the broken

we've all heard it. and for those of us lucky enough we've seen it lived out.

the idea that God uses the broken to bring Him glory. a "broken and contrite heart" is what Scripture tells us He accepts as a sacrifice.
this concept is one that has been on my heart for a while now. i have been blessed to see broken people around me being used for the Kingdom, to come along side other broken people to remind them that they're not alone, and that not only is it ok to be broken, but it is good.

a few weeks ago i decided to go through the Bible and look for all the stories and references of brokenness. and i've been reading these stories of these people who were broken, but joyful. symbolism of brokenness is all over Scripture.

in Genesis Jacob's natural strength was broken when "his hip was wrenched" that he came to a point where God could clothe him with spiritual power.
it wasn't until Moses struck the rock in the book of Exodus, breaking it's surface, that cool "water came out of it for the people to drink".
it was not until Gideon's three hundred specially chosen soldiers "broke the jars thats were in their hands" which symbolized brokenness in their lives, that the hidden light of the torches shone, bringing terror to their enemies.
the poor widow who broke the seal on her only remaining jar of oil and
began to pour it. it was then that God miraculously multiplied it to pay her debts.
esther risked her life and broke through the laws and got favor to rescue her people from death.
Jesus broke the five loaves and the bread was multiplied to feed the five thousand. through the simple process of the loaves being broken, the miracle occurred.
my favorite story has always been of Mary breaking her beautiful jar of expensive perfume, destroying it's usefulness and value, yet allowing the wonderful fragrance to fill the house.
it was when Jesus allowed His precious body to be broken by thorns and nails that His inner life was poured out like water, for thirsty people to drink and then live.

i spent days pouring over these stories, amazed at God, for His intentionality and His sovereign plan.

and then i started thinking about plants (once a naturalist, always a naturalist) and how it is only when a seed is buried and broken in the earth that it sprouts, producing hundreds of other seeds.

and so it has always been, all the way down through the history of plants and people....God uses BROKEN THINGS.

i think about the people i have been blessed to meet in my life and the brokenness they have endured through their relationships, their finances, their health, their dreams, and their reputation. He uses those who seem totally hopeless and helpless. i'm not writing this because i'm helpless. but i'm writing it because this week i needed a bit of hope. the past few months have been full of adaptation, refining, change, hard adjustments, and reminders to constantly change my perspective to the healthier one. the past year the Lord has broken me in many ways. as painful as it's been, the dust is now starting to settle and through it i am able to see where He has brought me. i see Him using my brokenness to bring Him glory, even if in the tiniest of ways. the idea that we serve a God who will break us to show us more of Him astounds me. and so i will continue to offer myself, a living sacrifice, to continue to be broken. i encourage you to go through and read the all the parts of Scripture where it talks about something or someone being broken. i guarantee you'll come away with a bit more hope.

It's the little things...

Tonight my dad took me out to dinner.
A dinner date.
A dad-daughter date.

He taught me how to make a paper airplane. Out of a Spaghetti Factory placemat.
And I guess there's a lot I could say about that. But, when it comes down to it...I just thoroughly enjoyed the moment.

More than four walls and a steeple

A friend gave me this book recently when I was visiting my Mount Hermon home. There are many things I love about people giving/recommending books to me. I love when someone knows me so well that I can say something and they instantly think of the book that is relevant to the conversation that I just HAVE to read. I love people that fall in love with a book and then buy a bunch of copies of it to keep on hand to give to people. The author, Barbara Brown Taylor, reminds me of Anne Lamott. If you haven't read anything of Lamott's, drop what you're doing and go get one of her books. I recommend Traveling Mercies to start with. Both Anne Lamott and Barbara Brown Taylor write in such beautiful ways, putting their journey's of faith into words and inviting the reader to join them. The words are honest, transparent, and vulnerable. I don't know anyone who couldn't relate to what they say about the reality of loving God and others.

She writes a lot about church, and the different places she has met God. It got me thinking of the different places I have met God. I have loved many churches in my life, starting with the church I was raised in and still go to whenever I am in my hometown. Fellowship Bible Church. Where everyone knows who I am and have watched me grow up. Where people gather around you in prayer and lay hands on you when you're going through something hard or leaving to go somewhere new. They are the ones who brought meals to us when my mom was sick, who lovingly and honestly brought our family out of some of the darkest times we've been through, and who me and my dad went to Liberia, Africa with where I experienced God through the eyes of the women who spent all day cooking and cleaning for us, and through the eyes of the little children who held my hand even they didn't even know my name. FBC will always be home.
Then it was SALT, the Christian college ministry I was a part of for 4 years and interned for. I met God in the sanctuary, sitting on the floor, holding the hands of a friend and weeping in shame. In the intern room, with 9 other people, as my belief system got rocked.
Then it was Crossfire, the middle school youth ministry I was a part of for 3 years. I met God dancing and singing loudly alongside 6th grade girls, in a room where those girls shared their insecurities and their doubt in God, and in their accepting embrace every Wednesday for 3 years. They loved me better than a lot of people did and they were only in middle school.
Then it was Mount Hermon. 3 summers on Conference Center Staff I met God in circles of junior high girls on the grass talking about who they wanted to be and why it was so hard to get there. In Evergreen cabin, with girls with anorexia, depression, low-self esteem, and broken hearts, yet with the deepest desire to understand how much God loves them.
Then it was Outdoor Science. In the walls of the A-frame was where I lived when I lost the most important person to me, where I wept alongside a good friend and prayed that my scars would be healed, where I came back to after every class for most of Spring semester and cried because learning how to be a good teacher of something you have no idea how to teach is just plain hard and humbling, and where I was when I came back to Scripture and to the God that was waiting for me all along. My eyes were open to Him in the A-Frame. This was where the blindfold began to come off.
Then it was the Hitch. I met God here in the kitchen, where me and my roommates would gather to cook and have conversation. I met Him on the roof, watching countless sunsets, drinking beer, and listing the good things on the bad days with a great friend. I met Him under the canopies of the redwoods teaching about the root systems and how each tree's roots connect to one another to stay standing, watching 5th graders eyes get wide as they sat in awe of the majestic trees. I met Him on the trail, with 15 kids following me, trusting in me. I met Him teaching Outdoor Science, because once you know a bit about nature you see Him EVERYWHERE.
Then it was West Virginia. In the eyes of 3 people wanting to be led. In the calming voice of a strong woman in her office. In the conversation shared on a piece of grass outside the church at 1 am with a very wise mother of twins. In the hugs and tear stained faces of homeowners we worked with, thanking us for giving them hope. In the laughter of the little kids who walked to Kid's Club each day searching for friends. Yes, I even met God in the office where I worked this summer, in the details, in the never-ending paperwork and finances, and in the phone calls with trip leaders excited and nervous about what they were about to experience. And when I was too overwhelmed to handle it all, I met God on the fire escape where I went to seek solitude and peace.
Now it's home. In my short visit here, I've met God on the deck, where countless hours have been spent just simply "being". I've met Him around a campfire with my daddio, conversing about all that is good and hard and beautiful about this world. I've met Him in the faces of the old friends I have been blessed to sit down with and listen to what He has done in their lives the past 6 months. I've met Him in the late hours of the night when I can't sleep and my thoughts wander to that person, or that time, or why this or why that. He has been there in those fears, in those insecurities and worries. I've met Him in the overwhelming awe of His sovereignty and faithfulness, as all the details come together for me to have a new season of life in Santa Cruz.
Next it will be a red cabin at Mission Springs, with a porch swing and a fire pit, with 2 girls who I don't know much about but already love very much. And in the new job awaiting me and the people I will interact with and love. Yes, He will be there too. And my prayer is that I would find four walls, with or without a steeple, to congregate in with other people who want to follow Jesus and understand how to do this thing in this life together. But I will meet Him in that place. Yes, He is already there.
I know this is a long entry. But when you take the time to think about all the places you've met God...well, you would be surprised at what comes to mind too.

I see Him everywhere. I feel Him all the time. And I love Him more every day.

Hands and Feet

Whenever you're away for a summer doing something fairly awesome, like I had the privilege of doing this summer, you come back home and you get the "questions":

"How was it?"
"What did you learn?"
"What was the highlight?"
"Do you have an good stories to tell?"
"Would you do it again?"

These questions, while very good and necessary to think about and tell your loved ones, are a bit overwhelming. Especially because these questions are commonly asked the MOMENT you get back from your adventure, and you're just thinking "When can I sleep?" I just need to sleep." But, since I've been away from my little West Virginia life for about 2 weeks now, and since I've seen so many of the people I love the most in those 2 weeks, I've had some time to think about the answers to those questions.

I learned a lot in West Virginia.

I learned how to:
- cook meals for 70 + people for a week.
- buy stuff for those meals every week and how to pack "Tetris" style into 2 vehicles.
- balance a budget, for the first time in my 25 years of life.
- appropriatly get the attention of a lot of people "WEST VIRGINIA WHAAAAT???" "YOU KNOWWWW!!"
- lead 3 people the way they need to be led and loved
-support adult leaders instead of youth, which is all that I knew how to do before this job

the list goes on and on

I miss a lot about West Virginia too. I miss:
- Gene, the church's custodian, ringing the church bells every Sunday morning waking us up
- trying to go to the bathroom when you wake up on Sunday mornings and having a bunch of small tikes from the nursery looking at you as you stumble down the stairs in a sleepy stupor
- "I mean...", "Here's the thing...", "Where's Paul?"
- playing computers with my staff till the late hours of the night, saying every now and then "We really need to go to bed...."
- getting pied in the face on Friday mornings and sitting in dairy filth for 3 hours before we got to take showers. Or maybe that was just me...
- Paperwork finishing/scanning/emailing crazy-ness and me literally LOSING MY MIND
- my staff just knowing me so well. when to ask me questions, when to come in the office and when to stay out, when to take me out of the office and away from the Site Director nonsense details, when to make me laugh, and when to just let me be one with the paperwork...
- getting all the groups together on the church's front steps on friday mornings to take a group picture and then taking pictures of ourselves with their cameras
- that one time Kasi shut the cats tail in the van door while 80 people were watching
- talking to Bob every day when he walked his dogs
- drinking coffee and chatting with Pam, the church's secretary, every morning after the crews left about life, God's faithfulness and goodness, why she thinks I should get married and to who, and about the silly quirks of the people around us
- the huge inflatable water slide in the pouring rain. best weekend EVER.
- the Sunday night jambalaya staff meal intro
- calling Tom by his full name
- pillow talk with Kasi
- Paul- "TOMATOES!" Enough said.
- worshipping with a room full of high school students and adult leaders and along side my staff, singing His praises even when we were so tired, beat down, and dragged out, with nothing left to give, missing home, but singing...still singing.
- knowing we would be loved unconditionally wherever we went
- my staff. i miss everything about who they were. and what they meant to me in that season of my life. they loved me so well. they always gave me what i needed. did what i asked. did things before i even asked, actually. saw who i was. who i wanted to be. and accepted me for where i was at. i couldn't have asked for better people to work with. and i saw Jesus in them every day.

I think I could go on for a long time about the way West Virginia impacted me this summer.
But overall, I saw the the people of that state, the groups that came to us each week from all over the country, and the 3 people on my team be the hands and feet of Jesus.

There's a lot you learn from that. There is a lot you are convicted about from that. There is a lot of joy in that.

I'll never forget Mingo County, WV. The little brick church on the corner in Williamson. I am forever changed because of that place.

Humidity, Healing, and Hugs

Humidity.

We’ve become pretty used to it here. 6 weeks after taking up residence in Williamson, WV we are now becoming used to things that make this place what it is. We’re getting used to being in air conditioned buildings and then walking outside and being hit with a wave of heat, wet heat, that makes you feel like you just got out of the shower. But of the adaptations we’re dealing with I would say humidity is the smallest of them.

We’re becoming used to sitting in Pam, the church secretary's office every day, talking about the weather, how we’re doing, and how she is being impacted by us being there. The other day I went up to have some Pam time and she looked up at me and just started crying, saying how she had been listening to us worship with the youth earlier that morning during devos. That our voices being lifted up to Jesus touched her, and that she needed it. We talked about how healing it is to listen to voices worship in genuine praise to their God. She had her Bible open the whole morning, pouring over the Word, soaking it in like a sponge. I saw her earnestly seeking Jesus’s face that morning, and it’s what I needed to get through the week.

We’re becoming used to the community members, their personality’s and mannerisms. For example, Hazel, an elderly church lady who runs the kitchen at the church we’re staying in, is quite the character. We’ve had some “Hazel Encounters” that scared us to the very core. No one comes between Hazel and her kitchen. So we are all now extremely paranoid about keeping it “clean for Hazel”. But she’s very sweet and never fails to embrace us in hugs when she sees us. Always smiling. Always wanting to serve and love.

Gene. The church’s janitor. Always available to help us out with anything we need. A key broken off in a door. A clogged toilet. Who to talk to about...well...everything. Gene knows.

Pastor Jerrod. We love this man. Best accent in all of West Virginia. And some of the best preaching this side of the Mississippi :)

Pastor Greg. He has recruited for our Kid’s Club all year. He and some of his congregation have formed a healthy meal plan for the kid’s of Kid’s Club, so that we are able to give them healthy, abundant lunch items each day they come. Good man. Funny man. He never fails to crack us up.

The list goes on and on. Joe the Barber. Pierce Witt. Virginia. Iris. Pastor Ferd and his family. Sam from across the street. Pastor Mike and his congregation of Parsely Bottom Church that welcomed us in the most overwhelmingly loving way we have ever experienced. The ladies from the women’s shelter. The elderly folks at the nursing home. Rawl Freewill Baptist Church. The homeowners of the work project’s we’re doing. Debbie, Jackie and Nora, William and Ida, WC and Charlie, and Verna. And all of them, every single one of them, have shown us the upmost hospitality. Hospitality I have never been able to fathom.

We have all had to go outside of who we are comfortable with being. We have all been challenged to love deeper. To love when it’s the last thing we want to do, when it hurts too much, and when we aren’t getting anything back in return. We have been forced to give grace and receive grace.

Our pride has shown.

So has our humility.

So have our scars and wounds that were put on our hearts long ago but are re-surfacing this summer. Healing is happening for all of us individually.

This is still hard. I think it will continue to be hard. But we are learning to be a community. And we are learning to be a family.

I work on a staff of good people. With hearts so full and focused on Jesus. And even though there are days when all 4 of us question the reason of why we’re here, working for YouthWorks, with these people on our staff, doing the job we were hired for and so often feel so inadequate in, we are here together. And we don’t understand it. And that means something.

What is going on here in Williamson is what I think of when I think of the Kingdom of God. People walking hand in hand, side by side, with one another, and loving without bounds. Who are WE to get to be witness of lives being transformed each week? Who are WE to have a job in which we are required to stop each day and focus on the Lord and His goodness and faithfulness? Who are WE to be in relationship with these community members, most who have led lives so far from what we know, and yet we’re able to find a common ground of Jesus. We’re able to seek unity together. Why does He allow us to be a part of something this spectacular?

I really can only think of one reason.

Because in Mingo County, in the little 112 year old brick church on the corner, it’s making us love Him more.

And if my entire summer in Williamson was dedicated to make me love Him more, then this morning I fall on my knees in gratefulness.

West Virginia...Mountain Mama...Country roads...Take me Home.

NEXT STOP: Mingo County, West Virginia



i'm looking forward to being this kind of woman. but only for a summer. :)







i'm looking forward to the sunsets.







i'm looking forward to this being my backyard.



there are many other things i'm excited about. a new place. new people. the east coast..which..lets face it..is a new culture. new job. new new new. and i'm learning to like change. and i'm learning to let go of the things i have grown so accustomed to.

yesterday as i packed up my santa cruz life and said the last tearful goodbyes i felt a type of anxiety i haven't felt in a long time. i couldn't string words together properly. i couldn't stop shaking. a friend told me that you can tell yourself over and over that you're ok and that the transition isn't affecting you that much, but the truth is that your body knows when you are in a state of change. and the physical effects of that anxiety sometimes cannot be ignored. and i've been thinking about how wonderful it would be to just have one week to tie up loose ends and rest and spend time with the people i love in that place. but would i really be ready to go then? i don't think we're ever fully ready to make a transition. because transitions mean you're leaving something or someone behind.

i miss them all already.

i'm sure i'll blog later about the wonderful memories of santa cruz, but for now my mind is on what is ahead of me. 3 teammates waiting for someone to guide them through this crazy summer, an empty church waiting to be filled up with laughter and life and love and conversation and brokenness and growth, 9 weeks of different churches coming to mingo county to serve and be served by my team, there are prayers to be prayed, stories to be heard and stories to tell. the list goes on and on. and even though i have an idea of what my summer might look like...i have no idea at all.

get excited. west virginia stories to come.

revealing a promise

i have spent the last year and a half of my life trying to learn a lot of things and fulfill a lot of roles. but one of the biggest and most important roles i have tried to understand has been the role of teacher. before outdoor science, i had been in a teacher role but in different capacities. more of a spiritual teacher, guide, and mentor. which is totally different than a 5th and 6th grade experiential education teacher. or is it? the content i had been comfortable with teaching changed. from the bible to an outdoor science nature filled book of activities, games, and songs. from teaching about how to follow Jesus, to how to experience photosynthesis, the water cycle, and how to have adventures in nature. it went from leading small groups of high school girls to a bigger understanding of who God is to leading big groups of pre-pubescent kids on nature hikes, leading them to a bigger understanding of who THEY were. many things changed in my teaching...and Lord knows i've learned a lot. and not the easy way.

i would say that it took me a good year to really understand what it means to be a good teacher, what it looks like to not simply offer the answer or the solution to the problem, but to create the existence of a question, and how to be a support to my students, not in the way i thought they needed to be supported, but the way each individual kid needed to be supported. it came with a lot of frustration. a lot of being frustrated at myself for not being good enough. and frustrated at my students for not fulfilling my unfair expectations. it came with a lot of tears. it came with confusion (why am i here? how much do i really care about this? how can i be better? do i want to be better?) but i think most of all, it came with a lot of encouragement, support, and affirmation of those around me who were attempting the same thing i was: to be a good teacher. i'm not sure i would've got through this job without the people who were always right there to remind me of who i am, what my gifts are, and that this place wouldn't be the same without me, that the students in my trail groups need me and what i have to offer. i'm forever indebted to those people. they kept me sane.

what has taken me a long time to understand (why is it that it takes so long to understand the simplest of ideas?) is that good teaching is creating a space where there is open communication to ask questions fearlessly, and for both teacher and student to provide their life experiences as the means of their most valuable source or growth. but of course, this must be paired with a large amount of trust, which isn't easy to get in just 5 days, let alone with middle schoolers. something i've been noticing with my students, and even with my staff, is the importance of making them feel valuable, like they have something to offer to the whole. insecurity about our own abilities never really goes away as we get older. our gifts always need to be drawn out, affirmed, and challenged.

i've been reading henri nouwen's book "reaching out" and something he says as he is writing about the movement from hostility to hospitality, is that "a good host is the one who believes that his guest is carrying a promise he wants to reveal to anyone who shows genuine interest" and "we will never believe that we have anything to give unless there is someone who is able to receive." i am beginning to understand how much this is true of not just my peers, but all people who come through my story. right now these kids are a huge part of this chapter of my story. and i have no doubt that they have a promise they want to share with me. all i have to do is show that i want to hear it. easier said than done.

Jesus did not just teach. He reached out to our most personal needs. my prayer is that i can continue to learn how to do this well with these kids, and with each person that comes through my story. and that i would learn how to reveal my promise to them.