read aloud

i will never complain about reading for grad school ever again.

okay, that's possibly, maybe, probably a lie. but my respect for the ability to read has been greatly increased since i've had an ongoing stint teaching kids how to read this summer. reading is HARD. for real, y'all. i'm amazed that i ever learned and internalized all the bajallion rules (plus all their exceptions) and skills it takes to read a seemingly simple, easy sentence. i've always loved reading since i was a little girl--a fun afternoon after school for me was often as follows: grab all my favorite books, stack them in a pile next to my beanbag, and re-read all my favorites. oh, and then reenact and embellish their stories with my stuffed animals. books literally changed my life. but tragically, this was and is not a reality for many.

check out some of these statistics:
44 million adults can't read well enough to read a simple story to a child.
Nearly half of American adults are functionally illiterate, meaning they can't carry out seemingly simple tasks such as reading drug labels or writing essays for jobs.
60% of prison inmates in America are illiterate and 85% of all juvenile offenders have reading problems.

i won't go into the many, many different factors and issues that go along with these statistics right now, but the point is that they make me sad. sad, yes, because millions of people don't have access to better jobs and pay and opportunities, but also that they miss out on the learning, challenges, and imagination that reading offers. they lose such opportunities to explore a different place and time, interact with people similar to and unlike them, experience things they'd never otherwise get to experience, to dream of new possibilities and discover a new worldview all through the magic of words and storytelling.

my favorite time of day at summer camp is always getting to read aloud to my tutoring kids. if i could get paid to be a professional children's book reader, i would do it in a heartbeat. and honestly, i won't mind if my kids don't remember a single reading "rule" or vocab word from this summer. i just pray i can instill a little, tiny seed of the joy of discovering new knowledge and possibilities through reading. books truly can change you and the world.



 

prayer run

i run. i run because i want to, i like to. But more than that, i run because i have to. because if i don’t, i might sink underneath the weight of the world, i might curl inward, my chin tucked so tight into my chest out of fear, despair, wayward longings, loneliness.

it hurts, and i’m still trying to figure out where. it’s somewhere beneath my heart, below my ribs, tucked deep in the belly of my gut. it pulses; some days, when my identity seems to slip right through my fingers, it beats stronger, heavier, louder. these days the world always reminds me i’m it’s object, my flesh theirs for the taking. but don’t worry, they say, we’re creating you just the way we want you to be. our desires must be yours: beauty, attention, clothes, makeup, sex, flesh, perfection—desire. their desires consume me and i often don’t fight it. even scarier, most of the time i don’t even realize they've completely consumed me. the world has bought me, its people have bought me, and now, i have bought me into it too.

i’ve forgotten, it seems, who and Who’s i am.

my body is morphed and mangled by the constant tugging of their desires, my vision blurred as i stagger forward. i no longer exist, but am segmented and separated. Skin. Hair. Eyes. Lips. Legs, butt, hips. Shoulders, chest. Stomach, feet. a twisted, broken mosaic is all that’s left—all the pieces, scattered and broken, but the picture no longer fits together.

a divided person is a conquered person. they’re no longer a person at all.

and so i run. i run to know, to feel my body, each part struggling for wholeness. Feet swelling, leg muscles stretching, tensing. Pound…pound…pound, they land on the pavement—the dull thud that courses through my muscles begins to match the pounding in my head, the feel of my blood pulsing through every vein until it explodes in my temples. Heart throbs, chest tightening. my shoulders tense, my neck stiffens, arms pumping. slowly we sync together; a chaotic symphony of mangled body parts finds their rhythm in gasps of breath, until together we scream, “i am more than flesh and bones! To dust i shall return, but you can’t tear us apart…” my body becomes my voice. together we run, together we are once more united. if the world won’t listen, then i will listen to my body. i will run, each motion, mile after mile, propelling me towards wholeness.

The run, my body, becomes my prayer.

resurrected hope

i know, i know...i haven't blogged in a hot minute. life has been a whirlwind. this semester i have been interning at UNC hospitals as a chaplain, which basically entails me going into a person's hospital room and offering spiritual and emotional support for them and their family during their hospital stay. sounds simple enough, eh? i could write nonstop for weeks about my experiences there, but i wanted to just share a few snippets. it will take a lifetime for me to process it all...needless to say, i am forever changed.

healing. during my first few weeks as a chaplain, a young woman on one of my floors requested to see a chaplain. when i walked in her room, her face was unrecognizable--one eye completely swollen shut and the other blood shot, lips swollen beyond what i ever thought possible, bruises all over her neck and face, chunks of hair missing. she could barely move, see, talk. i listened as she recounted to me the terrible, unspeakable, heartbreaking acts of physical violence by her boyfriend that brought her to this place. it was all i could do to hold her hand, look her in the eye, and listen as if she were the only person in the world who ever mattered. because in that moment, she was all that mattered. and i had no magical answers for her. the only words i could muster were, "you are so brave. and you are so loved." God gave me the gift of getting to spend the next few weeks with this precious woman of God as she recovered. i experienced with her the pain of relationships, the fear and terror of the unknown, and yet the healing found through scripture, poetry, and prayer. not many days go by that i don't think of her and pray longingly that she is safe and that she knows she is precious and loved.

voice. i have often felt in my life like i didn't have a voice--that i wasn't allowed to speak, or was too afraid to, that nobody would ever hear my voiceless cries. yet so many in our world are left truly voiceless, at the mercy of the powers and principalities and our sin. a young man came in on my ICU unit, and i was terrified to meet him. i knew he was incredibly sick and that the doctors didn't know what was wrong with his body nor how they could help; and i knew that he was intubated and therefore couldn't speak. i walked by his room for days before i finally mustered the courage to go in. the room was completely dark, but nothing could hide the sheer terror across his face. i realized that in all my fears, nothing compared to the fear this young man was facing. after i introduced myself, he looked me dead in the eyes and with difficulty mouthed a single word--"prayer." my heart stood still. i literally felt voiceless, felt the intense fear and longing emanating from his body as he literally lay there in the hospital bed, grasping desperately for my hand and for the words to speak to the only one who might truly hear his heart. i have never prayed so hard for the Holy Spirit to be my words in my entire life. this faithful believer opened my heart to realize that God is always listening. God will always hear our cries. No prayer must ever remain unspoken for.

holiness. "B/G" stands for "baby girl" on the pediatrics unit. this particularly precious baby girl had already died when i met her--a mere two months of a life lived. i stood in her room, staring at her tiny frame, which only seemed tinier amidst the jungle of machines that surrounded her. family was already gone. i was merely there with a packet of white model magic, a squishy, clay-like substance with which to make a foot and handprint. memories of a short-lived life.
her hands were already starting to stiffen, her fragile, petite fingers curling inwards into a fist. her face had lost its color a mere hour after passing, now an odd grayish color that stood out starkly against the bright pink bow wrapped around her bald head. i wanted to touch her and pray for her, but it seemed an odd thing to do in that moment. there was something otherly, holy happening.
the nurse cradled her gently in his arms so that i might take her footprint. i hesitantly took her right foot and began to press it into the white mold. was i pushing to hard? would this damage her precious foot? these questions ran through my mind, even though i knew she couldn't feel my cold fingers. diligently i pressed each sliver of a toe down, so as not to miss one tiny centimeter of this precious B/G. 5 toes in all, each accounted for, here and in heaven.

words cannot express how grateful i am for God bringing each and every one of these persons into my life. i count it as an immeasurable privilege to have known them and lived a part of our lives together. amidst all the pain, struggle, fear and doubt i have felt these past months, these moments have somehow resurrected hope in me, a knowledge that God is always with us--groaning, crying, rejoicing with us--as we wait to be brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.

story of my life

i'm convinced that the best storytellers don't actually know where they're going--they just start writing/speaking, and slowly they piece together a captivating tale...

sometimes words fail us. sometimes things must be said, but finding the words is unimaginable. and yet words come. the words come, and maybe you have no idea what they mean...and yet, they still give you a meaning. it's in these moments where i often find myself saying that a particular situation is the "story of my life." they are the occurrences that seem to follow me around, and yet i cannot for the life of me understand how or why they keep happening.

lately i've been forced to think much about stories--about my story, my family's story, the story of the Church, the story of Jesus.

i've been reading a new fiction book (yay! no school!) that's part of the genre called 'magical realism.' it's hard to explain, but the basic premise is that the magical can happen in the world as we know it. fantastical occurrences aren't just magic; they are the everyday, blending in with our lives so that often we don't even notice it's craziness or absurdity.

i think that's the story of my life.

jesus' story is ripe for some magical realism analysis. in the spirit of this advent/christmas season, i've been re-reading the story of jesus' birth. some of my favorite fantasical moments include: an angel strangely greets you, scaring the mess outta you, and then proceeds to tell you you're going to have the SON OF GOD(!!!) even though you're a virgin; mary responding to this scandalous news with joy and praise (say what?) at getting to do the will of God; angels appearing to the poor shepherds--just trying to do their job, folks--who are thus justifiably TERRIFIED (what exactly do these angels look like anyways? i'm getting concerned...); joseph being told in a dream to flee with his newborn and wife, oh ya know, cause the king is trying to kill. your. baby. seriously, people--what is this ridiculousness?!? then i remind myself that i believe this is all REAL LIFE.

i don't know about you, but i'd much rather serve a God that embraces the extraordinary and fantastic inside the ordinary. because that's the real story of my life--the story of a God who exalts the meek and humble, who uses ordinary people in deceptively extraordinary ways. my story is inherently fantastical and magical in that it obscures and hides its wonder in the very ordinary things that i often overlook.

there's a reason Jesus speaks in parables and stories...magical realism, folks. that'll preach.

the twilight zone

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead — your next stop, the Twilight Zone.

it's mid-afternoon, and i'm chillin in what looks like a waiting room, filled with comfy couches and diverse array of wall hangings. nothing special or interesting really about the room, but i'm introduced to a man. nothing special or interesting about said man. oh, well, except for the fact that he's just had a body transplant. wait, you mean you don't know what a body transplant is? it's where you get to keep your head, but it's transplanted onto a different body. no bigs.

this man is looking great--walking, talking, the whole bit. all is swell with this episode of The Twilight Zone that is my brain on dreams. except then the other people in the room start telling me that i, in fact, need a body transplant. no explanation is given, but they are adamant. my concerned and confused looks hint to them that i was not all down for this game plan, and so their faces change to looks of sympathy.

"now don't be alarmed," they say to me slowly, " but you're going to be really tall."

more looks of confusion. then they literally show me the legs. the legs of the person's body that my head is now to be attached to. that's when they tell me that the only body they had available for me was...a dude's body. but don't worry, i am not phased by the fact that i would now have male anatomy attached to my head. and the tall bit...well, i could get over that. i was still not ready, however, to go through with this body transplant; just didn't sit right with me. i knew i needed a solid reason to convince them otherwise. what would be a sure fire excuse to get out of this predicament?

"oh, i know!" my dream-self thought inwardly.
"sorry," I tell them. "i just can't go through with this. then i couldn't have any babies."

*wakes up in bed utterly confused

i won't bore you with the bajillion theological/philosophical/medical questions that have been running in my mind sense. but seriously, think about it...it's a fascinating (if also somewhat frightening) thought experiment. and then tell me all your awesome thoughts =) thank you for crossing over to...the twilight zone.

hope and despair

as the summer winds to a close, i can't help but be overwhelmed by my experiences of the past few months and even the past year. i don't even know where to begin.

hope and despair. that's what i've learned, experienced, breathed. degrees and extremes of hope and despair. they oddly enough look and feel quite similar, and can often be found in the same places at the very same time. they're found in the eyes of a room full of people who are homeless but not nameless. they're found in new friendships despite the racial struggles of the past and present. they're found in broken relationships, social and economic divisions, and the people who refuse to let them remain that way. they're found in the courage of the young and the old who yearn and seek for a kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

i am plagued with hope and despair, and i'm okay with that. because hope and despair now have faces and names, praises and prayers, gifts and shortcomings. i'd rather have all that baggage with hope and despair than not have it at all.

the clothes closet

every wednesday morning, i am the keeper of the clothes closet. inside this tiny, jumbled closet are mounds of second-hand clothes to be given to our folks at grace place. when the door opens each week, you never really know what to expect, but one thing is always promised-an adventure.

last wednesday proved to be particularly interesting. it was my first time running the closet myself, and i was slightly nervous about handling the situations that would arise (because, like i said, it's always an adventure). let me preface by saying this is not an extensive operation we are running. our clothes are very limited-we often don't have enough of certain items to go around, and our sizes are makeshift fits at best. we work with what we've got. it's funny how giving out clothes to people will send your mind spiraling into theological circles. i wrestle with what clothes to give people-is that shirt nice enough or too messed up? would i feel dignified wearing that? does this clothing treat them as an equal brother or sister? and then there are the reactions you get afterwards: there are those who are always grateful for what you can give them, despite my apologies for our limited offerings; then there are those who are never satisfied, and boy, do they let you know it.

my very first clothes closet customer was a new guy to grace place, and for the record, he was already crabby and in a hurry when he approached me. since he was first in line, he got first dibs on sizes we had. i gave him the pair of shorts he asked for, along with anything else, and was pleased to be able to actually give him his size! he, however, was not quite as pleased. i'd already moved on down the list to the next person when he reappeared at my closet door with this lovely greeting: "hey, shorty. hey, hey shorty." oh joy. apparently these shorts (which were actually very nice) were too short-i believe the term "daisy dukes" was used as a description. now i would have loved to roll my eyes and lecture him about proper names and ways to get a lady's attention...but i didn't. i showed him a couple other pairs we had, offered him his choice, and he went on his grumbling way.

but this closet is also the source of joy too. meet kenny. kenny is a faithful grace place attendee, a member of galloway, and probably the only guy who willingly participates on our craft days. he's a mess, but he's a kind, joyful and friendly mess, and thus we love him dearly. kenny decided to sit right outside the closet door that morning, and while i saw him there, i didn't think too much of it. i soon began to notice though that kenny was monitoring the door. every time a guy came up, kenny would remind them sternly that they were not to enter the closet, telling all the newbies the rules. i remember asking him multiple times if he needed anything that morning, and each time he replied "no" with a smile. it wasn't until i was about halfway through that i realized what he was doing-kenny was looking after me. he felt the need to be my protector and helper that morning when he knew i was working by myself.

my heart laughed and smiled at the same time. it laughed because kenny, like i said, is a hot mess. brief synopsis: he's old, walks with a cane, and has a slew of medical issues. but you best believe, if something had gone down that morning, kenny would've been in the middle of it, cane and all. kenny didn't need to be there, but he wanted to. kenny is a living, breathing, messy but honest example of the power of true relationships.

one final note-i'm getting really good at sizing mens' clothing...don't be alarmed if i practice guessing your pants size correctly. i promise it's not creepy.

randoms

some quick thoughts, since it's been forever and a day since i've blogged but it's also past my bedtime...

1. spent 5 days last week at an overnight camp for 200 youth called MissionFest, where they worked at various missions throughout Jackson. i'm just gonna be up front and say that just about everything that could go wrong...well, yea it went wrong for me. my team's bus broke down no less than 3 times, i left a poor girl at the church on the way to our work site, and even caused the overall adult leader to create a new rule after the very first day based on my team. let's just say that i do not feel called to youth ministry, but bless their hearts whoever does. don't worry, i lived to smile and laugh greatly about all of this (and even managed to keep my internship! woo hoo! ;)

2. the Word of God is indeed powerful and does not return empty. during one of the days last week, i spent time with some kids from a rougher neighborhood in Jackson. we were hanging out in their neighborhood and told them the story of Jesus healing the blind man by spitting in the dirt and putting mud on his face. i admittedly was not optimistic about them paying attention to the story, but God gave me the sassy snaps and proved me wrong. 3 young boys, around the age of 10, then grilled me with every question imaginable about God. it was astonishing to me how genuinely curious and interested these boys were--they were thirsty, and all it took was for someone to share some scripture and invite them to ask for living water.

3. lindsey and i pretty much ran the liturgy this past sunday while all our pastors were at annual conference. the phrase sink-or-swim adequately describes this scenario. thankfully i'm a firm believer in the phrase fake-it-til-you-make-it, and folks seem to have bought our confidence. the best thing that came from this sunday though were the encouragements i got from some of my grace place friends. 3 different guys have come up to me since, all beaming about how well i did on sunday. one was even so excited to tell me he saw me on t.v, gushing about how nice it was to have a familiar face on the screen--he said it felt like he was there, like it was home. best. compliment. EVER.

4. in true random fashion, i leave you with this tidbit. i am slightly embarrassed to admit that i have now seen, in marathon fashion, all 3 twilight movies...i blame the youth. but for those of you who have even the slightest idea what i'm talking about, i leave you with two words: team jacob. the end.

grace, peace and hugs to all. more stories to come!

grace place

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in." ~matthew 25:35

this verse is the foundation for Grace Place, the homeless ministry at Galloway and where i spend most of my mornings throughout the week. sunday through friday morning, galloway hosts homeless men and women from the downtown jackson area for a hot meal and some respite. usually about 60-75 folks come each day, both regulars and new faces. i think it's easy for us as christians to glamorize a ministry like this, to see it on paper and have our hearts warmed and our fists pumped for Jesus. but here's a little taste of the day-to-day life of grace place--the good, the bad, and the ugly.

the good: God's children are truly gathered here. i met "N" my very first day. when i introduced myself, he was so tickled by my name that his whole face lit up with a smile that literally radiates. if i could only harness the light behind that smile, i promise you it could heal souls. i hope i never forget his face. he is just one of many beautiful children here. on wednesdays, we have a worship service and communion just for grace place. it's raw and unglamorous, but this glimpse of the kingdom is a precious sight to behold. it's where i helped serve my first ever communion, and i wouldn't want it any other way.

the bad: you can't be in grace place long without realizing that homelessness effects all types of people--it hold no bounds, it does not discriminate. its causes are as varied as the people it affects. "V" comes often, and we have a fun time joking on each other. it's not so hard to relate to one another considering he's only 21. from our conversations, i'm pretty certain that he sells/deals drugs. it's crazy for me to imagine this young face out on the streets. there's a story behind "V" (as there always is), and i'm praying one of these mornings i'll have the privilege of finding out from him just what that is.

the ugly: in many other countries, christians still believe in demons and their power over people. after only briefly seeing how life-destroying addictions take a hold of people, i'm convinced they're here in our midst too. i say this not to scare anyone but merely to say that sin is a real and powerful stronghold in our lives, one that can capture us before we even recognize it. my second day at grace place, 2 couples walked in shortly after our worship service began, and in my limited knowledge, i knew immediately that they were addicted to drugs (if not also currently on them in that moment). my heart fell. i knew i couldn't do much to help their situation, that i likely would never see them again, that their battle was much bigger than i could ever tackle. but they got a hot meal that day and some new clothes and heard the Gospel preached.

homelessness is complicated. lately i've struggled to think about how i can possibly help in the midst of so much brokenness--where do i even start? the Gospel of Luke has been my company, where i've encountered many stories of Jesus physically healing and helping those around him; and yet, it has numerous mention of those he did NOT immediately help: "yet the news about him spread all the more, so that crowds of people came to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. but Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." a gem of wisdom lies in these verses, and i must continue to wrestle with them. what i do know is that for now i can offer a meal, some respite from the sweltering heat, a listening ear and a hopeful smile all in the name of Jesus. i pray God may use these small offerings for the kingdom.

profile: people

oh my galoshes, so many amazing experiences have happened just in the past few days--i will have many stories to share later, that's for sure. but until i've processed more and my thoughts are less jumbled, here's some quick profiles of folks i've met thus far in jackson. this is the first of many posts profiling people, because let's be real, i love people. AND these people are amazing--i'm so stoked to share part of their story. i hope their lives might bless you as they have me, even if you never get to meet them.

Leslie: Leslie loves people with a passion. she currently directs missions and outreach at Galloway, and while she claims she has no credentials for the position, she clearly has the most important one down on lock. my first day i only got to talk with her for about 20 minutes, where she proceeded to tell me about the lives of a couple of the Grace Place guys she's grown close with. Grace Place, by the way, is the homeless ministry at Galloway and where i'll be working closely at this summer--more on that later. basically, in just those 20 minutes, Leslie inspired the mess outta me--talk about sitting at the feet of an amazing woman.

Connie: speaking of amazing women...well you just can't speak about that and NOT talk about her. Connie is co-pastor extraordinaire at Galloway. she will gaze into your soul in about 3 seconds and ask you just the right questions (and probably the ones you didn't want to have to answer). this lady oozes the Holy Spirit, no joke. i heard her preach for the first time this past sunday, and my life will never be the same. never have i seen a female pastor lead with such strength and yet openness and tenderness in my life. to be honest, i've had doubts placed in my head about women being able to preach and lead, but never again will that take root in my mind. mmm mmm mmm.

Ed King: hands down the most humble man i've ever met in my life. and ladies and gents, he has much to be proud of--people come from all over to sit at his feet and learn from his life, and i can see why. if you don't know who he is, google him ASAP ("ed king civil rights"). that's right, he's google-able.

Barbara and Barry Powell: this wonderful couple took me to see joseph and the technicolor dreamcoat at the local theatre--cool point #1. barbara also drove, and while she may be a grandma, don't let that you fool you. she drives stick, and she means business on the road. barry and barbara got married in pakistan, where she was teaching at a methodist girls' school. he casually notes that he "had to chase her far"--baller, barry, baller.

more profiles to come!

greyhound

today, as i stood outside the historic downtown Jackson greyhound bus station, i wondered to myself how in the world i came to find myself in Mississippi. i can safely say that i never in my wildest daydream imagined myself here. yet God has a funny way of bringing us to just where we need to be.

As i gazed across the crowd at the greyhound station, my eyes did a double take. here i was, surrounded by Freedom Riders from all over the country, those who had risked their lives to take a stand in the name of justice and equality some 50 years ago. to simply breathe in the thick, hot mississippi air with them was already an incredible experience. but as i took in the scene, as i looked in-between the heads before me, there he was. Dr. John Perkins, casually standing near the front corner of the crowd. now i've read about him, heard him speak at various conferences, even met him a time or two, but that wasn't what gave me pause. as i looked again to confirm it was him, my spirit swelled up within me. the life and work of Dr. Perkins is why i'm now in ministry; it was through the legacy of his ministry that i first encountered the living and breathing message of the Gospel. and there he was, a casual observer honoring those who similarly dedicated their lives to God's work of reconciliation and justice.

50 years ago, the Freedom Riders stood up for what they believed the Gospel truly meant, and what strikes me is that many of them were likely my age or even younger. I can't help but ask myself, where will i be in 50 years? what will i have stood for? the Gospel was alive today at that old greyhound station, just as it was some 50 years ago. as i stood at that place, i remembered how indebted i am to those who have told me their story, who bear openly the wounds of the past for a new generation of seekers of justice through the Gospel.

I hugged a random Freedom Rider as we all dispersed from the event. Poor guy, i don't think he was quite prepared for that. but before he shuffled away with his walker, he simply looked at me and said, "i don't feel any remorse or anger about the past. read some of our stories, even though some are painful and hard. but they are important to know." may i have ears to continue to hear the story.

history lesson

i've been doing a good bit of thinking lately about history. what do we do with our history, with our past both recent and far-reaching? when i went home right before leaving for Mississippi, i asked my grandma to share with me some of her family history, a story i've not really heard and have been curious about as of late. what is it that makes us want to know where those before us have gone, where we have come from? which stories do we choose to tell, and which do we try to forget and hide?

today i heard and saw a little bit more of the history of Jackson. like all history i've ever heard, it's complicated and messy and full of painful memories. it's surreal to be at my church downtown, surrounded by a past full of the work and lives of Medger Evers, Ed King and John Perkins, to name a few. at the same time, this very church, Galloway, has its own haunting past-an internal and public battle over desegregation that tore apart its congregation in a single sunday. it's a past that has obviously left scars-the remnants of a vibrant downtown now broken and unused; the numerous homeless men and women that daily come for a meal; the racial and economic tensions that still run deep through the very seams of the city. yet Jackson and its people are still hanging on to life, to the vision of those before them who envisioned a new life beyond their history.

to be honest, i'm not sure yet what to do with all this history. it's one that i've been fortunate to hear, see, read about and even experience in other places, but that still doesn't make it any easier to take in. as i wrestle with our history, as i struggle to make it all make sense and not be in vain, i must remember that the remembering is essential. because for all it's pain and sorrow, i'm forever grateful for this history full of the named and the unnamed, for those who stood up for a world they believed in but could not yet see actualized before their eyes. what a beautiful faith legacy for me to walk in and hope in.

hello, Jackson =)

2 days and 13ish hours of driving later, i'm officially in Jackson, MS! this post will be short, as i'm now well fed and exhausted. here's some quick highlights from my travels:

1. shout out to my faithful musical companions who serenaded me (and had to listen to me sing/belt/beatbox horrendously for hours on end)--special props to Kirk Franklin, Lecrae, Javier, Adele, Michael Buble, and my girl India.Arie for their extra commitment.
2. driven through many an interesting city name lately, my personal favorite being Chunky, MS. there's obviously a story behind that name, i'm sure of it. i also may or may not have a story involving Chunky, MS as well...
3. i apparently missed the memo that MS is in central time zone, thus pleasantly surprising me with an extra hour--woot woot!
4. met some lovely new friends in ATL on friday night and promptly celebrated one of their birthdays with the whole neighborhood at their house. praise God for awesome and faithful people--more on that later when i have my brain back.
5. i just like lists with odd numbers.

aight, folks, more Jackson adventures to come. =)

the darkness has not overcome it

i looked into his eyes, and there it was. loneliness, longing, sadness, all wrapped up and personified in the light-less gaze of his eyes, the sagging of his face, the sigh of his posture. i know i've felt these feelings before, but it was as though all my senses were engulfed in its spider web. you know, the kind that's fresh and sticky, that feels like it's still glued to you even after you've frantically brushed yourself off countless times.

the excuses given to him are many, but as they are rattled off, nothing changes. they are the soundtrack behind a distantly shot film scene or the slow moving roll of the credits. present, yet distant, these excuses seem to bear no weight, providing no comfort to the loneliness. with a click you could turn the sound on or off, and the scene would continue on just the same.

how have i not realized how hard it's been for him after her death? i tell myself they weren't close, there was bickering and distance. but how do you spend a lifetime with someone and not become a part of them, and them a part of you? the bonds of marriage, of the relationships made possible by a relational God, are more powerful than i know. God, i wish grandpa knew You. i know only you can mend the glazed eyes, the hollow look, the longing for someone who infinitely cares and loves and gives, fills and satisfies. it's not too late. I pray God, that he knows you yet.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit..."

L-O-V-E

***i wrote this in my journal last week and am just now getting around to sharing...hopefully this marks the start of me actually writing again! i have missed it =)

last week i realized that i loved people. this week i learned how to let them go.

i've known for quite some time that i love people, but something happened last week, something that i can't quite explain. somewhere in the depths of my soul, where God surely resides, i felt for the first time this overwhelming sensation. at first i didn't get it. then it wouldn't go away. and then it clicked. i loved people. i love my family and friends in a way that extended beyond myself and my petty little human ways of attempting to show it and live it out.

as soon as i realized this--WAM. curveball. it could not be denied by me that this love all came from God.

maybe this isn't shocking to you, but it was to me. i've known this fact in my head, for sure. but knowing this in my heart and actions was something radical. if all this love truly comes from God, i thought, then my ability to love is naught without him. it's all from God. and so are the people that i love.

which can only mean that they are his to love, not mine. they are here for his purpose, not mine. and despite all my best efforts, i cannot love them as well as he can. quite simply, i need to let them go. pray for them? absolutely. build relationships with them? it's one of my favorite things to do! provide encouragement, support, and my worldly things? yes, yes, and yes. but yet always remembering, i am not God. and it's only because of his love for me that i have the honor to participate in his giving of love to others.

at the end of the day, i am his, and so are the ones that i love. and God knows how to love us best. my job is simply to walk faithfully in that love.

seek his face

Isaiah 55

"Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.

Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

Give ear and come to me;
hear me, that your soul may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
my faithful love promised to David.

See, I have made him a witness to the peoples,
a leader and commander of the peoples.

Surely you will summon nations you know not,
and nations that do not know you will hasten to you,
because of the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel,
for he has endowed you with splendor."

Seek the LORD while he may be found;
call on him while he is near.

Let the wicked forsake his way
and the evil man his thoughts.
Let him turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on him,
and to our God, for he will freely pardon.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,"
declares the LORD.

"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands.

Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree,
and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.
This will be for the LORD's renown,
for an everlasting sign,
which will not be destroyed."

do you ever have moments where you just know the Spirit is near? that you are being led in something way beyond what your mind can fathom? lately i have felt the Lord tugging on my heart in a multitude of mysterious ways, as if he's invading all my senses: the taste of tears beginning to form; the warmth of spring breezes on my skin; the ache in my chest of love lost and love anticipated; the rhythm of the ocean to sudden, unexpected stillness; the faint murmur of a baby's beating heart; the way words compose and transform a page. can my doubts and fears sustain such an invasion?

it's easier to lower my view of God than to raise my level of faith...may this serve as a reminder that i serve a mysterious, all-powerful, just, faithful and loving God who is beyond my wildest imagination...

from the mouth of babes

but when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple area, 'Hosanna to the Son of David,' they were indignant. "do you hear what these children are saying?" they asked him. "yes," replied Jesus, "have you never read, 'out of the mouths of children and infants you have ordained praise?'"
~matt. 21:15-16

kids never cease to surprise me. this past sunday, my faith was challenged by two kiddos in a way that can only be said, heard, and felt from the mouths of babes.

lesson 1:
"who is satan?" mmm, gotta love those deep theological questions from first graders. you have to love the innocence with which this question was asked. sometimes you just try to brush these questions off, move on with the lesson at hand. but it seems that every kid in the room that day had an answer to that one. not to mention, this young lady was per-sis-tant. so finally, i attempted an answer, to which only more questions kept coming. "is he here? is he a snake? why is he bad? why can't God just make him do what He wants?" wowzers.

what a moment. i wish i could truly convey the facial expressions of this sweet child of God as i attempted explanations to her questions. i saw the sadness on her face, the true and deep realization that satan and sin is indeed in our world. but oh! then i saw such hope and joy! to see her face relax, to witness her changing thoughts visibly on her face as she was affirmed that God, too, is present and greater, that He reigns! to see the peace painted on her face...that is the faith that moves mountains.

lesson 2:
later in our lesson, i was talking with the kids about things that are difficult and hard for us to do, like how it was hard for Elijah to go talk to King Ahab. i was trying to think of examples on the fly that the kids could relate to, and was failing pretty miserably. all that came to mind was me pretending that my roommate hadn't cleaned up her toys at home(aka-dishes) and how that can be hard to not get upset or mad. the same girl from earlier quips up and says, "why doesn't she just clean them up? well, you can just pick up her toys cause maybe if you do something nice to her, she will do something nice for you."
this girl is a world-changing-theologian in the making, you mark my words.

lesson 3:
was hanging out in my neighborhood with some of the kids when one of them asked me if i had gone to church that day. i said i had, and we talked briefly about it. then he suddenly asks, "have you met Jesus?" you know, just as if it was a casual, everyday question. here's how this convo went:

awesome kid: have you met Jesus?
me: um, yes. i have! have you?
him: yea, me too. have you talked to Jesus?
me: well...yea, i have. i did today actually.
him: yea, me too. what did he say?

...now that one stumped me for a lil bit. fortunately, my friend continued to talk in the silence of my delayed response. he told me how he was in his room one day and heard someone call his name. he thought it was his dad, so he went and found him and asked him if he called. his dad replied that he hadn't called him--it must have been Jesus.

now, this could just be his dad playing a joke on his son; knowing his family, i don't think this is the case. but i mean, c'mon--how POWERFUL is that?!? all Jesus had to do was call his name?!? that's all he needed to hear to know that Jesus is alive and present in his life?!? all it takes to trust and believe is to hear Jesus call him once by name...

it was even more ironic and striking to me because during my prayer time just before this i had been purposely trying to just listen to God, to not fill in all the space with my thoughts and requests. but honestly, well, i didn't really know what or if he had said anything to me. and then here my 4th grade friend comes along, explaining how simple it all was. God has called me by name. He continues to call my name each day, if i only i will listen.

i think i'm only just beginning to grasp what it must have been like to hear all those children shouting "Hosanna to the son of David!" such simple yet exceedingly wise words from the mouths of those with a truly powerful, bold, and stirring faith. puts a whole new meaning on having the heart of a child of God.

cookie-less wednesdays

"The purpose of Lent is...a preparation to rejoice in God's love. And this preparation consists in receiving the gift of God's mercy - a gift which we receive in so far as we open our hearts to it, casting out what cannot remain in the same room with mercy." ~thomas merton

i have always, since as far as i can remember, loved giving something up for Lent. now granted, i have come a long ways since my 3rd grade days, giving up eating cookies but only on wednesdays. i don't even think i ate cookies that much to begin with...and i probably ended up forgetting on accident anyways. but yet a seed was planted, and thus followed a slew of enjoyable things that i began to give up each year with more and more heart.

it's funny to me how many christians i hear griping about this aspect of Lent. it's as if giving up something is now passe; we should do something instead. now, of course, i have no problem with people showing their devotion to Christ in this way--Lord knows i need to increase my prayer time, give more money to those in need, and volunteer my time and love more often. faith in action is a beautiful, and necessary, thing. but there appears to be a battle these days amongst christians between personally fasting versus helping others. it's as if self-reflection, in the form of fasting for a season, is the lesser of the two; that we can only draw closer to God, and help others, by doing instead of being. the way i see it, i'm already quite skilled at distracting myself by doing things. what i'm avoiding, but yet so desperately need, is to face the reality of what needs to be worked on in my own heart.

granted, our attempts to do so are not always the most pure. clearly my younger cookie-less-wednesday self didn't fully grasp the heart behind giving something up for Lent. but with age and self awareness, i'd like to think i've progressed. maybe that's why Lent is my favorite time of year. it's a chance for progress. it's a chance to unveil just how selfish and single-minded i am and yet still give me a glimmer of hope, an anticipation that God's work in me is not yet finished.

i hesitate to say what exactly it is i am giving up for lent, but i think it might help people to understand the why behind it all. and who knows? perhaps by merely giving up something, by being without, i can give perspective to someone else, too.

make-up. that's right--Jeannie is going sans make-up for 40 awesomely Jesus-filled days. so far it's been...well...surprisingly uneventful. i remember on Ash wednesday thinking, 'well, i feel like...me. and i look like...me. interesting.' i don't know why i thought there would be this gremlin-like creature emerging from the mirror that entire day...that would have made for a much more thrilling story though.

God has really placed beauty on my heart the past year or so, especially in terms of how i, as a woman, view myself in light of creation and as a child of God. beauty is more than skin-deep, as we all know, but it is also very visible. at some point in my wrestling, i realized that i was relying on other things and people to validate my worth and beauty in the eyes of the Creator. this Lent season is a baby step for me to take, an action of not doing that will lead to more actions, actions of confidence, actions of love. and more concretely, it's forcing me to think about God and Her beauty given to me every time i begin to notice or think about the fact that i haven't made-up a face today. this step is necessary for me, as Merton says, so that i might open my heart to God, that i might see who i am and who i am being made to be. with each day, i cast out thoughts and actions that prevent me from receiving all God's love and mercy.

regardless of whether you are giving something up, actively doing, or perhaps both or neither, let us remember this--we are all works in progress. to ashes we will all return, but until that day we must continue to encourage one another in our attempts to open our hearts further to God. in the meantime, i'm rockin out what my maker gave me! and still eating cookies on wednesdays. =)

Fiber for the Soul

because of the recent snow-pocalypse(s) that has taken over Charlottesville, i've had some good times of catching up with friends, and that of course includes the bestest--God. this past sunday, we were spending some quality time together when he brought up the sabbath to me. 'how appropriate,' you might say, 'that it was a sunday!' yea, yea, that's what i thought at first, too.

i get one of those daily bible verse emails, and that day's happened to be Hebrews 4:9-11:

there remains, then, a sabbath rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God's rest also rests from his own work, just as God did from his. let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will fall by following their example of disobedience.

as i reread the verse, plus the few before, i was taken aback by a single thought--so wait, could it be that the sabbath is something to be taken everyday?!? not gonna lie, i sometimes feel kinda guilty for taking a sabbath, as if resting isn't worthy of God. but shoot, then comes Hebrews telling me that not doing so is disobedience...my, how that changes things.

we always talk about how we have this new freedom in Christ, and i often feel lost about what in the world this really means, especially in light of needing and wanting to be obedient. but when it says for me to enter God's rest, i think i start to understand. to enter into the rest of God is essentially freedom, freedom from the burdens of work, school, relationships, failures, life. sabbath is the freedom to trust God everyday, to put faith in the Creator who will provide for us, take care of us, and ultimately knows, and will do, what is best for us. taking a sabbath is an act of faith, trust, and obedience to the living God.

what if i actually did this everyday? actively said, and believed, that God will take care of all my needs if i simply rest in him? wow, how my life would look different! how the things i worry about would drastically change! how differently i would carry on in this world!

i suppose, in the end, that taking a sabbath should ultimately be the example of our prayer life and relationship with God. it's just as necessary as our "quiet times," or as i like to call it, play time, for building a trusting and meaningful relationship with our Creator. it shows that our faith is beyond anything we think we could ever do to earn such love and grace.

course, this is easier said than done. but i think i've got a new mindset that will help me to strive for a sabbath, for a time everyday to rest in God and give my life to him. the way i see it, the sabbath is kinda like fiber for the soul--ya gotta get enough of it everyday so that all can run smoothly, right? ;)

finger painting 101

i recently bought my first ever set of watercolors. i've had a desire as of late to paint. don't ask me why, cause i have no visually artistic abilities whatsoever. so far i've only painted once, and while it was quite fun, perhaps i should have started out my painting exploration with finger paints.

art. the Bible is a piece of art. yea, yea, it's also the written word of God. but the Bible is ART.

i have recently been struck by the Bible's literary awesomeness. the poetry, the use of language, the stories, creativity...wow. i've been reading the Psalms as of late, mostly because i feel like they just speak to me, that i connect better to their use of imagery and artistry. but then i began to read Lamentations, and Elijah's story, and Esther, and i realized, well, the whole Bible is this fascinating literary work. i love writing. i love reading. i love the thought that goes into each word, each phrase, but more than that i love the bigger picture. and right now, the big picture that the Bible paints is one of such diversity and creativity that it just makes me downright giddy and giggly.

i've been pondering a lot lately about translation and interpretation. something that has been on my heart and mind is how often we nitpick at verses, how we, in our attempts to be "literal" and "unbiased" readers of the Bible, end up reducing it to something so devoid of creativity and passion, of diversity and emotion. it just seems to me downright silly. i could never read the Bible NOT being me, just as you can't read it not being you. and i don't think that's a bad thing. the creative God of the entire Universe couldn't possibly have desired for us to read about Him in the exact same way, right?!?

perhaps some will say my thoughts are heretical, i dunno. but i can't imagine that the way God and His Word reach out to me is the way it must reach others. just as believers have a plethora of testimonies, so we should also have just as many ways to read and see and explore God's Word and His ever-reaching hands in our lives. the early writers certainly thought so too--why else would we otherwise have at least 4(!!!) different accounts of the same story of Jesus' life?!? same God, different people, different ways of reaching them, different accounts of who He is. do you see how beautiful that is?!? that only collectively, through all our different eyes, words and lives, can we see the fullness of God's creativity and awesomeness?!?