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.

seek trust rather than understanding

Seek trust rather than understanding. Those are the words I've been hearing for weeks now.

I can't seem to shake them. But they are definitely shaking me.

Because I want to understand.

I want to know why. I want to see what's next. I desire answers and direction and clarity. I want things to make sense.

But God keeps reminding me that it's not for me to understand. It's only for me to trust.

He is calling me to trust Him when I can trust no one else.

To trust in His trustworthiness even though it doesn't play out the way I want it to or think it should.

To trust His heart even when I can't see His hand.

To trust in His constant unchanging character even when He seems inconsistent.

It's not for me to know or to figure it all out or to see clearer. It's not for me to have answers or confidence or surety. It's not for me to understand.

It's only for me to trust.

authenticity isn't found in the rearview mirror

I’ve often prided myself in my ability to share openly about things I've gone through, things I've struggled with. But then I realized it was only because they were past tense. I am being open and honest, but about my then, not my now.

It's easier to share my weaknesses after I've strengthened them. It's safer to talk about my failures once I've bounced back from them.

But it's not really authenticity if it's after the fact.

Genuine authenticity is transparent and unguarded and vulnerable.

And while there is some level of that in sharing about past struggles, nothing is quite as authentic as sharing about current struggles.

No matter what else I do in this year of risking more, nothing will be as hard as the risks I take with my heart.

But they are risks I want to take.

I desire the intimacy and closeness that comes with true authenticity. I crave the matchless relational connection that's borne out of putting my heart on the line.

Even though it leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I'm learning that with those I trust, I can be naked and unashamed.

So I'm stripping down and working on being more authentic in the moment.

And hoping the "unashamed" part will follow.

i wish i'd known

I wish I'd known it would be our last hug.Kiss. Snuggle. Hand-hold.

I wish I'd known it would be our last stroll. Vacation. Sunset. Laugh.

I wish I'd known it would be our last everything.

But then again, maybe it's better that I didn't.

it's not all his fault

My marriage was always hard. Our relationship was challenging right from the beginning. We fought. A lot. I always chalked it up to the fact that we were a cross-cultural couple. And we pioneered a ministry together from the ground up. And we worked side-by-side every single day.

It was harder than I ever imagined it would be.

While I'm learning to only own what's mine to own, I just need you to know: I have plenty to own.

I can be extremely impatient and easily frustrated. I made Niel feel small with my critical words. I could be downright mean at times.

I didn't communicate well. I see-sawed between bottling up and exploding. I didn't always let him into the deepest parts of my heart. I didn't often share my most honest thoughts.

I see now that I was seeking to find my happiness and value in my husband, instead of in God. And that contributed largely to the downward spiral of problems in our relationship.

The breakdown of my marriage extends further, deeper, than Niel's affair. I grew lazy, complacent, and selfish, and stopped putting in the effort my marriage needed and deserved. The effort my husband deserved.

Staring my sin in the face wrecked me. It left me broken before the Lord, desperate for His forgiveness and grace. It also left me broken before my husband. I wept in repentance as I apologized to him. Repeatedly.

I believed that despite all our failures, our marriage was still worth saving. It would take a lot of work, but so does anything we're passionate about. I knew restoration was possible and completely worth the effort. My heart broke when Niel disagreed.

As I began picking up the pieces of my life, I became more determined than ever to be open and teachable. I desire to live from a repentant heart. I want to be quick to see and own my sinfulness. And I'm committed to learn new ways of responding. New ways of living.

My beliefs determine my thoughts which impact my actions. So I'm starting at the beginning to change my foundational beliefs. My thinking and my actions will eventually follow.

It's a slow-going, lifelong journey.

But one I know is so worth it.

Because, I'm beginning to see, I'm worth it.

i wish it was just about the sex

"It didn't mean anything. I didn't really love her. It was just about the sex!" Hollywood's portrayal of adultery always includes that explanation. But when my husband's infidelity came to light, he didn't say that.

In fact, he said the exact opposite.

He told me he loved her differently, more deeply than he had loved me. That their relationship was special and intimate in a way we'd never experienced. He said he doesn't love me anymore.

And that he isn't sure he ever really loved me at all.

I wish it had just been an affair that "meant nothing". Sheer, unadulterated (!) lust would've been easier on my heart. But my story didn't come from a Hollywood script.

And even if it had, I know adultery never means nothing.

But what caused the deepest ache inside me is this: My husband chose to share the intimacy of his heart with a woman other than me.

I wish it had just been about the sex.

But it wasn't.

i want to live free

I'm sitting here in Starbucks, puffy-eyed. My heart feels raw. Exposed. Tender. I just spent two hours crying like I haven't in a long time.

In a counseling session. Sigh.

When I first started going to counseling almost a year ago, I was so anxious about each visit. Now, without even really thinking about it, I start my sessions by taking off my shoes and pulling my feet up on the couch. I feel comfortable, even when we're tackling a difficult subject. It helps tremendously that I have a therapist I respect and love. I've said for a while now that if my counselor is the only reason God has me in Atlanta during this season, it's completely worth it.

Today's session was different than usual. My counselor led me in a time of healing prayer, asking God to help me face and then finally let go of the events that have deeply wounded my heart. And I'm not just talking about my husband's infidelity and abandonment. I'm also talking about childhood aches that have shaped my entire life.

It was hard, to say the least.

I cried. I forgave. I released. I surrendered. I asked the Lord to bring His freedom into the darkest corners of my heart.

I don't want to be an Indian giver. I don't want to take back what I've placed at His feet. I don't want to pick up again the burden of guilt and shame that He's taken from my hands. I want to live free.

I WANT TO LIVE FREE!

Sorry for yelling, but, well, that needed to be said loudly.

I don't know a formula for living wholly surrendered. I don't know the strategy to avoid taking back from God what I just gave over to Him. All I can do is continue to choose to live free. I have to keep making the choice to let go, to walk in forgiveness, to not embrace the guilt and shame that has become so second nature.

I'm praying for awareness. That I would recognize my old patterns the instant I slip back into them. So that I can, in that moment, choose freedom. Choose faith. Choose obedience.

This living sacrifice wants to stop crawling off the altar.

Because only in complete surrender am I fully free.

i want to get this right

I have wrestled through each of these posts as I've begun telling my story. I've spent hours writing and rewriting. I've had a friend look them over and make changes. I've slept on them and come back to make more edits the next morning. It's been hard to write them because it's forced me to sit in the hurts all over again. It's been difficult because of the responsibility I feel to the ministry I love, and my desire to represent her well. And it's been impossibly hard because of the weight I feel in how I speak about Niel.

I feel an undeniable tension between wanting to remain honoring of my husband and sharing authentically about what happened and how it's affected me.

I'm laboring over every word I write because I need to get this right. I want to get this right.

And yet I know that without me dressing it up at all, the truth is ugly. It's shocking. It's devastating. Even in the simple telling of facts in the most tactful and respectful way possible, it can seem like I'm being malicious.

But that certainly isn't my intention.

I hope my true heart shines through my words even as I share about the worst season of my life. I pray that in my transparency, you can see more than just my pain. I hope you can also see the love I still have for my husband and my unshakable desire to honor him even in this.

It's been a scary thing for me to feel so vulnerable and exposed by putting my raw heart out there for the masses to see and give their two cents on. But while it frightens me, I crave authenticity. It's been the single greatest intentionality of my blog---to foster authentic community. To share transparently and in doing so, make others feel safe, free, and comfortable to be transparent in return.

So I am committed to continue writing honestly and authentically about my story, while remaining mindful of how my words affect and reflect my ministry and my husband.

And I will continue to choose to honor him.

Because ultimately I desire to honor Him.

pageantry

I bet you didn't know I've been in a pageant. But not the kind you're probably thinking of. I've never strut around in a bikini and heels, or shown off some obscure talent, or publicly declared my desire for world peace.  No, I've never been in that kind of pageant.

My life has been a pageant of a different kind. One in which I've been crowned all sorts of things other than Miss America. I've worn banners draped across my chest that read:

Or how about:

I've walked around wearing those banners for far too long. They've shaped how others see me and, more importantly, how I see myself.

It's time to take them off and replace them with truth.

His banner over me is love.

my own personal black hole

I've been breathing in deeply for the past two weeks, and not just because of the crisp air of the Pacific Northwest. God's been breathing new life into my dry bones as I learn to depend on Him more and allow Him to love me through His people. Even though my crap sneaks into my luggage and unavoidably travels with me wherever I go, the time away still gave my heart a bit of a reprieve.

The rolling waves on the pebbly beach resounded His faithfulness. Whispers of love and syllables of support spoke His heart to mine. I felt His compassion in long, tight hugs and gentle touches. The city lights reminded me that He cares about even the little things.

I saw Him and heard Him and felt Him. And I was made aware again that He sees and knows and cares.

While I hate this place I find myself in---my own personal black hole that seems to render me invisible, slow my heartbeat, and make it impossible to see a way out---I know He's in it with me. Sometimes it's so dark I can't see Him. Sometimes it's so quiet, I can't hear Him. Sometimes it's so hollow and lonely, I can't feel Him. In those moments, I know it will be a miracle if I come out the other side of this.

And I know that if I do, I definitely won't come out standing.

Because I'll be in His arms.

confessions of an adulteress

I’ve been so unfaithful. He has loved me faithfully, yet I’ve turned my back on Him time and time again.

I’ve chased love when Perfect Love stands before me, holding me in His gaze. I’ve chased joy when it overflows nowhere but His presence. I’ve chased peace when my completeness comes only from Him.

All He’s ever wanted is my heart, and I’ve kept it tightly in my own hands as if I could care for it better.

He is jealous for me, and all I’ve been jealous for is everything I think I’m missing out on.

Even as I’ve pushed Him away, His everlasting arms have never stopped holding me.

He’s been nothing but faithful, despite my faithless heart and wandering ways.

Even amid the adultery of my heart, I hear His tender voice calling. Seek My face. I lift my eyes. I want to see Him, and be seen by Him. Unashamed of my nakedness and brokenness, I want to see and be seen. Know and be known. Understand and be understood. Love and be loved.

Fully.

Freely.

Recklessly.

Relentlessly.

His compassion overwhelms me. His ever-faithful love consumes me. His mercy breaks up the unplowed ground of my heart’s back forty.

I am His.

Always have been; always will be.

He is mine.

And by His grace, my heart will stay more faithful to Him today than it did yesterday.

ht: Hosea

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---

undone

I've written less emails in the past month than I used to write in a single day.

You gotta understand something about me: I'm a doer. I manage to get stacks of things done in a day. I figure out ways to tackle the to-do lists and push through the projects, even under tight deadlines. I know how to work my tail off when I need to. And even when I don't.

At least I used to anyway.

Right now, I simply don't have it in me.

My days are fairly empty, so I find myself with more time on my hands than ever before. But what I've gained in time, I lack in motivation, energy, and concentration. And one result is an overflowing inbox.

It's difficult for me to reach out right now. I feel unable to be the kind of friend I used to be and want to be---the kind of friend you deserve.

If you're one of the many who've emailed me but haven't heard back yet: I'm sorry for making you feel unimportant to me. I'm sorry I haven't explained until now.

Your emails aren't burdensome. My inbox is filled with reminders that I'm loved! So please don't hear this as a request to stop writing.

I guess it's just a request for patience. And understanding.

Because while I'm struggling to show it well right now, I still love and care deeply.

Even when I don't answer your email.

lord, i'm sorry

Lord, I'm sorry for thinking You love me the same way others do. For assuming You'll withhold affection until I've paid penance or until You're "over it".

For imagining that You hold me at arm's length most of the time and invite me in only when You want to want me.

For thinking You see me through eyes of disappointment, seeing only how far I am from all I could be and should be.

For presuming You only love me because You have to and not because You want to.

For guessing You hold my mistakes against me, just as I do with myself.

For acting as though You think I'm discardable and unwantable.

For forgetting that You love me for who I am and not for who I can be.

Lord, I want to believe.

everything's right

We went to a show downtown on Saturday. Having SweetFriend with me for my first concert in America in over twelve years was a gift. And, let me tell you, we had so much fun.

Apparently Mr. Man in front of us could tell we were having a blast. About 3/4 of the way through the night, he turned around and said---

"You guys definitely know how to have a good time. I think you're having more fun than anyone else in here."

Really!? We didn't think we were being loud or ostentatious at all.

Despite the fact that I can now say I've danced on a bar.

**ADDED** - Be sure you check out my disclaimer / confession.

this day last year: bare-handed

The story of creation is an incredible one. For so many reasons. But mostly because it shows me so beautifully the unmatched worth we have in God's eyes. God spoke everything into existence, which is a whole mind-blowing thing right there. "Let there be..." and there was. That is just incredible in a way I can't fully comprehend.

There God was, balancing between time and eternity, forming galaxies, hippos, mountains, and clown fish with His words. But when He created mankind, He used His bare hands. He stooped down to make us great. Words would not suffice.

He wanted us to bear His thumbprint.

"The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life..."

He loved us enough to form us with His own hands. He wanted to hold us, rhythmically massage our hearts to kickstart their first beats, and be the first thing we saw when we opened our eyes. I imagine that our first case of goosebumps came from Him caressing our skin.

And then He breathed into us. Face to face, we inhaled our first breath as He exhaled into our nostrils. I cannot even fathom the worth, the wealth, of that breath of life.

God still wants to get down and dirty with me. When my life is a mess or it feels like I'm wallowing in the mire of my emotions and circumstances, it's easy to think God is far-removed from it all. But He's right here in the dirt next to me. It's nothing new to Him. He's been there, done that.

And more than willing to do it again.

[from an entry originally posted this day last year]

housekeeping!

I've been on vacation for almost a week. Well, kind of. Being with my sweet friend Tracee felt like a vacation; the fact that we were in Ohio did not. (No offense, Ohioans. I'm guessing that even you'd prefer to vacate out of state!)

We talked about everything and nothing, and anything in between. And we set the bar high on doing absolutely nothing and enjoying every minute of it.

This much I know is true: Tracee is good for me.

And now I miss her. (Again.)

Vacation is over. Back to real life...

What's been the highlight of the past week for you?

meeting a need

A phrase I keep hearing lately is this--- "Meeting a legitimate need illegitimately..."

In what ways might you be doing that?

it's the little things that count

Lots of wonderful little things happened to me this past week.

• A friend drove four hours round-trip to spend the day with me. She reminded me I still know how to laugh.

• Another friend made me a mixed cd of beautiful songs that my heart needed to hear. Her daughters picked out the bright flowery mailing envelope that made me smile.

• Friend #3 mailed me a check to kick start my Wii fund. Talk about a surprise!

• I received a knit wrap that Friend #4 handcrafted just for me, with prayers on my behalf woven into every stitch. It feels like a hug.

• I got to hear the voice of my beloved on-the-other-side-of-the-ocean friend. That did wonders for my heart.

• A friend bought a webcam just so I could see her. We celebrated with a webcam sleepover.

Yeah. Lots of little things.

And not a single one is little to me!

psalm of my heart

Does the blind man ever forget he can't see? Does the woman who lost her child ever not remember her loss? Does the broken heart ever forget its scars? Hurt hangs close, like a thick heavy fog. It's ever present. Always close. All encompassing.

I know God's hand reaches through pain. I know His light pierces darkness. I know His voice reverberates in emptiness. But there is still pain. Still darkness. Still emptiness.

Reach far, God. Shine brightly. And for heaven's my sake, speak louder. Because I need to feel You, see You, and hear You more than ever before.

Selah.