Camp Hope, Haiti

I've just returned from my second trip to Haiti. I have so many thoughts running rampant through my mind and haven't quite found the words to explain them all. I'm not sure I ever will. Last week, I was with Haitians living in a refugee camp in Fond Parisien. Their entire lives are held within a small tent, and their belongings inside could likely be held in a single bag. I found that even though many own but a few possessions, the one thing many hold most tightly is their God.

Our translator Thomas had written verses and statements of belief all around the outside of his tent so that every time he came home he would see and be reminded of God's promises. He spoke confidently about God's love and faithfulness and how his faith in Jesus was all he needed in these tough times. I admired the way he so fearlessly and confidently he talked about his faith.

In the past few years I have seen God work in amazing ways. I've seen Him restore hope to lonely and broken hearts. I've seen him bring redemption to seemingly irredeemable circumstance. I've seen him bring joy where there was once only sorrow. I know that God is faithful and I know he will restore and rebuild what has been broken. And I believe that He will comfort all who mourn and rebuild and restore the places long devastated.

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor

and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.

Isaiah 61:1-4

Haiti

Friends, I am headed to Haiti next Tuesday for ten days.

I am so so so excited for this opportunity, my buttons could just burst right off. From the second I heard about the earthquake, my heart just broke for all the people and the country as a whole. I wanted so badly to go and be with the people and help. Just a few weeks ago everything unfolded so perfectly and fast for me to join a medical and counseling team. We'll be working in a medical clinic in Haiti and doing some counseling there and then the counseling part of our team with head into Port Au Prince to lead a conference for Haitian counselors and locals on counseling techniques and coping skills. It couldn't be more perfect.

I have never enjoyed the process of fundraising and asking people for money for trips like this but this trip was completely different. Everything just fell right into place and donations came in from close friends and from family and from people who I don't even know. I was completely humbled at the generosity of the people I surround myself with and not just with funds but with encouragement and support and excitement. I am so so grateful for it all.

It just affirms to me that this is where I am meant to be and what I am meant to be doing right now. I am so thankful for this opportunity to give of a skill that I have and to be present in the midst of both joy and sorrow and to bear witness to the lives of those who have been through immense tragedy yet choose to fight each day for more.

It's work like this that makes my heart come alive and as this great man says,

"Do not ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." -Howard Thurman

Thank you all for standing by me and helping me to do the work that makes me come alive.

For that I am forever grateful.

thankful in the midst

The seasons seem to be changing again and I feel as though hard things come around in the winter. I have a hard time thinking of a winter that wasn't tough. The leaves change into glorious colors all vibrant and bright and then they fall leaving everything barren.

As hard as it is, I appreciate the rawness of winter. There are no leaves, less color, gray skies and a season of waiting of anticipating, of advent.

Thanksgiving is next week and though I have an abundance of things to be thankful for, it's hard to be thankful when cancer becomes part of the equation. Walking alongside my Dad as he awaited tests, results and the end result of cancer was and is not an easy path to tread. He is going in for surgery on Monday. My family and the doctors are hoping a surgery will be all that is necessary so please pray with me.
I know I am not ready to even think about where the path might lead. I feel far too young to think about losing my parents. I fear the path ahead but I also have a great hope that a transformation is possible; in the medical outcome and in our relationship. God does his biggest work when we're at our worst and I am holding onto that trust that He will be faithful in the work He has begun. I'm thankful for a lot of things God has done, but I'm hanging onto the gratitude that I'll feel for the work He will do.

a quote from my favorite pastor in Seattle, Richard Dahlstrom,
We think that gratitude is all about remembering the good things God has done for us and giving thanks. Surely this is a piece of gratitude and thanksgiving. If we limit our thanksgiving to recalling the gifts that God has given us, we will miss most of the story, because most of the story is about how God transforms us right in the midst of challenges in this fallen world...
So perhaps this is the year when we'll give thanks, less for what's happening in this present moment (though God knows that there's still plenty of reasons for gratitude if we take even a cursory look around us), and more for what God will do as we collectively walk through these 'very interesting days', as I recently heard them described. I hope and pray that on the far side of these crisis, we who claim to follow Christ will be shaped, liberated, and transformed, so that our lives will overflow with the purity, generosity and joy that is the heart of Jesus.

may we all choose to be thankful in the midst...

bigger than a building

Quiet. I've been reflecting a lot lately. I've been outside, enjoying Portland, enjoying the trees, enjoying the water. And I'm reminded that I love the outdoors. I see God in the outdoors, more so than in a church building and stained glass windows and I like that. God is bigger than a building. He cannot be contained in a building. He needs something much bigger and wilder than that.

almost poetry

(I apologize for being so verbose; this was written in a late night, sleepy state.)

some thoughts that resemble poetry..

I am a tattered and torn person in the process of becoming

Who it is I am meant to be

Into the image of the one I long to see

Transforming and changing

Imago dei.

If only I was cleanly cut with no jagged edges

Made to fit perfectly so,

Here and there.

Into the dreams I’ve so carefully drafted

Through the paths I’ve chosen

and will find again in pages unwritten

I’ve learned that the pieces don’t always fit just so

I’ve learned by going where he leads

and learning to let go

Must I still be learning?

I’m in love with our world.

That hurts and breaks

And in my hands I feel the warmth

When I hold them up to the wounds

In our world that is fallen and broken and crying out for hope

Daily I see pieces of a flawed and imperfect humanity

Yearning for redemption

Aching for heaven’s waters to spill over the earth and wash it clean

Yet, in the midst of a scarred world,

I can’t help but find myself in awed moments

Grateful for heartache,

That echoes within

And calls out to others

in a melody

that we all know

I am astounded by the immense weight of hope in the midst of suffering

In spite of dire odds and circumstance

We remain a people

Clinging to slivers of hope

And remaining faithful

As we lean a little more into

the next page

and into a love that is with us

until the end of the age.

The Story

I cannot tell you how much I love hearing people’s stories, hearing where they come from, what their world looked like and felt like growing up, and learning about little and big experiences that have shaped who they have become.

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
-Brandi Carlile

I truly love it. I could listen to people tell stories all day. It’s such a privilege to glimpse into that part of someone; especially since a lot of life stuff doesn’t come up in daily conversation or maybe it’s too long of a story or too dark of a story to share. Every other week at our home community through Imago Dei Community, one or two people will share their life story, their testimony with everyone in our community, as a way to go deeper with each other and to see how God has shown up in the midst of the joy and the pain. I just love the image of a group of believers sitting in a room with the sole intent of knowing each other and knowing God more. To sit in the presence of another person’s life story, all the beauty, messiness, brokenness, and soul-I just eat it up.

What I love most is that I believe in each of our stories, we recognize pieces of ourselves in each other. We recognize ourselves in the experiences of others, the feelings of others, and the brokenness of others. One of my favorite Over the Rhine lyrics is "pain is our mother, she helps us recognize each other". Our stories connect us in ways that we might never have imagined. I’ve seen how the sharing of stories in our home community has encouraged more boldness, realness and an uncovering of what has been kept hidden and how in this sharing people are growing and learning; learning that they are not alone and they never have been, alone. I have been getting goose bumps a lot lately and surprisingly, not because I am cold. When I hear something incredible or see how certain life pieces just fit in my own life and in the lives of others, it’s as if my body is telling me to

stop.

Take notice of this.

And so I do.

And in that moment of recognition, my faith deepens as I remember that our lives are only a small part of a much greater story being crafted and I know the one who created it all and He is good.

My dear friend Courtney posted this as a facebook status and I’ve been marinating on it all week.

He said, "Why don't you spend your day floating down this river with me?" and I said, "Well that would be GREAT, but do you know where it goes?" and He said, "Yeah I know the way....I created it."

geography of redemption

I realize I posted less than five minutes ago, but this quote is just too good and is speaking to me on so many levels right now. I'm letting this one settle in the depths of me.

"There is a geography to redemption, a way in which the ideals of
grace and renewal make themselves real in this world. all of creation
is groaning for its redemption, and we join in that chorus. we are
surrounded on all sides by the forest of our failures, our dirty feet
fighting the thorny underbrush. or we wander the used-up cities of
cement dreams and strip-mall seductions. this is where we live. but to
us who are weary and broken, the god of redemption gives the plains,
and a view of the land we have yet to claim, yet to sow, yet to reap.
here there is space, and a chance, to make all things new...the land
of redemption, where signs of promise abound, where the reptiles
witness, where the rocks cry out, and where hope stretches as far as
the lazy eye can see. this is where we, with trembling hands, toil and
subdue. and where the rain of grace pounds the dirt until life breaks
through the mud and reaches for the sun..."-Caedmon's Call

Courage.

Courage. I feel like I've been praying for courage since day one. Yet, it is still something I feel around for in the dark, hoping will appear. Once I think I've found it, in actuality, it is just the opposite. Brennan Manning talks about people who are not actually prepared for God to answer their prayers. They pray for humility, yet they don't prepare themselves to be humbled. He says if you pray for humility, get ready to be humiliated because you learn it; it isn't magically instilled in you. I guess the same goes for courage. If you pray for courage, get ready to be scared. Am I praying for courage without preparing myself to be scared-to stare disappointment and fear in the face? Am I praying for courage yet backing into my shell when a moment comes?

"Courageous risks are life-giving, they help you grow, make you brave, and better than you think you are." Joan Curcio

oh, the waiting.

"We seem to have focused so much on exuberant beginnings and victorious endings that we've forgotten about the slow, sometimes tortuous, unraveling of God's grace that takes place in the 'middle places'." -Sue Monk Kidd

I like to tell myself that I am a trooper when it comes to these "middle places" but in all actuality I am not, not even in the slightest. I like to think that I live well in the in-between, but I often fast-forward to the "hoorah, everything is good" part. I'll encounter a hard time or pain of some sort, feel its sting momentarily, and then vault myself into the future where everything is better and it doesn't hurt anymore. Voila! right? not really. What I often want and pretend to have are quick-fixes, dustings under the rug, an emotional band-aid. That's how our culture functions, right? Quick fixes, one-stop shops, fast everything, gotta keep moving mentality...there is an urgency to life, and I find myself with an urgency to have everything be okay again.

I forget that it's a journey. It's a process. A slow and tortuous unraveling..it's in that uncertain middle place that God is found. Not just at the finish line, "hoorah, everything is good" part. God isn't in the business of quick fixes, but in the journey, in the waiting. We aren't to dust all our pain under the rug and pretend they never dirtied our floors in the first place, but we are to embrace them. I'm not sure I'm ready to gather the many pieces I've dusted under the rug, but I know they're still there. When I'm ready, I'll gather them up, embrace them and begin that slow and tortuous process of transformation.

There is always a time of celebration after the waiting. We celebrate after nine-months when babies are born, at the end of college for graduations, after cold winter months-we bask in the sunshine's rays and after the waiting I, too, will celebrate.

"Waiting is the in-between time. It calls us to be in this moment, this season, without leaning so far into the future that we tear our roots from the present. When we learn to wait, we experience where we are as what is truly substantial and precious in life. We discover as T.S. Eliot wrote, 'a lifetime burning in every moment'. " -Sue Monk Kidd

hearts full of mercy

We are all cracked and broken; some more than others, some deeper than others. The tricky thing is, you can’t tell just by looking at a person whether their cracks run deep or shallow. I wish I could tell. With some people you just don’t know. Some people have mastered the art of appearance and showing only their perfect self to the world. It is these people that are left alone at the end of the day with their hidden broken pieces. If only one could tell by the lines on our faces. Maybe if we knew how deeply those around us had been broken, we would treat them more gently and with more compassion, because we know how it feels.

Would we offer a bigger smile? Would we offer to lighten their load? Would we offer a piece of ourselves?

I think about this a lot and when I’m walking down the street I imagine each person on the street with their broken parts exposed and vulnerable, but still moving, still breathing. I find myself drawn to those broken souls; the ones who’ve been dealt a bad hand yet continue to play the game, refusing to give up, the resilient ones, a reminder that life is here for living. Sitting with others in their hard times reminds me that I’m not alone. Our broken parts bring us together. No one is exempt from suffering.
All the more reason to live with hearts full of mercy.

a soul in grace

My faith has been starving away this season, and it’s sad to me how something as important as faith can be tossed so far in the desert that the desert begins to feel like home. I forget what faith is about sometimes and simple, yet incredible acts of God such as an answered prayer leave me with my jaw dropped.
A simple prayer answered.
I pray but I don’t expect them to be answered. Have I forgotten that our God is faithful? I need reminders that I believe in a loving and great God. I’m reminded of a conversation I had with a wise woman named Jan, about fervent prayer. We were talking about how Jesus prayed on the mountain. “He prayed more fervently, and he was in such agony of spirit that his sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood.” When we cry out to God with desire and desperate groaning of the spirit, he hears us and he listens. My faith may be starved but I’m resting in his grace tonight.

"The splendor of a soul in grace is so seductive that it surpasses the beauty of all created things." Thomas Aquinas