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| I stumbled upon this this afternoon while aimlessly wandering the neglected folders on my hard drive ...
"I live for stolen moments. I'm learning that that is the only way to live...be so busy you want to scream and cry and not finish the day and then be unexpectedly blessed with a moment (or a few moments) of such pure bliss that it gives you the energy that you need to conquer the next mountain. Stealing moments...that's how I will live my life.
Today I stole an entire half an hour, spent at the waterfront when I should have been at dinner. It was miserably hot, I had a million things to do, and I wandered down to the waterfront to apologize to Jose for missing soak. He asked me if I wanted to take a quick swim while he and Raul raked the beginner's area. I pondered and then ran to change into my suit. The water was perfect, absolutely refreshing. I swam out to the Waingunga raft where I laid for at least 30 minutes. The first five minutes I was fraught with worry- I was missing dinner, I had so much to do, I would never finish, Jose and Raul would be ready to leave, would they come see me? My mind was in hyperdrive. Then I just started to pray...to pour my heart out to God and I just cried out to Him and for Him and begged for the mercy of my new friends and the hearts of my old ones. Oh, it was such a precious, precious time. Barely any clouds, the sun was soft on its way to setting, the breeze gentle, the dock gently swaying. I couldn't hear or see the guys anymore and it felt like it was truly just me and God. Oh, such prayers I prayed...I wish words fell that freely all of the time. And what made it so beautiful? The unexpectedness of it. I think moments like that are infinitely more precious than a rigid up-at-6 AM-to-do-devotions kind of life...so that was a gift and a joy and washed me with peace and sweetness and I felt like I was glowing when I climbed out of the lake. I probably was.
Steal moments...steal life. Isn't that what we are supposed to do anyway? Think about it. We are stealing life for God, away from the enemy...chasing the ultimate prize, we are stealing every moment we can away from life-with-a-lower-case-l and pushing towards LIFE. It's LIFE the way God intended it to be lived, a LIFE for Him and by Him and in Him and through Him. It's the LIFE that I want.
God, I pray that LIFE for my new friends. I pray that this fire and passion in me will remain. I pray for LIFE, wherever it may lead. Teach me how to steal the moments you give me with each of these precious hearts. Steal their hearts, make them Yours...use me how You will.
14 July 2006"
I miss that girl. I want her back. I don't recognize me anymore. I have ceased to be me and instead have become the things that I do. It's time for a change ... I'm scared of it. I don't know exactly what it will look like. But I have to find me again. | | |
| I write stories at work that cover a myriad of First Amendment issues...court cases, lawsuits, violations, etc. I've been a little machine, turning out work as soon as they assign it to me. And they were quite impressed with my ability to handle volumes of work (this has a point, it's not mindless bragging, trust me). The last week or so I've been working on two stories that are so frustrating, though. I spent a day or two researching and had a draft, like normal, for them to edit and then post. Yet this time, for both stories, the first drafts I turned in were given back to me with recommendations for significant changes. This was incredibly disheartening; I was no longer good enough. And yet, as I began to research these stories further, I uncovered these huge new parts of them that I had completely missed. Suddenly, these worlds opened up immensely, giving me new ground for analysis, allowing me to present sides of the stories that hadn't been presented before. Now here I am, well over a week into both stories, and I have no conceivable deadline. But they will be good. Really, really good. I glanced over a first draft earlier today and thought "did I really think that I could turn this in?" Not that it was inherently bad- it wasn't. It just wasn't complete, not filled to its potential.
Can you guess the link? I started thinking about my real life and wondered if the same thing was happening. It didn't take too much analysis to realize "hell yes". (Sorry for the expletive, but it's necessary at this point.) Over the course of the last two weeks, God has used at least 5 people (and that is a vast underestimate) to tell me that I need to slow down. And it's so true. I could go on in this vein for awhile, explaining to you how unsatisfied I've become, how much I want to curl up in bed and sleep for days, how it all seems "meaningless, a chasing after the wind". I feel like, based on what I've learned at work, that if I were to explore the full potential of a few of the things that I'm doing, these things would be much more satisfying and rewarding. So my heart understands these things...it's convincing my head to let go that has become the problem.
I kind of just want to leave. And I know exactly where I want to go. But I would be hurting too many people if I left. But is it time to just go and not worry about pleasing everybody and try just pleasing God for a little while? I'm 19. I shouldn't be a workaholic. It just doesn't set a good precedent for the rest of my life. | | |
| I've been meaning to write for a while now. I need to talk about this summer again- just to try desperately to capture what exactly it was and what I learned and all of those things before they no longer dart in and out of my thoughts constantly. I'm still haunted by it; it flickers through my mind while I'm sitting in class, while I'm driving, as I'm fading to sleep each night. So maybe I can use this medium to once again chronicle an extraordinary adventure of mine and months from now I can look back and read it and remember how it felt...that's why I love this silly little blog of mine. I can wander through the past year and a half of my life and it always makes me feel better. And camp was by far the most extraordinary, so how could I not give it an ample share of this space?
For the first week or two (or three...) that I was home, I couldn't talk about it without crying. It wasn't really a sad cry, though to some degree it was. It was more just releasing all of the emotions that I felt this summer- and I really think I felt them all. I started the summer just really excited and crazy-nervous. I mean, I was home- I've always considered that camp home. But I was very much in the minority in every way imaginable...a Christian female from the South who didn't drink or smoke or speak Spanish all that well. Part of the reason I went away this summer was to escape reality for a little while, to be by myself and gain perspective on my life while outside of my comfort zone without my support group. I wanted this summer to be about me and God, which it turned out to be in a totally different way than I expected. I never expected to fall in love...and I fell in love with a group of people like I never have before. They stole my heart- the staff, the campers, everyone. I started out thinking that I had to be perfect. I had to be perky and happy and willing to help all of the time. I had to fill in every gap, encourage everyone, and convey this incredible sense of joy. I thought that would be the best way to be a witness, the best way to open doors to have conversations. (I suppose I should preface this by saying that I also fell in love with relational ministry quite unexpectedly...it kind of fell into my lap. God is HUGE!) So I tried. Really, really hard. And it worked for the first couple of weeks before it fell apart. I was really lonely. I didn't want to ask for help, I didn't want to admit that I was weak. And do you know what God did with that? He destroyed it. He broke me. One morning, I just lost it. My family had just arrived in NH and weren't planning on coming to see me until the next day, which made me really sad because I needed familiar faces! I had been up working until 3 AM the night before and I got lost running an errand that morning so I drove into camp just bawling. My uncle saw me, though, and sent me right to the waterfront where my best summer friend was working. This guy just stole my heart more than anyone else...I could see God's fingerprints on His life and started praying for him the moment I met him. We had such a God-given, intense friendship...oh, pray for that boy. Anyway, we started working on a project until he just stopped me and asked me what was wrong. Then I cried and cried but I had a friend who just held me and poured so much light and joy and encouragement into my heart. From that day on, I was okay with crying. And I did. A lot. But from that day on, I had someone to go to who welcomed me with open arms. I was so confused too, because I couldn't figure out what God was doing. Here I was, the Christian, who was supposed to have everything together, turning to a nonbeliever who literally just infused life into me. He taught me to feel...we had so many discussions about letting hearts conquer heads and learning to be okay with feelings, with weaknesses. But I felt guilty because I felt like I should have been the one who had the answers, the one who knew what to do and how to deal with any kind of situation. But I was this lonely, confused, changing little girl who needed help. Over the course of a couple of weeks, God stripped me raw and showed me so much about myself, about relationships, about Him. I remember writing Kim an email that I titled "exfoliation" because that's honestly what it felt like...God took all of these lies and heartaches and fears and walls and just ripped all of them out of me. I can't even explain it, but it was like every time I stopped to think He just illuminated some other something about my life...it was like a constant, hard rain that just forced all of this stuff out of my heart. It was so intense.
Anyway, God continued just to wrench my heart free from all of these crazy bondages that I had given myself. He taught me lesson after lesson in so many different ways. The whole time I was on an emotional roller coaster- it was highs and lows and highs and lows on a daily basis. It was incredible, though. I've never been so raw, so vulnerable, so open. Fast forward a month or so and camp was almost over. That month felt like six months, though...so much happened. After a series of incredible events and challenges, God began to show me how He really works. The last week and half I was there was so emotionally charged, it's almost hard to explain. God shined though. I think that as Christians, we aren't supposed to be perfect. In weakness, in vulnerabilty, in tears, we show the world that we are human, broken, and lost just like they are. By opening our hearts and saying "I don't know", it gives them permission to open up as well. It creates common ground. What kind of work can we do if we pretend to be perfect, to have all of the answers? If we are always the good kids who never let go, if we never crack and show that we feel, that we make mistakes, that we sin...we're going to scare the whole world away. Though I couldn't understand why at the time, God showed me how opening my heart and being honest with my friend allowed him to do the same thing. And God lived in our brokeness and grew our friendship exponentially, flinging open doors for conversations and moments and challenges and love. There's a verse in 2 Corinthians that says something like "My power is made perfect in weakness". It's beautiful and it's so incredibly true. God can break down any wall. He can overcome any obstacle. Believe me. Tears between friends are a powerful thing, especially as light is shining and walls are falling and God is changing hearts. And the thing is...it's all God. Because goodness knows little 19-year-old female me could have never made those connections on her own.
This has been long and incoherent and such stream of consciousness...but I had to get it out before I lost any more of it to this crazy madness that is my life. I miss my camp, I miss my boys (little and big), I miss my mountains and my lake. I'm learning why I'm back- God had such incredible plans for me this semester and I'm having so much fun exploring all kinds of new opportunities. But this summer was precious and life-changing and extraordinary. I want it back. I still get teary sometimes. They aren't sad tears, though (most of the time). They are grateful and broken and beautiful tears that are just full. And my Jesus takes those and any tears as a sacrifice and treasures them close to His heart. Why? Because He sees my tears as what they are...acceptance of my own weakness, of my not being strong enough to handle something on my own, of my collapsing at His feet and asking Him to take care of me, of releasing this horrible pressure I put on myself to be perfect and enough for everyone all of the time. But I'm not perfect. I'm weak. And His power is made perfect in my weakness. | | |
| Today sucks.
Imagine having the world that you've known for two and a half months suddenly disappear with no reassurance that the people you have come to cherish will ever be in your life again and the routines and scenery and everything is just over. It's done. It doesn't exist anymore. Then imagine that you've been thrown back into a world that has kept moving for those two and a half months and you're really not sure that you have a place in it anymore...or that you want a place in it anymore. Nothing here is the same either, but you haven't been a part of the change. And you yourself have changed and been through so much, but no one here can even begin to understand it because they weren't a part of it. And the people who were a part of it, who caused it, who held your hands and kissed your face and talked and cried and laughed with you through it all are suddenly all over the world...
My extraordinary summer is over. It was stolen, a brief two and a half months of passion and life and happiness and expanding the bubble and breaking free of the box, of meeting God face to face and learning to depend on Him completely. The last thing I said to my friend as he dropped me off at the airport today was that I truly owned my heart for the first time. And I do. But tonight my heart is very lonely.
And tomorrow after a good night's sleep (I haven't slept in since I left TN), things will be better. I know they will. But tonight I'm raw and full and exhausted. I have no idea why I came home and the abstract joys of "home" are now tangible and not nearly so fulfilling as they should be. It will be better. But bear with me these first few weeks as I try to figure out where I belong now and who I belong with and how all of the new things I've figured out and experienced will fit back into my life here. It's not just "culture shock"-it's really trying to figure out how I can fit back into the box that I escaped this summer, or even if that is possible at all. I don't want to go back in. I want to stay free, stay alive, stay passionate, stay Mel...
But when it comes down to it, what I really, really want is to see my friends from here and have them hold my hands and kiss my face and talk and cry and laugh with me until I know that everything really is okay. I told my friend this morning that the tears I was crying were partially out of happiness, because they were. I'm so excited, so in tune with God and with myself, that I can't wait to see where the future takes me. My life is an open road. And I'm ready for it. | | |
| Tonight as I made my last trek from the waterfront to the house, my mind was absolutely whirling as it tried to recall a myriad of memories from this precious summer...every perfect moment, every joke, every tear (and there were lots), every stunning insight, every lesson learned, every prayer whispered, every smile given...I was reeling. And I just thought "I love every inch of this place with every bit of my heart". And it's true. When I was little, I used to think this place was magical. Now I know it is and it is full of even more memories. It has been an intense summer. When you are confined in a bubble in the middle of nowhere for seven weeks with less than a hundred people, things can get intense. But I wouldn't change anything.
I went to coffee with my dearest summer friend on Sunday (and Saturday and today, actually...) to our little coffee shop in the "downtown" not far from camp. We were sitting and talking, spilling our hearts, crying together. At one point, he looked at me and said "Mel, when I first met you, I thought that you wouldn't make it. I thought that you were too fragile. But you have proved me so, so wrong. You are so strong. You are an incredibly strong woman. And you have grown up this summer." The conversation went on in this fashion for several minutes, as we have both evolved and changed so much over these past two months. But his words struck me. I wish I could explain it...what this place really is and how God has used moments and places and people to truly break me (and I was so broken) and then draw me into His spirit. I explained it this way...my life was a balloon and it expanded SO much this summer. There were absolute breaking points, when I was so full and stretched to my capacity that I almost popped, but I never did. Because my balloon is made of something stronger than anything that could come up against it or inside it. My strength comes from Him. I told my friend that and he said yes, but it is the way you use it that makes it so incredible. He called me a steward of it. And then I cried. And my balloon has deflated again and my mind is settled and at peace, but the stretch marks are still there- painful, precious, exhilirating reminders of how strong Christ is and how much I can handle with Him. I'm ready. Really, really ready.
I know now that I have to be a minister. I know now that I am allowed to be weak, because His power is made perfect in weakness. I know now that I am never going to be comfortable, that God will forever be drawing my heart somewhere new, giving me some new challenge, ripping out some old foundation. I feel clean and new and purged of all things false. I've been away from the real world, though, and I know the culture shock will be intense. The idea of daily showers, makeup, real clothes, television, traffic, female friendship...all totally foreign. Haha.
So now I am going upstairs to pack before finishing the last few administrative things I have to do. Then I will wander down to watch a movie with the guys and then (if precendent proves true) will fall asleep in the midst of these extraordinary gentlemen, feeling safer than I have in a long time. One of them told me today that when I feel asleep last night, he looked over at me and saw happiness in my face. And it's true. | | |
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