it's a bird! it's a plane! no...it's a butterfly.

I was listening to a Tim Keller sermon the other day while running on one of the exhilarating treadmill's of the Y; I happened to turn on my ipod and it was the first thing to come on the shuffle.  It was the first of a series called "Living with the end in view." My cousin, Parker, has said this phrase to me over the past few years. Anytime I start to worry or become frustrated, he will tell me to stay strong and keep living with the end in view. I can remember some of the first few times he said it to me- I would just say "I know," when really I had no idea what he was talking about...and I may never fully understand the depth and freedom of those words, but I would like to think I'm becoming more aware of their meaning and what it looks like to actually live them out.


Throughout the sermon, Keller told a short story about a friend of his who was a missionary. He said the man was struggling with finding a sense of fulfillment as a missionary and began questioning why God had put him where he was.  The friend wanted to know what God was expecting him to do next in order to feel as if he had answered his calling; he was living everyday waiting for God to remove his burdens. The friend goes on to explain how he was walking home one afternoon and he looked over and saw a butterfly struggling to get out of its cocoon. The man watched for a while before he couldn't take it anymore. He got out his pocket knife (I'd like to think it was a Swiss army knife), and he cut a tiny slit in the cocoon so as to free what he expected to be a full-grown butterfly. Unfortunately, as he watched the butterfly effortlessly make its way out of the cocoon, he realized it hadn't fully transformed- it was half butterfly, half caterpillar. He was heartbroken. He wanted to relieve the creature of its struggle, and because of this, it was then forced to live a life of constant struggle- the caterpillar would never become the butterfly it was meant to be. It would always be deformed.  


This analogy, to me, was an eye opener I didn't want at the time. I often find, when I am going through a valley, that I want out of it as soon as possible. I want to hike out of it, no matter how slippery the sides are; No matter how steep and hard the fall would be. I want to drop everything I'm carrying, no matter how much I may need it once I get out, because it's too heavy to carry at the time. It becomes almost impossible, in those moments, to be swept away. To let go of that tiny, dried up branch and let this life carry me down stream. To fight my way out of the cocoon, because without the struggle I will walk through life aimlessly deformed. 


All of this immediately makes me think of Psalm 23.


The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.


I can remember memorizing this as a kid- and I can honestly say I had no idea how beautiful these words were at the time.


He is our shepherd. He leads us. He restores us. He is with us. He comforts us. He is our protector, provider, our Father and our redeemer. He is our everything. 


This summer is going to be a major time of transition for me. I'll be leaving my job, leaving the country, starting grad school in the fall and I have no idea how any of this is going to look. One thing I am sure of, one thing I have confidence in, is going to Ukraine to see these amazing kids. We are flying to Ukraine on June 27. We will fly into Kiev and from there we will take a bus to Kharkov.  I cannot wait to step off that hot, stinky bus after 9 (maybe 10) hours of driving and get to see all their faces. Our struggles may be different, our dreams and aspirations may be polar opposites, but for the time we're at camp, none of that matters. 


The only thing that matters is them.  These kids have so much to offer. So much joy, in spite of their abandonment. So much laughter, in spite of their pain.  I know our Father longs to know them in the same way he longs to know us.  I am beyond blessed to be a part of this trip, and even though life may be stressful at times, it doesn't matter...because we're not truly living unless we're living for Him. It's worth every struggle when we're living with the end in view. 

muddy feet

As a kid I can always remember my mom saying "only boring people get bored" and likewise my dad always had a saying, but it was the opposite (in a sense)..."time flies when you're havin' fun." I must have been having a lot of fun these past weeks because I hadn't realized how long it had been since my last entry. The truth is, though, these past few weeks have been extremely stressful, full of angst, and have involved very little thought outside of my own selfish well-being and desires of my own flesh. I fall back into the hum-drum way of living that our society so easily makes available before I even realize how thoughtless I am towards my friends and even my family.


I recently decided to apply to grad school for social work. Simultaneously, I applied for a teaching fellowship here in Nashville and had an interview a few weeks ago. Three days before that I took the GRE for grad school (which I had about 4 days to study for); While this was happening, I was preparing myself to tell the family I have been working for that I would be going back to school (or teaching) in the fall.  I have been a nanny for two very sweet boys for roughly a year now; seeing as how I am the baby of my family, these two boys have become my little brothers. I love them. I start getting all teary-eyed and quiver-lipped at the thought of leaving them. However, I have prayed long and hard about this next year, and I truly believe God is setting a path for me; although it may be muddy and cobble-stoned right now, I know there will come a day when the soft green-grass cushions my feet below.


So, it was a Friday (about 3 weeks ago). I was to take the GRE the following Wednesday. I had to tell the family I nanny for (partially because a friend was covering for me and they needed to know, but also because this was all happening very fast and I had no idea how to bring it up). When they got home from work that evening, like word-vomit I just blurted it all out. I felt relieved after telling them. They have been so good to me, and they were so supportive when I told them. Phew (wipe the forehead). Now that was done and I had to prepare for the rest of the week. A few days later- GRE- BOOM. Done. A few days after that- fellowship interview- BOOM. Done. Gigantic sigh of relief..nap...gym. Now all I had to do was finish my grad school application and wait to hear about the fellowship interview. Piece of cake.


How exciting, right? Yeah. I was pumped (and at times I still am), until I suddenly realized...wait...what am I going to do if I don't get into grad school? (panic). And what happens if I don't get the teaching fellowship either? (more panic). Who am I to think I will get either thing? (crying...laughing...more crying...panic).


At the time this was happening, I was reading Frederick Buechner's "The Magnificent Defeat" (which I recommend to anybody); he wrote a chapter over the man whose son had an "impure spirit" and Jesus removed that spirit from him...the man goes on to say "“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24). I had been writing (journaling) that morning and had actually written "Lord, forgive me my unbelief, my lack of faith..." and last night at our Bible study we were talking about our lack of faith, our lack of trust for a Father that wants nothing more than for us to seek Him and his will for our life. How can something so beautiful be so readily available? It's not some hidden treasure, it's right in front our faces. I try to complicate things, stress about things and figure out how I am going to fix them; ultimately, I have very little control over the things I cling to for dear life. What freedom is there in worrying about what will happen or won't happen? Surely, "in all things God works together with those who love him to bring about what is good" (Romans 8:28). God is on my side, our side. He is walking this rocky path with us, and when our feet get too sore to walk any further, he picks us up and carries us.


I have a tendency to try and avoid anxiety and stress. I think of ways to ignore it or look past it by setting goals or keeping myself busy; but last night at Bible study we were talking about how Jesus is in the pain with us. He is in our pain. He never leaves our side. I want so badly for it to be June. Not only will I skip all the stress and worry of grad school and the teaching fellowship, but I would leap over any other obstacles and emotions along the way and land in Ukraine with the orphans at summer camp. All the empty space and translucent time leading up to summer camp would be in the past; I am so looking forward to seeing the kids that I'm finding it difficult to live right now. Be here. Be fully present. Be in my pain and my anxiety. Embrace it, learn from it. Be able to see Jesus when I look in the mirror...not just myself. Because I'm not alone, we're not alone; and maybe that's part of my lack of faith, because if I fully trust and believe, then I acknowledge that I can't do it alone. And to be honest, I don't want to do it alone.


I think back to our group in the hotel in Ukraine. So close. So intimate. So frustrating. So vulnerable. Everything was out in the open. No secrets, no hidden emotions. People were tired and cranky, while others were slap-happy and full of excitement. But the most amazing thing of all is that we were all there for the same reason- to share the gospel of Christ- to show love to others. At times it can be difficult to live in such close quarters with very little space and alone time, but I know I miss that- I miss the fellowship and I miss that sense of family. I felt safe. I have to admit I have been searching for that kind of community since we got back, and I am only recently beginning to see that I have been surrounded by it, but my vision has been so skewed; I have been looking ahead, only glancing at my surroundings, not taking a second look. Not even taking a second glance in the mirror, because if I did, I would see that I'm  not alone. 


I know my Father has things planned for me over these next few months that I cannot even begin to imagine. I pray that I can take the time, now and then, to sit down. To be still. To wash my feet of all the mud. If only I could embrace where I am, who I am in Christ's eyes; open my heart to the journey ahead, and live out of hope instead of fear. Jeremiah 29:11 just came to mind: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Who knows what I could miss out on by living for June...who knows what people or situations I could let pass in and out of my life without giving them a second glance. I know I will need to be reminded now and then, but June will be here before I know it...for now...it's Monday. 

...curveball

Where to begin...

The trip to Ukraine was absolutely amazing. Even looking back on it now, it brings a grin to my face. God was at work that week, through each and every person, and those are moments in life that are difficult to put into words (for me at least). We arrived in Kiev, took a van to a university where we stayed the night, and woke up the next day and drove to Kharkov (took about 9 hours). The drive went by surprisingly fast, but I give all the credit to the scenery; it was breathtaking, everything blanketed in snow. There was a peace about that kind of scene that I haven't witnessed much in life.

The first day (Wednesday) was so much fun. We went to an orphanage called Nova Vadalaga just a few minutes from our hotel. This is the orphanage where I got to meet Zhenya- a 12 year old boy I've been praying for through Midtown. I was THRILLED when I got to meet him (which probably freaked him out a little bit), but I couldn't hide how excited I was. At first he was a little stand-offish, but by the end of the day, we were best buds- it was amazing. There were so many kids there, and as beautiful as it was for us to be with them, it was so hard to leave. When we left the first night, dozens of the kids walked us out to the bus; it was dark by this time, and of course, our bus was stuck in the snow and ice. We had a translator yell to the boys that we needed their help and they were so excited- it was hilarious and truly amazing at the same time. They all got behind the bus, yelling and laughing, and were able to push the bus out of the snow...they chased the bus away as we drove down the icy road, blowing kisses and screaming things we didn't understand; everyone on the bus was laughing and waving, until we couldn't see or hear them anymore- a deafening silence came over the bus, all that could be heard was the occasional sniffle and a few laughs here and there. That was a painful silence, but it's good to be still like that now and then.

The next day we went Zeleny Gai, an orphanage about thirty minutes from our hotel. At this orphanage, some of the children have special needs (not all of them, though), which made this day a little different than the day before- no better or worse in my opinion- just completely different. The orphans needed more affection than anything, they weren't as worried about what games there were or what candy was being passed around- all they wanted was a simple touch of their hand or a pat on their back. It was a hard day, but I believe God is moving hearts there. He was moving souls that day, even if we couldn't see it right then.

On Friday we were able to return to Nova Vadalaga, which happened to be their Christmas day, which made the day even more special than when we had gone Wednesday. We were able to do more skits, watch a short Madagascar cartoon clip (dubbed in Ukraine, of course), spend more quality time with the kids, and most importantly we were able to sit them down and have some serious discussions with them. I was with a group of girls talking about abstinence, but there were other groups about what it means to love, garbage in and garbage out, and I think there was another one but I can't remember. At first we were skeptical, doubting the girls would participate in the discussion, but to our surprise we barely had to speak at all. No one had ever talked to them about sex before, and for the most part they were glad to talk with us about it- what a blessing that those girls trusted us like that. Truly God has a grip on their hearts, even if it's a tiny grip- and what a delight to get to see it first hand.

Since Friday was their Christmas, when we went to dinner after being at the orphanage all day, we were told some traditional singers wanted to come in and sing for us. I was completely unaware of this, but in Ukraine it is tradition for people to go caroling (in a sense), and dress up in throw-back Ukraine clothing (which is awesome). They go into restaurants and other businesses, not just homes, which I'm jealous of because I wish America still did that kind of thing, and they sing a few songs, maybe take some money, but it was so entertaining. I think we all enjoyed it. Well, we were just finishing dinner, I was sitting with a few girls from the trip, and we heard a knocking noise. There was a window directly behind our table, and when we heard the knock we knew it had to be some of the kids from the orphanage (Nova Vadalaga)- we were so giddy, you would have thought we were five again and it was our Christmas. We ran outside and sure enough there were about 15 kids from the orphanage. What a wonderful way to finish the day, even though it was just as sad to see them walk away for the second time that night. It's amazing how attached you can become to kids, and vice versa, in such a short amount of time. As hard as it was, though, it was worth every single tear. And more.

I could go on and on about the trip, telling each and every tiny detail, but I find I can't describe everything as well as I want to- partially because some of it I selfishly want to remain mine and partially because there are just certain things that are too sweet to put into words. All I know is I can't wait to go back. I hope I get to see the same kids again someday, but even if I don't, the amount of orphans over there is astounding, and their need for love and affection is even more appalling; I feel so blessed to have been a small part of this trip, and to be a part of their lives.

I was reading the Journals of Jim Elliot this morning and there's an entry where he explains how fulfilled he felt, and how he longed to be in Heaven with our Father. He explained how he wanted nothing more than to be with Jesus, and he had been given so many gifts (just to name a few: strength, patience, trust, and love) but this is what he had to say about life, upon his realization:

"Failure means nothing now, only that it taught me life. Success is meaningless, only that it gave me further experience for using the great gift of God- Life. And, Life, I love thee, not because thou art long, or because thou has done great things for me, but simply because I have thee from God. This writing is part of thee, and I am glad to write; not that there is any purpose in it for others- it is simply part of Life, and Life I have come to love."

I long to search my own heart and even more my own soul to love God in such a way. What an encouragement, to strive to love this broken world- not because it has anything to offer- but because from Whom it is being offered. When I look at it like that, my eyes start burning a little...and no, not because I need to blink-- for me, that's one of those "aha!" moments. Life is hard, people are mean (boy, are they ever mean), but that's not why we're here.  I can only imagine getting to a place where I let go of my failures, my continual strive for success, and my desire to have things of this earth. I have been blessed by a Father who truly loves and adores me, and longs to share the joy of this earth with me- why would I deprive myself of that? It's a frustrating cycle, really. 

I know this is long...but as I was writing the paragraph above it popped into my head (you can skip it, but it's basically the end so you might as well finish strong):

Psalm 139:

"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.

You hem me in- behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. 

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"

even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, 

for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.

When I awake, I am still with you.

If only you would slay the wicked, O God! Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!

They speak of you with evil intent; your adversaries misuse your name.

Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord, and abhor those who rise up against you?

I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them as my enemies.

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

I don't thank our Father in Heaven enough for scripture. What a blessing to have the word of our God at our hands anytime we need it...anytime...I definitely take that for granted. I'm finding out, uncomfortably fast, that I take a lot of things for granted. I recently had a bit of a curveball thrown my way, a curveball of life- if you will- and it hurt. Had it happened a few years ago I probably would have opened a bottle of vodka (or whatever I had available), and drank until I either got really mad or threw up (or both, just unsure of what sequence). Praise be to our Lord and Savior, because this time I dove as fast and as hard as I could into Him. I wanted to nestle into His love and security. I wanted to be alone with Him and pray.

One of my favorite Psalms (Psalm 18) says, "He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters...He rescued me because He delighted in me." I long for the orphans in Ukraine to realize that as much as we adore them, their Creator delights in them and loves them beyond compare. My prayer is that in some way or another, the orphans we met (and anyone really) could realize they're worth being rescued. He wants to rescue us, protect us, and love us in a way this world could never offer.

We may live in a beautifully broken world...but we weren't made for it.

chasing shadows

I can't believe we leave tomorrow.

I also can't believe I haven't packed. Well, I can believe that...it probably wasn't the smartest move on my part, but not a lot I can do about it now.

A lot of things have been running through my mind the past week: What are the kids going to think of me? Are they going to like me? Will they open up to me? Am I going to get frostbite? Is the bus going to wreck in the snow? Are we going to get mugged? Is this nasty cough I have going to go away before we leave? What if I'm so sick when we're there that I can't even go see the kids? I can't forget this, I can't forget that....

You get it. It's a long list of thoughts and questions that I shouldn't really worry about.

I went running a few weeks ago. I remember it was one of those runs where you start out and you feel like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. Your joints are frozen, you can't feel your jaw, but for some reason you keep running because you know eventually you will warm up. I was running, and I looked down and I saw my shadow. For some reason or another, I started laughing. I often find myself, in my everyday life, going from one thing to the next, always chasing after something or setting a goal; always wondering what I'm going to do next. Always chasing a shadow I will never be able to catch.

I think a part of me laughed because my shadow looked really goofy with my hat flailing about in the wind, but another part of me laughed because for a moment or two, I chased my shadow (I was bored, obviously). I felt like a 6 year old. And I loved every second of it.

Those moments are few and far between for me, but when they happen, I feel like I am really experiencing what it is to be a daughter. Not just a daughter to my dad, Randall- who is awesome, by the way. But a daughter to Christ. A daughter to my creator. In that moment I was chasing my shadow, I felt as if I was really living. As silly as that may sound. I was being me, playing with my life, this life, and allowing myself to feel the joy of being a daughter of a Creator that adores me every second of everyday.

Unfortunately, I rarely let myself enjoy life in the moment. One simple moment.
I always worry about this or that instead of living, just living.

My prayer for this next week, and I ask all of you who read this to pray for me as well, is that I can be in the moment with these kids and with the amazing group of people I'm going with. I don't want to be distracted by my sore throat and cough, I don't want to lose sight of the ultimate goal because I'm tired or I want to take a shower. I want to be present. I want to be fully there, because that's what makes life beautiful. I don't want to worry and go chasing after my own shadow, I want to rest with my shadow next to me, knowing Jesus is resting with me too.

We had a prayer meeting a few nights ago. This was a worry for a lot of people. We're going to be traveling for two days, only to be there for three and then turn around and travel two days home. We know it's going to be tiring, we know it's going to be cold, we know we're going to be run-down and cranky, but I pray and we all pray that God will give us strength and patience over the next week. Strength to see Him in everything we say and do, and patience with each other and ourselves, and an understanding of being fully present with ourselves and the orphans we will be with.

I am struggling with this post. I want to say a lot more, I want to go into more detail, but I don't want to get lost in the length of the post itself when I'm not even able to put into words what I'm wanting to say. It's a little frustrating, actually. All in all, we are going to need a lot of prayer. No matter how you pray for us, no matter what time of day or where you are, God will hear your prayer and likewise we will need it.

I will admit one thing that is frustrating is here I sit, writing about being present, when I can't even be present in my own writing. My mind is racing...I need to go to the gym, I need to go to the store and get this and that and don't forget this (write that down..where's my paper?).  Talk about a basket case.

I just took a deep breath. A sigh, if you will. I feel surprisingly relaxed.
That was a good moment.
I'll end on that.

UKRAINE OR BUST