La gloria del Senor...

“I am undone,” Isaiah cries upon glimpsing the glory of the Lord.

Upon seeing the glory of the Lord in my life, I can’t help but repeat, “I am undone.”

I am overwhelmed by the Lord. I am overwhelmed at the thought that He does not desire for me to be a diamond in the rough, but rather a brilliantly cut stone. I am overwhelmed at what He has revealed to me. I am overwhelmed at where He has brought me. I am overwhelmed to what He has called me.

I would pray for the Lord to make me more like Christ. I would sing with Mr. Camp,

“Holy fire,
Burn away
My desires
And anything
That is not of You
And is of me.
I want more of You,
And less of me.
Empty me.”

And He responded. The road has not been easy, and the refining process I still don’t quite grasp. But I know that He has called me to be more like Christ. He is forming me like clay on a potter’s wheel. I am undone just thinking about His goodness. I am blessed by His love and His attention to my life.

Do not despise His chastening. Our weaknesses must be brought forth so that His strength may come through. We must be purged if we want to be used. We must be torn down so that He can build us up to be stronger and more beautiful and more useful than before.

Be encouraged through the fire. I can’t fully comprehend or explain it, but when we allow ourselves to come face to face with truth…when we don’t run from the difficult chastening…when we consider His refinement a blessing…He will bless us. And we will be more fulfilled in becoming more like Him. And His glory will shine through us.

So I will still my spirit and trust Him with more than my life...

Who am I that He is mindful of me?

I am undone.



*Edit*

Lest you join those who think me to be a "strong girl," I'll be the first to admit that I am weak...

"I'm a big kid now...or not..."

Sunday afternoon finds me in my old dorm, waiting for my laundry to finish drying. I probably should be doing homework, but the mass of thoughts swirling through my head require me to be here…not writing for a grade.

One of the subjects in brain this week have been about growing.

So easily are many deceived into confusing the concepts of “growing up” and “growth.” The fear or attitude that we need to be “somebody” before doing something causes many to do nothing. And the concept of being “somebody” takes many forms, but the most common and probably most unnoticed is to believe that we need to be the somebody who has things all figured out and knows what one needs to know…and course never requires help and never makes mistakes. This attitude of reaching some state where we will feel that we have sufficiently matured and know what there is to know, is nothing but pride and a lie we’ve told ourselves to excuse our fears.

Growth. We eventually stop growing up, but we never stop growing. We may never “feel” that we are ready to do something. And this can paralyze us from doing anything. We must accept our imperfection. We must accept that we do not know everything. We must choose to be teachable. Choose to take risks. It’s in the doing where we grow. As the book title says, “You can’t walk on water until you get out of the boat.” A stagnant spirit, waiting to come to some utopian state before deeming oneself “ready” for a move in life is nothing but a fear-driven excuse. Sometimes, it’s only in taking that step…it’s only in accepting our own weaknesses and imperfection…and walking in the faith of God…where we truly grow.

Growth is found in admitting that I’m not perfect. It’s found in denying my pride and grasping humility. It’s in refusing to be stubborn. It’s in spurning an unteachable spirit. It’s in trusting God and His ways of growing me enough to make my faith active.

I’m no longer a kid. I’ve been deemed “mature” for quite sometime now. I’ve done my share of “growing up”…but I’ll be the first to admit that I not done growing. I’ll be growing until the day I die. I better get used to it. I’m a 22-year-old woman who doesn’t know it all and is far from perfect. And I’ve yet to walk on water, but the Lord beckons me to come out of the boat. I’m not going to let my pride or fear keep me from responding to God’s call for me….God’s call to “grow up,” leave behind those days of both my personal and spiritual childhood and respond to His call to be a woman of God. A woman of God who will spend the rest of her life learning…and growing.

It's the second day of classes...

It’s the second day of classes. Just as the sun was rising in the sky, she and I walked to class….to the very classroom that we met exactly one year ago today. Who would have know we would be housemates 365 days later?

It’s the second day of classes. I am surrounded by the familiar. The buildings are still here, and the landscape has barely changed. I even see some of those same familiar faces of the strangers I pass every week. It’s been about four months since I’ve done this “school” thing, and yet those four months seem like they were sucked into some sort of other time continuum. So I was really gone?

It’s the second day of classes. I am engulfed by the change. Though things be familiar, more greatly are things different. My house. My walk to school. My 400 level classes. My impending graduation….just to name a few. “The only thing constant is change,” they say. I guess I better embrace it or be miserable and left behind in the dust.

It’s the second day of classes. I’ve been to four out of my six classes this semester. I’m going to be writing. I’m going to be writing all the time. During all those first classes, I think of what else I could take instead of this class….but then I have to tell myself that, though it’s not going to be easy, I need to embrace the opportunity to learn new things and develop my skills. Ahhhh. Fine. And, I guess while I’m at it, that attitude should be applied to more than class work…hard equals not fun…but easy doesn’t usually equal growth, either.

It’s the second day of classes. Tomorrow I meet with my advisor. To discuss the future. In eight months that are sure to fly by, I will be out of my protective bubble called “school,” and I need to be the best candidate for some sort of job. That is until I’m the tour manager for that one up and coming future rock star I know in New York:)

It’s the second day of classes. And it’s time for me to go to class.

Someone's TWO today...

Happy 2nd Birthday
to the greatest niece
and the smartest, cutest little girl
(who's over a year, of course).

Someday I'll be there for her birthday...

Tired thoughts of home.

Well, I made it. After eleven and a half hours in a car fully packed inside and out....and my companions, silence and a walkman playing 5 hours of a conference I once attended... I arrived at my new house in Cleveland.

It's a great little house. Much bigger than the one I called home for four months last semester. I was welcomed by familiar faces and long hugs from a few of those special people I hadn't seen in quite some time.

I spent all day trying to get my stuff put away, and yet I feel like I made but a dent. I eventually escaped the chaos of my and Laura's loft room...and escaped the empty, unfamiliar house for a more familiar sight...and a place with internet connection. Arriving at the student union, I walked up the stairs to hear the gentle roar of a post-chapel mixer going on on the main floor. Hmm... I continue upstairs to the empty third floor and settle myself in a comfy big chair...only to immediately think of the memory I have of this spot...

But more importantly, and certainly more productive, are my thoughts of my week at home in Rockford. I think it was my best trip back there of the year. I spent time with a friend I met during Christmas break and had a complete blast with her going IKEA, Big Bowl, and JMK (where we got our karaoke on). I had lots of quality time with the nieces (and taught the smart Andi what a platypus is and to say, "That's fo' sho'"). I even got to spend time with my brother, which is a bit uncommon because of his whole "work" thing he has going on. I learned that that habit I have of holding a drink in my mouth before swallowing is also a trait of both my dad and my brother. I actually felt like my time between people was a bit more balanced than before.

More significantly, though, I had good, quality times with both my dad and mom. A "kitchen conversation" with my dad (where we're in the kitchen, both standing, leaning on counters in similar fashion) revealed that Dad and I have more in common than the way we stand...and the exciting news that not only had he been attending a church since June, but also had been attending a "Crash Course in Christianity" class every week, too. I was shocked. I was filled with joy...and hope.

I had talks with my mom, too. My willingness to be open in mind, heart and speech allowed me to hear and accept what she had to say, as well as be built up by her words. It was a time of healing in our relationship. It started a real mending to our mother/daughter relationship. And I'm so glad. She has blessed me and spoken God's Word to me. With her words of encouragement and support, even today, she has made me thankful for our relationship.

And now...I think I'll be off. My head is starting to spin, my thoughts are disjointed, and I'm having difficulty remembering how to spell words. It's time for me to head...to that house I live in...which is soon to be "home."

The Word is life.

"'Ho! Everyone who thirsts,
Come to the waters;
And you who have no money,
Come, buy and eat.
Yes, come, buy wine and milk
Without money and without price.
Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
And your wages for what does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,
And let your soul delight itself in abundance.
Incline your ear, and come to Me.
Hear, and your soul shall live.'"

~Isaiah 55:1-2~

Guilty as charged. I thirst and hunger...yet I spend myself on what does not satisfy and fill myself up with what does not edify my body, soul and spirit. I spend myself when He just invites, "Come and eat."

I will listen. I will delight. I will live.

Raw Contemplations.

Much more than a refining fire or a burning of chaff, the past days have been more like a spiritual colonic...or a digging out of roots that have been growing for 22 years way down deep.

I've finally looked in the mirror...or actually had the mirror held up to me...because a broken pot reveals its contents and a squeezed sponge oozes what it's soaked up. My eyes have been opened and my ears are now more sponge-like than the rocks they have been for so long.

But the mirror was held up, and I was appalled at what I saw. Junk and muck that's just been sitting for years breeding off of itself. I had already begun to see the unteachable spirit and rebellion...and the pride....but the anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, judgment... who knew so much could be found? These aren't new. They didn't develop in me over the past few months, or even the past year. But this week has brought me to a place of openess and revelation....and made me "ready" to hear those things I haven't wanted to hear for years. Channels of communication that have been closed for some time have been cleared...holding back has been cast aside. I'm done wearing masks. This is who I am.

I want geniuneness. I'm done over-dramatizing some issues and completely ignoring others.

Now hear me. I'm not saying that I've been a complete farce and all who have come to know me don't really know me. And I'm not saying that I think I'm utterly worthless and overcome. But in my life there is muck that I need to be rid of.

Wow. Where do I go from here? And how do I deal with the rest of it?

Mom says day by day. And God says, "Be patient. Wait."

And so I do. I'll be here. Waiting.

Goodbye.

Today I leave New York.

I leave a far different person than as I came 11 weeks ago.

What I take from here is invaluable.

I thought I was here to learn about family. And I was. And I did.

Family was something I observed. I witnessed how healthy ones worked…from younger ones to one that had been running for over 25 years.

It was something I needed to see. And the lessons I take from what I witnessed won’t be fully known until that unseen day down the road when I find myself with a family of my own.

But more than witnessing, observing and gleaning from family…I was embraced in family.

From the first night I arrived to the last, I was loved as part of the family. Perhaps I didn’t recognize it fully until this week, but I well know that I leave behind some friends who truly are more like sisters and brothers.

And I now also well know that I return to two parents who deeply love and care for their youngest daughter. And I return to a brother and sister (and talk to the other sister) whose love and loyalty for their little sis runs deep.

But aside from all these family-related lessons, I learned and grew in other areas, in ways I don’t fully know but am aware that something was started in me.

Like in Spain. I was stretched and had to step out of the box I had so comfortably resided in for so long. I mean, this girl who doesn’t like getting up in front of groups and speaking about anything personal not only talked to a church but stood on a box and shouted for all in the plaza to hear. And that’s only a part of it. A new work was started in me indeed.

And in all that I learned and in all the areas where there’s been growth, perhaps the most valuable, and certainly the hardest and most costly of all lessons, I learned in my last days here. I am far from having a complete grasp on it (and sincerely doubt that I ever will), but I relish the wisdom I should have sought out long ago. And I am determined to make new habits. I’m not alone in this life. And I don’t have to be. And I shouldn’t be.

And so I leave. I finish up one chapter and stare at the blank page separating this one from the next. I can’t say that I know what’s in store. I can’t even say that I have an inkling, a dream or a hope. I have only the knowledge that as I walk the road…I’m not the only one on it.

So, goodbye New York. With red eyes and a tear-stained face, I load up the last of my things, shut the door to this empty yellow house I called home for a few months, and make the long drive home.

I love you.

And I’ll be back.

How could I not?

We're family.

Opps, I did it again....again...

It was just going to be a quick stop to return something. In and out in five minutes.

So, I pull into the parking lot, only to see her heading to her car that is parked right next to mine. We exchange marvels of seeing one another in the booming metropolis of Canton as I get out of my car and she gets into hers.

I do my return and head back out to my car. Hmmm....where are those keys? I search through my purse. Noope. I don't see them on the seat at all, so I go back into the store. Perhaps I left them on the counter. Nooope. I head out to the car again and look once again for any sign of my keys.

Oh, there they are. In the ignition.

Good thing I have road-side assistance with my insurance, and they are more than happy to deal with such a matter (as I well know).

And so I call. And I am asked, " Do you know the license plate number of your car without getting out the vehicle?" I think there would be bigger problems than not knowing my license plate number if I locked my keys in the car...with me in it.

And so it was all taken care of. I wasn't too annoyed because at least I burned some time and had the satisfaction that all that money I put (okay, well, my dad puts) towards insurance actually gets me something.

I returned home, and I told my tale to her husband (sometimes referred to as "Aww Dad" late nights in Spain)...she hadn't returned before me, thankfully.

And he said that he and I make quite a pair.

But at least I lock my doors if I leave the keys in the ignition.

And that's why I still have my car.