these days.  She ran to the garage, the thought of freedom almost more than she could take. Her steps slowed though, when she came to the corner where what she sought was hidden...literally. Under a heap of tangled bikes...ten, fifteen, who knows?...was the bicycle that would propel her to...well, anywhere but here. Spying the one she was after, she heaved a sigh, ready to do battle with a mass of petals, gears, and handlebars, all of them intent on keeping her prize locked beneath them.

Just one more thing I’m fighting,

she thought as she tugged, pulled, and pushed her bike to freedom. Finally, with a mighty yank, her treasure came out of the pile...and old, red bicycle. Heart beating hard from the exertion, she surveyed her old friend to make sure it still ran properly. Air in tires, check. Gears, check...she ran through the mental checklist though she was already climbing on the bike. Her body knew what to do without her asking it. She coasted down the driveway breathing a sigh of relief, releasing not enough tension from her soul. But it was enough for now. She glanced both ways before crossing the street, as she’d done countless times before. She was on automatic pilot now, and her mind was free to wander into the places she didn’t want it to go .Back through the emptiness and pain of the past months, when she wasn’t quite sure if she’d make it. Back through the lonely days and tear filled nights. Back through victory and defeat, love and hate, not enough gain but too much loss.

So much loss.

Even now, the thought of those lost ones who meant much to her was like a knife in her heart. She didn’t like to admit it, but the people she loved defined her so much more than they should. She held on, and held on, and right when she thought they’d be there forever, she was forced to let go, a little piece of her identity going with every single one of them. She was ready to stop that. Stop finding herself in others. Stop caring so much if they cared. And start finding herself in Christ, like she'd always thought she was good at. Now, she saw that when everything that makes you comfortable is stripped away, you find what your faith is made of. And hers was there, not as strong as it should have been, but there all the same. But life was wearing on her. She felt a older, a little worse for the wear, and so, so tired.  Tired of fighting, and ready for a little peace from the war raging within her soul, as everything she knew to be true battled against everything she felt in her heart. Though she hated to admit it, she was doing more running than fighting lately, and neither one had brought her one step closer to this peace she so deaperately wanted. And suddenly, she heard a voice in her sould, the whisper that she had come to know so well. And she was reminded, in the most loving, firm, I’m-always-here-even-when-you-don’t-see-Me tone of voice:

Child, when you’re ready to stop chasing the wind, let Me know.

Why didn't it surprise her that He knew how to articulate her entire life these past few months into a single sentence. She'd never been any good at saying what she felt, and it was a strange relief to have someone put it into words for her.

Chasing the wind...yes, that's exactly what it was.

Chasing everything she thought would make her world turn right side up again, but blind to the Savior that was so patiently wating for her to open up her eyes. And, truth be told, she didn’t know if she was ready to stop chasing, stop pretending, stop running. But she did know that He was peace, and that was something she hadn’t felt for far too long. So, with what was, perhaps, the beginning of a sunrise in her heart, she slowed her bicycle and turned toward home. He had always been enough for her before, and He would be again. She knew it. And it was enough for now.

Getting Mad at God for Taking Away My "Safe"

These past few months have turned my life upside down. That’s putting it nicely actually. Quite frankly, these past few months have taken the most comfortable things in my life, turned them on their head, and shook them to the core. It’s brought me face to face, sometimes closer than I would like, with this issue of “safe”.  

As I look at all the things in my life that are changing, mainly, it’s relationships. So many of the relationships that mean the most to me are altering, some drastically. My best friend is moving halfway around the world. My youth pastor will not be leading my youth group after the end of this month. His wife, my bible study leader, will be leaving also. About a year ago, I lost two other dear mentors in my life due to them moving away. And all of this has left my head spinning. I feel like just when I find my footing after losing one relationship, I find out that another one will be changing. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.

 If you would ask me if I liked change, I would tell you “yes”. I’m the one who will try anything once, is always ready for an adventure, and likes living on the edge a little. But I found something out about myself this past year:

I only like change if it’s the change that I want.

Put me in a situation like any of the ones mentioned above, and I hate change. I like the good, stable, wonderful things in my life, and they make me feel safe.

There’s that safe word again. 

See, what I have discovered in this past year, especially these past few months, is that I find safety in the people around me. And not just anyone. I don’t have a hard time making friends, but I do struggle with trusting people on a deep level. There are very few people in my life that I will share my struggles or pain with. And the people I mentioned above are some of the few people that I can talk to about anything.

But now, those relationships are changing, and with every goodbye that I say, I say also say farewell to my “safe”. I wave one last time to things that have made me feel secure and protected. And I have to admit, I got pretty angry sometimes. I got angry at the people who I saw as responsible for taking away those I love. I got angry at myself for not being able to fix it, because I thought that maybe if I had tried or prayed or fought a little harder, maybe if I was a little stronger or smarter, I could have changed the situation. I got angry at God for taking away my “safe”. How could He? Couldn’t He see that these people meant the world to me? Aren’t we called to sharpen other Christians as iron sharpens iron? Then why was He taking away the people who had taught me, been there for me, and walked me through the most? My mind swirled with all these questions, and I became one very confused girl. I didn’t know where to turn to. I didn’t know who to ask for help. I became afraid of getting close to people, because I might lose them. I became afraid of pouring myself into relationships or activities, because to pour yourself out is to open yourself to hurt, and I wasn’t sure my heart could take anymore. I became afraid to even get up in the morning, because I woke up thinking “What is going to go wrong today, and who am I going to lose?”

Yeah...not a fun way to live.

But it was through this heartbreaking process that God began to convict me of my idea of “safe”.  He started to show me how foolish it was to find “safe” in people, because people let you down. Whether it’s on purpose or not, everyone in your life is going to let you down at some point. They might be amazing, incredible people. They might be your heroes. They might bring you closer to Christ. Those are all amazing things, and I get that. I understand that you never want to let those people go. But the moment they become your safety net, you’re guaranteeing a broken heart. The only one who can really give us the protection, value, and “safe” that we long for is Christ. 

But here’s the catch. Making Christ our “safe” is, by definition, not safe. We’re not called to talk about safe issues. We’re called to share a radical, life-changing gospel with those who don’t know Christ. We’re not called to sit inside and wait for life to come to us on our terms. We’re called to get out of our comfort zones and give God free reign to hand us life on His terms. We’re not called to be “safe”. We’re called to be live dangerously, love fully, and pour out all we are for the cause of Christ. We’re told, time and time again, that God will never let us go. I think that serves two purposes. One, to fulfill the longing we have to be valued and feel protected. God is all that to us. Second, it is to remind us that because God is will always be with us, we are free to live in a way that is definitely not safe, but unlocks God’s plan for our lives.

 So maybe, next time God takes away my “safe”, I can remember that nothing in this world can ever take me out of His hands. And when I choose to find my “safe” in Him, it’s then that I can take risks, and love peple with all I have, and get out there and change people’s lives. That’s what we we’re made for, and to be honest, I’d choose that over being safe any day.