Adios, Glenwood

I moved out of Glenwood, my old neighborhood, last weekend. It was a pretty abrupt change, and I'm mourning the loss of some wonderful neighbors, the awesome diversity there, being nearby some students that are involved at my church, and two amazing housemates who became some of my closest friends. I've been struggling with how me being there was effective for such a short period, but perhaps it was not so much for the benefit of others, but for what God wanted to teach me. I've learned a lot in the past few months about God's heart for the poor and for racial reconciliation, about incarnational and relational ministry, about loving beyond my limits, about patience and getting out of my comfort zone, about fear and the one who conquers it, about living communally with others who share your vision, and about how to listen to the Spirit's leading. And what's exciting is that I have so much more to learn!

Even though leaving Glenwood is pretty heartrending, I've moved back in with my sister, brother-in-law, and my beautiful niece, which makes me joyful and thankful! They have been so flexible with all of my life changes this year. I'm grateful for this time with them before I leave for Bolivia. However, whenever I drive around my old neighborhood, I still feel like that's home. I'm trusting that God will make a way for my new place in La Paz to feel like home, too.

Thank you, Lord for Glenwood, for changes, and for the people you put in my life, even if only for a short while.

happy belated, kel!

I neglected to do my other post on Monday of this week, which was my big sis's birthday. Alas, my life story is "better late than never." So even though I celebrated with her, I wanted to give a blog shout-out to my homegirl Kelly. The form of this little ditty isn't meant to be taken seriously (not like the beautiful poem she wrote for her daughter), but the words are sincere. Think of it as white-girl rap. Or maybe a second grade poem. Regardless, I praise Jesus for your life, Pookey! I love you!

If you don't know this girl, you're missing out

because she's one of the coolest ever. When I was about

three years old, I thought she was best ballerina in the world.

She wore a pretty tutu and I wanted to dance and twirl

just like her. So I followed in her footsteps gladly.

I remember when we fought in the backseat of the car, madly

glaring out the window

with a wall of pillows

in between us to keep us enemies from hitting again.

Then five minutes later she was my best friend.

I think even then I realized how much forgiveness and love she had for me,

her younger sister that could annoy her incessantly.

I recall when I was in elementary school

and she wasn't too cool

to hang out with her little sis. In fact we shared secrets and laughter

and even friends. I recognized after

that she could have neglected me. But never did she

abandon me. That kind of sister love is something you don't see

every day. Every day of middle school I wanted to be

just like her. So much so that I borrowed her clothes religiously

and teachers called me "Kelly." I was a cheerleader then and

it was largely because I had watched my sister in the stands

cheering on the team.

I wanted that to be me

because I so much admired her. In high school when life starts getting rougher

I assumed our relationship would suffer

because my best friend and sister had moved away

to college. But it did not. She has a way

of making the distance seem shorter with cards,

calls, and emails, full of love and life, even though she was such a far

distance. Although we grew as individuals during that time,

and even though those years were supposedly her prime,

she never failed to be there for me,

encouraging me, giving me advice, loving me

so well. She's one who allows me to speak and knows when I should refrain.

Her gentle spirit validates yet speaks the truth in love, even if it's painful.

She's been heart-broken for me, prayed with me,

and stayed with me

as my best friend through it all.

And she doesn't realize at all

what an impact she makes by simply being her,

the beautiful, wonderful, joyful her,

the listening, loving, and nurturing lady,

the wonderful mommy, the faithful wifey, compassion never fading,

a delighted-in, treasured, precious daughter of the King,

the beloved of Christ over whom he sings.

Kel, I cannot express adequately in words or rhyme

how blessed I am to have had the time

I have had with you, sharing a friendship with no end...

always my sister, always my friend.

it's so hard to say goodbye

Yesterday was bittersweet. I took my ol' faithful dog Jesse to a new home. He'd been staying at my parents' house out of town for a few months because he was just too big for my little house with no fenced-in yard. Every time I visited my folks, I looked forward to him running out to my car, chasing me around the yard, and snuggling with me like he was a 65-lb stuffed animal. He is quite possibly the sweetest, most gentle animal in the world. But since I leave for Bolivia in a couple months, and since he was a little high-maintanence for my parents, I had to search for a good, new home for my friend. Last night was his first night with an incredible family who will no doubt treat Jesse like a prince! I couldn't have imagined a better home for him..and he probably couldn't either. What dog wouldn't want free range of the house and a one acre backyard? Still, I think I was secretly and selfishly hoping for the family not to like him so my parents could keep him and I could still see him.


It is very difficult, sometimes painful, to say goodbye. Only when it's gone does it seem that I really appreciate what I had. Maybe this was God's way of preparing me to say goodbye to people in a couple months. Although he's sending me to a new home and new family in Bolivia, there's nothing that can replace the space in my heart for my family and home here.

I am trusting that God is going to take care of my friends and family in my absence the way he is for Jesse. I want to cherish every moment I have with the people I love, try not to take them for granted, and let them know how thankful I am for them in my life. So to the handful of people that actually read this, I appreciate you and thank God for you. You have blessed me in more ways than I can express. As the reality of leaving the continent (sounds slightly more drastic than leaving the country!) for a couple years settles in, I want to remember Jehovah Jireh and his provision for people I love and for me. Friends and family, thank you for loving me so well. In the words from "Annie," "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

But no need to be too sad yet...I still have about two months. :)

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

I think that Sesame Street song would sound a little different if written about the people in my neighborhood. (For starters, it'd have to have a good beat to it so you could bump it in your car and make the windows rattle.) I live in an area near downtown that's very diverse, but most of the youth I know come from families that are lower SES, single-parent (usually mom or grandma) homes. I've discovered a tiny bit of what life is like for them. Sometimes in my (often self-righteous) anger, I get frustrated with people who make derrogatory or hateful comments about people in situations like those of my neighbors, and I think, "What do they know? They just don't get it. If they only had to walk a mile in a pregnant teen's shoes or be a single mom working three jobs to make ends meet, they might have a little more compassion."

But recently, I've had to evaluate my attitude. Even though I live in this "rough" part of town, do I know really understand what life is like for my some of my neighbors? Have I ever had to go without electricity because I couldn't pay my bill? Have I ever had to take public transportation because I couldn't afford to get my car fixed or because I had no car? Have I ever had to go without a meal, hoping the next one would come in a couple days after a paycheck? No. And these are only obstacles in the physical realm, not even including the feelings of desperation, despair, neglect, hurt, and oppression that seem to cycle through some of these families.

Can I ever fully relate to the issues these families face? Probably not, since for whatever reason I am blessed with friends and familiy who would never leave me out in the cold, figuratively or literally speaking. But I can ask the Lord to continue to show me glimpses into my neighbors' lives and ask him to break my heart for them. Not only does he answer my requests, but then he reminds me of his redemptive plan for these families. And although he is the only one that can save and redeem, he allows ordinary Joes (or Janes in my case) to see these situations of hurt and sadness and act for change. He has allowed me this year to see the needs of the marginalized, and develop relationships with them. Even upon befriending them, I will never completely understand what life is like in the "hood," but I'm forever grateful for opportunities to bring the hope of Christ to hopeless lives. Jesus completely understands their life circumstances, and I want so much to communicate that to my friends here by the way I live. With only a couple more months in my neighborhood, I want to seize every opportunity to allow God to open my eyes to the needs of his people, and respond in a manner worthy of the gospel.

If Only I Were an Elephant

If I could be any animal, I'd want to be an elephant, hands-down. Why? Because an elephant because it never forgets. I do. All the time. I wonder if it's related to my Direction Impairment. Maybe I need to be more of an active listener. And keep a journal with me and write things down the moment I think of them. And maybe have less things in my schedule to remember. Regardless of the solution, the first step is recognizing the problem: It's very hard for me to remember and very easy for me to forget. I'd like to take this time to apologize to all those who have fallen victim to my forgetfulness.

Jesus would be included in that list of folks. I don't like the fact that I forget, but how frequently I do! I forget who he is and who I am as his daughter. I can't seem to remember on a daily basis to fight the struggles that inevitably will come. Most of all, I hate the fact that I forget to spend time with him.

I don't choose to forget; it just happens. Living life for Christ doesn't come naturally. In fact, by default I will always follow MY way rather than God's way. I must refuse to except that, though, knowing that God's way is far better than mine. I have to choose to remember. I must choose to fight those battles that come my way rather than forget about them. I want to choose to remain in the Lord's love for me, remembering who he really is and who I am as his beloved.

Lord, help me to remember.

Laughin' Maddie

I love my sweet baby niece. Thank you, God, for Maddie Grace. (Please ignore the puking sounds in the background. Or do as Madison does and laugh at them.)

Thirsty

I went to Heaven the other night with some friends. No, I was not dreaming. I went to Heaven night club on Elm St. Although the Friday-night club is on the rooftop in open-air, the dj was really good, and it was the nicest club at which I have gotten my "dance on," if you will, I couldn't get over the irony of its name.

I find at various places of nighttime entertainment such as these, the goal of most of the attendees is to find someone to hook up with. More profoundly, most club-goers are trying to satisfy some unmet need or desire, mostly for attention, affection, and maybe even a little romance and love. What's sad is that, like escaping through alcohol, the emptiness always comes back. As I was people-watching that night (which is almost as fun as dancing), I was reminded of Will Dungee's sermon the other week about filling our hearts and lives with things other than Jesus, only to feel more parched than ever. (Disclaimer: The intent of this and my other posts is not to sound self-righteous or judgmental. A great way God points out yucky stuff in my heart is learning through others' actions and mistakes. If anyone is like me, I have a very long list of the latter you can learn from.)

Here's my conclusion: Attention and affection from the opposite sex, when it becomes your pursuit and goal (as is the case most of the time at the clubs), is like drinking sand. You expect that it will quench your thirst, only to be disappointed when you become thirstier than ever. In a culture that idolizes lust and disguises it as love, we worship being "in love" and expect it to satisfy us, even if we're discontent with other things in life. We end up getting burned by the other's actions or burned out from trying to make things work in a relationship and are left in the dust, drinking the ashes. We're left thirsty.

My heart aches for people that don't know or haven't heard the real story about the Living Water. This water doesn't leave you feeling empty or guilty. It gives life. It satisfies. And it's the Holy Spirit of Jesus Christ. Only an intimate relationship with Him can fill our cups to overflowing. It's not that going downtown is an empty thing devoid of any good purpose or that looking for a relationship is pointless and dumb. But it makes me wonder for others and especially myself, if my soul is thristy, why do I keep filling my cup with sandy things? Why not take the free gift of the water of life that Christ so willingly offers? It seems ironic that a place called "Heaven" could leave me feeling so dry when the one I read about is a place where I will never thirst again.

Lord, I want to stop looking to other things for satisfaction and let you satisfy my thirst on earth. I look forward to the day when I will never thirst again.