Worry is what happens when you take God out of the equation. It sounds simple, but if you think about it, the implications can be huge.
I'm a dreamer and a detail person...it's a frustrating combination sometimes. Most of my ideas are immediately followed by a deluge of details and "what ifs." It can be downright paralyzing. As I was wading through a discouraging onslaught yesterday, God stopped me and reminded me that I had left Him out of the equation.
So, for 2012, I am committing to keep God in my equations. I will still be asking "what if" because it is important, but I will follow what question with a greater one.
So, what if God...?
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
Redeeming My Limits - Part 2
I'm grinning slightly at the irony that surrounds writing this entry. I've been planning to write on this subject for a while now. Up until Tuesday it was going to be a retrospective piece. In this second part of "Redeeming My Limits" (read Part 1 here), I was going to reflect on how God had used my limits to teach me about accepting sudden redirection and how He had redeemed the disappointment I experienced with my back injury over the past five years.
To sum up, I was going to tell the tale of how the change of my summer plans led to an unexpected internship, which turned into a job which led to the freelancing journey that placed me in the path of Speedy. Eventually Speedy recruited me to work at Glorieta - the amazingly beautiful piece of New Mexico where my dreams of wrangling in the wild west were fulfilled. My time at Glorieta in turn and quite unexpectedly led me to my current job where I use the skills that I learned in that unexpected internship and subsequent job. The skill with which each of those threads was woven is incredible. It was a tumultuous journey at the time, but the view looking back is incredible.
It is that view that allows me to grin as I write that my trip to Ecuador was canceled on Tuesday. Seemingly out of the blue, Samaritan's Purse has decided to close their base in Ecuador and thus is canceling all of the trips they had planned to send there. After I got the call on Tuesday, I kept asking myself if it had really happened or if I had dreamed it. This process seems so easy for other people - they sign up for mission trips and they go on mission trips. However, this is the second time I have received a resounding "no go" after following God's leading to sign up.
Here is where I come to the complexities of what I feel versus what I know. The feeling part is quite disappointed and wants to pitch a small fit about "my" mission trips. However, deep down I know that they are not mine to begin with and am prompted to take a look at the intricate tapestry behind me. The same loving Father who wove those threads is at work here too. And so, in the midst of the dark threads of disappointment, there is also a glittering thread of hope. The trail has turned, but that does not mean that the adventure has ended, it just means that it will look different than expected. And, if recent history is any indication, the unexpected can be quite exciting. And so we journey on...
P.S. I'm still looking for an international missions opportunity between now and April... if anyone has any ideas, let me know!
To sum up, I was going to tell the tale of how the change of my summer plans led to an unexpected internship, which turned into a job which led to the freelancing journey that placed me in the path of Speedy. Eventually Speedy recruited me to work at Glorieta - the amazingly beautiful piece of New Mexico where my dreams of wrangling in the wild west were fulfilled. My time at Glorieta in turn and quite unexpectedly led me to my current job where I use the skills that I learned in that unexpected internship and subsequent job. The skill with which each of those threads was woven is incredible. It was a tumultuous journey at the time, but the view looking back is incredible.
It is that view that allows me to grin as I write that my trip to Ecuador was canceled on Tuesday. Seemingly out of the blue, Samaritan's Purse has decided to close their base in Ecuador and thus is canceling all of the trips they had planned to send there. After I got the call on Tuesday, I kept asking myself if it had really happened or if I had dreamed it. This process seems so easy for other people - they sign up for mission trips and they go on mission trips. However, this is the second time I have received a resounding "no go" after following God's leading to sign up.
Here is where I come to the complexities of what I feel versus what I know. The feeling part is quite disappointed and wants to pitch a small fit about "my" mission trips. However, deep down I know that they are not mine to begin with and am prompted to take a look at the intricate tapestry behind me. The same loving Father who wove those threads is at work here too. And so, in the midst of the dark threads of disappointment, there is also a glittering thread of hope. The trail has turned, but that does not mean that the adventure has ended, it just means that it will look different than expected. And, if recent history is any indication, the unexpected can be quite exciting. And so we journey on...
P.S. I'm still looking for an international missions opportunity between now and April... if anyone has any ideas, let me know!
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Redeeming My Limits - Part 1
At this point five years ago, I was preparing to go on my first
international mission trip. The team of students from my college was
meeting regularly to plan and pray for our early March trip to Puebla,
Mexico. After years of reading missionary stories and dreaming of where I
would go as soon as I had the chance, it was finally here! I was
thrilled. Then, just weeks before we were slated to leave, my life
hit a sudden and unexpected speed bump.
I was a fairly active and healthy twenty-something. But, the morning after an intramural basketball game, I woke up and knew that something was very wrong. What had been occasional back pain had suddenly flared into a blinding pain that I could not escape. After a miraculously fast MRI, I went to see the sports medicine specialist who had just opened a clinic on campus that month (another miracle). He started to give me a lecture on how some people just suffer from chronic back pain and I asked him if he had looked at my MRI. He left the room to do so and returned wide eyed. "You're in a lot of pain, aren't you?" It was all I could do to not roll my eyes and groan. "Yes, I am," I answered. "You have the back of a forty year-old steel worker," he replied and proceeded to tell me that I had two herniated discs in the lumbar region of my spine.
There was no good explanation for why the discs were herniated, they just were. And that meant major and immediate lifestyle changes for me. No lifting anything over five pounds (my laptop at the time weighed more than that), no sitting for more than twenty minutes at a time (yes, professor, I will be standing up at regular intervals during your class) and, if you make this any worse, you may lose function below the waist (ie, if walking is important to you, you'd better follow instructions). The next week was a blur of coping with pain, barely managing to get through classes, learning how to do homework while flat on my back and discovering that my body did not like the steroids the doctor prescribed to bring down the swelling (oh, and since your blood pressure has shot through the roof, make sure you don't do anything that raises your pulse).
Exhausted, frustrated and scared, I prayed with my team that God would heal me and intervene to somehow allow me to still take the trip to Mexico. The doctor indulgently gave me a week to see what would happen and then gave me a firm "no way." The risk of further injury without access to good medical care was too much - and besides, the plane ride would be pure torture as I still could not sit comfortably. And so, they went without me. I was heartbroken. However, life had suddenly become so painful and complicated that I did not have the strength to deal with it in the moment. So, I gave the pieces to God and asked Him to hold them for me. Quietly and gently He assured me that He was not just holding the pieces, but was holding me as well. He knew my pain (Isaiah 53:4).
After several months of strict limits, NSAIDs and physical therapy, the pain gradually subsided and it became apparent that I would retain the use of my legs and lead at least a semi-normal life. God was answering my prayer for healing, albeit much more slowly and less dramatically that I would have preferred. It also became apparent that the road to recovery would be a long, slow one with many changes and lasting limitations. Many of my plans - including my dream of international mission work - were put on hold indefinitely as I worked to get better and wondered how much better I would get.
Complete surrender is never easy, but when you're literally flat on your back, you don't have much choice in the matter. God has used that extremely painful time in my life to significantly redirect my path and draw me closer to Him. Over the last five years, He has not only "taken away" (Job 1:21) but also given me more than I could dream. Daily, He is working things together for good as only He can (Romans 8:28). He is redeeming my limits (more on this later). And, in that neat way that only a loving Father can, He has brought many of my dreams full circle in ways that I never expected...
At this point, five years later, I'm preparing to go on my first international mission trip. In February, I will be traveling as a part of a team of volunteers with Samaritan's Purse to Ecuador. We will be part of an on-going effort to help build a structure for a local church that currently meets in three homes. And though I'm not the most obvious choice for a construction trip, God has opened the door for me to serve in some auxiliary ways, including doing after-school Bible story and song time with some of the children (so fun!). Stay tuned for more details and stories of how God continues to redeem my limits for His glory.
To be continued...
I was a fairly active and healthy twenty-something. But, the morning after an intramural basketball game, I woke up and knew that something was very wrong. What had been occasional back pain had suddenly flared into a blinding pain that I could not escape. After a miraculously fast MRI, I went to see the sports medicine specialist who had just opened a clinic on campus that month (another miracle). He started to give me a lecture on how some people just suffer from chronic back pain and I asked him if he had looked at my MRI. He left the room to do so and returned wide eyed. "You're in a lot of pain, aren't you?" It was all I could do to not roll my eyes and groan. "Yes, I am," I answered. "You have the back of a forty year-old steel worker," he replied and proceeded to tell me that I had two herniated discs in the lumbar region of my spine.
There was no good explanation for why the discs were herniated, they just were. And that meant major and immediate lifestyle changes for me. No lifting anything over five pounds (my laptop at the time weighed more than that), no sitting for more than twenty minutes at a time (yes, professor, I will be standing up at regular intervals during your class) and, if you make this any worse, you may lose function below the waist (ie, if walking is important to you, you'd better follow instructions). The next week was a blur of coping with pain, barely managing to get through classes, learning how to do homework while flat on my back and discovering that my body did not like the steroids the doctor prescribed to bring down the swelling (oh, and since your blood pressure has shot through the roof, make sure you don't do anything that raises your pulse).
Exhausted, frustrated and scared, I prayed with my team that God would heal me and intervene to somehow allow me to still take the trip to Mexico. The doctor indulgently gave me a week to see what would happen and then gave me a firm "no way." The risk of further injury without access to good medical care was too much - and besides, the plane ride would be pure torture as I still could not sit comfortably. And so, they went without me. I was heartbroken. However, life had suddenly become so painful and complicated that I did not have the strength to deal with it in the moment. So, I gave the pieces to God and asked Him to hold them for me. Quietly and gently He assured me that He was not just holding the pieces, but was holding me as well. He knew my pain (Isaiah 53:4).
After several months of strict limits, NSAIDs and physical therapy, the pain gradually subsided and it became apparent that I would retain the use of my legs and lead at least a semi-normal life. God was answering my prayer for healing, albeit much more slowly and less dramatically that I would have preferred. It also became apparent that the road to recovery would be a long, slow one with many changes and lasting limitations. Many of my plans - including my dream of international mission work - were put on hold indefinitely as I worked to get better and wondered how much better I would get.
Complete surrender is never easy, but when you're literally flat on your back, you don't have much choice in the matter. God has used that extremely painful time in my life to significantly redirect my path and draw me closer to Him. Over the last five years, He has not only "taken away" (Job 1:21) but also given me more than I could dream. Daily, He is working things together for good as only He can (Romans 8:28). He is redeeming my limits (more on this later). And, in that neat way that only a loving Father can, He has brought many of my dreams full circle in ways that I never expected...
At this point, five years later, I'm preparing to go on my first international mission trip. In February, I will be traveling as a part of a team of volunteers with Samaritan's Purse to Ecuador. We will be part of an on-going effort to help build a structure for a local church that currently meets in three homes. And though I'm not the most obvious choice for a construction trip, God has opened the door for me to serve in some auxiliary ways, including doing after-school Bible story and song time with some of the children (so fun!). Stay tuned for more details and stories of how God continues to redeem my limits for His glory.
To be continued...
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Faith, Hope, Love and Pies
Thinking about holidays, traditions and family this week made me remember just how blessed I am to have had the chance to know all four of my grandparents. Three of the four of them are World War II veterans and all of them grew up during the Great Depression. Their stories of a different era and the lessons they learned have both fascinated me and enriched my life. As I reflected on my relationship with each of them, I recognized unique threads that each one has woven into my life - threads of faith, hope and love. And while each one wove many threads of each, these are the threads that shine brightest.
Grandaddy C. passed away when I was young - around nine, I think. My memories of him are mostly echos of his booming voice and imposing presence. However, in the short time that I knew him, he instilled in me the hope of things to come. He was enthralled with the second coming and lived in expectation of Christ's return. Young as I was, his example left a deep impression on me and helped me learn that there is more to this life than meets the eye.
Nanny met Grandaddy C. in the operating room when she was an Army nurse and he was a sergeant. They married after the war - and after she resigned her commission so that (she says) he wouldn't have to salute when seeing her in uniform (since she ranked him). Her stories of faith and waiting for God have been inspiring to me in my own journey. From being raised as a farm girl in Indiana to joining the Army and meeting her husband to raising her family and becoming a grandmother and great-grandmother, her life is marked time and time again by God's hand of provision and grace. And the stories that I've heard many times still serve as a reminder that God is good...and often provide many laughs along the way.
Grandaddy H. was also in the Army (or "the service" as he calls it) and served in several countries overseas during the war. He has stories too - stories that he does not often share because the memories are too painful. He served in love during the war and has continued to serve his family with love for many years. He has took a vested interest in each grandchild from an early age and did his best to make sure we saw success. For me, that took the form of making sure I had access to a computer and a piano from an early age. Both instruments have been major factors in my life and he has followed my journey with great interest and provided much encouragement along the way.
Gammy - who waited faithfully on this side of the pond during the war - also loved us well. My memories of her are filled with special holiday traditions, late night "tea parties" with special deserts, Wheel of Fortune and games of Rook. She was the epitome of a gracious hostess and worked hard to make sure that any occasion - major holidays or minor victories - was properly celebrated.
So, as I walked through just my second Thanksgiving without Gammy's gracious presence at the table, and as I made her pies, I prayed that the pumpkin and pecan are just a small part of the continuing legacy of faith, hope and love entrusted to me by my four amazing grandparents.
Grandaddy C. passed away when I was young - around nine, I think. My memories of him are mostly echos of his booming voice and imposing presence. However, in the short time that I knew him, he instilled in me the hope of things to come. He was enthralled with the second coming and lived in expectation of Christ's return. Young as I was, his example left a deep impression on me and helped me learn that there is more to this life than meets the eye.
Nanny met Grandaddy C. in the operating room when she was an Army nurse and he was a sergeant. They married after the war - and after she resigned her commission so that (she says) he wouldn't have to salute when seeing her in uniform (since she ranked him). Her stories of faith and waiting for God have been inspiring to me in my own journey. From being raised as a farm girl in Indiana to joining the Army and meeting her husband to raising her family and becoming a grandmother and great-grandmother, her life is marked time and time again by God's hand of provision and grace. And the stories that I've heard many times still serve as a reminder that God is good...and often provide many laughs along the way.
Grandaddy H. was also in the Army (or "the service" as he calls it) and served in several countries overseas during the war. He has stories too - stories that he does not often share because the memories are too painful. He served in love during the war and has continued to serve his family with love for many years. He has took a vested interest in each grandchild from an early age and did his best to make sure we saw success. For me, that took the form of making sure I had access to a computer and a piano from an early age. Both instruments have been major factors in my life and he has followed my journey with great interest and provided much encouragement along the way.
Gammy - who waited faithfully on this side of the pond during the war - also loved us well. My memories of her are filled with special holiday traditions, late night "tea parties" with special deserts, Wheel of Fortune and games of Rook. She was the epitome of a gracious hostess and worked hard to make sure that any occasion - major holidays or minor victories - was properly celebrated.
So, as I walked through just my second Thanksgiving without Gammy's gracious presence at the table, and as I made her pies, I prayed that the pumpkin and pecan are just a small part of the continuing legacy of faith, hope and love entrusted to me by my four amazing grandparents.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Chasing Rainbows
It wasn't a coincidence that I saw the rainbow on the way home from work the other day. No, not on a day when I desperately needed to be reminded of three things. As I was praying for God to help me see, I rounded the corner and gasped. There, arching gloriously across the storm grayed sky shone all seven colors of a rainbow - the first one I'd seen since leaving New Mexico (where such things were a common occurrence). As I continued on my journey home, I began to see that it was much larger than I had originally realized, so I stopped and took a picture and was reminded what beauty can follow a storm.
After a moment of enjoying the beauty before me, I drove on towards home. As I rounded the next bend, I was again taken aback as I realized that this was not just a strip of color, but a full rainbow reaching across the sky seemingly from my house to the distant horizon. I stopped again and stared and was reminded that my God keeps His promises.
As I turned towards home, I lost sight of the rainbow and felt as if I was passing up a precious gift. So, I pulled a u-turn and drove toward the setting sun, hoping to find a better vantage point to enjoy the prismatic colors. As I drove, I realized that anyone approaching from that direction could not see the vibrant streaks of color. As I reversed and again caught sight of my rainbow, I realized that on my drive home I had been uniquely positioned to enjoy the beauty God had set before me.
People driving west must have wondered what that girl was doing on the side of the one lane country road staring at the sky with an ear-to-ear grin that grew even wider as the rainbow doubled for a moment before starting to fade with the setting sun. They could not see the beauty overhead or feel the glory that comes with those thin places where Heaven seems not so far away. And it was only by God's grace that I could - simply because I was where He wanted me at that moment. I didn't see it coming, didn't plan for it and certainly didn't make it happen. But, because I was there, looking up after the storm, I caught a glimpse of the hand of my great, promise-keeping God.
After a moment of enjoying the beauty before me, I drove on towards home. As I rounded the next bend, I was again taken aback as I realized that this was not just a strip of color, but a full rainbow reaching across the sky seemingly from my house to the distant horizon. I stopped again and stared and was reminded that my God keeps His promises.
As I turned towards home, I lost sight of the rainbow and felt as if I was passing up a precious gift. So, I pulled a u-turn and drove toward the setting sun, hoping to find a better vantage point to enjoy the prismatic colors. As I drove, I realized that anyone approaching from that direction could not see the vibrant streaks of color. As I reversed and again caught sight of my rainbow, I realized that on my drive home I had been uniquely positioned to enjoy the beauty God had set before me.
People driving west must have wondered what that girl was doing on the side of the one lane country road staring at the sky with an ear-to-ear grin that grew even wider as the rainbow doubled for a moment before starting to fade with the setting sun. They could not see the beauty overhead or feel the glory that comes with those thin places where Heaven seems not so far away. And it was only by God's grace that I could - simply because I was where He wanted me at that moment. I didn't see it coming, didn't plan for it and certainly didn't make it happen. But, because I was there, looking up after the storm, I caught a glimpse of the hand of my great, promise-keeping God.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Walk Easy
Waiting. Not my favorite word. I prefer words like go, move forward, and take it and run. Such words bring the fresh wind of adventure with them and make me feel excited. But waiting...waiting makes me feel stuck. I've been intensely struggling with waiting for a while now - spinning my wheels until the ruts are deeper than my tires, chomping at the bit until my mouth bleeds - getting frustrated with myself and with God because I couldn't make sense of it all.
Enter Cinnamon - a little, sorrel Quarter Horse mare that I started riding when I sub as a wrangler on the occasional weekend. What started as a working relationship grew into a hobby and I currently ride her at least once a week. Cinnamon is very smart, sensitive and talented. She is also extremely energetic and likes to run - all the time. One day we were out riding in the pasture and I started getting frustrated because I could not get her to walk. She was interpreting my every cue as a signal to move forward. However, that's not what I wanted. I wanted her to slow down, soften up and listen to me. Not that I have anything against running - I too love to run. However, I wanted her to quiet herself and understand what I was asking so that we could not just run but also harness that energy and dance. Every time she tried to rush ahead of me, I would pull her back and breathe, "waaaalllk... easy girl, just walk." And so we walked...and walked... and walked.
And as we walked, God placed His finger on my heart and told me that Cinnamon and I had a lot in common. I too needed to learn to discern the subtlety of different cues so that we could dance. In my rushing I was not only wasting energy that was better spent elsewhere but also passing up the opportunity to learn something greater. In order to attain that, I had to wait - listen and walk easy.
1 Peter 3:4 states that a gentle and quiet spirit is precious to God. I think that His response to our willing waiting is probably along the lines of the pleasure I felt today when, after several weeks of walking, Cinnamon and I started to dance a little. I felt her settle down and listen - she steadied her pace and bent under light pressure from my leg as she played with the bit in her mouth waiting for her next cue from my hands. I thought, "Yes, here we go!" Now, we can start to do great things.
Enter Cinnamon - a little, sorrel Quarter Horse mare that I started riding when I sub as a wrangler on the occasional weekend. What started as a working relationship grew into a hobby and I currently ride her at least once a week. Cinnamon is very smart, sensitive and talented. She is also extremely energetic and likes to run - all the time. One day we were out riding in the pasture and I started getting frustrated because I could not get her to walk. She was interpreting my every cue as a signal to move forward. However, that's not what I wanted. I wanted her to slow down, soften up and listen to me. Not that I have anything against running - I too love to run. However, I wanted her to quiet herself and understand what I was asking so that we could not just run but also harness that energy and dance. Every time she tried to rush ahead of me, I would pull her back and breathe, "waaaalllk... easy girl, just walk." And so we walked...and walked... and walked.
And as we walked, God placed His finger on my heart and told me that Cinnamon and I had a lot in common. I too needed to learn to discern the subtlety of different cues so that we could dance. In my rushing I was not only wasting energy that was better spent elsewhere but also passing up the opportunity to learn something greater. In order to attain that, I had to wait - listen and walk easy.
1 Peter 3:4 states that a gentle and quiet spirit is precious to God. I think that His response to our willing waiting is probably along the lines of the pleasure I felt today when, after several weeks of walking, Cinnamon and I started to dance a little. I felt her settle down and listen - she steadied her pace and bent under light pressure from my leg as she played with the bit in her mouth waiting for her next cue from my hands. I thought, "Yes, here we go!" Now, we can start to do great things.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
When you can't "click here"
There are some times in life when you just can't Google the answer. Where an internet search will do you no good. In our fast paced, hyperlinked culture that brings a sense of helplessness. Our "crystal ball" has gone dark. What we most want to know is no longer at our finger tips. It brings us to the remembrance of how little we really know.
We are not the omniscient beings we like to consider ourselves. In times like these we remember how little control we really have. It brings us to our knees - where we should have been all along - in front of the only Omniscient, all powerful, all sufficient One who loves us more than we can imagine and who has us engraved on His hand. Here we wait and hope, pray and praise expecting the results that only He can bring - a God sized answer for our God sized question.
We are not the omniscient beings we like to consider ourselves. In times like these we remember how little control we really have. It brings us to our knees - where we should have been all along - in front of the only Omniscient, all powerful, all sufficient One who loves us more than we can imagine and who has us engraved on His hand. Here we wait and hope, pray and praise expecting the results that only He can bring - a God sized answer for our God sized question.
More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. - Romans 5:3-5 ESVAnd then, when we have realized that no one other than God can fulfill our hope, there is none other who can receive glory when the answer comes. So we wait for the victory that is coming.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Story Bricks
It's been over two years since I've blogged. I never really decided to stop, it just sort of faded into the background during two whirlwind years - an internship and then moving to Texas for my first "real" job. (I'd argue that the internship was pretty real, though!) I've thought about starting back several times, but each time have backed off because I couldn't decide where to start. I was intimidated by the thought of having to write a definitive post about the last two years.
Then, I saw this talk about using social media to tell your story in "bricks" - pieces that make up the larger whole. You don't have to share the entire gospel in one tweet. Instead, you build the bigger story one brick at a time. So, I'm not going to narrate all of what God has done in the last two years on one post. However, I'm going to share some bits and pieces because what He is doing is worth sharing.
I see these bits and pieces as cairns - markers that indicate a significant juncture. They're here as a memorial and possibly to help someone else who finds themselves on the same trail. And, maybe, after a while I'll be able to look back and catch a glimpse of the bigger picture - the eternal story that is being woven by the greatest Author of all time.
So, here's my commitment - one post a week from now until the end of the year. No word count, no theme requirement - just something worth sharing. Then, at the end of the year, I'll reevaluate and decide where to go from there. Here we go... journey on!
Then, I saw this talk about using social media to tell your story in "bricks" - pieces that make up the larger whole. You don't have to share the entire gospel in one tweet. Instead, you build the bigger story one brick at a time. So, I'm not going to narrate all of what God has done in the last two years on one post. However, I'm going to share some bits and pieces because what He is doing is worth sharing.
I see these bits and pieces as cairns - markers that indicate a significant juncture. They're here as a memorial and possibly to help someone else who finds themselves on the same trail. And, maybe, after a while I'll be able to look back and catch a glimpse of the bigger picture - the eternal story that is being woven by the greatest Author of all time.
So, here's my commitment - one post a week from now until the end of the year. No word count, no theme requirement - just something worth sharing. Then, at the end of the year, I'll reevaluate and decide where to go from there. Here we go... journey on!
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