unspoken

I ran into an old friend last week.

We did that awkward, silent then weboth talkwaytoofast dance.

But in that rhythm, I learned how many classes he was taking, how many hours he was working, how much volunteering he did, and how hard he worked.  He wasn't bragging or shining his schedule; he was exhausted.  And before I knew it, my mouth was blurting out way too personal of words to share with someone I barely knew anymore.

"You're doing a great job."  I took a breath.  "You're only one person and you can only do so much.  And with all of this- you're doing wonderful."

He stood up a little straighter.  We continued talking for a minute and half-waved goodbyes as we headed in opposite directions.  But something about that stuck with me.

We are just people.  We have triumphs and we make mistakes.

Sometimes it feels like I wake up with the world on my shoulders.

As a student, some days it feels like the very best I can do is hold my arms up and try to keep the sky from falling.  I know at some point you've felt like that, too.

I wonder how many things go unspoken.

We go to class and fight life head on and read our newspapers alone and
I wonder how often we're exhausted from words that haven't been said.

Sometimes I wonder if we settle for surviving-

flitting from experience to experience holding onto that one compliment.  That one time somebody says "thank you."  That extra-hug.  That "I'm proud of you."  We savor small drops of encouragement and little leaky faucet spurts of inspiration with closed hands and tight fists...because sometimes we don't know when they'll come next.

The truth is:
I am the woman at the well.

All of my energy and my strength shrivel and wilt.
When I look to myself for encouragement, optimism, strength, and grace-
my wells are bone dry.  I draw and draw and desperately draw

and I'll
come up empty
every
time.

But when I run after God
I find
waterfalls
of
overflowing
abundant
life.

And so I invite you to stand knee deep in the river with me.
Open your palms and see if you can try and catch all the water that rushes through your fingertips.

You are only one person.  You can't do everything.  But you can do something wonderful.

Your story matters more than you may ever know.  You are loved and precious.

Maybe your calendar is full.

Your heart is overwhelmed.

Your life feels stuck.

Your dreams feel far away.

God feels far away.

Your well

is

dust dry.

Wrap your fingers through mine

and we'll run towards grace together.

Maybe you haven't been told it lately

but

I think you're doing a great job.

Day 17

Dear friend, I miss you.

The end of the semester has me tangled in responsibilities.

I confess that I did not wear the dress yesterday- only because I did not get out of bed.

It's safe to say that I'm extremely sick.  As I dazed in and out of sleep, I thought about the women involved in sex trafficking.  I feel so grateful that I can fall asleep in safety, knowing that when I wake up there will be no one beside me.  There will be no one looming over me.  There will be no one, except for me.

I pray, pray, pray that they might someday have that same feeling of safety- which is a rightful necessity, not an earned luxury.

There's so much more to share, but I should end here.  If you're reading- I am more grateful for you than you could possibly know.

Your story is beautiful and your worth is infinite.  Keep fighting for that.

PS- I haven't had much time to take pictures.  The gray-sweatered girl is me and the dress at a writer's meeting.  In this picture, I'm reading For the Sparrows...which is being published(?!)  More on that coming soon.

looking and seeing

I parked by the trees today.

There's this parking lot on the edge of campus that not many people use.  I pulled my car into the sunshine, tilted my head back and saw sun spots dance before my eyes.

There's a line in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence that I can't get out of my head.  Newland says to Ellen:

“It's you who are telling me; opening my eyes to things I'd looked at so long that I'd ceased to see them.”

That's what I feel like with my life sometimes.

I get so used to the good things that surround me, I forget what they look like.  I stop seeing them for how good they really are, and my vision flattens to gray scale.  Sometimes I forget to see how truly beautiful and complex  life really is.

And then I have like today, where I can almost feel the air in my lungs.

The very act of living feels like symphony of grace.

The lines of life are sharper, my friend's hugs are tighter, the horizon spreads out before me like a promise. 

My classes seem like a brilliant adventure and not a dreaded obligation.  I am going to school for something I love and believe in.  Not everyone is so lucky.  I find myself sitting across the table from clients at work and I can't stop grinning.

Not because my life is easy or painless but because God is so very good to me.  Beyond cliches and church pews and empty statements from people who don't weigh their words- I am blessed and grateful and humble.  And sitting in the sunshine today, playing with the hem of my dress, I couldn't help but feel a gentle wave of contentment.

Thank you, God.  For your life- which saved mine.  For my life- which is just a blink.  For everything that I can't explain.  For how the trees are always reaching toward you.  May I do the same.

We are miracles.
Each and every one of us.

There's a season and a purpose and a song in our lives.  Our days are threaded with complexity and beauty and hopefulness that cannot be stolen or traded, only overlooked.

Take a minute to park by the trees and walk a little farther than normal.

Don't let those things go unnoticed in the rush and chaos of life.  Our senses cripple us sometimes, causing us only to rely on what we see and feel and can wrap our arms around.

And yet, we miss so much this way.

Some of the best things in life cannot be measured or felt with the strength of our hands, but seen by the eyes of our hearts.

day six and six months

Today is day six of wearing the dress.

"O LORD, you hear the desire of the afflicted;
   you will strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear
to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed..." -Psalm 10:17

I read an article on CNN's website yesterday about a woman deceived into coming to the U.S. and being forced and threatened into working in a sweatshop.
What stuck out to me the most was that her trafficker had multiple victims and was sentenced to six months house arrest.

Six months house arrest?  Are you kidding me?

Our laws dictate that our society finds trading a drug more worthy of punishment than trading a person.

I cannot comprehend that.

I'll admit that my heart and my mind was tired of the dress this morning.  It was cold and windy out, and I got rain in my shoes and down my legs and all over everything I own.  But after reading her story, there is nothing else I'd rather wear today.

"Rest assured, any movement towards freedom or life, towards God or others, will be opposed."
-John Eldredge

PS- A picture of the dress- by request.  (For the record, I am not a lover of taking pictures of myself. which is another entry entirely.  Let's just say- I am feeling challenged by wearing the same thing every day.  It often tells more about me than I wish to know.)

Day 3

Day 3

The Global Justice Conference was on Friday and Saturday.

My mind is literally blown. with information. and statistics. and anger. and hope. This is the fourth fifth draft of this post.  I'm a mess but in a good way.

Some things I learned on Friday:

The U.S. government estimates that over 30,000,000 people are enslaved in the human trafficking industry and over 1.5 million children go missing every year withing the U.S.

which means that approximately
3,562 kids disappear
every.
single.
day.

Wayne Bradbury- a man from International Justice Mission- said that silence is agreement.  I've never thought about it that way, but it's true.

Silence is agreement.

I think that one of the biggest lies people face is that our action can't change anything.  Countless times, I've heard classmates say- it doesn't matter.
We can't accomplish anything.
No one is going to listen to us.
That's just the way life is.

If we let ourselves believe that
we are essentially powerless-
not because our actions can't change anything
but because we get paralyzed into never even trying.

What a loss, sweet friend, in a that world so desperately needs our action.

Someone once told me, "Jesus didn't come to make us safe, but to make us brave."  As I wear this dress, I am finding that it is impossible to be both.  And you know what?  I don't mind.

for toledo and for the daughters

Three months ago, I talked to a woman named Amy.

She was wearing a gray dress.  She lives in Ohio, near Toledo.  Toledo is the 3rd (yes, you read that correctly) largest city for child sex slavery within the U.S.

Her heart's desire is to raise awareness of human trafficking-
and promote recovery and restoration.

She also wanted to raise funds for The Daughter Project, a non-profit group that is building a house in northwest Ohio for women who are recovering from trafficking.

To do this, she decided to wear the same dress for six months
in honor of women who do so every day.

Women who are trafficked.
sisters and mothers and daughters.
people with names and faces and dreams.

For the month of April, I decided to join her.
Not as a fashion statement.
Not as a trendy fad.
Not because I like wearing a dress.
Not for fun.

But for Toledo- a city that's a stones throw away from Detroit-
a city that should be safe.

And for the daughters-
although I can't see their faces or know their names
they are valuable and infinitely precious and

they
deserve
freedom

so I set aside my comfort and my pride
and wrap myself in one dress
for one month
with one voice

- for Toledo and for the the daughters.