2,922 days later

It's been 8 years.

8 years since we got off the plane at the very-much-under-construction airport. 8 years since Kristen and I waited for the last box of supplies to arrive at the baggage claim and to realize there were no more carts to help us transport 4 huge suitcases and 4 large Rubbermaid containers. 8 years since my first glimpse of Jamie's wide smile and Jolly's sly humor.

In some ways it feels like so much longer than 8 years. My Luo language skills have long since vanished and I wouldn't be able to tell you the names of any traditional Acholi dances. In other ways, it's like it was yesterday. I still remember the taste of morning tea and cassava, served with Annette's sweet smile. I can hear the bells from the church across of the intern house and feel the wind from the back of a boda boda. My heart still warms when I see the pictures of my friends on Facebook and wonder how their children can be growing so quickly when we all still look the same.

Time is a strange thing.

I'll be forever grateful to Invisible Children for taking a chance on a girl who hadn't yet crossed the Atlantic and letting her experience life alongside their amazing staff. (I still laugh when I think about the application video that I submitted - I think I actually have a copy somewhere...) So much of who I am today is because of the amazing experience of living in Gulu. 

I've said it again and again, but it's so true. I'm so in awe of this life I've gotten to live. The grace upon grace that I've received. The people I've known, the smiles I've seen and the love I've felt. 

The past 8 years have been full of highs and lows (of course- it's life! :)) I'm still learning to discern God's voice from my own desires. To love recklessly and to give fearlessly. To ignore feelings of guilt, but to learn and abide by my feelings of conviction. To live a life of adventure with God and to invite others along to see His Joy, Grace and Mercy abound.

Here's to the next 8!

A Slice of Humble Pie

I've been know to be terrible about asking for help. I could list excuses or dredge out a sad backstory, but I know a-lot all of it comes down to pride. I like to think that I can do it all, that I can handle it. I'm Super Betsy - able to hold her life together with her own strength, skills and duct tape. I don't need assistance or support, I've got my street smarts (honed in the rough neighborhoods of Alta Loma, no less) and a fancy college diploma.

It's such a lie. I'm dependent every day on the grace and mercy of God. But not only that, I need the people around me. Their strengthens, their help, their wisdom. We are created to live in community, its throughout the Bible and is so evident in our lives.

I know that God is calling out this prideful streak in me. That while I like to lie to myself and say things like "it's just that I don't want to be a burden," the truth is that I want to be seen as having it all together.  But again and again He's placing me in situations where I have no choice but to ask for help. From sending me to a country where I didn't speak the language to putting on my heart the need to raise support for my next trip to Kenya to having a busted knee that doesn't let me push my own cart when I'm grocery shopping, the last few weeks have been tough. I've had to reach out for more prayer and be more open. I've had to admit that I really couldn't do something on my own and allow others to come alongside me.

It's been beautiful. I have been struck again and again by the amazingness of the people God has blessed me with.  To be able to rejoice in the fact that we've all be created differently - to get to see others use their strengths.

I'm still bad about asking for help. I've been chastised by my roommates for not asking for help taking stuff upstairs and I'm already trying to worm out of raising support. But God is working in me. Even in writing this post! When I wrote about getting to see others use their strengths, He reminded me that by not asking for help, I'm missing out of the beauty of seeing the Kingdom of Heaven work together. I always pray to be part of bringing heaven closer to Earth, and I'm learning that exposing my weaknesses and allowing others to show me grace can be a part of that.

A post for a slightly broken body

Some days seem difficult.

When you bust your knee and the time you've spent in the waiting room feels interminable. The drive to the hospital is lonely and your company at home is hundreds of ants that keep finding their way through crevices and into your lunch box. Lonely, hurting and emotional, you've got all the ingredients you need for a pity party of one.

But I am so blessed.

To live in a country where a busted knee can receive quality medical care. To have a job where the waiting room is just an annoyance of time, but not a place to worry if the bills will stack up so high that their payment means I may not eat. I have a car to drive and a home for their ants to find their way into. Friends and family to text and call, medicine to dull the pain and a God who listens to all my hurts, justified or not.

It's so easy to get caught up. To not see all the good and the joy and the blessing. To focus on the physical, the pieces of me that are so bound up in the world. I'm so thankful for the Holy Spirit, who whispers words of grace into my soul.

I'm not perfect. I've shed tears and felt frustrated throughout the day. But I also know, this is such a small part of my story - that to focus on it would endanger my ability to see the bigger picture. So I'm praying for the ability to keep it all in perspective



 For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. ² Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, ³ because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. ⁴ For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. ⁵ Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

2 Corinthians 5:1-5

Strengths and Weaknesses

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness

2 Corinthians 12:9

Some verses are easy to read, difficult to understand and even harder to live. But (surprise, surprise) there is so much blessing found in them.

I know my strengths. I’m great with kids, I love admin tasks, and while I’m not always the most organized in my own life, I definitely know my way around a checklist.

I also know my weaknesses. Teenagers frankly scare me, every time someone asks me to speak in front of an audience that has a median age about eleven I freak and my contributions to any potluck come premade and prepackaged 95% of the time.

 

97% of the time, life allows me to play to my strengths. I was blessed to be born in the US, where I could go to school and land a job where the fact that I’m pretty good at math means I get paid well, and it’s okay that I couldn’t bench press 50lbs to save my life (well, maybe in that case, adrenaline would take over?)  I volunteer in the kid’s ministry at my church and neatly avoid most requests for public speaking. 

God’s grace is sufficient for me, but I don’t really need His power in my weaknesses, I’ve built my life around hiding, sheltering and avoiding them.

But then you get on a plane. And are dropped off in a country where you can’t avoid them. Where everything you’re asked to do is based on the frailest pieces of your body, highlights your biggest flaws and exposes some of your deepest fears…

 When I was first asked to go to Honduras, I was excited. I love traveling, I love seeing new cultures, I love experiencing life beyond the borders of the US. It sounded like a trip for me – a little bit of manual labor (sure, I can do that), and a VBS (right up my alley!). I signed up, put the money aside and went…

The first part of this post gives the middle away. Honduras was hard. From the first night where I lost my keys to the first day where I learned that “a little manual labor” was going to be more hard work than I had ever done, nothing felt easy. My rusty high school Spanish failed me and  by the second night at our team meeting I was questioning everything.

Why was I here? I wasn’t strong enough to work as hard as everyone else or smart enough to pick up on the language. VBS, normally my strong suit, comprised of me standing back and just handing things to my team members who could actually communicate. I felt… weak.

 

I’m not sure exactly when it changed. Maybe it was when I downloaded the Spanish dictionary that Ted told me about. Or when I had a 5 minute conversation with 10 year old Carolina that made me a dancing partner for the rest of the week. Or when I tied my 1,000 piece of rebar, this time listening to the one English song on my friend Noe’s phone.

But God used my weaknesses. My faltering Spanish, with so much effort wrapped up in every conversation was a chance to show Love. I couldn’t push the wheelbarrow full of cement, but I sang silly songs and carried buckets of water.  Those teenagers that had intimidated me became my little sisters who give some of the best hugs.

And through it all, I knew it wasn’t me. It was not my own strengths, my own careful planning, my own manipulating of situations to make things work for me… it was God. And His love and His grace and His sufficiency.

 

I’m back in the US. Playing to my strengths again, but trying to remember to allow God to use my weaknesses. To look for ways to humbly love and serve others.  To rest in the knowledge of grace.

And praying, praying, praying.

Missing You

I love and I hate the feeling of missing someone.

Because missing someone means you love them, know them, want them around.  God said that it is not good for man to be alone, and you aren’t. You’ve created community with people, you’ve laughed, you’ve cried, you’ve danced, you’ve lived life alongside them.

The blessing of missing is that you know.

But there is still the pain of missing. Of experiencing something and not having them there to share it with. Of wondering and not knowing how they’re doing. Of feeling out of sorts and out of place and just... you know… like something is missing.

I’ve been incredibly blessed to love and know so many people. To travel places and experience little bits of what heaven will be like.  To have my path intersect with the paths of beautiful, amazing and inspiring men, women and children.

And I’m so thankful. So in awe of this life I get to live.

But sometimes? I miss people. And while there is the blessing of it? Sometimes, it just sucks.

 

Sigh.