Embracing the Silence

My blog may have been pretty quiet over the last few months but quiet is far from what my life has been. These past 3 months have included trials, heartache, confusion, hard decisions, and lots of questions.

And unfortunately, I haven’t gotten to the point of feeling pure joy from it yet, as this passage in James tells me to...

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:2-4)

Maybe it’s because I’m still processing some things and the “perseverance hasn’t finished its work”.

Already though, I have learned some valuable lessons that have matured my faith but the processing, growing and maturing is a struggle for sure. There are days, like today, where I just feel empty and like an emotional wreck but its in those moments when I feel such a strong prompt and desire to withdraw from the world and rest in His arms. And its in these times where I have poured myself into learning more about the woman God has designed me to be.

You know those rare times when you hear a song for the first time and you soak up every word because it seems as if the lyrics have captured your every feeling? A few weeks ago “In Your Arms” by Meredith Andrews came up on my Pandora playlist and yep, that’s where I was. Fully entrenched in this song that has continued to speak to me still. (So much that I bought her album on iTunes... which is a big deal for me since I rarely buy music.)

Here are the lyrics. The first three paragraphs are what really drew me in...

I’m turning the world off

Embracing the silence

Walking away from all the voices

That are Screaming in my ear

I've been too caught up

I've been so stressed out
All of the noise replaced the whisper

That used to be so clear

So I close every door

Put my face back on the floor

And I'm in Your arms

Where I belong

There's no other place for me

Than right where You are


Some things just don't change

When I call Your name

You never hesitate to wrap me in endless grace

When I'm in Your arms

I’m letting my fears go

Giving You control

For You are the one who holds me closer

In my soul's darkest night

Everything I see

Is so temporary

So help me to run the race before me

With eternity in sight

Now I close every door

Put my face back on the floor

To sit at Your feet

At Your table of mercy

To gaze on Your beauty, my Lord


To drink from Your well

And be changed by Your glory

How could I ask for more

Jesus, how could I ask for more

Goodness knows, I have read more books, listened to more worship music, and spent more time praying and journaling than I have over the past year. I was left where the only thing that made sense was to turn the world off, embrace the silence and let God hold me in His arms. It wasn’t completely natural at first, kinda lonely to be honest after how busy I had made myself, but completely wonderful as time went on.

Unfortunately I don’t think I would have gotten to a point where I would have done this had it not been for two situations in my life that happened almost simultaneously. One caused me to take a closer look at my plate and readjust some things in my life and the other caused me to seek out direction for my future. (The latter, I will go into on another post as it deals with the World Race which is something I have more freedom to talk about now.)

So while I haven’t felt “pure joy” yet, as I mentioned above, I have recognized that without everything that happened, God wouldn’t have gotten me to where I am now because I wouldn’t have needed to withdraw from the life I had found myself in. I still feel a little empty and a little lost and that my life is still shaken up a bit but then again as I was rereading through my past journal entries tonight, I guess I kinda asked for it...

From 7/1/11 “...Flood through my heart like a mighty rushing wave, removing everything in its path that doesn’t belong. Wreck me to where all the pieces are left for only you to put back together....Explode in my life and just leave me exuding your love, your patience, your forgiveness, your insight... God these are things I need to get past where I am right now...”

I know I’m rambling, as I always do, but all of this to say... I’ve come to the understanding that it is a painful honor to be loved so much by my Father that He brings trials into my life to test my faith in order to refine me, to empty me, to mature me, to ultimately draw me closer to Him. Right now its a bittersweet but its a joy that will be realized as he puts the pieces back together and fills me back up with all of Him-His love, patience, forgiveness and insight.

What Do You Do?

What do you do when everything you dreamed of and planned for your life starts to pale in comparison to new desires that are filtering in?

This has been a recurring question of mine over the past few months and evermore so when I was in Haiti last week. Dreams of a stellar career climbing the corporate ladder, a handsome man who brings home the bacon, 3.5 kids spaced out perfectly, a house on the coast with the boat in the backyard, and so much more. None of that seems to matter anymore. Sure, I still have a desire for these things but they have begun to fade when I put them next to these new desires God has created in me.

It’s hard to put words with these new dreams because I, myself, still don’t know what they mean or what they look like. But a stellar career is being replaced with a desire to pour my life into organizing missions trips so others can experience life change as I did on my first trip and still do. A man who brings home the bacon is being replaced with a hope for a man whose master is Jesus and whose desire is to lay his life aside for God to use as He pleases. Dreams of kids who all look like my husband and I are being replaced with a hope to be able to have my own and adopt one day, to make a difference in one kid’s life who otherwise would never know love. A beautiful home with all the comforts and luxuries is being replaced with a vision of a modest home in a third world country that hosts teams and makes them feel welcomed as they come to serve.

I don’t know what any this means yet for my future... clearly, since the title of this blog is “What do you do?”. But “my dreams have found their purpose” and “my future [is] in [God’s] hands” as the Hillsong You lyrics say. In the meantime I will confidently trust that God is directing my steps. That the closer I draw to Him, the more I will understand what these desires mean. I’ll trust in Psalm 20:4 - May he give you the desires of your heart and make all your plans succeed. And in Matthew 6:8 - I know what you need before you ask me, so dream big, pray big, and believe big.

I’m going do my best to stay in motion while pursuing God so that when He is ready to start a new chapter in my life I am already moving in that direction. So I move forward and will bring glory to Him with the life He has me in right now. I won’t sit and wait. Because I am not waiting on God, He is waiting on me. I’m going to continue reading this encouraging excerpt from Crazy Love that I’ve had on my bathroom mirror for the past few months:
“...God doesn’t call us to be comfortable. He calls us to trust Him so completely that we are unafraid to put ourselves in situations where we will be in trouble if He doesn’t come through.”
So I will take “risks” and seek after the things He is placing on my heart. I will trust that He will come through as I allow myself to fade away and let His desires replace those of my own. Because I know the plans He has for my life are far greater of a treasure than I could ever dream of. That is what I will do.

A Future Family?

I was catching up on my reading plan on youversion.com this morning and came across Psalm 17:13-15. I ended up wanting to discuss the passage with a friend to get their thoughts since I was a little caught off guard. I did and I learned something, so I wanted to share:

Upon initial reading, this passage kind of messed with me, making me wonder if I am looking forward to having kids one day too much...

13. Arise, O Lord! Confront him, subdue him!
Deliver my soul from the wicked by your sword,
14. from men by your hand, O Lord,
from men of the world whose portion is in this life.
You fill their womb with treasure;
they are satisfied with children, and they leave their abundance to their infants.
15.As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness;
when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness.

My friend’s take was that the passage is basically declaring generations consequences for neglecting God’s calling. Saying that men of this world get their satisfaction from this world. Their joy is still here when they are gone because they have no eternal satisfaction. They get their fulfillment on earth but even their children will feel the wrath of God in the end.

It made me check my heart. Am I looking for my treasure to come in the form of a future family or do I find my portion and treasure in Jesus alone? Would I be completely satisfied in Him, if God chose to have a different plan for my life that didn’t include a family? Then my friend reminded me, Abraham had no family but had a desire for one and so, God blessed generations beyond generations through Abraham’s desires to have a family. Who am I to question if God will do the same for me?

I now have more confidence after reading this passage again and am thankful to have friends who can help process this stuff with me! Thanks Scott! I trust that God will give me those desires that come from Him as my mind backtracks to Psalm 37:4... the desires I have for a future family that include a husband whose affections are for Jesus and then for me and children that God will entrust us with to raise up with a passion to make Jesus’s name famous. Yes, I think I should check my heart every so often to make sure those desires are not in vain but when I find my treasure only in Him and when he is the only thing that fills my cup and is my portion, I know I can rest in the confidence that whatever his plans are for me, I will delight in those as he gives them.

Welcoming the Traffic

If I had to be honest, most mornings I absolutely loathe traffic even though I try to not let it bother me. Depending on the day, I’ll either listen to my favorite stations on Pandora, flip through the various talk morning shows to find a quick laugh or if I know its a really long commute I’ll listen to a sermon podcast on my iPod if I think I can get it all in. All while trying to block out the knowledge that my commute is awful. That my 30 miles can be 35 minutes or over an hour, sometimes worse.

Thursday morning started the same, probably even a little worse than normal since my Wednesday was pretty rough. After being proud of myself for getting up and getting ready on time, thinking I got ahead of most of the traffic and would be on the 35 minute route that day, I realized half an hour later when I finally got to 316 (only 10 miles from home) that I was very wrong.

A couple minutes later I found myself on the phone with my dad. I’m not even sure what possessed me to call him other than knowing for sure he’d be up. Usually my ride home from work is when I call my parents. But Thursday morning is when I needed him, even though I didn’t know it at the time.

The conversation was fresh and without distractions. It wasn’t like our afternoon chats where I am coming home with baggage from the work day rushing to my next meeting whether it be small group or something else and trying to fit some time in to connect with him. Or where he is busy shooting the bull with the men outside or running to one of his many responsibilities he has taken on and trying to squeeze me in. We got to just simply talk.

All I had was time to waste in the car and all he was doing was wasting the morning before getting busy with the million things he somehow finds to do. For the first time, I found myself welcoming the traffic for the rest of the commute. Talking about so many different things, some I can’t even remember. But spending the morning talking to my dad was so very special to me. It did my heart good. And meant the world to me.

It really set the tone for the rest of the day. From that conversation I came away knowing how much my dad loved me, supported me, and was proud of me without him really even having to say it. Sure I already knew all this but it served a specific purpose that day. When little things went wrong like my computer once again needing to go to IT the 2nd day in a row, I was reminded of how thankful I was that I called my dad that morning because things didn’t seem so bad anymore. When we had coconut cake for my boss’s birthday I was asked why I didn’t have a piece and if I even like it... My response was along the lines of well yes, my dad liked it and anything my dad liked, I liked growing up. When a co-worker mentioned some pics they saw on Facebook of me in my hunting gear and then asked if I was daddy’s girl, my answer was “Of course, I adore him.” Little moments of him all day. Little moments that may not have been triggered had I not started the day talking to my dad.

It finally hit me a couple hours ago (today) that my time with my heavenly father is very much the same. For soooo long if I even set aside time, I’ve been spending time with Him at the end of the day, sometimes in the middle, if I’m lucky. During my lunch break, after I get home, before I go to bed, etc. Always, always after distractions have entered my day. Rarely do I spend any quality time with my heavenly father in the morning other than listening to some Christian music, praying while in the shower, or listening to those sermons on my drive in, which don’t happen all that often actually. What I crave is the one on one time. The time where it’s just me and Him-just like I crave with my earthly father. I crave the conversations where there are no distractions yet, no baggage from the day yet, where its fresh, where its simple. I crave the constant reminder of Him throughout the day. I crave more days like I had yesterday that started with my dad.

Like I said earlier, I didn’t know it at the time but I needed that 30 minute conversation yesterday morning with my dad. Not only to get me through the day yesterday but to be a catalyst for my mornings from here forward. God definitely used yesterday to show me how much I need to spend time with Him in the mornings, no buts about it. It’s going to take sacrifice and obedience that I currently don’t have but I know that if its something God is asking of me then He will provide the strength and will power to make it happen.

Dad, if you’re reading this, thank you. You mean the world to me and I love you to pieces.

The Missions Bug

Recently I’ve found myself in a place that just makes me laugh. I laugh because my view on life has been turned upside down. I have become one of those people I thought were crazy. I’ve become one of those people who cannot stop thinking about what is going on outside of my comfortable, safe, and cushy life. I’ve become one of those people who has been infected with the missions bug, as I used to call it.

Sure I may have taken Spanish in high school for the purpose of going on a mission trip to Mexico with my church. But that didn’t happen. And the extent of my missions experience up until a little over a year ago was limited to the week of doing VBS in the projects of New Orleans while I was on a youth choir tour in high school. That was pretty much it and while I loved that mini-missions experience, it definitely wasn’t something I pursued any further while in high school or college.

But missions didn’t escape my life. My 1st and 2nd year of college was a bit difficult. I was on my own without my sister... all because of her call to missions. I remember still how hard it was to not be able to just call her up and talk... although looking back this was probably the most peaceful time for her because I’ve always driven her crazy with my ability to talk her head off for hours each night since I was young. While at Tech, she encouraged me over and over to get involved with Campus Crusade, going on the spring break missions trip or even going on a summer project for the summer months I had off just like she did. But no, I chose the beach or a cruise for spring break and internship after internship during the summer. Relaxation and the chance to further my career or to increase my chances in landing my dream job after graduation was always the priority. And if I had to be honest, it was, for me, a different path than my sister. Following in her footsteps in going to Tech was where I needed to draw the line... And for a while that was where I drew the line, as my life at Tech was much different than hers, good and bad.

But as it turned out, I would yet again follow her footsteps up to Lawrenceville where I moved in with her after graduation when I wasn’t able to land that dream job with a commercial real estate developer. And where I would get involved with her church, her friends, and do things like she did such as choir. In an effort, though, to break out of her world and make my own life here, I started going to Water’s Edge, the college ministry at 12Stone. Yes, you are probably wondering why I joined a college ministry if I just said I graduated... Well more on that in another post because now I am part of the Transitional Community in which I’ve had the chance to help start up.. but yea more on that later!

In June of 2009, after only going to Water’s Edge for roughly a month, I felt a press to apply to go on one of the four mission trips that were going over the Christmas/New Years break. So I anxiously turned in my application not knowing what would come of it. I remember the day very clearly when I read the letter that I got in the mail saying I had been chosen to go to Haiti. Haiti was my first choice but I didn’t know why I even put it as number one, especially since none of that Spanish would come in handy there. But in that moment as I read the letter my eyes filled with tears as I began to realize God had bigger plans for me than I could imagine. And then I started crying more because I was crying. And again more because the tears falling were because of something God had been a part of. (Yea... all that crying... making fun of my mom while I was growing up has definitely come back to bite me...)

You see, for months I had been frustrated by the fact that I would be so full of emotion while watching a movie or TV show that I would come to tears yet when I was at church or when I heard something about God moving there would be no emotion. So my prayer over those months had consistently been from the song Hosanna...
Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdoms cause
As I walk from earth into eternity

It was EXACTLY how I felt and what I completely desired. I wanted God to heal my heart from all the damage that been done since I had chosen to put Him in the backseat. I wanted God to make me clean, to wipe away all the dirt I had covered myself with. I wanted Him to open my eyes to things I had never seen in this world that I didn’t know existed. I wanted to learn how to love others just as He had always loved me unconditionally even when I clearly didn’t show Him love or respect. I wanted Him to break my heart and bring emotion that wasn’t because of some stupid movie or TV show but was because of life and what was going on in me, around me, and throughout this world. I wanted everything in me to be used to bring God glory and to make His name known from now until I was no longer on this earth. I wanted all these things but I had no clue whatsoever how or when it would happen.

Looking back now, a year since that first mission trip to Haiti, I know he answered or is at least in the process, really, of still answering those wants and desires I mentioned above. Whether in the months leading up to our trip or the time actually in Haiti or over this last year since the trip, I owe all the beginning of this change in me to God sending me to Haiti. He has begun to truly heal my heart and make me clean because of this new found commitment I have made to Him. He most certainly opened my eyes in Haiti to things I wouldn’t even want others to see pre and post earthquake. He changed my heart to be able to love on the orphans like Daflooz or Ibelson or many of the others I met just like He does. He broke my heart for Haiti and has been breaking it more and more for other things too like sex-trafficking and nations who have never heard Jesus’ name. He is molding my heart and my desires to live a life all for Him.

Missions has changed my life. You might could say this is why I have the missions bug!

(More to come on my new role as missions liaison to the Transitional Community and my next trip to Haiti in April!)

boule. boule. boule.

Most people say they’ve never noticed it. But the scar on my left hand is something I had always hated. Something that was ugly. Something that I was embarrassed for others to see. Something that my mom and I discussed growing up about having plastic surgery to remove. Something that I hoped my future husband somehow would learn to love about me since it would be on the hand that I would wear his ring.

The story behind my scar is a story I myself don’t remember but it’s one that I know how to retell. I was just 18 months old when it happened. My mom was ironing but took a break to answer the phone just outside the laundry room door. I ran past her and headed for the ironing board to do a quick work out, I suppose. The location I chose to do my pull ups was not the most ideal. The iron fell on my little hand before my mom could stop me. I can’t recall the pain from the burn of the iron nor can I recall the agony that came for weeks after during the healing process. A process that involved me going into a trace or a different state, as my parents say, whenever they had to change the dressings on my little hand. Other than the scar that has remained, I have no memory of what happened so long ago.

But now there is one memory because of my scar that will never leave me. This memory, while I didn’t know it at the time, has led me to where I am today and why I have started this blog.

January 4th was my 2nd to last day in Haiti and only 8 days before the the earthquake. My team traveled to an orphanage in Leogane and experienced much more than our eyes and hearts were prepared for. There was a darkness there that pierced all of our hearts that I cannot explain. I did my best to hide the heartache that came crashing in even though what seemed natural was to stand still and cry. God’s strength is what got me through that day and what led me to meet the most precious girl, Daflooz.

By this point I had learned a little Creole after being in Haiti already a week. I knew some phrases and words that allowed me the chance to “talk” or probably mostly point to get by. I had already met Daflooz by the time I started talking to this one group of girls but never would have known I shared something with her if it wasn’t for those girls being fascinated with my white skin.

As they were holding my hands and touching my white skin they noticed the scar on my left hand. Immediately they started yelling “Boule! Boule! Boule!” It took me a minute to register what they were yelling because there was some other stuff I didn’t recognize. Then it hit me.

Now a little Creole lesson for you of what exactly went through my head:
“Sak Passe” means “What’s Up?”
“Map Boule” is a popular response that means “I’m burning” which is similar to when Americans say “I’m chillin”.
Sooo “Boule” must mean “Burn”

Back to the story now... The girls were yelling “Burn! Burn! Burn!” while trying to tell Daflooz to come over. For a second I had no idea what was going on and why me having a burn scar on my hand mattered. Then I remember looking over to Daflooz who had this irritated look on her face that slowly disappeared once the girls made it obvious they were talking about my burn... not hers. She came over to see my burn and then timidly showed me hers. Her face lit up like I can’t even tell you. And my heart flooded with joy because at that moment I knew I had that scar for a reason.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the only burn that marred her skin. And it pains me to think that she is not like me and does remember her story. I wish I knew how it happened. If there was anyone to take care of her when it happened. And was it by accident or on purpose. These things I may never know and really I hope its something she doesn’t know either. I hope she’s like me in that I have a scar on my hand and if wasn’t for my parents I would have no idea how it got there.

Every time I look down at my hand I am reminded of Daflooz. The day I met her, I wondered if I would ever see her again and when the earthquake hit I was afraid I got my answer especially once I discovered the epicenter was in Leogane. But I did get to see Daflooz again when I went back to Haiti this past June! I can’t tell you how beyond excited we both were when we saw each other. It still makes my heart well up with joy thinking of that moment when she came running to me yelling my name after 6 long months of not knowing if we’d see each again.

I no longer think of my burn as something ugly and embarrassing. I think of Daflooz and of Haiti and of beauty and of the design God had for my life long before I ever knew Him.