tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214655392024-03-07T22:30:35.142-05:00Strike Sparks<p>A girl. A pen. And a striving for authenticity.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.comBlogger216125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-76198625541787247812014-09-30T10:33:00.002-05:002014-09-30T10:33:33.615-05:00Follow Me at my New BlogHey Friends,<br />
<br />
I can't thank you enough for being such faithful readers over the last few years. I have loved my time writing about Africa and what God is teaching me. With this new season in my life, I've decided to start a new blog called <i>Whole</i>, which is all about learning to live a wholehearted life.<br />
<br />
Please head on over and subscribe to my new blog<a href="http://www.saritahartz.com/"> here</a> to make sure you get all my recent posts and updates.<br />
<br />
with love,<br />
SaritaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-59240994337688288052014-08-07T09:35:00.001-05:002014-08-07T15:20:51.572-05:00How to Learn to be Content<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Most days I don't know how to let go of fear. </b><br />
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It presses heavy on my chest and claws up my throat threatening to stifle my breath with all the things that can go wrong and do go wrong. And breath is the only thing I have. In and out.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Infilling and surrender.</b><br />
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Sometimes the mountains don't keep the grey Marine layer out and the fog rolls in obscuring my view of the sloped horizon. Days like this I have to fight hard to remember what I'm thankful for when the myriad of test results don't come back the way I wanted or I think about the<a href="http://www.saritahartz.com/2012/08/loss.html" target="_blank"> losses</a> I've already had.<br />
<br />
Things like <a href="http://mthfr.net/what-is-mthfr/2011/11/04/" target="_blank">MTHFR</a> gene mutations and <a href="http://mthfrliving.com/health-conditions/preparing-pregnancy-mthfr-mutations/" target="_blank">how they affect fertility,</a> and can lead to miscarriage and a host of other issues, things I'm just beginning to understand, detonate like bombs into my world of delicate balance.<br />
<br />
There are days when every post on Facebook is some new woman who is pregnant, or a picture of a girl with her three friends who are all pregnant at the same time....how serendipitous. I try not to roll my eyes. There are times when there is a preemie <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thezionproject?ref_type=bookmark" target="_blank">baby born in Uganda</a> stuck in an ICU, battling for his life and while my team is there, I long to be there.<br />
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These are days when my experience tells me that the worst thing always happens and the things I want don't seem to work out.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I have to fight for my breath. I have to fight for my peace.</b><br />
<br />
The roses on my deck died about two months ago. The petals fell to the ground, trampled and shriveled, dry from lack of water, and I thought yes, it's true, I can't keep anything alive. I wish I had gotten my grandmother's green thumb. My rose bush stood naked like that for weeks, bereft of her tangerine color. I felt sad every time I looked at her, hoping that maybe she would bloom again.<br />
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<b>Sometimes we have to realize our worst fears, so we can be free of them. </b><br />
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What if this is as good as it gets?<br />
What if I don't have a child?<br />
How do I learn to live here?<br />
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<b>How do I learn to be content now, in this present moment?</b><br />
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In my mind's eye, I can see Jesus at that pivotal moment before his death feeling the weight of helplessness, the dream withered, the promise destroyed, the abandonment, the doubt:<br />
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"Why have you forsaken me?"<br />
He wasn't spared the pain of that, but in it he turns to God with honest words. And then surrenders.<br />
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<b>A kind of holy grieving. </b><br />
<br />
I'm learning something too from my research on the ancient <a href="http://www.bakadesuyo.com/2014/01/ancient-philosophers/" target="_blank">Stoics</a>.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>This idea of negative visualization that when we contemplate the loss of things we hold dear, we can be grateful for what we have, just as a brush with death makes us aware of the gift of life. </b><br />
It might sound morbid to contemplate, but scientists say that it can actually increases levels of happiness.<br />
<br />
I'm not quartered into a refugee camp in Syria, I did not lose my family in the Holocaust, I'm not being bombed in Israel, and I'm not being persecuted for my faith in Sudan.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>There are all kinds of reasons to be grateful. </b><br />
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It is not a letting go of hope, but just a letting go of my idea that I can control things.<br />
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I breathe in. I face my deepest fear. It threatens to strangle me with its grief, but as I look I realize the fear was exaggerated. I breathe out.<br />
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The reality is that I will be ok. God has been good to me through worse than this and in this present moment, I am alright. I think of my husband curled up napping with my little dog, Rosie, the two lights of my life.<br />
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<b>There is a bud bursting forth on my rose bush, pointed like a rocket rising towards the sun. </b><br />
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<b>What matters is that I can see the good now here too.</b><br />
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My acupuncturist said something to me that struck me: "<i>The same way you feel now, the same issues you struggle with before you have a baby are the same ones you will have after. The baby doesn't solve all your problems, in fact, it can amplify them</i>."<br />
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It reminds me of something Tyson always says, "It's like Lil' Kim says, 'Who you are before you have money is the same person you will be after. If you're unhappy before, you'll be unhappy after.'"<br />
Wise words from a rapper.<br />
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<b>But it's true. How do I learn to be content here without the thing I want? </b><br />
<b>How do I lean into my healing so I can live the life I long for</b>?<br />
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Because there will always be something I want and things I cannot control. Everyone has struggles. Things they are believing for and I've learned no one is exempt. Whether it's over a job or money, a marriage, or a long wanted baby, to be healthy, or to not be crazy, <b>we all have dreams we are contending for, and disappointments we are wrangling through. </b><br />
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Just because I am trying to learn to be content doesn't mean I don't have hope.<br />
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Faith is not blind. It is not a repetition of positive sayings.<b> </b><br />
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<b>Faith is an every moment choice to see goodness and to know that it will get better because we trust our hope will not be ashamed. </b><br />
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But in the meantime, I'm going to live with eyes wide open for all the beauty that is here and now.<br />
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*If you are trying to get pregnant it's imperative that you get tested for the MTHFR genetic mutation. There is also a<a href="http://mthfr.net/prenatal-supplementation-optimizing-your-future-child/2012/01/20/"> treatment plan </a>on Dr. Ben Lynch's website.<br />
Email me for more info at saritahartz@gmail.com</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-21210920688467583632014-05-29T11:39:00.003-05:002014-05-29T11:42:27.294-05:00What If There is Meaning in Suffering<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
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<i>"We seek our identities in the wake of painful experiences. We can endure great pain if we believe it is purposeful." </i><i>-Andrew Solomon-</i></div>
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<b>When we don't get what we want, it throws our life into a certain amount of chaos.</b> </div>
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There is a deep desire to control, to force the world to bend to my will. But what if there is meaning in this suffering and like peeking over into a walled garden, perhaps I can discover a secret.</div>
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<b>I've been trying to get pregnant for over 11 months now. </b>There are a myriad of reasons why this is more difficult for me, but I still believe that I will be a mother.<b> </b>What's hard about that is not just the hope and disappointment every month, but also the fact that I'm doing most of the right things while teenagers who eat McDonald's all day are getting pregnant like it's as easy as popping tic tacs in their mouths. </div>
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I live far away from my family and most of my friends in a one bedroom apartment where I'm constantly trying to shove more things into a single closet that resembles a haphazard thrift store. The plants I buy to put on out my porch to make me happy, keep dying. I'm longing for more of a spiritual community than I currently have. Friends, really. </div>
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But I live in a town that it notoriously amazing for families with farmer's markets where there is face painting and pony rides and every day when I walk my dog, Rosie, in the park I see mothers pushing their toddlers on swings. </div>
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<b>But I haven't been initiated into the "Mommy Club" yet. </b> So I don't have a reason to hang out with these women or a baby's pooping habits to discuss over the see-saw. I could discuss Rosie's pooping habits but I don't think they would find that as endearing. I don't have a reason to be hanging out, leaning in to listen to these women's conversations, lest I look like an unsavory character. Worse, I don't even know if when I do meet them I'll even like them. I still want a reason to be sitting there at that bench in the park, getting splinters in my thighs.</div>
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<b>Because I live in the in-between.</b> I work from home running my non profit and writing a book that doesn't feel like it ever wants to end. So I have what resembles the life of a stay at home mom except that I don't have kids. But I follow their schedule. I go to exercise at Dailey Method in the morning, only I don't have to rush off to grab my children from pre-school afterwards. </div>
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Sometimes when I walk Rosie and I'm not pushing a stroller at 11 am on a Tuesday, I feel like I don't have a right to be there. Like I'm breaking some sort of normal social protocol. I'm sure most of these women look at my life and think it's so easy. I'm sure some of them envy it. </div>
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<b>Only they don't know all the heartbreak. The ache of trying and failing. </b>And sometimes I can't help but think of it as a failure on my part. My body which doesn't want to function normally, properly, to be what it's intended to be. The hole that feels more like an absence, like something has been spooned out. And all the longing. </div>
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<b>But aren't we all waiting for something? A spouse, a job, a house, a baby?</b></div>
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Then some days there's all the anger of not really understanding why. </div>
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I said this as much to my husband the other night as we walked Rosie crunching softly on the mulch leading us through a redwood grove, the moon a fingernail sliver in the sky. Then I was crying, frustrated that becoming a mother hasn't happened for me yet. </div>
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Lately, I've been trying to figure out what all this waiting is for, what it's trying to produce in me. </div>
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<b>Because I believe that if I can find purpose in the suffering than I can endure it. </b>If I can find meaning, I can live here a little while longer, with hope expanding inside me like an inflated balloon until it's ready to burst.</div>
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I realized something the other morning. I do have choices. I can choose to see this situation either as:</div>
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1) God is holding out on me and this pain is pointless</div>
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or</div>
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2) God is good and there is something to be learned here</div>
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I'm still trying to figure out what that is. Sometimes when I sit out on my porch, the sun warming my face, and there is a moment of silence, a moment of connection with God, with myself, I am grateful that I have this stillness and I don't yet have another human to be responsible for.</div>
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Maybe it's so I can <b>stop to be present and enjoy the moments I have now and be thankful for them,</b> rather than rushing through thinking "I'll be happy when..." Because when never really comes. </div>
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Maybe it's so faith can be built up inside me, brick by brick until it's like a shelter. Or perhaps it's because someday I'll be able to empathize more compassionately with someone going through the same experience. Maybe this is building character. </div>
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<b>Maybe I'm supposed to realize that I'm enough, as I am. </b></div>
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Maybe it's so I can enjoy the simple weekends sleeping in with my husband, caved in under the grey comforter before a day's long hike in the sun. </div>
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<b>Maybe someday when I kiss the soft down of my child's head, I will appreciate that single gesture more because of what it cost to get there. </b></div>
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None of these reasons make me feel much better. They feel like a one inch bandaid on a gaping wound. </div>
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But still, I know there is meaning here. I think back to the days of hardship in Africa, days where I cried even more than I sweat, and all that I learned even though I didn't always know it at the time. </div>
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<b>This is where I am. This moment, now. This is my life.</b> The bench on my porch. The gentle slope of the mountain. The breathing in and letting go. The breeze. The sweet seed crunch of a fresh strawberry. I am grateful for it. I choose to let it be enough. </div>
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*For more on making meaning in suffering check out <a href="http://storylineblog.com/" target="_blank">Storyline</a> by Donald Miller and this <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/andrew_solomon_how_the_worst_moments_in_our_lives_make_us_who_we_are#t-194433" target="_blank">Ted talk</a> by Andrew Solomon </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-79063067715245747742014-04-04T11:02:00.001-05:002014-08-07T10:26:50.478-05:00The Uncelebrated Birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Most days I am fine.</b><br />
<br />
I get up, walk RosieTheChippin, my breath exhaling in puffs in the cool morning air as the horizon blushes pink. I wait for her to go number two. I pick it up like a good neighbor. I come back, boil water for tea and make the omelet with spinach and goat cheese. I go to the gym and burn as many calories as I can on the elliptical while mouthing Katy Perry. I lift a few weights and wonder in the mirror if I'm doing it right. I come back and sit and stare at my computer and wait for the words to bubble up inside me, wait for the inspiration to hit.<br />
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I lazily fold the clothes on my bedroom floor in an effort to procrastinate. I download new apps on my iPhone. I check the weather. I water the plant I'm pretty sure might already be dead. I stalk someone on Facebook. I troll Zillow for my dream house. I think about my little loves in Uganda. I feel guilty about all those hand written cards I've been meaning to send to friends. Then I shop online at Amazon because the words are being stubborn. Some days I get 1,000 words out, only to delete half of them because I'm not sure they're any good.<br />
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I do, but I don't think about <a href="http://www.saritahartz.com/2012/08/loss.html">him.</a><br />
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<b>Because to think about him is to stop and fall apart and most days there is no room for falling apart.</b><br />
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Because the words need writing, and the laundry needs doing, and the food cooking, and the emails require answers. Most days I walk around as normal as the next person. I go to REI and buy camping supplies, asking a million questions of the sales clerk about which tent is the easiest to assemble so I can prepare for spring in California. I end up spending way more money then I wanted to.<br />
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I go out to see friends at wine bars, promise I'll only stay for one and then, stay for two. I watch TV with my husband. I laugh at Ron on Parks and Recreation. I laugh. I laugh at my own corny jokes.<br />
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<b>Most people will never know my little secret.</b> There's some part of me always thinking of him. Wondering what he would have looked like, or if he would have had dimples like his father. Wondering if I'll ever get to be a mother again like I was for those too brief moments. Wondering why and not having any answers.<br />
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<b>He would have been born in April. </b>We would be celebrating his first year with a cake smashed face and dorky hats, and lots of videos for the grandparents. We would have dressed him up in a ridiculously cute outfit with a bow tie that he would have tried to squirm out of at every opportunity. There is a birthday that will never be celebrated.<br />
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<b>I carry him like an old bullet wound, so familiar, on most days I don't remember the slight limp. </b>Most days no one would ever know how much of my insides have been spooned out, how dark and lonely this cavern of loss.<br />
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<b>We are really good at hiding things. </b><br />
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We get angry instead of being vulnerable. We yell at bad drivers. We expect people to read our minds. We take a lot of vitamins in some kind of effort to control. We run a little too hard on the trails. We cry a little too hard at an action movie. We watch TV when we know we should be reading. We eat potato chips in bed. We make long to do lists. We stay home when we know we should call a friend. We switch tables in a restaurant when a kid is being too loud. We lie about how we're really feeling. We hate the girl in the grocery store next to us with the cute baby bump. We dress our dog up in silly little pink sweaters.<br />
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And when all that doesn't work, we swipe the snooze alarm and pull the covers over our head.<br />
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<b>It is hard to feel. It is hard to tell the truth</b>. <b>It is hard to ask for what you need.</b> It is hard to stop and think there might be someone else out there who is feeling the same way, and offer kindness, instead of retreating into the safety of our own rock of isolation.<br />
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<b>It is hard to look into the eyes of God and let him hold you, when you don't understand why. </b><br />
Even harder to trust.<br />
<br />
Most days I am fine. And for the days when I'm not, I'm learning to stop, be honest, feel it, ask for help, and let it go. Oh and I'm learning it's of no use to try and put on makeup.<br />
<br />
I can cry my eyes out, swollen today. And sleep. There is always tomorrow.<br />
<br />
(Oh, and puppies.)<br />
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<br />
<br />
**(To read more about my ectopic pregnancy go<a href="http://www.saritahartz.com/2012/08/loss.html" target="_blank"> here.</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-78756823654810703612014-04-02T12:27:00.000-05:002014-04-03T09:56:06.032-05:00Why I Quit My Life (And Started Over)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_q3ISAAaXKvTpiaP2yo1_7G_uByHg3KONApy05RjsstN_GQ58KWKqHNXka1oSDfa1OKvuJ-LrZ0cWkLUk5E-nmtWwzg7Ze9DM0KtE__6jCoLrF4d4jM-SedstprHf44Bcxkp/s1600/kalalu+trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_q3ISAAaXKvTpiaP2yo1_7G_uByHg3KONApy05RjsstN_GQ58KWKqHNXka1oSDfa1OKvuJ-LrZ0cWkLUk5E-nmtWwzg7Ze9DM0KtE__6jCoLrF4d4jM-SedstprHf44Bcxkp/s1600/kalalu+trail.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Last year, I didn't have any resolutions. </b><br />
<br />
After the devastating loss of my first pregnancy, saying goodbye to my Ugandan home, my dream, and the day to day management of the non-profit I'd built over the last seven years, to move from Africa to America, I think my resolution was merely "to survive."<br />
<br />
I did this with an acute sense of lostness and an oozing red eye from pneumonia which I proceeded to get a week after leaving the Tropics. But I did choose a "theme" for the year. 2013 was the "year of health." It was my goal to become "healthy." This was more out of desperation rather than choice. I knew something was missing.<b> </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I had begun to hate my own life. </b><br />
<br />
It had been a long road of saying yes to things that I felt I had to do, but didn't want to do, but that I was now responsible for. Sound familiar?<br />
<br />
<b>But I was afraid to have other people think I hated my life,</b> so I put on a good front, like every good missionary/leader/wife/girl is supposed to do.<br />
<br />
The fissures kept widening and every once in a while I would notice that without really paying attention, most nights I could throw back close to a bottle of wine by myself like it was a glass of water just to numb what I was feeling: mostly the burden of being completely overwhelmed,<b> like I was drowning with an audience looking on from the shore.</b> <i>(A year ago I could not have admitted that.)</i><br />
<br />
I wouldn't say I was depressed really, but an online questionnaire certainly seemed to think different.<br />
<br />
When we are building something or are in service to others, looking outward, and experiencing many different levels of life's tragedies and endless emergencies, <b>it's easy to stop focusing on ourselves or even thinking we matter in the equation </b>because we're so focused on what everyone else needs from us.<br />
<br />
<b>We can get so focused on saving the world, that we often forget we need saving too. </b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
In the developing world people have lots of needs. Which is almost a disastrously perfect combination for the person who wants to meet needs. (like most missionaries/do gooders)<br />
<br />
<b>The being needed part in a sense became it's own reward, gratifying proof to the world that I was in fact, necessary.</b><br />
<br />
Even in my time alone or with God, it was difficult to be present or connect because of all the ways I'd become separated and fragmented from myself because I had to in order to fulfill all the roles I felt responsible for.<br />
<br />
My quiet moments were filled with desperation and a long list of things I needed: Money. Volunteers. More hours in the day.<br />
<br />
In the beginning I had no idea how unhealthy I actually was. It was easy to make excuses for my constant sicknesses, or the feeling of being overwhelmed all the time, or my own ego's desire for a pat on the back, <b>because I didn't feel I had any choices---people needed me and I couldn't let them down.</b><br />
<br />
<b>I couldn't see how I could stop. The show must go on.</b><br />
<br />
It was easy for me to focus on our society's outward misrepresentation of success---changing the world, building a thriving ministry/business, becoming well-known and well-liked, rather than the true success of internal peace, whole-heartedness, and alignment with one's self.<br />
<br />
When I tried to contemplate if God wanted me living my life this way--depleted, exhausted, anxious, overwhelmed, sad, angry, and feeling alone and abandoned--I chalked it up to the fact that ministry, and especially missions, requires sacrifice and that denial of myself, and my heart, and a life I actually wanted to live, was worth the price.<br />
<br />
<b>But all the wonder had gone out of my life.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
I had neglected my spirit and my soul because I had stopped listening to them, had ignored what they needed.<br />
<br />
<b>I had told them to shut up and tossed them aside like an illegitimate child. </b><br />
<br />
There was a part of me that knew it wasn't supposed to be like this, that God hadn't designed me for this, but I didn't know how to change it. I was too afraid of the albatross,<br />
<br />
<i>"What will people think?" </i>and<i> "I don't want to let anyone down."</i><br />
<br />
Instead, I would sit out on my little deck and cry out to God, "<i>help</i>." Expecting him to fix things and magically send people, without realizing that maybe it was up to me to make choices to fix things.<br />
<br />
The breaking point for me came after a series of events which I now see as Divine Providence.<br />
<br />
<b>First</b>, I did a course called <i><a href="http://storylineblog.com/" target="_blank">Storyline</a></i> by Donald Miller and realized that if I was truly honest, there was no way for me to meet my goals by the way I was currently running my life. I was constantly feeling like a failure because what I was asking of myself simply wasn't accomplishable in the time given to us every week on this planet. It was in fact, impossible.<br />
<br />
<b>And I wasn't actually getting to do the parts I loved. </b><br />
<br />
<b>Secondly</b>, I went to see an incredibly awesome, fearless, <a href="http://www.dianachapman.com/" target="_blank">leadership coach</a> who pretty much told me like it was. She taught me to listen to myself, and understand my <a href="http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/begin.asp#.UyoW1q1dVMo" target="_blank">personality type </a>and what were healthy and unhealthy choices for me.<br />
<br />
<b>Thirdly</b>, as part of an exercise with her, I emailed a bunch of friends a questionnaire to fill out about what they saw me doing when I was most happy. Another brave soul had the courage to say something which literally rocked my world:<br />
<br />
<i>"The truth is, I haven't seen you happy for a long time."</i><br />
<br />
<b><i>Ouch</i>. Ok, so if that's not an invitation to change your life, I don't know what is. </b><br />
<br />
These "Ah Ha" moments were compounded by the fact that around that time we discovered I had fertility problems and that if I wanted to get pregnant I was going to have to <b>radically de-stress my life and make myself a priority</b>.<br />
<br />
This felt wrong and selfish. And not very....Christian-like.<br />
<br />
<b>Lastly</b>, I stumbled upon Brene` Brown's stunning book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Gifts-Imperfection-Supposed-Embrace/dp/159285849X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1395270923&sr=8-1&keywords=the+gifts+of+imperfection" target="_blank">The Gifts of Imperfection</a></i> which sent me on a journey of self-compassion, and exploration of play and rest.<br />
<br />
<b>I knew choices had to be made. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
But I didn't want to make them. I felt trapped by the very net I had woven myself: people depended on me. It took lots of prayer, sobbing hysterically, some seriously gut-wrenching conversations, and several temper tantrums, but I knew the truth inside me, the truth I couldn't ignore.<br />
<br />
<b>I <i>had</i> to stop. </b><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Elizabeth Gilbert said,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i>"Everything good I've ever gotten in life, I only got because I gave something else up."</i></span></span></div>
<br />
And I know this to be true.<br />
It was not easy, this surrender to my truth.<br />
It will almost always be the hardest thing you've had to do.<br />
<br />
<b>But somehow, slowly, I decided to say no.</b> I decided to go part-time with my ministry, speak less, travel less, and gradually transition programs to a more manageable level, and those that I couldn't, I transitioned into the hands of other people who could do it better than me. And I stopped answering every email. Sorry.<br />
<br />
<b>In this whole culture of "<i>Leaning In</i>," I am finally putting my feet up and leaning back. </b>I'm listening to myself, and in there somewhere, I find I'm listening to God too. And it feels good.<br />
<br />
I'm learning if we don't take care of our soul, our spirit and our body, then we are not truly following God's commandment to love our neighbor "<i>as we love ourselves</i>." Sometimes we forget that last part.<br />
<div>
<br />
<div>
<b>The world can only change when we change. </b><br />
<div>
<br />
Several months in, I feel like a completely different person.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
There are lots of trail runs and long walks, days reading by the pool, unhurried talks with God, writing the book that I've always wanted to write, dreaming about someday helping other leaders learn the lessons I've learned hopefully less painfully, and more time spent with my husband. And sure, maybe some people judge me.<br />
<br />
But you know what?<br />
I'm happy. I'm at peace within myself. And because of that, I have more to give.<br />
<br />
<b>Through rest, my creativity is resurfacing. </b><br />
<br />
But for now, I'm learning to steward it with the Divine being my only reference point of approval.<br />
<br />
These days, there are other questions like, "<i>Am I doing enough</i>?" and other temptations to become busy again to feel more useful. But I hush them and tuck them away under the cover of this new peace.<br />
<br />
This year, I did make resolutions and one of them was to put roots down in my own soil to see what would come up and flourish.<br />
<br />
And it has made all the difference.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-71155986233834341752013-11-15T15:24:00.002-05:002013-11-15T16:56:24.119-05:00How to become hopeful<br />
<b>Hope starts small. </b><br />
<br />
Like a thin winged bird unfurling from its nest for the first time.<br />
<br />
I’m learning there is some kind of <b>secret in this brokenness</b>, something sacred to follow winding down the cave walls towards a halo in the distance.<br />
<br />
Something to be learned here. About life. About myself.<br />
<br />
In the breathing in and letting go. In the exhale.<br />
<br />
There is no short cut to happiness.<br />
<br />
You have to wake up.<br />
<br />
<b>You have to do something every day that makes you happy. </b><br />
<br />
And perhaps scares you.<br />
<br />
Trying out that new trail on your own. Going to a dance class. Calling a friend you haven’t talked to in a while. Beginning the words of that book.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Writing someone a loving note even though they might not return it. </b><br />
<br />
Praying in that one spot of sunlight.<br />
Choosing to have faith today instead of despair.<br />
Forcing yourself to go outside and breathe in fresh air.<br />
<br />
Hoping.<br />
<br />
Letting yourself believe in goodness again.<br />
<br />
And eventually, one day you realize you are more happy then sad, <b>and there is still a big wide world to be lived out there, whether or not you have the thing you so desperately want. </b><br />
<br />
Today in San Francisco there is a little 5 year old boy who has been fighting leukemia since he was 20 months old. He is finally in remission and his dream was to become Batman for a day. So through MakeAWish foundation, the city of San Francisco has turned itself into Gotham, and this little boy will live out his dream of rescuing a damsel in distress. Over 12,000 people volunteered to help out.<br />
<br />
Perhaps that hope that he would someday wear a cape costume is what kept him alive, perhaps it was the faith of his parents that he would recover.<br />
<br />
I know it cost them, to believe, in the face of such raw truth as their little son’s hair falling out.<br />
<br />
What this says to me is we want to hope.<br />
<br />
<b>We want to fight against that dark wave that meets us in the morning with the reality of our circumstance. </b><br />
<br />
We want to believe in goodness. And we can.<br />
<br />
We want to believe dreams do come true.<br />
<br />
And they do.<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-87119479470677278302013-11-12T19:42:00.000-05:002013-11-13T10:40:51.227-05:00When grieving is the only way through<br />
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<br />
When I hold the baby and realize that it isn’t mine and I am not sure I will ever clasp feet that tiny in my hands, there is a small part of me that wants to walk to a building’s edge and simply step off and feel the fluttering of air before nothing else.<br />
<br />
It feels so similar, so close to another time when I lost everything and it is the familiarity that frightens me because it was a dream that died, never realized.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I feel what others might call me crazy for, these thoughts that tumble over each other so loud that it’s hard to hear anything else.<br />
<br />
Memory doesn’t need the right circumstance.<br />
<br />
<b>Memory is wanton with her pictures and her moods and all that ancient fear piles high, like dusty remnants of grey children’s shoes at the holocaust museum, signaling a warning. </b><br />
<br />
It’s hard not to believe that old lie that sounds like truth:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>you will never get what you want. </i><br />
<br />
This bloodthirsty language that never seems satisfied.<br />
<br />
This one red line from another negative pregnancy test is blurring.<br />
<br />
The longing doesn't seem worth it because while you might know God is good, there have been times when He has seemed unbelievably cruel. There are moments when I don’t know how to hold both equally in my hands.<br />
<br />
<b>I don’t know how to live with hope, leaning bravely into that bright light,</b> while all this world threatens to drag me back into darkness, where the sorrow of so many unmet dreams lie waiting to lay hold of me.<br />
<br />
What else will I be asked to lose, what else must be sacrificed, what else must be learned or taught and what will make Him salvage me from all this wreckage?<br />
<br />
Where does the hope go? Where does it find breath to live when everything dies inside me?<br />
<br />
This grief, it isolates.<br />
<br />
<b>Who can understand the fury of a thousand nights shrouded in darkness which fill every space where there once used to beat a heart. </b><br />
<br />
Who can absorb all that emotion, and anger, and pain that wails and howls in a stormy embrace. Who can live through my despair? They will be crushed under the heaviness of it. I absorb this lonely silence until I can’t stand it anymore.<br />
<br />
<b>There are some deaths that cannot be explained away. </b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
There is only the weeping, and the clutching for the answers that may never come. There is only emptying myself out, telling God about all this war inside me, hoping eventually it will carve out some still space for joy to live.<br />
<br />
I go walking out into the fall’s yellow leaves, flaring their last color. I try to remember there is a sliver of peace in the world, if I can just fight to grasp it.<br />
<br />
<b>It is such a slippery dance, this holding on and this letting go, this rhythm of every day surrender that I have no control.</b><br />
<br />
I walk past a wooden fence with magnetic poetry art the neighbors have left out with permission to move, and in the midst of all this mundane, there are all these words making music:<br />
<br />
<i>feed mystery</i><br />
<i>expect nothing</i><br />
<i>find the truth</i><br />
<i>possible on earth…</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>fantastic miracles.</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>
<br />
The Creator of all this beauty still knows what I need.<br />
<br />
<b>Everywhere the trees are spilling their leaves making way for some new dream. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I pick up one leaf and let it fall to the ground, feeling vulnerable, feeling found.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-19638103325727591222013-10-11T09:14:00.001-05:002013-10-11T11:42:59.796-05:00When the doctors say the word infertility<br />
When I was a little girl, I would dress up baby dolls into clothes and push them around in a miniature shopping cart. I would cook them plastic food on my rainbow colored stove and wear little-house-on-the-prairie type outfits because I guess I thought that's what moms' wear.<br />
<br />
<b>I was convinced the most sacred occupation was to be a mother.</b><br />
<br />
I was drawn to the simplistic beauty of pouring your life into shaping another's life, for the good. Something I saw modeled out in my own mother's life.<br />
It was what I most wanted in the world.<br />
It still is....<br />
<br />
<b>How to let the fear tight-fisted drain away…</b><br />
<br />
<i>Love casts out fear</i>, it's said.<br />
<br />
But I’m one who has to journey through the questions.<br />
<br />
How to say <i>all is grace</i>, all is His goodness, when the tube is blocked solid and the pain of decreased chances of birthing new life, is real and threatening every struggle towards joy.<br />
<br />
The fear clamors chokingly up my neck as they push the dye through and the pain pinches sharp, and the body trembles.<br />
<br />
<i>I already know what they will say.</i><br />
<br />
Too much research already in my head, even though I can barely pronounce the name of my procedure.<br />
<br />
The driving home is a blur. <b>The days that follow, a numbness.</b><br />
<br />
There are tests and more tests. Fifteen vials of blood.<br />
<br />
At first, it seems ok, my chances only reduced by 25% and just as I get accustomed to this news, they strike me with another blow.<br />
<br />
My AMH hormone is too low. It’s unlikely I’ll get pregnant naturally at all. They say words like IVF as I try to breathe over the phone. They refer me to a fertility clinic.<br />
<br />
<b>We don’t seem to talk openly about infertility or fertility struggles,</b> just like we don’t seem to talk about <a href="http://www.saritahartz.com/2012/08/loss.html" target="_blank">ectopic pregnancies</a> or miscarriages, or babies lost too early.<br />
<br />
Yet 1 in 8 couples struggles with fertility. And these numbers seem to be rising. Maybe it’s time we started embracing one another through this process and listening more to our bodies.<br />
<br />
One of the main reasons we left a home in Africa was to start a family. Because God told us and because it’s what we wanted, and it was too dangerous for us to do there. Not to mention what 6 years in Africa and multiple illnesses, and antibiotics, and toxins do to your body. For the last 9 months I've been in recovery mode.<br />
<br />
After years of often sacrificing myself, health, and sometimes my husband, for ministry, I’d learned that nothing is more important than him and family trumps ministry or good deeds every time.<br />
<br />
<b>Love is more important than our job description.</b><br />
<br />
Love for God, love for self, these are important principles. So important, that love for others can’t flow when we do not care for, and love ourselves. It’s been a long journey into the revelation <b>that I am just as important to God as everyone else and taking care of myself, and my body is not a bad thing</b>.<br />
<br />
<b>It’s part of how we worship Him. It's the door through which I'm truly able to love others.</b><br />
<br />
For some of us “helpers” or “caretakers” this is harder to step into. We use giving as a way to gain love. But the truth is, we are already loved. Without condition.<br />
<br />
Henri Nouwen says it better: <i>“The greatest gift my friendship can give you is the gift of your Belovedness. I can only give that gift insofar as I have claimed it for myself.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
For those of us a bit hard headed, we sometimes have to get forced into taking care of ourselves.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>It's more difficult than you think. To care for self as you would someone else, to be kind and speak life over yourself rather than criticism and negativity. </b><br />
<br />
So I dug into all the research on taking care of my body full force, ordering so many books on Amazon that Tyson joked about closing my account.<br />
<br />
I read so many online forums from women on what to do and what not to do. So many sad and hope-filled stories.<br />
Every time Tyson would ask me if I was reading “those online forums again,” I would lie and say no. But secretly I was. I couldn't help myself.<br />
<br />
<b>I read about the serious linkages between fertility and diet and our ability to affect our hormones, </b>and went all organic veggies and fruit, and plants, and protein and legumes. I read so much research they actually began to contradict each other.<br />
<br />
Drink whole milk for fertility.<br />
Don’t drink milk at all.<br />
Eat complex grains.<br />
Be gluten free.<br />
Eat meat. Don’t eat meat.<br />
<br />
<b>It’s enough to drive you crazy.</b> I gradually crossed so many foods off my list I would just stare at a menu trying to figure out what I could eat and what might kill my chances of being a mother.<br />
<br />
<i>No pressure.</i><br />
<br />
I ordered vitex and maca root, and red raspberry leaf tea, royal jelly and every other herb known to man to make me more fertile.<br />
And I literally talk to my body.<br />
But I only do this at home.<br />
<br />
I gave up caffeine and soft drinks and wine (ok this one, for the most part. I’m not a total saint)<br />
<br />
I bought glass instead of plastic and non-toxic cleaning supplies.<br />
<br />
I started acupuncture and drank really nasty herbal drinks, and even, get this….started meditating.<br />
I envision my body being pregnant in my mind’s eye. I visualize it. I breathe.<br />
<br />
I exercise. I run four, sometimes five miles a day.<br />
<br />
And I’m supposed to do fertility yoga poses for blood circulation. I have no idea how stupid I’m going to look doing that, but it’s probably a close second to saying positive things to myself in the mirror.<br />
<br />
But most importantly, I've tried to let go of stress and have had to slowly step back from stressful situations and learn how to manage my stress in healthy ways.<br />
<br />
<b>You will have to make tough decisions for the life that you want. </b><br />
<br />
Over the last 2 months I’ve done everything right.<br />
<br />
I prayed too, of course, I’m not a total heathen.<br />
I ordered<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Supernatural-Childbirth-Jackie-Mize/dp/1577949986/ref=tmm_abk_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" target="_blank"> Supernatural Childbirth</a> and listened to it over and over and prayed prayers over my belly.<br />
<br />
It was a fight to have faith.<br />
<br />
<b>It was heavy to push past all the doctor’s words, and my own internal feelings, and choose to believe that I will be a mother. </b>That God desires for me to get pregnant, and that I can do this naturally.<br />
<br />
I believe I can.<br />
It is always a fight to hold onto our promises, and the truth of what we know inside ourselves.<br />
<br />
It’s not that there is anything wrong with IVF, or anyone who chooses it. It might come to that. But it’s just that I can’t make my body want to go through that yet. (not to mention, the costs)<br />
<br />
<b>I guess I’m still a Romantic. I still want to hold out for the miracle.</b><br />
I still believe its possible, and while that hope lives inside me, I want to listen to it.<br />
<br />
<b>There is actually a lot of research that says that our intuition, our body, the Spirit living in us, already knows what is right for us, already knows what is possible. </b><br />
<br />
There are countless women who trusted their instincts and were able to get pregnant the way they wanted.<br />
<br />
<b>We have to trust it.</b><br />
<br />
But I already know a lot about holding on.<br />
<br />
<i>How to cling knuckle tight, and do more, and work harder, and fight longer, put nails to dirt, bent, to dig for any kind of treasure in the dark.</i><br />
<br />
<b>With hands clenched, white and grasping, the fear only gains momentum.</b><br />
<br />
But like I learned in Uganda, there comes a point, when we’ve done everything we can, <b>and holding on looks a lot like waiting, and a lot like exhale.</b><br />
<br />
I go running on the trails up here in Marin. I go deep in the woods, and crest mountains. It’s beautiful. Last week, I stopped to stare at a view, and catch my breath (let’s be honest,) and I just said to God and to nature, and to the universe,<br />
<br />
<i>“I’ve done everything I can. It’s up to you now. I believe I can get pregnant. But I know I can’t control it. So I’m saying, </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I’m still going to do my best, but I’m letting go.”</i><br />
<br />
And breathe.<br />
<br />
Sometimes there is silence, but often there is the nudging, ever so still and quiet, that God is going to take care of me. That what He has said is true.<br />
<br />
<b>What if this growth only comes the hard way, the surrender way?</b><br />
<br />
What if God is teaching us about letting go<br />
and trusting<br />
and resting in His assurances, those words He whispers in the dark<br />
that He is good<br />
and nothing can change that.<br />
<br />
On all the online forums I read, one thing that struck me was the beauty of these women offering each other hope from their own experiences.<br />
<br />
To those who had come out the other side…extending a hand to say that it’s possible, and <b>to have faith in God and faith in their own bodies. To trust. Even despite what the doctors have said.</b><br />
<br />
And while I haven’t come out the other side yet, I trust.<br />
<br />
And hopefully that can inspire someone else to trust along with me.<br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For those seeking more resources:<br />
<br />
On loving self:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Life-Beloved-Spiritual-Living-Secular/dp/0824519868/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381439857&sr=1-1&keywords=nouwen+life+of+the+beloved" target="_blank">Life of the Beloved </a>by Henri Nouwen<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gifts-Imperfection-Think-Supposed-Embrace/dp/159285849X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381439883&sr=1-1&keywords=gifts+of+imperfection" target="_blank">The Gifts of Imperfection</a> by Brene Brown<br />
<a href="http://store.ibethel.org/p7850/unconditional-how-to-let-love-win" target="_blank">Unconditional Love</a> by Abi Strumvoll<br />
Anything by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Experiencing-Fathers-Embrace-John-Arnott/dp/0768423481/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381439939&sr=1-1&keywords=jack+frost" target="_blank">Jack Frost</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christian-Guide-Enneagram-Why-Think/dp/1451564813/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381440890&sr=1-1&keywords=christian+guide+to+enneagram" target="_blank">Understanding your personality and points for growth</a><br />
<br />
On Fertility:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fertility-Diet-Groundbreaking-Research-Ovulation/dp/0071627103/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381439967&sr=1-1&keywords=the+fertility+diet" target="_blank">The Fertility Diet</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Infertility-Cure-Ancient-Wellness-Pregnant/dp/0316159212/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381439987&sr=1-1&keywords=the+infertility+cure" target="_blank">The Infertility Cure</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fertile-Female-Power-Longing-Change/dp/0966007875/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381440020&sr=1-1&keywords=fertile+heart" target="_blank">The Fertile Female</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Making-Babies-3-Month-Program-Fertility/dp/0316024503/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381440101&sr=1-1&keywords=restoring+fertility" target="_blank">Making Babies</a><br />
<a href="http://www.circlebloom.com/get-started/natural-cycle-fertility-program/" target="_blank">Circle and Bloom Meditation</a><br />
<a href="http://www.thefertilesoulcefp.org/memberListing" target="_blank">Acupuncture</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Restoring-Fertility-Brandon-FABORM-Wendy/dp/B001OVFAA4/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1381440112&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=restoring+fertility+yoga" target="_blank">Restoring Fertility Yoga</a><br />
<br />
And if you just need to process...I'm still learning myself...but you can email saritahartz@gmail.com. Or find a safe friend you can talk to---we all need help walking through the dark.<br />
<div>
<br />
ps: Don't worry you don't have to keep your babies or baby news away from me. I've actually heard that smelling babies helps so just don't be offended if I start sniffing your baby like it's fresh baked bread</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-5604291824596452872013-08-23T13:12:00.000-05:002013-08-23T13:12:07.201-05:00What if we were brave enough to let go<br />
<br />
<b>There is a perfect time of day. </b><br />
<br />
Somewhere in the space between the sun waning and the first evening chill converging, where the light is a faded gold, like an old photograph, and the landscape is bathed in wonder.<br />
<br />
Most days, the exquisiteness of this moment escapes me. I am busy with emails, or exercising to burn more calories, or preparing dinner. I am hurried by my never-ending list of things to do.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>But what if God created the world to be enjoyed, and I, along with it. </b><br />
<br />
What if every sunset was made to be watched, breathed in deeply, and exhaled with the last vestiges of light.<br />
<br />
I went running at this perfect time of day, without headphones.<br />
<br />
This is not something I do and this was not a choice, more like a reality forced upon me when my husband left the house with my set. At first I was angry because I’m the kind of girl who likes to listen to rap music when I run, to really get me pumped up for all the torture.<br />
<br />
But then I realized this was an opportunity to practice what I had been reading about that morning---<b>being present. </b><br />
<br />
As I put one foot in front of the other, I willed myself to be present. To hear and to feel the rhythmic pounding, to pay attention to the sweat trickling down my forehead, to the pain in my left knee, to the noises the birds were making in the trees. To feel the sun absorbed into my pores.<br />
<br />
At first it was uncomfortable, as though my mind wanted the distraction, needed it in fact, as though my body was poised for a mutiny.<br />
<br />
<b>But as I ran, it became easier, and I began to let go. </b><br />
<br />
I slowed down time. I didn’t rush past it. I didn’t drown out the pain with every laborious breath. I didn’t think about what I had to get done tomorrow. Or worry about what other people thought of me. Or perpetuate my own mind’s negativity. Or think about how I wish I were skinner.<br />
<br />
As my senses noticed things around me, I saw the couple lying in the grass with their new baby, and heard the shrieks of two little girls as they squirted water guns for the first time, laughter soaked.<br />
<br />
<b>I felt alive. </b><br />
I felt thankful.<br />
<br />
And it was my own prayer, my own meditation.<br />
<br />
The hardest thing about leaving Africa, <b>was losing all that purpose,</b> all that being needed, and wondering whether I was really doing something worthy on this earth without being focused on a mission outside my own personal growth or happiness.<br />
<br />
<b>Wondering if I had purpose without being focused on something outside simply loving God and letting myself be loved by Him and letting that love trickle out. </b><br />
<br />
I've spent a lot of time wrestling with whether it was enough to just be, as though I needed the world’s permission to choose things that made me happy.<br />
<br />
I have been practicing trying to live as one who is loved, as one who loves myself, for years, <b>but I’m not sure we can every truly know this fact until the thing which has given us our most meaning, is released.</b><br />
<br />
I find this can happen either by it being stripped from us, still clinging, <b>or by us having enough courage to surrender it. </b><br />
<br />
This is the moment our beliefs our truly tested.<br />
<br />
So much mental energy is spent trying to keep things at bay, trying to push fears down, but when they surface, and we stop fighting, and surrender to their truth…..<br />
<br />
It’s the most perfect time of day.<br />
<br />
And all that’s left are choices.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>What are we willing to let go…..</b><br />
<br />
<br />
Read some other thoughts on letting go by my friends over at Storyline <a href="http://storylineblog.com/2013/08/23/angelina-jolies-breasts-and-the-bravery-of-letting-go/?utm_source=buffer&utm_campaign=Buffer&utm_content=buffer6c14d&utm_medium=facebook">here. </a><br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-62998027872931051872013-07-16T22:20:00.000-05:002013-07-18T14:51:14.570-05:00Know thyself<br />
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<br />
<b>I lived my life in emergency mode for so long I almost forgot what it felt like to have some peace. </b><br />
<br />
There was always a problem to solve, a sick kid who needed taking to the hospital, a government office who didn’t understand our heart, a mama who needed a hand held while she took an HIV test, a landlord who wanted to raise our rent, a donor who needed an explanation.<br />
<br />
They say Africa is not for the faint of heart for a reason.<br />
<br />
<b>And while I might love her dew and her dust, her people, the suddenness of her rain storms, there are some things I don’t miss. </b><br />
<br />
Like the glimpses of injustice everywhere. Like getting the run around from offices when you are trying to do the right thing.<br />
<br />
Like all the obstacles to Peace<br />
Love<br />
Healing<br />
Community<br />
Adoption.<br />
<br />
The stress can pile on like a load of dirty laundry and I wonder:<br />
<br />
<b>How many of us live our lives like we’re on Grey’s Anatomy, shifting from one emergency room drama to the other without really checking our hearts. </b><br />
<br />
How many roles we fill, how many hats we wear that we wish we could shrug off for a while. And yet, how these hats are the very things that fill us.<br />
<br />
A couple of weeks ago I camped out in Mammoth with my man, to the kind of fire-side quiet that puts yours bones at rest.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Now that I’ve found a sliver of peace, I don’t want to let it go. </b><br />
<br />
But….<br />
<br />
I’ve been thinking a lot about babies lately.<br />
<br />
All that crying might screw with my zen.<br />
<br />
But oh….all that curly-headed goodness. All those puffy cheeks, and stubby legs. All the ways they make you laugh without meaning to.<br />
<br />
<b>Thinking about all the sacrifice. Thinking about all the reward. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Thinking about all the mama’s who move throughout the day herding their brood, with little thought to themselves.<br />
<br />
I’m wondering if I’m really ready for that.<br />
<br />
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<br />
It’s either that, or I’m bringing home a puppy.<br />
<br />
What I find unbelievably crazy is that when I ask mothers if it was all worth it, they will most undoubtedly say,<b> yes. </b><br />
<br />
And yet, in some ways, I can understand it. Because if someone asked me if Africa was worth all those spent hours, all those bottled tears, all those frustrations, the loss of my body, my health, and <a href="http://www.saritahartz.com/2012/08/loss.html">my baby</a>, I would say, “yes.”<br />
<br />
<b>Socrates said to “know thyself.” </b><br />
<br />
I’ve spent many years getting to know this complicated girl.<br />
<br />
Many years spending myself on the sands of Africa and I know what it is to spend.<br />
<br />
<b>Love is like that. We have to spend, we have to invest, if we want to see the ruins become beautiful.</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
We hiked to this waterfall. It was farther, it was harder, but when we got there, we were alone and we jumped into the freezing cold waters, laughing.<br />
<br />
I am the kind of person who has to ask the question. Who has to explore all the outcomes before I can truly give myself. But once I decide to, I am fiercely loyal.<br />
<br />
<b>We have to know what we are ready to give. And above all, we must know what we need to remain ourselves.</b><br />
<br />
I went running today to burn off the tightness in my neck and somewhere between mile two and three, I felt the edge of an epiphany.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>We must know ourselves enough, to know what we need, and to know where we want to give of our energy. </b><br />
<br />
Because there are only so many places it can go.<br />
<br />
I was driving in my car today, and started crying at this song on the Christian radio, which is not something I normally do. But the guy was singing “I am,” and it made me realize that God knows who He is, and nothing frightens him. He just is.<br />
And if the Trinity is enough for him, maybe it’s enough for me too.<br />
<br />
Even if all I know is that I want to give myself to God. To the brokenhearted.<br />
To the people that I love. And to a baby, someday soon….<br />
<br />
<b>Without giving up my peace</b>:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-DjmrWCDNhGFcF2trMevK0JbinaftFOqbUR-cLiOesoI-D4EVc8HoHowC78orpyUaUiBiV4zFtjiCSHPPQTudNXFVfml5-fz3oyo8luzx0lXs6e4dYK2vR8GfLQfDkvkSVRk/s1600/vasona+lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-DjmrWCDNhGFcF2trMevK0JbinaftFOqbUR-cLiOesoI-D4EVc8HoHowC78orpyUaUiBiV4zFtjiCSHPPQTudNXFVfml5-fz3oyo8luzx0lXs6e4dYK2vR8GfLQfDkvkSVRk/s320/vasona+lake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
things like running, or my writing on this back porch as the sun slips away.<br />
<br />
I’m sure I will lose some of myself. I’m sure I will discover new things I did not know were there.<br />
<br />
And I think that’s ok.<br />
<br />
<b>I believe the world will be saved by those who have recovered their hearts; those on a journey of knowing themselves.</b> Those who know what they are called to give themselves to, at each season in their life.<br />
<br />
I think I’m just looking for people who are on that journey too.<br />
<br />
Are you?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-11055752550347873552013-06-26T10:52:00.001-05:002013-06-26T11:18:24.916-05:00Missionary Meets Monotony<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWnELrRKzudCG3QTeWR3xVaXPSRU5GGxmLBkgutXrCJ9G7daSq8wrjjslkpUTMAby5TmbaxVBt95VLkwpnjTQrKSw6mUSh3-6En6J2lXifwuDGtMckvJT3exIu7L4PMvKnyXqT/s1600/cottage+front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWnELrRKzudCG3QTeWR3xVaXPSRU5GGxmLBkgutXrCJ9G7daSq8wrjjslkpUTMAby5TmbaxVBt95VLkwpnjTQrKSw6mUSh3-6En6J2lXifwuDGtMckvJT3exIu7L4PMvKnyXqT/s320/cottage+front.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>It's been six months since we left Africa. </b><br />
<br />
Six months since I put a sandaled foot on her and breathed her sweet, smoky air after a hard rain.<br />
<br />
<b>I'm starting to have a routine, starting to have an order to the chaos.</b><br />
<br />
I like California. What's not to like about California? The weather. The people. It's pretty dang amazing.<br />
<br />
I like my little one bedroom cottage apartment I live in.<br />
Even my neighbors are nice. They remember to drag our trash to the curb when we forget because we're not used to organized garbage trucks.<br />
Rules. Things like, only a certain amount of waste can go in the bucket, and it can't be overflowing, or they'll reject it.<br />
<br />
That's weird.<br />
I like being able to work out and juice things.<br />
<br />
<i>But well, I'm bored.</i><br />
<br />
I know, it sounds crazy. Isn't this what everyone wants? A home. A great husband. Maybe throw some kids in there.<br />
<br />
But after six years of living desperate and going from one drama to another, and solving problems I didn't have answers for, and loving past what I thought was possible, and giving until my body gave out, this normalcy, this rest, is like a foreign bubble I'm not sure I want enveloping me.<br />
<br />
Like it's going to put me to sleep.<br />
<br />
<b>I think the hardest part is feeling closer to God.</b> Craving the adventure with Him.<br />
But finding myself under a pile of laundry and emails.<br />
<br />
Wanting Him. But trying to find a way to connect to him here, in this maze of mini-vans and self-serving pleasure.<br />
<br />
<b>The biggest difference is every morning I woke up in Uganda, I needed him with a hunger that was never satisfied because I was living outside what was possible for me, alone.</b><br />
<br />
It's not so much the place, but the mission.<br />
The dream bigger than our dreams.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong---I'm busy. I have mountains of to do lists scrawled out on papers, and hammered into my Iphone. Every day with this ministry, there are more things to do, then get done.<br />
<br />
But yesterday, talking to my country director over Skype--supporting her as she carries out this thing God built, I felt<br />
<br />
<i>jealous.</i><br />
<br />
I look at the slideshow of my African family on my computer, and I crave those hugs. Crave those stories.<br />
<br />
<b>We can know we are supposed to be somewhere, before God bursts into our world with some new dream, but it doesn't make the in-between any easier. </b><br />
<br />
Here, coming alive is harder. We have to seek it out, a treasure not easily won.<br />
<br />
God hasn't left me. And He hasn't left America.<br />
<br />
<b>I just need a new set of lenses to see Him. Make space for Him, where there isn't any.</b><br />
Maybe that's my few moments on the back porch.<br />
Maybe it's singing loud Jesus Culture songs in the car.<br />
Maybe it's offering to help the mom with four kids in the checkout line.<br />
<br />
Or maybe it's heading to Mammoth Lakes where I'm pretty sure God lives in all the jagged rocks, and lakes, and crevices there. Which is what I intend to do.<br />
<br />
Hey, I'm still me. If it's not risky, it's not worth doing.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Where do you find Him?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
(Ps-I'll post pics soon so you can be jealous :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-89493585140486121682013-04-17T14:41:00.000-05:002013-04-17T14:48:42.995-05:00Let's Get Real<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFB97dNpRV6sDqhC4_I4nDJCo6H0bzdYHuMB8C5ARRPmNXPBE41iJMnXSYtYnpPhHt5OE1dO6NhR0RFJbfWewd6Pn8rS6Zy5noo1cR16_w5Ev32E0YjeSUDN75UPkXTPSL9xuz/s1600/IMG_0582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFB97dNpRV6sDqhC4_I4nDJCo6H0bzdYHuMB8C5ARRPmNXPBE41iJMnXSYtYnpPhHt5OE1dO6NhR0RFJbfWewd6Pn8rS6Zy5noo1cR16_w5Ev32E0YjeSUDN75UPkXTPSL9xuz/s320/IMG_0582.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b>Tragedy happens. </b><br />
<br />
I don't believe anyone who woke up the morning of the Boston Marathon believed that they would lose limbs, or worse, loved ones.<br />
<br />
And yet deeper than the scars on their bodies, the scars they will live with from that day, are the ones on their hearts. And yet many will get up and move on, without considering:<br />
<br />
<i>The heart requires bandaging as well. </i><br />
<br />
And it got me thinking about something I've been mulling over for a while.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Being in ministry I understand the
pressure to have it all together. To keep things hidden.<br />
<br />
<b>To hope that
everyone else thinks you are doing fine.
</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's the very fact that we will be
criticized that keeps so many missionaries, pastors, and leaders from sharing
the hardships, struggles, pain, and seeking their healing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Often how real we are willing to get is
correlated to how much freedom we can obtain.
</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17hfshnphe_yTcVyP6DsI6gPAjiTTwMXfxrZP79Tyiqt8jFnxGB7L-jIWu_vxtCFt72XInIq2VoB4dFmJvnjQzLslhsLnQ1FQelAQPCFm9sATcXtTn3PhHcjaIqd0AeWQzhyD/s1600/IMG_0589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17hfshnphe_yTcVyP6DsI6gPAjiTTwMXfxrZP79Tyiqt8jFnxGB7L-jIWu_vxtCFt72XInIq2VoB4dFmJvnjQzLslhsLnQ1FQelAQPCFm9sATcXtTn3PhHcjaIqd0AeWQzhyD/s320/IMG_0589.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
But too many times the heavy weight of ministry and the many roles we must fill, <b>steals our time and our energy away from God's presence and the pursuit of our own healthiness.</b><br />
<br />
When I heard about Rick Warren's son's suicide, I was deeply grieved. My heart aches for the family. I do not know all the circumstances and I say this without judgment towards them or anyone else, but it was just another reflection to me of what is going wrong in the body of believers, in ministries, and in our churches.<br />
<br />
<b>We focus outward, to build things for God, instead of focusing inward. </b><br />
<br />
We struggle with problems, our family struggles with problems: addiction, depression, anger, tragedy, marital issues, suicide and yet,<br />
<br />
<b>there isn't a safety net of non-judgment surrounding us to usher us into authenticity and healing.</b><br />
<br />
<i>We feel we have to cover up, hide, be perfect.</i><br />
<br />
Until everything crumbles around us.<br />
<br />
Some might say, that suicide cannot be avoided for some people, but I would not agree.<br />
<br />
Even in the Nazi concentration camps Viktor Frankl worked with those who were suicidal, asking them what good thing they could bring into the world. It wasn't long before those who were once depressed gained hope their lives could have meaning.<br />
<br />
I do not say this as a failure of the Warren family, but a failure of all of us to extend grace, non-judgment, and healing help to those in need.<br />
<br />
A failure to be a safe place for people to be vulnerable about their need for intervention.<br />
<br />
<b>It is a wake up call to all of us to realize that those in ministry are often the very ones who need healing the most. </b><br />
<br />
We must begin to prioritize our own healing. We must prioritize the inward healthiness of ministry leaders, and people, over their outward gifts or their calling. And we must offer counseling and inner healing options with the help of Father's love and spirit to patch up the bloodied and broken.<br />
<br />
<b>But first we must be willing to be honest with ourselves. </b><br />
<b>To prioritize this in our own lives above other people's approval. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
To recognize that we cannot do it alone and we were not made to.<br />
<br />
I too have clawed my way out of darkness.<br />
<br />
<b>My own journey of healing has been spatters of light, groped desperately. </b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEje-zh_tvaMn5G0QvpJsaAHEsl4xMYrbCm_4Fd4JGez-jUu0ue47tP_wXCj_apSOsRuZakWUbcrulJ8cJOjZewyqn_fZURsM22xDRnLVrLgsvCobOSboxErrhcYO9rZ14jT1c/s1600/IMG_0615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEje-zh_tvaMn5G0QvpJsaAHEsl4xMYrbCm_4Fd4JGez-jUu0ue47tP_wXCj_apSOsRuZakWUbcrulJ8cJOjZewyqn_fZURsM22xDRnLVrLgsvCobOSboxErrhcYO9rZ14jT1c/s320/IMG_0615.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
As I'm writing my book now about this journey, I see the glimmers of redemption, like sunlight breaking through slits in the blinds.<br />
<br />
I see the people who gave me the safety to be real.<br />
<br />
I see myself falling into my Father's arms in sonship.<br />
<br />
That this is a constant battle and an endless journey. And it takes hard work.<br />
But it is so worth the fight.<br />
<br />
I pray that we join hands in our own journey towards wholeness.<br />
I pray we will be safe places for one another.<br />
<br />
And I pray that you join me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dJxlZzJ0KlGXeHIDNjD-H_Qfo3SP1oD0deD-F28W2wW-_z1M1wjhL3iVmZW418rdABScASrSKunq4KFRej03Iw7Uu3HseMPOShTGNXPYxMVHTDPmpgpPqGz8CoEPCNhAOTwQ/s1600/IMG_0656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dJxlZzJ0KlGXeHIDNjD-H_Qfo3SP1oD0deD-F28W2wW-_z1M1wjhL3iVmZW418rdABScASrSKunq4KFRej03Iw7Uu3HseMPOShTGNXPYxMVHTDPmpgpPqGz8CoEPCNhAOTwQ/s320/IMG_0656.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
**If you are interested in pursuing your own healing or want to offer help to someone else, I would recommend the following:<a href="http://www.catchthefire.com/college/leaders-schools/3-week-leaders-school-of-ministry"> Catch the Fire</a> (School of the heart or Leader's Schools), <a href="http://www.theophostic.com/">Theophostic Prayer Ministry</a>, <a href="http://www.fatherheart.net/">Father Heart Ministries</a>, <a href="http://www.shilohplace.org/">Shiloh Place,</a> and <a href="http://storylineblog.com/starthere/">Storyline</a> by Donald Miller (<a href="https://onsiteworkshops.com/">Onsite Workshops</a>)<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-79558441138307614632013-04-11T16:06:00.001-05:002013-04-11T16:06:14.116-05:00Chasing the Sunlight<i>"How do we stop living like life is an emergency. Something to be sped wildly through."- AnnVoskamp-</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqarB3u3Tybx4jgp72pJdZwyHuGvVukTZ4jKWmjevPXiDr4jUBNzYhNMio8kWiRIpcA08gfnoPcdvgLTWpI5Ns_60bwHCtDBio2XCjZIJUq3o_8XC4xW_yvQmHRUVp7-EG-lx/s1600/ocean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqarB3u3Tybx4jgp72pJdZwyHuGvVukTZ4jKWmjevPXiDr4jUBNzYhNMio8kWiRIpcA08gfnoPcdvgLTWpI5Ns_60bwHCtDBio2XCjZIJUq3o_8XC4xW_yvQmHRUVp7-EG-lx/s320/ocean.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I am thankful for the sound of the ocean crash on the sand. </i><br />
<br />
Yesterday I did something I normally don't do.<br />
<br />
<b>I took a day off. </b><i>(insert dum, dum, dum, soundtrack here)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
A mid-week day, mind you.<br />
<br />
It was 80 degrees out and the road was calling. So I hopped in the car and did a spontaneous trip to Santa Cruz and Capitola with my husband.<br />
<br />
Now before you get all shocked and disapproving and assume I've turned into a hippie who works part-time and surfs the rest---hear me out.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Life goes at a maddening pace. </b>We work late into the night. And for some of us, we do this giving our lives away for others---out in the war zones, mission fields, and in service to seek and save and restore those who are broken and lost.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, we are the ones who work hardest of all because we have a really good reason for what we're fighting for. And some of us just want to make the benjamin's baby, and that's cool too.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>But either way, sometimes we're the ones who get lost. </b><br />
<br />
But what I've been wondering about lately, is----<br />
<br />
<b>What is really underneath all this busyness?</b><br />
<br />
Are we trying to prove to the world how wonderful we are, how much value we have, that if only they could see how hard we work, they would know what a superstar we are.<br />
<br />
<b>That they would give us their approval? </b><br />
<br />
Do you ever hear people talk about how busy they are doing "good things," "ministry things" and they list off all the things they are "doing" as if it was some sort of self-pat-on-the-back. A resume of their many accolades.<br />
<br />
My husband calls it the humble brag.<br />
<br />
It's really just annoying. I know, because I totally used to be one of those people.<br />
<br />
What <i>is</i> funny about this whole scenario is that my husband I slide happily into the workaholic slot on a more common daily basis than most.<br />
<br />
<b>But lately I've been wanting more. </b>Wanting to slow this life down to a present moment of digging my toes in the warm sand, or feeling the cool Marine breeze spatter my face with ocean sprinkles.<br />
<br />
Stopping to be thankful and filled with joy.<br />
<br />
And figuring out what are those things that fill me with joy anyway?<br />
<br />
<b>Remembering God and that He wants to enjoy me. Enjoy. Me. </b><br />
And there is no substitute for that.<br />
<br />
So I lied on the beach. I attempted to do work to soothe my guilty conscience but ended up managing to do just journaling, rolling over, getting sunburned, playing disc golf, and eating a lot of Mexican.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdxFsh5x9juwuXOerqG5-1h_qa8Wb7i7muYARjhiiTqc7mqx2HnL_bTA-j77IJcxT-0QZibEovYvTapmi4qH2DyWqD5GDH5jvzv8MhDHgZhvZtKtM4lhAF8N_4geUCbAxAw-j/s1600/mexican.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdxFsh5x9juwuXOerqG5-1h_qa8Wb7i7muYARjhiiTqc7mqx2HnL_bTA-j77IJcxT-0QZibEovYvTapmi4qH2DyWqD5GDH5jvzv8MhDHgZhvZtKtM4lhAF8N_4geUCbAxAw-j/s320/mexican.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And I decided to be ok with that.<br />
<br />
<b>Sometimes, I think without me, this whole thing I've built, would crumble in upon itself like a volcanic mountain.</b><br />
<br />
Leaving a bunch of lava in its wake.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
When the reality is, I came home, and no one had died, </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
and I actually smiled today remembering yesterday and the memories I created. </div>
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I make myself bigger than I really am.</b><br />
<br />
And I make fun of hippies who surf all day (don't we all) and judge them, meanwhile secretly envying their life.<br />
<br />
<b>When really, this is the life I've chosen for myself.</b><br />
<b>And I'm the only one who can change it.</b><br />
<br />
I took a piece of that sunlight from yesterday and dragged it into today, and tomorrow I'm going to try and find another moment to get lost in that will drive me to be present.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5ya0S-buBtnMTuKr9ywpGN_dLU6OwmUmnmgSMXhAwXQSihavRICQ-bSNrmcokH6miijXKNXgEcGBJbJ9l7jAfDhLC53A4eFETwQ-K4nGYMGEmP2J_XRWlqw-NoeaFd4Q1E_5/s1600/flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5ya0S-buBtnMTuKr9ywpGN_dLU6OwmUmnmgSMXhAwXQSihavRICQ-bSNrmcokH6miijXKNXgEcGBJbJ9l7jAfDhLC53A4eFETwQ-K4nGYMGEmP2J_XRWlqw-NoeaFd4Q1E_5/s320/flowers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Present, where God lives. And trusting. Trusting him to pick up where we leave off.</b><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What do you do to get present?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>(And if you have no idea what I'm talking about...this is a great video from Ann Voskamp: </i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvHK2qe1LWU">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvHK2qe1LWU</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-11652828570725550112013-03-19T11:46:00.003-05:002013-03-20T12:48:23.628-05:00This elusive thing called balance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><br /></b>
<b>Sometimes we have to celebrate our victories in our life, no matter how small they might seem.</b><br />
<br />
Like when we say no to a bowl of ice cream. Or hold our tongue from saying that mean word that could wound.<br />
<br />
As hard as it is to have grace with ourselves, it's just as important as having grace with others.<br />
<br />
<b>Stopping to celebrate our victories is an act of stopping to give thanks. </b><br />
<br />
I realized the other day that often my life feels like a long to-do list and my iphone is full of more apps on keeping my list straight then it is full of pictures. (Even though I love my Clear app) I wish I had more pictures of experiences. Of life.<br />
<br />
<b>I'm often more concerned with checking things off my to do list than engaging in real relationships. </b>Or in taking the time to be loving.<br />
<br />
To be honest, sometimes I feel guilty when I just "enjoy life."<br />
It's like I don't remember how to do it.<br />
<br />
I've been out there on the edge so long listening to rape stories, or trying to figure out how to parent a bunch of growing girls in Africa, or how to successfully run a growing <a href="http://www.zionproject.org/">ministry</a> that needs about 100 more me's.....that I don't have time or brain energy to just be----well, happy.<br />
<br />
<b>In the last week, I ran a total of 13.5 miles. </b>Which might not seem like much, to all you work-out buffs out there, but it's the farthest I've ever consistently run. I also drank juice smoothies all week. With kale in them. Yeah, that green stuff. I'm going extreme. And it feels great!<br />
<br />
This is all part of my new regimen to "get healthy."<br />
Since Africa made me tired....and well, fat. (for all your girls out there thinking that moving to Africa will make you skinny---sorry to break your dreams)<br />
<br />
When you can find something edible to eat, it's usually carbs.<br />
<br />
Long-term stress also doesn't do a lot for your figure.<br />
<br />
This whole health kick started around the time that I stopped wanting to see myself in pictures. You know, that feeling when you realize you haven't been photographed in a while, and then all of a sudden you see yourself, and you're like what!! Is that me? And want to run and hide yourself in a large, oversized potato sack.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Women in their thirties will understand this better.</b><br />
<br />
So I'm trying to establish some balance in my life. Because I'm supposed to be working on taking care of me, and working less hard, and being more well-rounded.<br />
<br />
We as women, struggle so hard at this. How to balance being a woman, a job-holder, a wife, a mother, a leader, a friend, being in shape, making a good meal, being a nice person or even a person who occasionally does her hair and remembers to send that birthday card.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>And sometimes we can get so busy with "saving the world," that we forget that we actually need saving too.</b><br />
<br />
I know I have a long ways to go, but to be honest, I feel really proud of myself that I've begun. That I've started this journey of health, in ALL areas of my life, and that whether or not I can see the differences yet, I know the resolve is there.<br />
<br />
I also wrote two blogs. Walked in the sun. Laughed 'til my sides hurt with a girlfriend. Read a book. Went on a date. And watched the Life of Pi. All in all, I think I'm onto something here.<br />
<br />
I'm learning to live.<br />
And learning not to feel bad about it.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>And realizing that ultimately true balance comes from being obedient to what God asks us to do. Not responding to needs. Not more. Not less. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
And saying goodbye to all the guilt.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-65287484076897571722013-03-15T16:54:00.001-05:002013-03-15T16:54:11.374-05:00What's the big deal about a pillow?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQAO5cmCflanluDXvHA6hnpoSZKDXZ0I04RjQKVaL4kuehqvQyszU5ocWjHY0N4-OKnZOKvFJBT3WiUGRQz650yMc-R5aBQ7Q7wppvy30RAo-CsyyUWLA1_FhotbZCtkX70czW/s1600/pillow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQAO5cmCflanluDXvHA6hnpoSZKDXZ0I04RjQKVaL4kuehqvQyszU5ocWjHY0N4-OKnZOKvFJBT3WiUGRQz650yMc-R5aBQ7Q7wppvy30RAo-CsyyUWLA1_FhotbZCtkX70czW/s320/pillow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I didn't really think about how different it would be and how hard to face this world of luxury again and not let it seep inside me, to take over my will.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b>As I try to bridge my two worlds of Africa, love, and lack, and the over-abundance of where I live, I feel off-kilter as I straddle these two extremes.</b><br />
<br />
I'm going to make a faux pas here and bring up a tabooed subject. And believe me, I'm just as uncomfortable with it as you are.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Poverty and Plenty. Lack and Abundance. Things We Need vs Things We Want.</b><br />
<br />
How we can have so much when the rest of the world has so little.<br />
<br />
<b>The life we are told to want instead of the life we actually desire to live.</b><br />
<br />
My husband and I talk late into the night about these things. The path that we've chosen. The costs associated therein.<br />
<br />
<b>Our quality of life versus the quantity of what we have.</b><br />
<br />
We're in our thirties and we don't own a house, any property, and barely a car which we both share.<br />
<br />
We've spent the last six years giving our lives away in Africa and we're trying to take a break without letting the world we've entered become our reality. Without feeling inadequate. But that's hard.<br />
<br />
I try to listen to the advice of our older, ex-Peacecorps friends who have a world of wisdom underneath their belt after having lived in and left multiple countries.<br />
<br />
<b>That we've chosen an alternative path and it's going to look different than most people, but the rewards are great as long as we can learn to be content with what we've chosen, and be kind to ourselves. </b>(paraphrasing their brilliance)<br />
<br />
I admit, I'm not doing a very good job.<br />
<br />
What it looks like most often is coveting something I definitely "have" to have for my new nest, buying it, and then two days later returning it out of guilt. Or lack of funds.<br />
<br />
I have as much Carrie Bradshaw in me as the next girl, but it got me thinking......<br />
<br />
It's crazy what we can convince ourselves we need. And it's even crazier we can live on credit.<br />
And scary.<br />
<br />
<b>In Africa, there is no credit. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<i>Think about it: If you don't have money for food, you don't eat. That simple. </i><br />
<br />
I feel like a hungry kid who wandered into a candy shop.<br />
<br />
<b>Here our things own us. Our mortgage, our cars, our Gucci bag, our debt.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
You won't believe how many people tell me they wish they could do what I do, but they can't because of debt. And it makes me so sad.<br />
<br />
But here I am, back in America, staring at that gorgeous new designer pillow. <i>(I HAVE to have it!)</i><br />
<br />
But do I really <i>have</i> to have it?<br />
<br />
<b>Does that really directly impact the life I want to have in a positive way?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<i><b>A life where time instead of money, is my most precious resource. </b></i><br />
<i><b>Where love is my most traded commodity. </b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
Where the hours with my husband matter more than the amount of money he can bring home.<br />
<br />
Where I can invest in my own growth, in God, in relationships, and in traveling the world to experience new things, with my hot husband.<br />
<br />
<b>How often do we trade real life for the allure of something we can own. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Or even real life for fake life. You know, TV. (I cringe as I write this because I'm the biggest hypocrite. I love TV shows.)<br />
<br />
I'm at war with these things, as I try to settle into "real life," but not get caught up in the American dream.<br />
<br />
The reality is that having a mortgage and driving a LandRover isn't really my dream, even though the world will tell me different.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>It will say that it's what I want. Because others have it.</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br />
But it's just not true.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
When what I really want looks more like being a healthy, whole person, and sitting with my sisters in the dust of a land many thousands of miles away.<br />
<br />
What I really want looks more like being a supportive wife and eventually the coolest mom on the block.<br />
<br />
What I really want is to hug the beautiful, black arms of so many I love, and to see their lives transformed.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>What I really want is to bring beauty to the darkest places on earth. </b><br />
<br />
But how to tell myself that when I'm staring at a gorgeous pillow that exactly matches my color scheme.<br />
<br />
What's weird is I actually think that Jesus wants us to be happy. And balanced. And that the abundant life, the prosperous life, is His desire for us, as long as it doesn't consume our heart.<br />
<br />
<b>Money isn't the root of all evil. Our orientation to it though, can be. Whether we are rich or poor. </b><br />
<br />
What dominates the thoughts of our heart?<br />
Envy is an equal sin to greed.<br />
<br />
How to walk the line of self-denial, while still allowing for things that bring me happiness.<br />
<br />
How to sacrifice without turning away blessings.<br />
How to be content with both poverty and wealth.<br />
How to believe for abundance, but still live within our means.<br />
How to be comfortable in a mansion or a mud hut.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>That's where I am, in the middle, trying to figure it all out. </b><br />
<br />
Trying to figure out if we are brave enough to follow our own hearts, our own spirit, our own gut, instead of the way of the world.<br />
<br />
Even if it means looking less "normal."<br />
<br />
And when my husband makes the right choices, when I make the right choices, when you make the right choices, maybe it's ok to splurge a little on that pillow that's going to make your house, a home.<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-74060837128982214192013-03-15T15:29:00.000-05:002013-03-20T12:55:41.209-05:00Thoughts on justice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGzdFE8rg31-Yn-VHSvouppqlh8j_FgS6a5c6mELMA6Irz6dwkkDUWE2TKep6xgk85KQTA7vFesY0JC3Bg42dNUZO7SK3zR6g4ZvTQRpK3FkhMYwvONczlch0L9_UxIVIa_Hy/s1600/zp+table.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGzdFE8rg31-Yn-VHSvouppqlh8j_FgS6a5c6mELMA6Irz6dwkkDUWE2TKep6xgk85KQTA7vFesY0JC3Bg42dNUZO7SK3zR6g4ZvTQRpK3FkhMYwvONczlch0L9_UxIVIa_Hy/s320/zp+table.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It's been a few weeks since I returned from the Justice Conference in Philly. But many of the thoughts, emotions, and inspirations sit with me as I go back to my new existence in America that I'm still getting used to.<br />
<br />
I've been compelled to write about something I've been thinking of for a while.<br />
<br />
This Justice movement, so beautiful and brave, and yet<b><i> how do we make it more than just a fad?</i></b><br />
More than something "cool" to get involved with or post on our facebook.<br />
<br />
More than something other people will pat us on the back for.<br />
<br />
What does love look like when the feelings seep away?<br />
<br />
<b>When justice is just, as Gary Haugen says, "A long obedience in the same direction."</b><br />
<br />
When the paperwork, and hospital stays, and endless meetings squelch out that glamorous dream we had of changing lives. Or "saving the world."<br />
<br />
When we realize we aren't White Saviors.<br />
<br />
Just broken people trying to love on and heal up other broken people.<br />
<br />
<b>Above all, justice is commitment. </b><br />
<br />
When it's not fun anymore. When the heart gets used to seeing terrible things, when the shiny glimmer of thinking I'd just hold beautiful African babies all day, dies away.<br />
<br />
<b>Justice is love when it's hard.</b> When the ring gets tarnished over years. When it all seems like more emails to answer, or problems to solve, than picture-perfect moments.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Will we stay when we can't find the reasons anymore. When it doesn't serve us?</i></b><br />
<br />
Because that's where true sacrifice begins.<br />
Where true love begins.<br />
<br />
<b>Somewhere after the novelty wears off.</b><br />
<br />
And we have to tuck deeper and deeper into Jesus to find the love, to give away.<br />
<br />
<b>This is not a sprint. It's a marathon. And this is what we must know before we begin.</b><br />
<br />
Justice has to be inside us. Saturating all our relationships. We can't seek to free the sex slave, when we can't offer love to our families, husbands, friends. Or even ourselves.<br />
<br />
It has to be our whole person.<br />
<br />
<b>Justice is not what is fair. Justice is what ought to be. The redemption of ALL things.</b><br />
<br />
It must be more than the sexy buzz words, than the twitter feed, than Toms shoes.<br />
<br />
<b>It requires more tedious acts of love than we know are necessary to bear.</b><br />
<br />
All our staff, <a href="http://www.zionproject.org/get-involved">all our volunteers,</a> have to move past the rosy-colored version of service, into real life, real pain, real loss, and sometimes real disappointment.<br />
<br />
It's the only way to get to real reward.<br />
<br />
And it is so worth the fight.<br />
<br />
So ask yourself, what are you really ready to sign up for?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-74083022049979410382013-01-27T17:44:00.000-05:002013-03-20T12:47:56.949-05:00when we need to be thankful<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYoxnCjy6CSS3dMq0bEqY2wpchaIA4OmCdax4w12T3pR8gp-f6l0JSFqsKUAv4MZYUfh52EZinw1i8zhixF8UpPjxzWYq-Aa7XBxa0QovzKJ7bUxRnI2GztSJBNEpYqqIzZRqs/s1600/e+as+baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYoxnCjy6CSS3dMq0bEqY2wpchaIA4OmCdax4w12T3pR8gp-f6l0JSFqsKUAv4MZYUfh52EZinw1i8zhixF8UpPjxzWYq-Aa7XBxa0QovzKJ7bUxRnI2GztSJBNEpYqqIzZRqs/s320/e+as+baby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
When the mommy brigade takes over Panera with their newborns I want to run.<br />
In fact I do run, right out the front door.<br />
<br />
Tiny heads with tiny hats on them. Little animal-eared sweaters. Most days it doesn't affect me. Most days I don't feel like the air has been squeezed out of my chest. But today I do.<br />
<br />
<b>Sometimes we don't understand <a href="http://www.saritahartz.com/2012/08/loss.html">why. </a></b><br />
<br />
Why so many around me this year carried that hope in them, that new life, only to have it be snuffed out. Why good people, the best people, lost the most precious thing in the world.<br />
And the pain came in waves that wouldn't stop.<br />
<br />
<i>I don't get these things. </i><br />
<br />
There are so many things we can live without. Without nice cars and kitchen cabinets. Without ac and cheeseburgers. Without the people we need nearby.<br />
<br />
<i>We don't know until we have to. But then we do.</i><br />
<br />
<b>But we cannot live without love. </b><br />
<br />
So when he rolls over and holds my face in his hands through my mascara and tears,<br />
<br />
<i>I feel the world come into focus.</i><br />
<br />
On days when I want to feel really sorry for myself, or really angry that it hasn't happened for me, on days when the waiting seems unbearable,<br />
<br />
I glance over at this person, who knows to put on a comedy series when I can't stop crying,<br />
<br />
<b>who knows how to tether me to a singular hope when I want to give up, </b><br />
<br />
and my whole broken and battered heart wants to implode with gratitude<br />
<br />
<b>that he is mine.</b><br />
<br />
The world is not fair. We're never quite where we want to be.<br />
<br />
<b>But there are sparks.</b><br />
<br />
We have to catch the shimmer.<br />
<br />
<b>We have to say thank you for what is here and now.</b> And sit with it.<br />
<br />
For when someone is exactly what you need them to be.<br />
<br />
<i>For when he gets it right.</i><br />
<br />
For sunny days.<br />
<br />
New best friends.<br />
<br />
Any tiny chihuahua's who lick your face, named Rosalita-Chiquita-Banana-Pants.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-47463970003421559522013-01-22T17:59:00.000-05:002013-01-22T17:59:09.362-05:00Brave<br />
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<br />
Most people would think that moving to Africa was the scary part. The big leap.<br />
<br />
But it wasn't. It was the most natural thing in the world. Moving back to America.<br />
This is the scariest thing I've done in a long time. <br />
<br />
<b><i>Here the fears are loud.</i></b><br />
<br />
Will God provide?<br />
Will I become selfish?<br />
How will I not let God get drowned out by all the noise?<br />
<br />
Will I love who I am when someone is not calling me “Mama.”<br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>How to straddle these two worlds with any of me left in between. </i></b><br />
<br />
Over there God is in all the crevices of my day.<br />
<br />
I'm spilling out all the time. No time to think about me or be ungrateful. Just a constant stream of thinking about others.<br />
<br />
<b><i>It really is true that when you lose your life, you find it. </i></b><br />
<br />
You lose yourself in love, you lose yourself in giving, in serving, and you gain a whole life built on connectedness and the pleasure of feeling God move in you and through you.<br />
<br />
And yet God is with me here too, but why so much harder to feel it?<br />
<br />
<b><i>To me, it doesn't seem crazy to convince people to move to Africa to serve the poor and the abused. </i></b>To let emptying yourself out, radically change you.<br />
<br />
To me it seems crazy to build a life here in America. I don't know how to do it.<br />
<br />
<b>And yet, who are we without our giving? </b><br />
Who are we when the spinning stops?<br />
<br />
<b><i>Will we like ourselves enough when Father is asking us to just be? To just be His.</i></b><br />
<br />
It doesn't feel right to me yet. But I know this is the next painful step in growing.<br />
<br />
<i><b>How to know who we are outside our function.</b> </i>Outside the thing which has defined us for so long.<br />
<br />
Over there I live in a constant thrum of being needed.<br />
<br />
Of being necessary. Of being vital. It's strange to be outside the urgency. Is there some happy balance between loving others and also loving myself?<br />
<br />
Especially when I don't feel so important now.<br />
<br />
How to find new ways to connect. New ways to worship.<br />
<b><i>New ways to hold gratefulness in my hands for what is here. </i></b><br />
<br />
I'm like an addict. I miss it so much.<br />
<br />
But there's no doubt to me that God is in this. That there is a new lesson for me to learn here, outside the tyranny of the urgent, outside that need to be needed.<br />
<br />
<b><i>God is not out there somewhere. He is here, now. In this moment.</i></b><br />
<br />
Whether on these dazzled streets of California, or on that red earth I still call home.<br />
<br />
Life is where He is, so life can be anywhere.<br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>We just have to stop and feel it. Breathe deep, and let the fears go.</i></b><br />
<br />
I'm always the impatient one. Always want to know the right answers and the right way to do something. Always want to have it all figured out. But I'm starting to feel normal again. Slowly. Too slowly for my taste.<br />
<br />
But trust is not built on knowing. Trust is built in the grey. In the in-between.<br />
<b><i>When all the while He is coming towards us, but we just can't see it yet. </i></b><br />
<br />
When He's asking us to have compassion not just for the hurting ones, but also for ourselves.<br />
<br />
Can we be brave enough to take that leap, whatever it might mean for us?<br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>To let ourselves be scared again. </i></b><br />
<br />
We judge ourselves by other people's capacities all the time.<br />
<br />
But what is brave for me?<br />
<br />
<b><i>What is brave for you?</i></b><br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-78790619249984627452013-01-10T18:06:00.001-05:002013-01-10T18:12:45.039-05:00Moving<br />
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<br />
Sometimes the days get dark.<br />
<br />
<b>The January cold seems to blow right through you. </b><br />
<br />
Days where you're not sure you want to get out of bed, and God seems like a dream you had you can't quite remember.<br />
<br />
<b>Transitions can be hard.</b><br />
<br />
I don't think I expected that. Expected to find myself in a new place, not knowing anyone, living out of someone's guest room and on other's kindnesses, just craving a space of my own.<br />
<br />
A nook. <b>A place I could crawl into to feel sane.</b> Or like my old self again. A routine I could sink my teeth into.<br />
<br />
<b>Sometimes we feel like fish out of water</b> and we feel like we're going crazy, but people tell us its normal and it's all going to be ok.<br />
<br />
And then four days into the biggest move you can remember making, you get pneumonia and the doctor tells you in a reassuring voice that it's going to take a while for your body to feel normal.<br />
<br />
He says annoying things like “rest,” when you're not quite sure how to do that with your suitcases strewn all over the floor and an apartment hunting list a mile long. Where should I rest? How?<br />
<br />
<b>Where is my African sun?</b><br />
<br />
Where is the me that gets up and knows what needs to get done that day.<br />
I know it's called culture shock, but putting a label on it doesn't seem to make me feel less like a crazy person.<br />
<br />
I keep looking for things I can't find.... “now where did I put that one sweater I own....”<br />
I had a pair of fuzzy boots didn't I?<br />
<br />
<b>Instead I just layer on mismatched clothes like a bag lady.</b><br />
<br />
I feel like body parts keep giving up on me. I surrender. You've put me through enough! My eye. It's red and oozing. I can't figure out why. I'm like a creepy, angry cyclops.<br />
<br />
I tell my husband he should just leave me for dead somewhere before I have a leg fall off.<br />
I know, dramatic. But it feels dramatic.<br />
<br />
Nothing feels right.<br />
<br />
I tell myself it's temporary. But we can't wait for things to change.<br />
<b>We have to make a heaven out of hell now.</b><br />
<br />
I bundle myself up into as many layers as I can find (again, think bag lady) and go outside to lie down in the sun.<br />
<br />
I take deep breaths. I start to breathe again.<br />
<br />
I remember what it is to breathe, <b>as though the last few weeks I've been catching my breath, waiting for the impact.</b><br />
<br />
I feel the warmth on my face start to seep into me.<br />
<br />
I look up and watch the clouds shifting through the trees.<br />
<br />
<b>And I feel Him again. I start to feel my Father. In a patch of sunlight. </b><br />
<br />
<i>There you are. I've missed you.</i><br />
<br />
He's there waiting. For us to drink deeply of his love. To lie under the shade of Him. To find a way to connect, however that might look.<br />
<br />
<b>He's so faithful. </b>So faithful when we are so faithless, that it makes me want to cry.<br />
He wants us. Even with how messed up we feel. Even with our ugly eye.<br />
<br />
But there He is, telling me He's going to take care of me again.<br />
I picture a writing nook in the sun.<br />
<br />
And I trust it. I believe it.<br />
It's going to be alright.<br />
<b>I just have to keep the faith.</b><br />
<br />
<b>As the sun dips back into the clouds, I go inside still clinging to this holy moment.</b><br />
Still clinging to this tenderness.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-20791632152354451952012-12-07T08:29:00.000-05:002012-12-10T14:30:02.497-05:00A New Season...<br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>“By changing nothing, nothing changes.” -Tony Robbins</i></b><br />
<br />
Five years is a long time.<br />
<br />
It's a lot of sweaty bus-rides. It's a lot of roach killing, and mouse killing, and eating posho and beans. It's a lot of swatting mosquitos on your legs, and running out of water just as you soaped up your body.<br />
<br />
<b>It's a lot of pouring out your life. </b><br />
<br />
And it's a long time without air-conditioning, that's for sure.<br />
<br />
<b>A lot of time to fall in love with a place and it's people</b>.<br />
<br />
And even more time to love the reality vs. the rosy colored version.<br />
<br />
It's a lot of time to learn what it really means to be a missionary, <b>to love the ONE</b>, to try to build God's Kingdom while still maintaining your sanity (sort of.)<br />
<br />
<b>A lot of time to learn what it's not. </b><br />
<br />
Lots of late-night tears, and snorting laughter. Lots of proud moments as you watch your people starting to “get it.”<br />
<br />
Lots of evenings in the studded darkness.<br />
<br />
<b>Plenty of moments of needing Father's grace and actually experiencing it. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Plenty of mistakes.<br />
<br />
<b>And glimmers of glory. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><i>So many transformed lives just by starting with the one in front of us. </i></b><br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<br />
Over the past few years, I've come into a deeper understanding of the fact that when God heals us up, He trusts our hearts, He trusts what He has put inside of us, and He trusts our decisions.<br />
<br />
I've come into a deeper revelation of His love and His goodness towards me, <i>even in the darkest places on earth. </i><br />
<br />
<b>Sometimes He is asking us to trust that new heart He's put in us to guide us into the next phase of our destiny. </b><br />
<br />
We are on the verge of a new season that I'm excited to share with you.<br />
<br />
For over a year and a half now, Tyson and I have been praying about our future, and the future of what God has for Zion Project.<br />
<br />
<b>We knew that a change was coming, but it was a blurry pin hole of light that hadn't come into focus yet. </b><br />
<br />
Then God really began to speak to us about making some changes.<br />
I'll admit, I was not a fan at first. But Father, is as usual, very patient with me, because I'm really hard-headed!<br />
<br />
<b>The last five years of living in Uganda has been a beautiful, joyously heart-wrenching adventure of personal and ministry growth. </b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
Father has taught me so much and I treasure every minute of having lived life here.<br />
<br />
I've learned that I really can't do it all (ha! And it only took me 5 years to figure that out!)<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>But seriously, I think it took my heart a while to come to grips with the fact that one season was ending, and a new season was beginning which would involve spending more time in the USA and abroad, and less time in my beloved Uganda. </b><br />
<br />
Slowly, I began to see that Zion Project <b>cannot really grow in healthy ways unless I am in the States to nurture it-</b>--to share my heart, connect with like-minded people, raise support for our mission, to recruit amazing missionaries, to dream bigger dreams and help us focus on our vision of healing people and nations. <br />
<br />
<b>We have truly come to the point that we can't continue in our mission until a host of people join our vision to transform nations!</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
So this will be my focus in the States.<br />
<br />
We're also feeling God leading us into greater depths and new places to <b>bring counseling and inner healing to more war-torn regions </b>and we need time to really focus our vision. (without the constant serenade of babies and roosters)<br />
<br />
Also, as many of you know, our <b>desire to begin our own family beyond our darling Ugandan family </b>has really grown, and I've seen way too many births here to even contemplate that level of crazy!<br />
<br />
I also really want to be a support system for Tyson as he pursues His entrepreneurial dreams. <i>(I mean, he has kinda been great about supporting me these past few years. I guess it's time for some payback!)</i><br />
<br />
<b>I am a mom to many, but I've come to grips with the fact that I'm not super mom (even though I do have the big hair for it) and I truly want my family to come first. </b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
We also feel that after six years of back and forth to the field,<b> it's time for a season of rest.</b><br />
I think we're pretty smart to be doing this as we've seen way too many people start to burn out, implode, or get weird (not in a good kind of way :)<br />
<br />
Also, to be honest, after a lot of sicknesses and the loss of our baby due to an ectopic pregnancy, I'm pretty pumped to <b>focus on letting God take care of me for a bit and getting healthy.</b><br />
I'm going to be Jane Fonda-ing it up!<br />
<br />
<b>I will still be working full-time on Zion Project from the US, supporting our staff, but my job will no longer be requiring the same unrealistic expectations of me </b>(picture trying to load photos and video to a newsletter using dial-up speed while simultaneously leading people to Jesus in the slums!)<br />
<br />
I will also have <b>many wonderful opportunities to be filled up,</b> poured into, and trained in new counseling techniques with new partners, which I'll then be able to bring to my team on the ground. (hooray!)<br />
<br />
And hopefully <b>lots of time at Bethel!</b><br />
<br />
And I'll finally be able to focus on finishing my book (it's true! I've been promising for way too long) <br />
<br />
<b>I'm excited to meet all the new friends Father will join to us. </b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
So this last year has been a time of <b>really training and equipping my staff on the ground</b> to run things in my absence and I'm excited to empower them to really own this thing themselves. I know they will be successful because I know they are really getting God's heart.<br />
<br />
<b>We leave behind a beautiful group of people whose lives God has touched, who every day are thriving and growing in Him. (although we really can't take the credit--God kinda helped)</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
I also have a wonderful, multi-talented replacement on the ground, Brittany Dunay, who will be our interim Country Director until we find someone more long-term.<br />
<br />
<b>So we will be moving back to the San Francisco Bay Area in 3 weeks! </b><br />
<br />
We will celebrate Christmas here in Uganda, and the new year in California to start our new life. How crazy is that!??<br />
<br />
<b>This is not goodbye to Uganda forever, just goodbye for now.</b> I'll be going back and forth and have a return ticket already so they really can't get rid of me yet!<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I know this may come as news to some of you, but we have such peace about this. </b><br />
<br />
If you have any questions I'd be happy to answer them, although I'm kinda in losing-my-mind town right now trying to train up staff and pack of 5 years of a life. (<i>I've literally found things that I don't know what they are or where they came from!)</i><br />
<br />
<b>We're really looking forward to this next step,</b> to renting our own apartment, putting pictures up on the wall, being close to family and friends, being able to press the easy button for once, turn up the AC, and enjoy things like gyms and real lettuce salads. (well, at least I will, while Tyson is downing a cheeseburger.)<br />
<br />
<b>We're excited to bring our experience of living in Uganda to ignite the local church and friends at home. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>So we can love many more!</b><br />
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<br />
We're so grateful for each of you and your support over the years!<br />
<br />
<b>Pray for our hearts in this departure </b>that God will hold us in His arms as I know it will not be easy to leave our home.<br />
<br />
Pray for our team that they would continue to grow and mature into their leadership roles, pray for a smooth transition—for jobs, place to live, and peace.<br />
<br />
Oh and pray that God will help us pay for things like furniture and blenders.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>So weird to realize you're almost 32 and you don't own a sofa. Or a blender.</b><br />
<br />
With love,<br />
Sarita & Tyson<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
**In 2013 I'll have a lot more time to speak and attend events:<br />
<ul>
<li>Our team will be at <a href="http://www.urbana.org/">Urbana</a> Dec 27-31st so come check out our table! </li>
<li>Sarita will be speaking at James Madison University's InterVarsity Women's Conference Jan 26th in Harrisonburg, VA</li>
<li>Sarita will be at the<a href="http://thejusticeconference.com/#&slider1=1"> Justice Conference</a> in Philadelphia, PA February 21-24th</li>
<li>If you'd me to speak at your church/event in 2013 please book me early <a href="http://www.zionproject.org/get-involved/events">here</a></li>
</ul>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-10295626402138342752012-12-03T12:46:00.000-05:002013-03-20T12:48:51.005-05:00Death and Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As we sat in the knee-high grass legs itchy, sun scorching, and the sound of worship heard over the wailing I concentrated on the yellow weeds at my feet growing wild and thorny.<br />
<br />
<b>I wonder if someone planted them here. </b><br />
<br />
I've been here before.<br />
<br />
<b>Death a part of my existence here in East Africa. </b>No matter how many life-breathed words over cold, clammy bodies, the caskets seem to pile high. Tiny crosses engraved in the black cloth. Aids a raging killer.<br />
<br />
<b>But it is different this time</b>. Years ago they would have been alone. Years ago they would have crumpled like a flag to the ground, and laid there without wanting to go on. They would have begged us to bury them beside her.<br />
<br />
I first met Mama Matty a few years ago, the mother of one of the beautiful women in our community.<br />
<br />
<b>She used to drag her tired body on run-down buses to Juba to sell herself for a couple dollars more.</b><br />
<br />
I remember because we used to pray for her.<br />
<br />
On one of our outreaches with our <a href="http://www.imanilove.com/">Imani</a> women, we went to pray for the sick, and Mama Matty let us sit on the red-sanded stoop of her home, looking broken.<br />
<br />
We prayed and we spoke words of this Jesus who accepts us as we are.<br />
<br />
<b>Who never turns His back on us.</b><br />
<br />
Something happened and Heaven touched her. She gave her life to Jesus and she joined a community of believers at the church.<b> She knew her Jesus.</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
Mama Matty lost her fight on Friday night and there will be no parades, nothing will mark her epitaph but a pile of stones. To some, she will just be another statistic.<br />
<br />
But not to us. It's a sad day for those of us who loved her.<br />
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<b>But I watch the way our women hold the grieving, like trees standing firm in the wind. </b><br />
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I hear them singing in the back of the pickup as we drive from the funeral site. I carry the image of their arms encircling the two orphan daughters and leading them through the tall grass towards home.<br />
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<b>And I know that Father has done something here. </b><br />
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He's sown hope where there wasn't any before.<br />
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<b>He's made love to grow where there were only thorns. </b><br />
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He's put His goodness inside of broken hearts. Hearts that can now help heal others.<br />
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And the yellow weeds don't look like weeds anymore.<br />
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<b>They look like someone's fruit. </b><br />
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<i>*Please continue to pray for our community in northern Uganda. That our counseling and love will continue to touch many more so they might know Father's goodness in the midst of despair. Please continue to pray for Mama Matty's daughters. </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-53203373726526962452012-11-08T14:25:00.000-05:002012-11-08T14:25:20.536-05:00Surrender<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Most often my days start with problems. A myriad of needs. Things which have “gone wrong.” The water has run out. Again. People who need my help. A mama needs more money for food to feed her kids. A girl who runs away from home because she still feels strange in the safety of love's arms.<br />
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How to build a jewelry program so she doesn't have to sell herself for bread. How to fill the holes when we don't have enough people to fill them.<br />
<b>A mission to heal this nation which seems too large and too undoable. </b><br />
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All day I want to solve problems that feel unsolvable. And this is where I surrender. Fall into Father's arms as my tired body lets the day's dirt run off me in the shower.<br />
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<i>Father, how?</i><br />
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<b>I only know this leaning.</b> This is the only way to survive this. The only way to get up the next day and keep on loving.<br />
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I read something Michele Perry wrote today in her new book <i>An Invitation to the Supernatural Lif</i>e, it struck me how much I understand this and how much I need to be reminded of it:<br />
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“All my good ideas were still good ideas, but they couldn’t feed a growing family or heal a dying child, let alone help a warring nation. I needed an overflow that came from heaven, not from earth.”</blockquote>
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We can't offer our solutions. There can only be heavenly solutions to the problems of how to do what's best for my children, how to train up a nation to think entirely different than their culture. And how to pay for it all. There is no Sarita answer. More often than not, I've had to say I don't know when the day picks these bones dry.<br />
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<b>They can wear on you. Keep you up at night. Put that pain in your neck. The worrying. </b><br />
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And yet it doesn't help. Because we're thinking of it all wrong. We have to flip it and look at it from another perspective.<br />
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Father has a solution. I just don't know what it is yet. But He does, and my time with him will figure it all out. That is where he speaks to me. That is where the genius lives.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>His strategy is so much better than ours.</b><br />
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I cannot take the problems on as though it were my guilt or my badge of honor to bear them.<br />
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And always the enemy's voice saying we're not doing enough.<br />
They are His. His kids. His heartbeat. His vision. His love spilled out for the lost.<br />
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Perhaps that is why he sometimes lets us come to the end of ourselves. So we can see clearly, it's only He who can do it.<br />
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Surrender is our invitation to let Him in, and watch him move heaven and earth for us.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-59934252013861427882012-11-01T15:02:00.001-05:002012-11-05T08:01:21.287-05:00What six years has taught me<div class="posterous_autopost">
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<br />
Six years.<br />
I ask God sometimes,<em> “how do you do it?”</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
How do you hold each of us in your heart? With equal importance. With so much love.<br />
Doesn't it hurt?<br />
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Don't you buckle under our sea of faces?<br />
An organization is just made up of people. Faces. Names. Friends. Ones who are loved.<br />
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And it is only as strong as it's relationships.<br />
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<strong>And just when you think there is not enough space in your heart for one more. One more person. One more story. One more face. One more friend. You fall in love again. </strong><br />
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I cannot say what I've done in 6 years. Because I don't know. I don't have the statistics. I didn't keep track. I just have people. Relationships. Faces. Hugs. Hugs I dream about before waking.<br />
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My person (s.)<br />
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<strong>And in the end, that is all we have, really. The one.</strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
I cannot really reach the multitudes. I do not have what it takes to touch the thousands. I just have the one by one's.<br />
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The one I think about before I can sleep. The one I cry for and pray for. The one I believe God for.<br />
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It's the line from one of my favorite books, “<em>We cannot weep for millions, we can only weep by ones</em>.”<br />
And I guess that's the way Jesus worked anyway.<br />
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<strong>I met Stella six years ago. </strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
In the most horrible place on earth. A camp where the only currency is hopelessness. Or what part of you, you can sell. After the rebels, and babies, there wasn't much left.<br />
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I don't think she had many friends.<br />
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And well to be honest, I didn't either. Just a little American girl who thought she knew how to save the world.<br />
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<strong>But I saw something in her. Even then. That she was true.</strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
When we lived together in our makeshift home, Stella would teach me how to start a charcoal stove to make chapati, or how to end a fight—with laughter. She taught me how to put a baby to sleep, and how to wash clothes by hand.<br />
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<b>Somewhere in the middle of punching the bread loaf down, we became friends.</b><br />
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When someone tells me how fabulous she is, I want to cry. Because I know her faithfulness.<br />
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And I know what she's come from. I know though it's hard, she will face the new day with joy.<br />
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I know the last 6 years will not look like much when people peer into our window.<br />
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I know we will seem small. And maybe insignificant when the world so often asks us for numbers.<br />
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But I know I will write a story about Stella.<br />
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<strong>And I will really know her. Not as a story, not as a number, but as one I have loved. </strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
Because it's her I am dreaming of tonight.<br />
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There is always room for more, if we open ourselves to love.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-70809317344259743562012-10-22T12:05:00.001-05:002012-10-22T18:27:26.001-05:00Always Enough<div class='posterous_autopost'><p> <p><em>“I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself. He does only what he sees the Father doing. Whatever Father does, the Son does also. For Father loves the Son and shows him everything he is doing. He will show him HOW to do even greater works.” John 5:19-20</em></p> <p><strong>As I step foot upon this red earth again, I remember why I need Father so much here.</strong></p> <p>Feeling broken by my own inadequacy to know how---how to bring revival here, how to heal hearts, and change lives for eternity. </p> <p><strong>When everything is so much harder here. Raw.</strong></p> <p>The culture-shock hits me full force as the traffic piles up and people jump into the road with no thought or care to their lives. When we realize the truck is broken because the mechanic we trusted gave it to someone else who stole parts out of our engine, when no one takes responsibility for their actions, when I'm sick with the flu still, and jet-lagged, constantly sweating without ac or a fan, where everywhere I turn is a face that looks hopeless or empty, where so many things are out of my control, and when I feel the full weight of this ministry on my shoulders---all the people we need, all the resources to fulfill this call---</p> <p><strong>this world can often seem too much. </strong></p> <p>Especially when I remember there's no delivery pizza. </p> <p>The burdens pile high. The losses feel too real. And there have been a lot these past months.</p> <p>Loss of friendships and betrayal,</p> <p>Loss of the baby and miscarriages of friends,</p> <p>Loss of rest, </p> <p>Loss of trust,</p> <p>Loss of baby Faida who died somewhere in Congo when I wanted her so badly to join our home</p> <p>Loss of “Precious,” fought so hard for out of the slum, only to lose her back to a life of selling her body</p> <p>The losses can seem too much.</p> <p>The clouds roll in thick and ominous.</p> <p><strong>The storm is coming as dark as my soul feels in this moment. </strong></p> <p>But I've missed the storms here so much.</p> <p>I sit on the porch trying to feel my Jesus. To get hidden inside His heart. </p> <p>Am I ready to come back to all of this? My heart a patchwork of scar tissue, still tender where He's put me back together. Time and time again. </p> <p><strong>I read through John and I see my Jesus again. How he's felt everything I feel.</strong></p> <p>I see him teaching and giving away, healing, and getting hidden again, feeling anguish, feeling concern for his disciples, praying that they will love each other in unity, being frustrated, being joyful, but always listening to His Father's voice and beginning again.</p> <p>And I see him suffer. Lay down his life for the ones that he loves, for his friends. </p> <p><strong>And that this is the life we are called to. To suffering, to joy, and to dependence. </strong></p> <p>“The spirit alone gives eternal life. Human effort accomplishes nothing.” John 6:63</p> <p>That's from the Bible. I let it sink deep into my soul on this porch in Uganda where I feel His pain, my pain, and my own frailty.</p> <p>His spirit, is the only thing that matters.</p> <p>And I feel the strongest desire I've ever felt, just to be with Him, in heaven, just to look into his eyes and have him tell me that it's all going to be ok. Just to hear him say, “well done.” </p> <p>But it's not time yet. </p> <p>And I know that I can't run away.</p> <p><strong>Africa is a mirror. Where you have to look deep into your soul and see that you are not enough.</strong></p> <p>Some people crumble up under it.</p> <p><strong>But I know that He is.</strong> His spirit gives life, where there is no life. </p> <p>He breathes, and situations shift. </p> <p>I do not have what it takes, but by His spirit, everywhere my feet will tread, He will give to us. </p> <p>I am weak. And I can do nothing on my own. I'm completely dependent on Him. </p> <p><strong>And perhaps my surrender, perhaps my “can't,” perhaps my weakness is an opportunity for Heaven.</strong></p> <p>And perhaps this is where He wants me. So desperate, hiding away in Him. </p> <p>Only able to fumble through imitating His goodness.</p> <p>I do not know the “how.”</p> <p>I only know Who. </p> <p>But I trust, </p> <p><strong>that He is always enough. </strong></p> <p>And slowly, I remember this is part of what I have come to love about living here---amongst the poor, amidst the challenges---<strong>how easily it exposes my need for my Savior, for my Father---for a goodness and a love that is beyond myself. </strong></p> <p>And that it's ok to be needy for Him.</p> <p>For His words, for his breath, for His spirit. </p> <p>And it's never too late to get hidden. </p> </p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21465539.post-55592818585699319512012-10-17T19:18:00.001-05:002012-10-17T19:18:54.064-05:00Happiness<div class='posterous_autopost'><p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class='p_embed p_image_embed'> <a href="http://getfile1.posterous.com/getfile/files.posterous.com/temp-2012-10-17/pflFtqCIJziJkwyyrzhybkxvrnbDEsiufoJaoicJAhrJbEboJFDGtijjdvmo/croissant.jpg.scaled1000.jpg"><img alt="Croissant" height="375" src="http://getfile9.posterous.com/getfile/files.posterous.com/temp-2012-10-17/pflFtqCIJziJkwyyrzhybkxvrnbDEsiufoJaoicJAhrJbEboJFDGtijjdvmo/croissant.jpg.scaled500.jpg" width="500" /></a> </div> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong><em>“Even a modest pleasure can be a luxury if its scarce enough---ordering coffee at a restaurant, buying a book, which is why deprivation is one of the most effective, although unenjoyable, cures for the hedonic treadmill.”</em></strong> -Gretchen Rubin, <em>The Happiness Project-</em></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It strikes me that after two and a half months of living in a land full of luxury, I'm ready throw myself back into a place of lack, because of love. And I do look forward to it. To unpacking my suitcase (finally) and settling into my own little home, with my dogs, in the raw beauty and infuriation of all that is Africa.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>And that actually, not having things for a little while, is quite healthy for the soul. </strong>When you don't have running water, or when the power is out, or the food is not what you're used to, something as simple as turning ona light, or eating a croissant, can bring you such happiness.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>Happiness is important. </strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Some might think it's selfish, but actually statistics show that happier people bring other people happiness, and are more altruistic than unhappy people. I mean is there anything worse than being around an unhappy person?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I've been reading this book, <em>The Happiness Project </em>for the last month, and really ruminating on what does it mean to be happy, and what does it mean for me, and for all of us? I'm beginning my own Happiness Project. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>It truly takes a dedication of the heart, mind, and soul to choose joy even in the face of tragedy or more often than not, small annoyances.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">How to learn this with small children's shoes, and stuffed animals, and office supplies strewn across a floor that somehow has to magically make it into six duffle bags.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>Still wishing I was Snow White with a room full of helpful birds.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It has been a glorious and yet heart wrenching season jam-packed full of days with family, new friends, and days of runnings around speaking, trying to spread this message of hope:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">that God's heart beats for us, and for the least of these, and for my tribe in Uganda.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>And He's calling all of us into something deeper with Him.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So is it selfish to pursue our own happiness? Especially if its not going to hurt someone else?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sitting in the sun and breathing for five minutes with our eyes closed.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And that part of happiness is keeping our own resolutions, our own set of principles which guide our lives and help us keep our integrity.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like,</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>Love generously.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>Run more.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>Be more positive.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>Take care of me.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>Be less serious.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I think it makes us better people.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><em>“A sense of growth is so important to happiness that its often preferable to be progressing to the summit rather than to be at the summit.”</em> THP</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>So even, if I haven't yet attained my goal, if I'm growing towards it, I should allow myself the pleasure of happiness.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And celebrate the small victories when I'm able to keep one of the resolutions I've made to myself, to God, to my husband, or to my family.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">While the last two months have been crazy busy, and hard, <strong>I'll allow myself the brief pleasure of feeling that I finished well.</strong> I did what I set out to do. I listened to my Father. I said, yes.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And while there were losses, and I'm certain some balls got dropped, I was able to thrive through the midst of extensive travel, a surgery, the loss of a baby, a speaking tour, stress, demands, deadlines, and still managed to crawl back up into His arms, where I find my home.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So even though I'm not Wonder Woman, and I can't do it all, as my hair, my toe nails, and my bags have seriously estimated at this point--</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I've been faithful with the little I've been given.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>I've stared in the face of some of the biggest challenges of my life, and what they mirrored back is that I have the strength to overcome them.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Broken, yes, but not hard.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Somewhere in Africa, God's been building something inside me. If we stay tender, and we let Him, He can do something awe-inspiring.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And sometimes we need to stop and celebrate that.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>The spitfire moments of joy, we can grasp and hold, before they slip in between our fingers.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A slice of heaven.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Before we move on to the next enormous task in front of us.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Jesus told the disciples, “Freely as you have received, freely give.” And He sent them out.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong>It's all about receiving more, and giving more away.</strong></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And as I stand at the precipice of this next season, I carry this truth in my heart.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If I let Him, He will do it.....</p> </p> </p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356971574488241914noreply@blogger.com1