Teaching

The teacher is the one who has all the answers-- at least that's what we've seemed to think for so long.  But what happens when she doesn't?  What happens when all that she can say or do is to acknowledge that the situation sucks, give a calm reassuring smile, and be open to the gentlest or fiercest of hugs when needed?  What happens when there are no answers to be found-- no reasons why, no sense to make, and no solutions to the tough things life throws our way?
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School shootings.  Sudden, tragic accidents.  Heart-breaking home situations.  Confused and hurting hearts.  If I've ever had a week to teach me that I don't have all of the answers, this week would be it.  The emotional weight of teaching can sometimes be overwhelmingly exhausting.  As I'm sure you've heard a million times before, teaching is not a nine to five job.  Teachers work at 3 a.m. when they lie awake trying to figure out how to get their students to grasp that one little concept that just seems to be their nemesis.  They are up before the sun to go grab donuts for the classes that needed that extra nudge of bribery to get their homework done this week.  They are constantly striving to do better, to be better, to love better, and to teach better.
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The most beautiful part of teaching is that on the worst of weeks, there are anywhere from 20 - 100 reasons to smile.  Each one has a name, a story to tell, and something beautiful to contribute to every classroom they walk into.  From hilarious stories to tell about how they spilt coffee on themselves on the way to school (complete with sound effects), to falling out of chairs at the perfect time launch the class into an uproar of giggling, to light-bulb moments that bring tears to the teachers eyes, they persevere in the struggle and come out victorious on the other side.  So that, even on the hardest of days, weeks, and even months, each and every little face makes every frustration, every tear shed, and every heartache more than worth it.
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To those who know, love, and/or are teachers... hug a teacher, give them a high five, ask them how they really are, then be prepared to listen to the answer, which might include a little complaining, a few tears, and might take place over a pint of ice cream, but listen.  Listen to the joy in her voice as she describes Sarah who just mastered her 9's multiplication facts or Jacob who made it to class on time every single day this week.  Listen to her frustration with little Johnny who is capable of so much more than the effort he puts forth.  Listen. 
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And what should you do when you're not sure what to say because you don't have all the answers either??? Acknowledge that sometimes the situation sucks, give a calm reassuring smile, and be open to the gentlest or fiercest of hugs when needed.
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#HugATeacher #ThankATeacher

In the Middle

"In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.  And that makes me happy.  For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there's something stronger - something better, pushing right back."  - Albert Camus
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I love watching the seasons change.  From watching the colors of autumn appear, to feeling winter creep in, to seeing flowers bloom in the spring, to experiencing the freedom that summer brings, seasonal change has been something that I've come to love more and more each time it approaches.

Fall has always been my favorite season-- gentle breezes, exquisite sunrises and sunsets, bonfires, s'mores, pumpkin spice everything, Thanksgiving, and so much more.  However, this year, as fall crept in, so did another distant "friend" called seasonal depression.  My emotions changed with the leaves.  As each leaf fell from the trees around me, so did hopelessness, despair, discontentment, and dissatisfaction.  For me, this year, fall signaled the official end of one of the most transformative seasons of my life.  God did such a mighty work in me this summer, in the preparation for it, and in the days after returning home, and I know that His goodness, faithfulness, and provision did not end with the summer.  Yet, as the leaves begin to change, I felt a gradual, yet somewhat abrupt, creeping in of these old familiar emotions.  Satan is sneaky, and, little by little, He began to plant seeds of doubt and call me out on all of the ways that I had fallen short of the things the Lord called me to this summer.  This caused me to spiral further down into a pit of stress, anxiety, and, honestly, just one big old funk.  This was compounded by overwhelming demands at work, the death of my sweet Papaw, and internal wrestling with major life decisions.  I became very good at quoting, "It's fine.  I'm fine.  EVERYTHING IS FINE." and "naturally" faking a smile.

A few weeks ago, in the midst of this spiral, I met a new/old friend.  His name is Habakkuk (cool name, right?).  We met in an off-beat, rather random way.  I attended a women's event where the speaker challenged us to fight back against life's battles with joy, and, in part of her talk, she quoted a few verses from Habakkuk.  As I read these verses along with her, they leapt off of the page.

Even though the fig trees have no blossoms
and there are no grapes on the vines;
even though the olive crop fails,
and the fields lie empty and barren;
even though the flocks die in the fields,
and the cattle barns are empty,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord!
I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!
The Sovereign Lord is my strength!
He makes me as surefooted as a deer,
able to tread upon the heights.
(Habakkuk 3:17-19)

Before reading the verses, she gave a quick synopsis of the situation Habakkuk was in leading up to this declaration.  Habakkuk was not in a season of roses and daisies.  He was facing many troubles, and, after crying out to the Lord with questions, waiting, and eventually receiving answers, Habakkuk resolves that, no matter what comes, he will rejoice and be joyful in the Lord.  After leaving the event that day, I dug deeper into Habakkuk's story.  The Lord also led me to a sermon series that Louie Giglio was preaching on Habakkuk that same week.  In the following weeks, on this adventure with my new friend Habakkuk, God, in His infinite goodness, showed me what it looked like to have a faith that remained unshaken in the trials and in the valleys.  He showed me that, not only was it possible, but that it was a calling to rejoice especially  in the darkest nights.

Okay, I need to rejoice.  I need to get out of this pit.  But how?  Do I white-knuckle it, dig in, and start climbing out of the pit?  Do I stretch my hand up and wait, hoping God will deliver me and pull me out?  I tried all of these options.  I did what I thought I could to try my best to get out.  I read Fight Back with Joy by Margaret Feinberg (AMAZING BOOK!)-- the same speaker that introduced me to "Haba-cookie" as she called him.  I put into practice many different tactics and did my best to face the darkness head-on.  I dove into the scriptures.  I called out to God.  I began to see more and more glimpses of His goodness all around me.  I saw more and more light as He pulled me back to the surface.  I prayed for breakthrough.  I prayed for deliverance.

Last Sunday, something shifted.  As we sang songs of praise and thanks, from the very beginning of the service, something within me began to shift.  As I took my eyes off of the circumstances and the whirlwind around me, and I focused them on Christ, the holes in the darkness began to morph into cracks, and as I lifted my hands in surrender and abandon, the walls of darkness clouding my vision and blocking my joy began to crumble down.  During the sermon, the Lord revealed the tactic that I was missing most in my life that could be used to poke holes in the darkness and crash down the walls of despair and doubt-- GRATITUDE.  Through the tears and the pain, as I chose to give thanks in all circumstances, the Lord shifted my vision upwards.  Thanksgiving is a choice.  And, through the trials, through the uncertainty, through the heartache, I am choosing gratitude.  God has been so very good to me.  Looking back at this year alone, He has worked miracles that I never could have even imagined, and, through that, He has transformed my life and my heart forever.

So, today, and everyday, Lord, I am grateful-- for Jesus, for the blessings, for the trials, for restoration, for the miracles, for the experience, for the summer, for my family, for my friends, and for all that You have done.

And, in this season, and in seasons to come, to God be the glory.


For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plan, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace... 
He has made everything beautiful in its time. 
- Ecclesiastes 3:1 - 8, 11a

I Prayed for Patience.

Have you ever heard the saying, "don't pray for patience"?

I've heard it so many times, and, often, I've caught myself in mid-prayer and silently reminded myself not to pray for patience (because if I just say it in my head, God doesn't hear it right?? 😏).  I think the idea behind this sentiment is that if you pray for patience, and God chooses to develop your patience, then He will have to take you through uncomfortable things in order for that to happen.

Well, I broke the rule.  Multiple times.  I prayed for patience, and then, I've prayed for more patience.  And you know where I've found myself lately??? Waiting.  And as I've prayed for patience in the waiting, you know where I've found myself???  Still waiting.

However, what I've come to realize in the waiting is that, when we avoid praying for patience out of fear that God will make us uncomfortable, we've forgotten one of two things.  Either (a) we've forgotten that God is GOOD, or (b) we've forgotten that patience takes time.

So, in your waiting-- in my waiting-- let me remind you...

(a)  God is GOOD.

"And we know [with great confidence] that God [who is deeply concerned about us] causes all things to work together [as a plan] for good for those who love God, to those who are called according to His plan and purpose."  - Romans 8:28 (AMP)

He is GOOD.  His plans are good.  A speaker at an event that I attended recently advised the group of ladies that I was with to "Remain suspicious that God is up to something good."  Even on the darkest of days, when the waiting seems too intense to bear, and you really just want to throw in the towel and go your own way... never, ever, even for a second, forget that He is GOOD.  He is working in the waiting, and He has far greater plans that we could ask or think (Ephesians 3:20).  Every uncomfortable moment, every tear that rolls down your cheek, every second of loneliness or doubt, not for a moment has He ever left your side.  He sees you.  He hears you, and, even when you can't see it in your circumstances, He is working all things for your good, and, more importantly, for His glory!  Praying for patience doesn't change the character of God.  He doesn't go T.Swift (Look what you make me do!) like He's forced into putting you through a trial now.  Don't for a second think that our God-- the sovereign Lord of the universe-- is forced into anything by our prayers.  Rest assured, dear one, you are not that powerful.  If He chooses to develop patience in you, then He may choose to allow things to happen in your life that may not be all roses and daisies.  He may choose to sit back and watch as you walk through a season of waiting.  Does doing these things make him any less good?  Certainly not.  In fact, quite the contrary... it only serves to support the original point.  Why does God develop our patience by allowing us to walk through uncomfortable situations?  Because He is GOOD!

(b)  Patience takes time.

"Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous be shaken." - Psalm 55:22

When I prayed for patience, I had a timeline in mind.  I wanted God to sustain me, but I didn't want it to be over a long period of time.  I was thinking maybe a month or two--max.  Here I sit, almost a year later, waiting.  While I've seen Him move in so many powerful ways during this season of waiting, some days, I feel just as far away from answers as I was when I began this journey.  However, over and over again, as I've walked this winding road, the Lord has reminded me time and time again that patience takes time.  If He's going to teach me how to trust, even in the waiting, He's going to make me wait.  There's no way around it.  A few weeks ago, as I was walking through Hebrews 11, the Lord reminded me of His steadfast faithfulness in the lives of so many "heroes of the faith."  From Noah, to Abraham, to Sarah, and so many more, God has shown His faithfulness throughout all generations.  As I read this chapter, verse 13 leapt off the page:  "All these people died still believing what God had promised them.  They did not receive what was promised, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed it."  These people believed the promises that they were given by the One who keeps His every promise.  Even unto death, they trusted that He is true to His promises are true, and He is faithful.  That's the kind of faith that I'm praying will be developed in me.  In the times where I see God actively working right in front of me, it is so easy to have faith and to trust that He is good; however, in the seasons of waiting, where His presence is a little less obvious and poignant, it is a little harder to cling to His promises.  It's in these seasons, these moments of what seems like endless waiting and clinging to His promises that patience begins to sprout-- petal by petal.


Are you with me in a season of waiting right now?  If you are, let me challenge you with a question that was asked of my by a friend-- what are you doing while you wait?  If you're like me, the answer to that question was.... "well, I'm waiting..."  Okay, but what are you doing in the meantime??? "ummm... maybe you didn't hear me... I'm waiting..."  His response was gentle and kind as carefully reminded me that I couldn't stop living my life.  As bad as I wanted to, I couldn't unplug.  I had to stay tuned in.  I had to stay active and present in the life that God has blessed me with as I waited for the next step of obedience to come along.  So, again I ask, what are you doing while you wait?  Waiting doesn't mean sitting idly by and doing nothing.  Waiting means actively seeking out Jesus, living your life to honor and glorify His name, and eagerly anticipating His guidance in your next step of obedience.  He is good.  He will not lead you astray.

So, in the moments of doubt, when it seems like you can't possibly wait another moment longer, lean in and know that He is good, and, through this season of waiting, He is working to shape you and to mold you into all that He created you to be.  Cling tight, dear one.  He's got you, and He won't let go.

"I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!  Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!" - Psalm 27:  13 - 14

Lessons Learned the Honduran Way: Part 3

I glanced up at what had to be the 500th set of stairs.  As I gasped for air and felt my heart pounding out of my chest and in my ears, I honestly wasn't sure that I could go on.  As I stood glancing at the expanse of God's beautiful creation, every sense of wonder was drowned out by the doubt and, quite honestly, the planning of how in the world I would get out of the woods and back down the mountain when everything in me felt like giving up, quitting, and figuring out a way to just survive in the wilderness right where I was at.  Continuing to go up seemed daunting, and, even going down seemed just as daunting.  My legs were jello, I couldn't catch my breath, and with every step the doubt, the fear, and the sense of defeat grew louder and louder.  My legs screamed quit.  My stomach screamed quit.  My lungs screamed quit.  But I trudged on-- honestly not out of any sense of strength or determination, but simply because camping out in the woods of Honduras for the rest of my life didn't really seem like the most feasible plan.

What I never saw coming, however, was the fact that the Lord would use this little hike to teach me a life lesson that I will never forget.  As I stared up the 1000th set of stairs, I decided to change my strategy.  Instead of looking at the entire, daunting, steep set of stairs, I'd just look at the step in front of me.  One step at a time.  Just one step.  As I took each step, the next one became easier.  However, if I got ahead of myself and looked up to the 346 stairs that remained in the set, I felt myself becoming anxious and overwhelmed again.  It was in one of these moments taking one step at a time that the Lord reminded me of a verse that He'd quickened my heart to in Week 2 of Honduras, Psalm 77:20.

You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

If you're anything like me, you're thinking what in the world does this verse have to do with hiking in the mountains???  Everything.  When the Lord brought me to this verse in week 2, He reminded me of all that we were teaching the kids about Moses and Aaron as they led the Israelite people through the wilderness.  Moses and Aaron did not know exactly where the Promised Land would be, but they trusted God day-by-day as He led them by a pillar of cloud and pillar of fire (Ex. 13:21).  He showed them the way-- step-by-step, moment-by-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.  It wasn't about knowing the destination.  It was about knowing and trusting the One who was guiding them, that He is good, that He is sovereign over their every step.  They did not have to see the whole journey, and, quite honestly, the whole 40 year journey might have been a bit overwhelming-- it would have been for me.  They simply had to trust.

As I took one step at a time, the surface lesson that the Lord taught me in week 2 became an actual heartfelt reality.  I don't have to know how many stairs lie ahead or how much farther there is to walk, I simply have to trust the One who has laid out the path that He is guiding me in each and every step.  With every single step of obedience, He shines light to the next step, and step-by-step, moment-by-moment, day-by day, I draw closer and closer to the One who guides my path.

For so long I have centered my life around the next big thing (finishing college, getting married, starting a family, moving to Oxford, going to Honduras...), that I have missed out on the fact that God has been so very faithful in every single little step in the journey.  It's in the seasons of waiting that we see the character of God-- His faithfulness, His goodness, His strength, His love, His kindness, His justice, His guidance.  This journey is about so much more than any single destination or any "next big thing" coming our way.  It's about knowing Jesus, following hard after Him, taking His hand and trusting that He has provided the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night, now in the beautiful form of His Word to guide us along this journey.  He has lit the path.  Now, in these seasons of waiting, it's not our job to figure out the cryptic codes of what our lives will entail.  No, it's simply our job to be obedient to take the next step-- moment-by-moment, day-by-day, night-by-night-- one step a time.

Lessons Learned the Honduran Way: Part 2

It started with a slight tapping.  I can deal, kids need to move-- no big deal.  It moved to a standing and tapping... well, my kids at home throw imaginary "footballs" and hit imaginary "baseballs" while learning-- again, no big deal, I can deal.  Next, sliding a chair across the room... Ignore, just ignore-- it will work, it has to work.  Now, we're standing up dancing instead of listening to the story of Moses... okay, ignoring's not working.  "Let's talk in the hall."  Mistake #1.  Rookie Mistake.  It only amps up from there, and, quite frankly, I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I lost my cool.  I wasn't kind.  I wasn't loving.  I was, for lack of a better word, mean.  Mistakes #2 - 15?  My words may not have been directed at him, his character,  or who he was/is, but in my anger, I did not want a changed behavior, I wanted revenge.  My pride reared its ugly head through anger, frustration, and unkind words.  I knew it as I felt the words roll off my tongue.  I felt it.  I was immediately convicted.  It was at that point that I realized/remembered/experienced that you can't take words back.  Once they're said, they're said-- for better or worse.  No matter how much I tried to rewind, I tried to back-track, I tried to recover, the words were said, his behavior was amplified, and I was sitting in the aftermath.
I'd love to say that I took this to heart, humbled myself, apologized immediately, and chalked it up a lesson learned the hard way.  Unfortunately, that would be stretching the truth.  No, I went to lunch crying in frustration.  I called for the social worker to come talk to him because he was "out of control."  That's when her question hit me... "Can you tell me what happened right before he (insert the amped up behaviors)?"  Do I tell her what I wished happened?  Or do I tell her what actually happened?  "Well..."  I recount the story to her-- how it all started, how it escalated, and how I lost my cool... Talk about a pride check.  I recounted the story not just to her, but to a few others as we decided together the best way to handle the situation.  I knew the best way to handle the situation.  Grace.  Mercy.  Love.  But my pride kept me from saying so.  So, I spent the afternoon in my bed wallowing in my own self-pity.  Why me?  Answers in my mind:  Because you're a poser.  Why would you think that coming to a foreign country would change the way you dealt with kids?  You lost your cool-- yet again.  The same way that you lose your cool in Oxford.  You're wasting your time, you're wasting the Ranch's time.  Fake.  Poser.  You don't deserve grace.  You don't deserve a do-over. 

Every bit of this would be true... "BUT GOD, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ -- by grace you have been saved -- and raised us up with him and seated us in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  For by grace you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.  For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them" - (Ephesians 2:4-10)

His voice is louder.  Through the doubt, through Satan's lies, through the shame, through my sin, through all that I deserved... LOVE.  GRACE.  MERCY.  He overshadowed it all with His love.  He washed it in His grace.  He covered me in His mercy.  His Word cut through the layers of doubt, insecurity, and self-protection in my heart and refined me.  (Hebrews 4:12)  

Still lying in the same bed of self-pity that I'd made only an hour earlier, it was as if the Lord spoke these words of scripture over me.  His grace is enough-- even when I use mean words, lose my cool, and make things a million times worse.  His grace is still enough.  It's not about how righteous I am.  It's about Christ's righteousness in me.  It's out of that righteousness given to me by grace alone, not by merit, that I begin to see a transformation in the way I walk, talk, and act.  That doesn't mean that I'll be perfect.  I'll definitely fail.  But that's the point of grace.  When I do fall, when I do fail, He's there to pick me back up.

That leads me back to my tapping, chair sliding, dancing friend.  The Lord convicted me, and I knew that I had to apologize.  So, I prayed through it, gave it the night to settle in, and I planned to approach him the next morning.  That's when the social worker met me at breakfast the next morning... "How would you feel about giving him a chance to earn his reward back?"  GRACE.  YES.  So, I apologized, we talked.  We did some one-on-one math together, and he earned his reward back.  It was during the sweet one-on-one time that I saw myself in him.  In the same way as he'd acted out the day before acting impulsively and not thinking about his actions, I had as well.  God gave me grace in heaps and bounds, and I was able to share that grace with my sweet little friend.  As we sat and talked about grace while he worked his math problems, the Lord made it so very clear to me that this moment was "why me."  This is why the chaos happened in the middle of my "normal."  So that I might get just a glimpse of the power of grace, and that I might just begin to understand that the little bit of grace that I got to share with my little friend was infinitesimal compared to the vast oceans of grace that He has given me.  

And that moment... that realization has forever changed me-- as a teacher, as a daughter, as a friend, as a sister, as a person. (to be continued...)

Lessons Learned the Honduran Way: Part 1

Disclaimer:  I've stared at the flashing typing cursor for about ten minutes now trying to figure out what to type or how to even begin to put into words the experience of this summer and all that the Lord taught me through it.  Just now, as I sit in silence, I realize... I can't.  If it could all be put into words, I'd have a better response when people ask me how my summer was besides "awesome" or "soooo good" or "life-changing."  While all of these things are good, they only begin to scratch the surface of what I saw, what I felt, what I experienced, and what I learned.  So, please know that a short response, a simple response, is not meant to be a cop-out on sharing my experience.  I want to tell you what happened.  I want to share.  And I will-- little by little.  If you'd like to know more than what I give, please feel free to ask questions.  Good ones to ask would be-- "Tell me about a moment you'll never forget."  "Tell me about _ (fill in the name with a child)." (**Note:  If you're around me for long enough, a sweet name and probably an irresistibly adorable picture is certain to come up.) "What is one thing the Lord taught you on this journey?"  "How has adjusting back to life in the States been?"... etc.  There are so many more questions that you could ask, and I will be happy to answer any and all that you'd like to know.  I'm fully open and would LOVE to share.  Let's have coffee, let's have dinner, and let's chat.

In the meantime, I'm going to write a series of blogs on the big things that the Lord taught me this summer -- the incredible, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

So, without further ado, here's blog one. (At this point, I don't know how many there will be.  I'm just going to write until I run out of stories to share.)
....

I was sitting on the porch listening to the mountain rain.  It had quickly become one of my favorite things.  I loved the way the rain sounded as it pounded on the tin roof, blew through the trees, and settled on the green mountains and valleys that seemed to run forever in all directions.  The power was out as it was almost every day of our first week in Honduras.  No power meant no wi-fi.  No wi-fi meant no connection to home.  No connection to home meant no reaching out to friends or family for comfort in moments of loneliness or fear.  No friends or family to run to meant that I could no longer run from being still and quiet in front of the Lord.  Sitting on the porch, listening to the rain, watching every aspect of creation move in worship to its Creator, the Lord broke me.
For months as I was preparing for the summer, I had been so caught up in planning every little detail that I'd missed the most important part.  I'd praised God for His faithfulness in fundraising.  I'd praised Him for His guidance in every step of the journey.  I was so very careful and so very quick to give every ounce of glory for the journey to Jesus; however, somewhere in the midst of all of the interviews, and fundraising, and packing, I'd lost sight of the fact that this journey wasn't about me.  It wasn't about Rancho Ebenezer.  It wasn't about the kids.  It wasn't about Pinelake or WGO.  It was about Jesus.  Every part of this journey was intended to draw me closer to His heart.  Yet, until that day, sitting on the back porch, I was so caught up in myself and my flesh that I'd missed it.  I'd missed the fact that Jesus didn't need me to be awesome or extraordinary or a superhero.  Jesus simply needed me to be obedient to His call.  But this obedience was not for the sake of my own glory or for me to "help" those less fortunate, no, much bigger, much more important, this obedience was for the sake of the Kingdom, for God's glory.  So, I dove in, I dug deep into the word.  I prayed big and bold prayers.  I sat in silence.  I listened.  God spoke.  He comforted me in my anxiety.  His perfect love cast out my fear.  He silenced the doubt.  He reminded me of His promises.  He covered me in His love.  He washed over me with a renewed sense of peace and contentment in Him.

For so long, I've lived a life concentrated on the next big thing.  Over the past few years, that's been moving to Oxford, Grad School, Mexico, Honduras, and so many other things.  I've lived a life of jumping from one super focused thing to another, and, in the middle of the mountains, as I fought hard to discern what that next big thing just might be, the Lord spoke loudly and clearly through His Word.  Cease striving.  Be still.  Rest.  Trust.  You don't have to know the next big thing.  The Word doesn't say be still and stress out about what you don't know.  It doesn't say cease striving but panic on the inside about the "what ifs" of the future.  Quite the contrary, it says:

God is our refuge and strength,

a very present help in trouble.

Therefor we will not fear though the earth gives way,

though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,

though its waters roar and foam,

though the mountains tremble at its swelling.     Selah

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

the holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;

God will help her when morning dawns.

The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;

he utters his voice, the earth melts.

The Lord of host is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress.     Selah

Come, behold the works of the Lord,

how he has brought desolations on the earth.

He makes wars to cease to the end of the earth;

he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;

he burns the chariots with fire.

"Be still and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!"

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress.     Selah

-Psalm 46

He is our fortress.  He is our refuge.  He is fighting for us.  He is over and above it all, and He is victorious.  He has defeated my giants, including the giant of anxiety, so why should my fear of the unknown keep me from walking boldly in victory?  It shouldn't.  I'd love to say that that porch moment changed me so much that I have not had a moment of anxiety or fear since then, but that would be far from the truth.  I have struggled.  I have panicked.  I have been so quick to forget.  But another thing that God made so very real to me on the back porch in Honduras is that His grace always has been, is, and always will be sufficient for me (and you!).  We will fall.  We will mess up.  Our drive and ambitions will fail, but He's always there to pick us up, dust us off, and walk with us as we pursue Him once again.  So, here's to the journey.  Here's to chasing after Jesus with reckless abandon-- not for my own glory or accolades, but simply for Him.  I'm not chasing after a destination.  It's not about where I end up.  It's about meeting Jesus along the way and following him step by step... (to be continued...)

Honduras Dreamin'

The last (almost) three weeks in Honduras have been life-changing in so many ways.  The Lord has challenged me, comforted me, strengthened me, and loved on me like never before.  I have experienced highs, and I have seen lows.  I have come to love this beautiful place-- the scenery, the kids, the missionaries-- all of it.  But, hands-down, the absolute best part of every bit of these three weeks has been sitting in silence calling out to God and seeing Him answer my prayers time after time through His Word or through things I see around me or through the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit inside of me.  The Lord is teaching me patience, perseverance, kindness, love, forgiveness, and so many more things.  I can't wait to share just a few of these with you all when I get back home!

Last night, we had a ranch family dinner with food, worship, and digging into the Word together.  We read part of Acts 7 aloud together, and we unpacked Steven's last speech before being stoned to death.  He spread the Gospel even to his very last breath.  Last night, as I sat in the circle and listened, I began processing the weight of Stephen's words and the testimony of his life and death.  I fell asleep thinking about it and praying through it.  At some point in the night, I began dreaming.  I had a dream last night that we were celebrating my birthday here in Honduras (which is in 11 days-- just in case you were counting down! 😉).  As we were celebrating, they told me it was traditional (in Honduras) for the person whose birthday it was to share what they wanted/hoped for/were praying for in their next year of life (probably not a true tradition-- it was a dream-- but I think it's cool nonetheless).  So, in my dream, I shared.  I remember vividly saying something along the lines of...

Looking back, I've lived my life for 27 years now in my comfort zone, and so many times for my own glory.  I've chased hard after the approval of man, and I've been so easily distracted by the world.  In so many ways, I feel like I have wasted (at least part) of my 27 years on earth in a comfortable, lethargic lull.  So, about year 28... What am I praying for?  I am praying that my life would count-- not for my own glory, but for His glory alone.  I am praying for openness to His plan for me-- wherever that road may lead.  I am praying for a willingness and a boldness to love and serve God and love and serve others wholeheartedly and selflessly.  I am praying that at the end of year 28, I could look back with confidence and say that this year was not wasted.  I am praying that on July 12, 2018, I could look back and say that I know Jesus more and that I have been transformed more into His likeness than I am today.  I could so very easily slide into pursuits of success and vanity, but they are all worthless in light of Jesus.  Luke 12:48 says, "Everyone to whom much was given, of him, much will be required..."  I have been given so very much.  I have been given grace upon grace, mercy, compassion, love, a beautiful life on earth, an incomparably beautiful promise of eternal life.  The open surrender of year 28, and 29, and 30 ... and 99... of my life pales in comparison to the sweet gifts the Lord has blessed me with.  So, I'm going to give everything I've got to know Him more and to follow Him all of my days 

Here's to the countdown to the end of year 27 and looking with joyful expectancy, excitement, and anticipation towards the work that the Lord will do in my life and in the lives of those around me in year 28!  He's already showing me that year 28 is going to be filled with "immeasurably more" than I could ever imagine!

Happy birthday month to me! 🎉🎉🎉