sporty shirts
Now that I’ve completed the Half-Marathon, I’m ready to buy a whole bunch of running shirts. Because I’m sporty, ya know. I’ve gotta show off my athleticism.
Ha!
So I’m thinking of filling my wardrobe with shirts that say things like:
13.1 miles. Been there. Run that.
If it weren’t for me, you’d have nobody to pass.
You think I run funny? Wait till you see me walk tomorrow!
I’m only doing this so I can post a picture on Facebook.
This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago.
Does this shirt make my butt look fast?
And I’d add one of my own to the list:
I’m working mine off so I can kick yours later.
Got any to add?
travel quirks
I travel a lot. Always have.
(I wish that meant that I’m a good packer. But it doesn’t.)
When I flew from Nashville to Seattle the other day, I paid attention to all the odd things I do when I fly. And there are many.
- I feel compelled to eat or drink something whenever I’m in an airport. Not to say that I always do. But I always want to.
- Airports give me the sense that I’m going to run into someone I know. I actively look around as if I might.
- I touch the outside of the plane as I board. (I started this on my first mission trip when I was 14. I wonder how many planes I’ve tapped since then…)
- Between the time I board and the announcement to switch off electronics, I send an abnormally high number of tweets/texts.
- I avoid making eye contact with people. I don’t want to have to talk to anyone! What can I say, I’m an introverted flyer. (Bad missionary, I know…)
- I’m an aisle seat girl, preferably as close to the front of the plane as possible.
- I need to feel air blowing directly on me, so I immediately adjust the little air vent accordingly.
- I wear my seat belt so loose, it probably doesn’t even matter that I’m wearing it. I also unbuckle it the instant we land. I’m talking the moment the wheels hit the tarmac.
- Because I tend to get motion sick, I try to make myself fall asleep if there’s turbulence. (I’ve been known to sleep through some wicked storms…)
- I usually bring a book on board, but never ever end up reading.
- My free beverage of choice is always ginger ale. The only other time I drink it is when I’m sick.
- I only pee when absolutely necessary, so I don’t often use the bathroom on board.
- If I do, I cover my ears when I flush. The noise freaks me out.
- I try to avoid looking in the mirror in the airplane bathroom. The lights in there make me look pretty frightening.
What are your travel quirks?
If you’re in the Seattle area,
let’s hang out tonight!
even from myself
My heart feels a bit bruised these days. She’s even more sore than my legs are.
I don’t know that I can fully explain to anyone all that’s been going on inside me the past few weeks, but it’s leaving my heart feeling more vulnerable than she has in a long time.
She feels exposed. Raw. Black and blue.
Although I often get defensive when I shouldn’t, I usually don’t defend myself when I should.
I don’t fight for my own heart. So she ends up getting beaten up.
I’m not good at speaking up for myself or being assertive. I fear sounding defensive, so I often don’t explain myself when others misunderstand me. At times I fear putting my heart on the line, so I hold her back but wish someone could see through the blurry mess and just know what’s going on inside.
I am my own worst enemy. I treat myself more harshly than I’d ever treat anyone else. I am, by far, the hardest person for me to extend grace to.
I often feel unfought-for by others. But the reality is I’m unfought-for by me.
Why should anyone else defend what I don’t even bother to?
This all taps into those fears and insecurities deep inside me. That place in my heart that doubts my worth, value, and lovableness.
It seems to spiral viciously out of control rather quickly.
I’m trying desperately to learn to slam on the brakes in those moments and pour my heart out like water before God. Messy. Uncontrolled. Unrestrained. Just as it comes.
Bruises and all.
In Him alone will I find refuge. Safety. Security. Worth.
In Him alone will I feel defended.
Even from myself.
feeling seen helps us hear
I’ve had some incredibly encouraging conversations lately. God has been speaking straight to my heart through people who truly see me in my situation and ministry.
I don’t know that I can explain very well what I mean by that. But if you’ve ever felt invisible, I think you know what I’m talking about.
Simply feeling seen is amazingly restorative.
My pastor reminded me to focus on seeking God, not just His will. Ultimately, the only thing I need is more of Him. Yet I can get caught up in pursuing God for something rather than just pursuing God.
I need to seek God’s face and not His hand.
And I needed to be reminded of that fact.
A new ministry friend spoke some freeing words to me. “You don’t need to feel stained by the situation you’re walking through. Because you’re not. Others’ decisions are not a reflection of you, your heart, or your vision in ministry.”
I can’t even tell you how much I needed to hear that.
It was as though I could hear the chains dropping to the ground.
These conversations fueled my passion to make others feel seen. And to use my words to build up rather than tear down.
Don’t underestimate the power of your words to breathe life into someone.
Look around. And look beneath the surface to truly see the person under the layers of circumstances.
Be intentional today to speak strength and courage into someone’s heart.
It’s probably just what they need.
sweet victory
Saturday morning started early. Like 5:00 early.
But I was ready to get the half-marathon over with do this thing. Well, ready as I’d ever be.
The sky looked ominous and there were threats of severe thunderstorms, hail, and even a tornado. If you heard about the tornado that just tore through our base in South Africa, you can imagine some of my conversations with God.
Let me just say, there were quite a few You’ve gotta be kidding me‘s.
But the rain held off. Mostly.
My sweet friend Tracee flew into town to do the race with me so that I wouldn’t have to bring up the rear all on my own. She’s amazing like that.
We alternated running and walking. Which translates to mostly walking, but running as much as I could on the straights and downhills.
It was hard. And long.
But together, we made 13.1 miles a dang good time.
We laughed a lot. There is some seriously good people-watching in a crowd of 32,000 marathoners.
Somewhere around the 12-mile marker, it started to rain.
A policeman shouted that the huge storm was “imminent” and they’d possibly force an evacuation in fifteen minutes. Tracee and I looked at each other and immediately picked up our pace.
There was no way we were gonna be that close to the end and not finish.
So we hauled. Well, as much as I could haul.
With each turn and uphill (of which there were far too many!), the rain came down harder and harder. When the finish line finally came into view, we straight up sprinted through pouring rain and bolts of lightning.
Crossing that finish line felt like such sweet victory.
We stood there a long time, hugging each other tightly in the torrential downpour. While trying to catch our breath.
It’s a moment I won’t quickly forget.
But I’ve got a medal to remind me in case I do…
I’m on my way to Seattle today.
If you’re around, let’s hang out on Thursday!
what happens in nashvegas…
I’m Nashville-bound today.
It’s gonna be an eventful week with some incredible friends.
On Saturday I’ll be conquering a half-marathon.
(Please Note: By conquering I mean walking.)
(Please Also Note: Remember my commitment to risk more this year? Yeah, this is that health risk I told you about!)
I only have two goals for the Half —
1. Cross the finish line.
2. Have fun along the way.
By Saturday night, I will most likely be aching in places I didn’t know could ache.
But I have a feeling the sense of accomplishment will be worth it. I’m hoping so anyway.
It’s a risk I have to take.
I’m banking on the boost of strength and encouragement that will come as I cross the finish line. I need it because of the main purpose of my visit to Nashville.
It’s the start of an 8-week fundraising trip for Thrive Africa.
(You should seriously see me trying to figure out how to pack for eight weeks! Oi vey.)
There is a lot going on in my heart in regards to this trip. A lot. There’s a veritable tsunami of emotions, hopes, fears, and vulnerabilities crashing around inside me.
So it’s just as well that I have 13.1 miles to talk to Jesus about it all.
My heart needs the workout just as much as my body does.
Well, please excuse me while I go wrestle a few remaining items into my suitcase.
I’ll see you in a few months, Atlanta!
If you’re anywhere near Nashville,
come say “hi!” on Thursday night.
how do we tell?
I’m no stranger to challenges, both in ministry and in life.
I’ve roughed the stormy seas of tight finances. I’ve braved long seasons of everything possible going wrong in every way possible.
I’ve endured numerous devastating fires on our mission base. I’ve watched a tornado lift the roof right off of my house. While I was in it. Twice.
I’ve faced countless health issues, lost loved ones, sat broken-down on the side of the road more times than I can count.
I’m not oblivious to the schemes of the devil.
I know the enemy attacks hard on the front lines.
I also know God uses the situations we face to guide and shape us.
He disciplines us, redirects our paths, and goes to great lengths to get ourattention at times.
And so today I find myself wrestling.
I’m coming up with more questions than answers, though.
A barrage of negative/painful/stretching circumstances could be an attack we should stand against in faith. Or it could be God’s way of “closing a door”, turning us around, or shifting the direction of our path.
How do we tell the difference?
monday morning confession:
I want to look like I exercise without actually exercising.
Mmkay. Your turn.
four-minute friday: iowa
Go.
It still feels a little unreal to me that I’ve spent this week with my friend Sara.
For lots of reasons.
Like the fact that I normally live on another continent. And Sara lives in Iowa of all places. Iowa.
And like how I had to be perfectly healthy so I don’t pass something on to her. And that is no small miracle for me.
But all the stars aligned—by the grace of God!—and here I am.
Every now and again I still squeal out an, “I can’t believe I’m in your house!” Because it really does seem too good to be true.
And it’s coming to an end all too quickly.
I’m not ready to leave, to say goodbye, to give Sara a final hug. I’m not ready.
But I am so unbelievably grateful.
My heart is going to hold on to this week for a very long time.
Done.
i was young and foolish
I moved to Africa twelve years ago today.
It feels like a lifetime ago in some ways, and in others, it feels like just yesterday.
Some people think I was brave and bold for packing up and moving to Africa when I was 19.
If I was either, I certainly didn’t know it.
I felt a whole mix of emotions on that long flight across the Atlantic, but brave and bold weren’t in the mix.
Sad, frightened, and unsure were though.
Right next to equal doses of anticipation, hopefulness, and nervous-excitement.
I was young. And slightly foolish.
Foolish enough to think I had something offer. Foolish enough to believe I’d felt God’s leading. Foolish enough to imagine He could use me.
Twelve years later, I smirk as I thank God that I still have some foolishness in me.
Part of me thinks it’s a little wrong to celebrate my “Afriversary” in America. But it isn’t the first time. And it probably won’t be the last.
And it doesn’t change the fact that twelve years ago today, the entire trajectory of my life changed forever.
Here’s to another year lived for Africa, even if not in Africa.
