Just two.

Why don't I?

I stare at the blank page and the cursor blinks back at me.

Empty.

I'm all out of stories.

Maybe I don't have anything to say.

Or maybe I have too much.

Fear.  It's the quietest thief.  It hides under layers of being realistic and practical.  It has the power to make you paralyzed exactly where you are.

I think there are two kinds of fear- that's right, just two.  There's the kind of fear that keeps you alive and the kind of fear that keeps you from living.  There is a wisdom in being practical.  You don't jump off a bridge without a bungee cord to pull you back.  You don't drive 90 on the freeway when the roads are covered in ice.  As humans, we have pretty good instincts when it comes to avoiding deadly danger.  That's the kind of fear that keeps you alive.

And yet, the lines blur.  And then there's the kind of fear that keeps you from living.  It takes on a lot of different faces.  Some days (usually Mondays) it shows up as I'm not good enough. Other days it's what if I fail.  what if everyone thinks I'm crazy.  what if I make a mistake.  what if I run out of money.  what if they say no.  what if I'm rejected.  what if the economy never turns around.

But then there's a solid thought, a voice louder than all the others -
what if I never even try?

Come close enough and look it in the eyes.
See the smoke and the thunder and the loud, booming parade.
Step forward and pull back the fabric.

Fear is just the man behind the curtain.

And once you know that, you're free.
It's okay to be practical about living.  But don't be afraid of it.
Don't be paralyzed into not trying, not risking, not running, and leaping.

Take a chance on something you really believe in.

It's not easy.  I churn with what if's.  I juggle too many questions with not enough answers.  But it's the thought of not trying that keeps me going when I think I can't.  when I'm about to give up.  when I just want to quit.

To pull out my empty paper and try just one more time.  To pull out my Bible and trust God to meet me in the too many questions.  To pull out my courage from whatever dusty place it was hiding and brush it off.

No more stealing.
No more thieves.
No more lies.
Only abundant life- for me and for you.

kickball

One day.  That's all it takes to change direction.  Almost everything I've been planning for these past few months has fallen through within the last 24 hours.  A trip to see a much-missed friend.  Moving in with a sweet sister.  Summer missions.  A summer internship.  All of it falling through, leaving me disappointed. Yet I am so gently reminded of the past.  I'm reminded of times and places and people that make me thankful that God never gives me what I think I need.

I've been talking to some sweet friends lately, and reconnecting with people from my past.  And there seems to be this theme of feeling stuck.  All different people in different voices, saying the same thing:

What do you do when it feels like God has forgotten about your adventure?

If you were sitting next to me, I'd tell you about church a couple of weeks ago.  Somehow I always end up late for church, sneaking in the back doors and smuggling hugs as I go.  To talk about church is like only seeing a preview of a movie- it's a longer part of a different story, a story about people who taught me how to love.  Maybe another story for another day.

So I slip into an empty row right in the middle of a song, and catch a glimpse of the woman doing sign language on the side of the stage.  Her motions are fluid and beautiful.  It takes my mind a minute to process the motions but my heart catches on right away.  Running.  Grace.  Freedom.  Joy.  A Remedy.  I sit in awe and watch the story come to life.  Redemption.

Sometimes it's easy to talk about what God has done once it's finished.  It's so much harder to be in the middle of a season with loose ends and rough edges and proclaim His goodness.  And yet, if you sit long enough in the silence, there's a sweetness there.  There's a reason why birds head south for the winter, and why spring follows winter like an encore follows a song.  That's the story in between the sign language.

Our promise-maker is a promise keeper.

That's what I'm resting in, today.

silence and patience and grace

There has been some silence on this end of the world.

I'm knee deep in books and paperwork and other people's theses.  I've calculated that I'm spending over 50 hours on campus in a five day week.  That's over two days straight.  If we take out 8 hours a day for sleep (haha like that actually happens), that leaves about 30 hours left, or 6 hours per day.  One for devotions.  Four for homework. Half an hour for food. Half for a shower.

I don't say all of that to complain, I promise.  I'm blessed to be going to college, studying what I love, and being around people I love while doing so.

I was thinking last night that it's easy to get lost in the destination- to get so focused on being someplace else, you miss out on the getting there.  I don't want to miss out on the getting there.  The highway, the journey, the getting lost and taking the long way- that's okay.  That's what you're supposed to do.  It's finding your way.

I feel like there's this theme of expectations for people my age- to hurry up and finish high school to get to college.  To hurry up and finish college to get a job.  To get a better job to buy a house, or get married, or whatever.  It's this crazy checklist that causes stress and chaos and at the end of it...you're not the same person you started out as.  It's not life-giving.  It's not success.  Being busy isn't success- it's not a badge of achievement or a crown of honor.  I've been guilty of wearing it as such before, but I've been trying to do things differently lately; to let the things in my life that need to gather dust, gather dust, and to take the things that are important and get lost in the living.

‎"Now is your time. Become, believe, try. Walk closely with people you love, and with other people who believe that God is very good and life is a grand adventure." -Shauna Niequist

A few months ago, I prayed my heart out that God would make me content with where He's put me.  And with some silence, patience, and grace- I think I'm finally getting there.  Don't miss out on the getting there, sweet friends.  God sees you.  He knows where you are.  I believe that in the silence of those crazy moments of aching transition and deep need, God tenderly wraps His arms around us and points us in the direction of home.

a new year.

As I looked at the calendar today, I felt surprisingly thankful for it.  God is forever- His approach to time is completely different than mine and pretty incomprehensible to me.  But for us humans- I like the idea of time being marked.  Of us celebrating and mourning and embracing its passage.  There's a separation between last year and this year and I think there's a reason for that.  There's a separation of our days and months.  Monday doesn't bleed into Tuesday and Tuesday melt into Wednesday.  Each day has 24 hours, each hour has sixty minutes, each minute with sixty seconds.  Each second a chance to start again.

That's what I kept thinking about this year.
A brand new chance to start again.
To change.
To plant.
To uproot.
To wrestle.
To embrace.
To dance.
To start.
To end.
To begin.
again.

We can be alive this year in ways we have never been before.  We can change things.  We don't have to be the same person we used to be.  It's a brand new chance to begin again.  To start over, to risk, to dream, to imagine, to pursue, to run after, to live.

"I am finding out just how good it feels to be so real in this carnival of hopes and dreams coming true.  All you do in this life echoes in eternity.

I'm raising my head and taking a new look around."