friendship

chasing community

When I chose to move to Nashville, I said it was "to chase down community". A year later, I'm still chasing it. From a young age, my closest friends lived far from me. I grew up attending a Christian school, but most of the time my morals, standards, and choices were very different than those of my classmates. (I'm pretty sure the fact I received the "Best Christian Witness" award every year says more about the student body as a whole than it does of me.)

So when I went on my first mission trip at 15, teaming up with teenagers from across the country to serve in Nicaragua for a month, I was blown away to discover others my age who strived to live with conviction and character. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who were passionate about following God, serving others, and pursuing a purpose greater than ourselves. I had found my tribe.

This was long before email and cell phones were commonplace, so we kept in touch by writing letters. We exchanged novel-length scribblings, sharing the mundane and the significant, and we did whatever we could to keep our friendship close despite the miles between us. We sent care packages, we made long-distance phone calls, we planned reunions.

Every summer, my next mission trip only further increased my amazing friendships all around the nation. There's something about the mission trip environment that fosters closeness quickly. We shared intense circumstances in close quarters in a short amount of time, and the friendships that were produced have spanned decades.

Then I moved to Africa at 19, again keeping in touch long-distance with those I was closest to. So in this new season of my life, having returned Stateside and, in every way possible, starting over, I knew I wanted to be somewhere I could be physically surrounded by friends. So I came to Nashville. To chase down community.

It's been beautifully rewarding in so many ways, but it's also been hard.

Community doesn't just happen. Friendships don't just forge (even when there's an immediate connection). It takes effort. It takes intentionality. It takes time, and heart, and risk, and trust. It takes chasing.

And sometimes, to be honest, I grow weary of the chase. At times it feels like an uphill climb — a fight, a struggle — to find where I belong. To discover where I fit. To figure out how to meld my life into a church and friendship community that existed long before I showed up. To integrate into already busy lives and full schedules. To feel part of a tribe again.

Even coming to a place where I already knew people (to some degree), it's still been just plain hard. And while at times my heart has felt disappointed or sad, ultimately I know it's okay. That the struggle is part of the process. I know friendships aren't just bippity-boppity-boo'd into existence. I know the investment — of time, of heart, of the chase — is so worth it.

And so I'll keep chasing, whatever that may look like on any given day. And I'll keep choosing to trust, no matter how hard it gets. The journey, even when long or difficult or unclear, is what matters most.

What's been your own experience with chasing down community?

out of africa

{Hello? Is this thing on? Can you even hear me over the sound of crickets?} Hi. It's been a while, I know. And while I could never do it justice, I'm gonna try to fill you in on the past couple months...

My first week or so in Africa seemed like an emotional roller coaster. Experiencing so many conflicting emotions, sometimes all at the same time, made my heart feel like she had whiplash. I was glad to be back, and yet familiar things brought equal measures of nostalgia and heartache. The acuteness of it all faded with each passing day. I feel like the length of my trip -- though long in every respect -- was a gift in that it gave me enough time for things to become "normal" again. In a way they hadn't felt in a long time.

I hit the ground running and was extremely busy with work. Long, full, tiring days were a distraction for my heart, which was both good and bad at times. And then, right when He knew I'd need it, God forced me to process rather than push it off.

I am a contributing author to a book being published in September. (Crazy, right?!) My portion of the manuscript had been turned in a month or so before I left, causing the editing process to fall smack in the middle of my time in Africa. Ummm... Wow. It was no coincidence that God had me revisit my memoir-style piece about following Him to and eventually from Africa while actually in Africa. It was h-a-r-d. So very hard. But so, so good.

I really enjoyed the whole editing process, though it was strenuous and heart-stretching in every possible way. I am excited about the new direction my writing took because I worked on it on my first trip back to Africa. And I am really thankful for the forced outlet of processing. My heart is stronger for it.

I had an amazing time with Love Botswana and Bridge for Hope. I am beyond grateful that I get to work with these incredible organizations, and I'm already looking forward to my next trip back to Southern Africa at the end of August.

I'm pretty sure my body has no idea what timezone I'm in. I arrived back in Nashville on Thursday. Less than 24 hours later, I hopped a plane to Oregon to surprise my Best Heart's Friend Cathi with a weekend visit. Her awesome husband helped me plan the whole thing so I could be there for their son's first birthday. Lincoln is my godson, and I didn't want to miss his big day! We had a blast of a weekend, filled with couch time and laughter and hugs and cake. What a gift it was to be there and to have my heart filled up with friends.

And now... I am really happy to be home in Nashville. I love to travel and feel crazy blessed that I get to, but I also love having a home to come back to. I'm a roots and wings girl after all.

From Africa to the west coast and now back in Central Time... Here's to the joys of jet lag (and NyQuil)!

Oh! I've been let out of Twitter purgatory! After 30 days -- with 7 support tickets filed and 0 contact from Twitter -- my account was reactivated just as randomly and explanationlessly as it had been suspended. So weird. (Thank you to all of you who implored the powers-that-be on my behalf!)

Well, I've got a suitcase to unpack and laundry to wash and a roommate to catch up on The Voice with. I'll talk to you again soon.

I promise.

happy blogiversary to us!

Yesterday was my four-year blogiversary. I started blogging as a "let's see how this goes" way to keep a handful of friends and family updated on my life in Africa. But the opportunity to write personally in addition to all the writing I do for ministry made it quickly become a passion.

Then about two years ago, the Grit took on a life of its own.

It became the welcome mat that invited people into my life. I began developing real friendships. Conversations progressed from comments to emails. Then there were phone calls, and webcam chats, and even hugs.

Nobody was more surprised than I was.

And it surprises me still.

I have more friendships now than I ever have---real, raw, authentic friendships---and that blows me away. The sense of community that's been fostered here is one of the most unexpected blessings of my entire life.

My eyes fill with tears just thinking about how God's used you to carry me through this difficult year. I'm humbled and honored to call you friends.

I no longer blog simply to keep people updated on my life. And I certainly don't write just to throw words at you. Or to hear myself speak.

I come to the Grit for strength, support, encouragement, and community.

And I've never been disappointed.

Here's to you! Happy four years, friends!

face time

Have you seen Dentyne's current ad campaign?

I think it's sheer creative genius. Mostly because it deeply resonates with people. And while it doesn't make me want to blow bubbles with Dentyne gum, it does make me want to put down my laptop and enjoy some face time.

Living in Africa for over a decade, the internet has been my life source for connections. Most of my friendships have never been sustained with phone calls, coffee dates, lunches, or visits. Instead, they've been cultivated with emails, instant messages, blogging, and video chats.

Lately I've heard a lot of dialogue about whether or not community can be found online. This much I know is true: It can. I'm grateful for the rich, genuine friendships that I've fostered over the internet.

But while I appreciate the value of "technologically advanced" friendships, I also recognize the significance of what I've missed in actual face time. A text message communicates far less than a long, tight hug. A phone call pales in comparison with the unspoken expressions of a glance or a touch. An online chat is merely a shadow of a chai-in-hand conversation on a coffee shop couch.

I'll always be grateful for whatever form of connection and affection I'm blessed to have. But whenever possible, please can I have some face time?

'Cause, seriously... What I wouldn't give for a hug like this today---

friend-request

meet dwayne

There's a certain Starbucks I visit fairly often, usually for hours on end with my laptop, journal, or Bible coming along for company. And there's a certain older gentleman who visits there just as regularly as I do. Dwayne's guaranteed to be found reading a newspaper, playing sudoku, or taking a nap in the middle of either. The other day I pit-stopped in a Starbucks on the complete other side of town. As I pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a familiar face enjoying a smoke outside. What was Dwayne doing here?!

"I feel like I've been caught cheating on my wife," he said when he saw me. He chuckled; I looked away and smiled.

In a strange city where I know practically no one, I was caught off guard by running into someone I "know". Made me realize just how long I've actually been here, and the fact that three months is a pretty long temporary.

I'm back in my usual Bux today after a bit of a hiatus. And Dwayne's not here. I wonder where he is, and if he's okay.

And I wonder if he's wondered the same about me.