Saturday, April 18, 2015

From Nothing

Over the last two months I have been in 12 different states (I think… maybe more). But definitely 12. For work and for travel, I have been all over the continental United States.

I love traveling, new places, and exploration. There is nothing more satisfying than going to a new places and learning all that I can about it. And there is nothing more rewarding than seeing friends in all of those different places. 

But recently, I think it would be safe to question if I still live in Colorado? (The answer is yes. And I still work at Crooked Creek Ranch.) But my Instagram would not reflect that recently and neither would my heart in some moments.

My roots have not been digging down deep recently. They have not broken any ground, they have been hanging on the surface as I explored Portland, drove across the country, fell in love again with the Blue Ridge mountains, and spent time with some of the dearest friends. 

My roots have not been growing here in Colorado mostly because of my heart and my fears, not because of my traveling. It cannot be blamed on the busyness, but more on the fact that I know that as my roots grow deep they take me places where I do not want to go. 

Because when I am here in the valley, living my day-to-day life I have to face some realities that I just do not want to: 

Most days I am lonely and feel like a crazy friend that is way too sensitive and a smidge bit dramatic. Loving Jesus just isn't the same as it used to be and I don't know that I am really good at it. There are things to be grieved in my life that I just do not want to because that hurts and well, I don't want it to. And amidst all of this I am asking, "Jesus, where are You? Do You care?"

Those are all hard things for me to admit. Like really hard. And I haven't had to admit them when I fly out again in a week and I am over committed throughout the week. 

But today I woke up with not a lot on my plate. My next plane ticket is not booked until June and I am living the simple life here in Fraser, Colorado. 

After a few months of running (and some really awesome adventures) I have succumbed to the fact I am poor in spirit and don't know that I really have much to offer, so in order to stay safe I haven't offered much at all. 

But the poor widow, who had not more than a penny, gave all that she had to Jesus. 

"And he called his disciples to him and said to them, 'Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.'" 
Mark 12:43-44

A lot of what I have right now feels messy and full of doubt, so I have been scared of giving anything to Jesus. But He wants it all, everything: the questions, the loneliness, and the confusion. 

So I am going to try to give it all to Him, to be laid bare before the Author and Perfecter of our faith. And to trust that the Lord is not upset with my sad, little roots, but that He is guiding me in safety. 

Friday, February 13, 2015

Hope of a Dreamer

I am a dreamer. I am the hopeless romantic that always wants the guy to get the girl. I imagine life's sweetness with really good coffee in the morning and a fine glass of red wine in the evening. I always want the underdog to win and my heart gets a little sadder when they don't. I believe and yearn for reconciliation in nearly every sense of the word. I think hard conversations should have redemptive endings and that grace should always pour out from our mouths. I am the one who always wants to believe that it will all work out. I fight against broken hearts and tears of sadness. I look for the fairytale "happily ever after" in nearly every situation. I cry out for justice.

Those are the things I want. I want to start and end the day with butterflies and a good hot beverage. I want there to be no such thing as unrequited love. I want freedom for the captives and joy for the hopeless. I want reconciliation.

But what happens when those things don't come true or aren't the reality?

What happens when your coffee just sucks? When it doesn't work out? When the girl likes the guy and he likes her best friend? When conversations are just hard and nothing actually changes? When you cry just because your feelings are hurt? When the underdog loses? When there is no such thing as prince charming?

Or what happens when you have been praying for healing and nothing happens at all? Or when you were sure God assured you something was going to work out and then it doesn't happen? Or when you realize that young girls are being sold into slavery in the very country that you live in? Or when you see the brokenness of this world in the senseless murder of three students in Chapel Hill?

What happens then? Because if we're being honest, it's absolutely not what I want. Or what anyone wants really.

Our trust is this: we can know that God is still God. He is the great I AM.

And that is enough.

Our hope is in Jesus and in nothing else. It doesn't work to hope in the happily ever after, good coffee, good job interviews, fruitful conversations, or in that one thing he said two months ago. There is no hope in those things alone.

There is only hope in Jesus Christ. It is in Him that our hope becomes an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.

In Him, we hope for reconciliation, redemption, justice, truth, and love; but only in Him.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

The Power of With

Moving across the country definitely makes life look different.

There is something about being with someone to experience it with them. Like really being with them. Like in the thick of it when something really sweet or really really hard happens.

But recently, life has not gone like that.

Life keeps happening and I do not always get to be with my best friends when those big things happen. I am the friend that is a phone call or a plane ride away. So as friends are experiencing many things, I stay in my snowy home of Fraser and do my best to be "with" them.

I want to be there when they come home from a date with a new boy and are experiencing all of the butterflies. I want to be with them as they plan their wedding and get ready to walk down the aisle. I want to host a celebratory dinner as friends find new jobs and move closer to where the Lord has called them. I want to sit with them on the kitchen floor as they sob because maybe life is a little harder than we all wish. I want to be in their new city and discover all the really sweet spots in that place. And I want to go to coffee to just talk about the day.

And I want them to be here too. I want them to experience my new favorite Denver coffee shop that is enough to make your heart beat outside your chest. I want them to know the snow that glitters. I want them to ride in the passenger seat of my new car as I drive around aimlessly. And I want them to be here when the day is hard.

But that's not how it goes anymore. There are now 1700 miles between me and Chapel Hill. Somedays those 1700 miles feel like nothing and then other days it feels like our lives with never intersect again.

Sometimes it is easy to get stuck in this sad feeling of monotony and distance and "will this ever end?" mindset. Sometimes a phone call just does not do it and you feel alone in a place that is supposed to be your home.

But then I am reminded of the power of with. We limit the idea of what it means to be "with" when we think it has to do with location. We forget that sometimes just hearing the words "I am with you" is enough to remind us that we are not alone.  It is way more than just a physical description, it is trusting in the God Most High whose name is Immanuel, "God With Us."

The God who is with me in snowy Colorado is the same God who is with the bestie in Louisville fighting for high school kids to know Jesus at Fern Creek High School. I do not get to walk the halls of the high school at Fern Creek with her, but I trust that our God is walking beside her and carrying her on the tough days.

And it is the same God who looks at my friend sobbing on the floor and reminds her that He is El Roi, "the God Who Sees Me". I know that because He is with me and He is with her, that we are together in those moments of feeling so incredibly alone.

My prayer is to know more the power of with and to have greater trust in the God that is with us. I hope to be a friend that no matter the distance, can say "I am with you" because sometimes that is all that we need to hear. And I hope to be a friend that goes the distance too.

And today I am grateful for a phone that allows me to be instantly connected to friends all over. I am grateful for airplanes that take me to best friends [**insert excitement for many upcoming trips**]. I am especially grateful for all of the friends that are here too, in Colorado, in the valley, doing this life thing every single day with me. And mostly, I am grateful that God never, ever leaves us alone for He is always with us.

because we will all be back there soon. mcmansion, let's recreate this photo.

Sunday, December 28, 2014

Loving Jesus After College

It was my sophomore year of college and I was sitting in leadership when our area director announced to us that in ten years only 1 out of 8 of us would still be following Jesus. Being nineteen and really unsure of how to really follow Jesus anyway, I was sure that I would be one of the seven not chasing after the Lord.

And then one day in September of my junior year of college I was driving with our area director, his wife, and my best friend to a Hillsong concert and he asked us, "How will you make sure that you don't fall away from Jesus after college?" I pondered the question for a little bit and I answered the best way that I knew how, not really sure what he meant and even more unsure of how I planned to do that. My answer was a jumbled mix of continuing my daily disciplines, living in community, and marrying someone else who really loves Jesus. 

There had just been a year between those two instances, but a lot had changed in that one year. If you hung around me in those years, thank you. Thank you for being gracious with me as I learned what it meant to have a relationship with Jesus and thank you to everyone who believed in me, who let me lead Young Life and who hired me to be a summer intern at a Young Life camp. But in that year I went from being the girl who was not quite sure how I could ever follow Jesus after college to being the girl who was absolutely determined that she would love Jesus the rest of her life, no.matter.what.happened and still really unsure how that would ever come to fruition. 

At some point in those college years I developed habits and disciplines that helped me to know Jesus more and changed my heart to always want to know Him. I formed relationships that convinced me of God's immense love for me and that always pushed me closer to Him. I learned so so so much, about myself, about other people, and about the Creator.

At some point I started to think that loving Jesus could never leave me and that my passion for Him would only continue to grow, no matter what happened after college. I thought loving Jesus after college would just be second nature, easy, the normal. 

But today at twenty-three, I would have to say that loving Jesus after college is not always easy or always pretty. It is hard, confusing, and some days a little reckless feeling. But the fight is always good and it is always a fight worthy of being fought.

I have come to know for certain that there is no perfect way to ensure that you still love Jesus when you are retired, or having babies, or even are twenty-three; but I have come to see some things that I am sticking to.

I am going to stick to finding disciplines that will define my life. I've always gone back and forth between the nitty gritty of being disciplined or of being legalistic; I am going to always fight to be disciplined, and never legalistic. Some of my disciplines have changed since college and some have stayed the same; some have gone away all together and some need to come back into my life.

I am going to stick to the early mornings. This isn't for everyone, but it is for me. Being with Jesus in the morning is absolutely what I need to remind myself of how much I need Jesus... and so that I can be a semi-decent, nice human being for the day.

I am going to stick to being mentored. In college my mentor was named Amanda. She is to this day one of the most passionate women I have ever known. She taught me most of anything I know and she taught me most of any discipline I follow. When I moved to Colorado as a year-long intern I had a mentor then too. She taught and is still teaching me about being generous and bold. She loved me and stood beside me through one of the hardest years I have walked through yet. And I am going to continue being mentored because, let's be honest, we all need someone wiser speaking into our lives.

I am going to stick to being in ministry. And I don't necessarily mean always having a career in ministry  or always Young Life. I am going to stick to telling others about Jesus. Today that looks like preparing a place for the gospel to heard and leading Young Life in Grand County. I hope that one day it looks like me leading a college girls Bible study.

I am going to stick to and fight for solitude time. This is something I have never been and still am not good at. It's something I am working to be better at. One step at a time. But I am fighting for time alone, time to be centered, and time to be completely with Jesus. Time that is longer than just an hour before sunrise, but time that is an entire day.

I am going to stick to finding community and embracing vulnerability. I need Jesus and I need other people who love Jesus who will point me to Him. Fighting this fight can be tough and I need people that will fight beside me and will fight for me when I feel like giving up. I don't get to live in a house with 7 other girls anymore, but I still can live in community. And I can be vulnerable and open and cry the ugly cries, because we need that.

I am going to stick to being okay for being different. This isn't easy. And of all of them, this may be the most difficult for me. Being passionate about Jesus and truly following Him makes you different. It means you make different decisions and have a different mindset. It means you pursue holiness and that just certainly isn't the cool thing to do. But I'll do it anyways.

These are just some of the things that I am going to try to stick to. And I probably won't do them all well and at some points maybe not at all. I am going to trust that there is grace for when I fail and for when I feel weak.

But I want to love Jesus forever, so I am going for it. I am fighting the good fight. Because loving Jesus is more than just living in the Christian bubble while you are in college or even the bubble of working at a Young Life camp; it is a way of life. forever.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Holy Snow

My fingertips are pressed up against the keys on a keyboard. Waiting. Waiting for words to come to explain this season. The Christmas tree twinkles in the corner with sparkly and burlap ornaments. And the snow is falling. Gently. In a way that beckons for a stillness of the soul. 

And the words of O Holy Night go through my head over and over and over again. 

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, 
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born.

Not a lot makes sense to me most days anymore. How I ended up in Young Life camping or how I ended up as the housekeeping supervisor at Crooked Creek Ranch. I wish that I could say that I heard the Lord speak directly to me to give me this direction in my life, but I didn't. In many ways, it just happened. 

And that is hard for me some days. I ask myself a lot of questions. I do a lot of self-analysis, trying to figure out why I am where I am and why I feel the way that I do most days. And with many thoughts, there are not a lot of clear cut answers. 

But then one morning I wake up. I wake up to light coming through my window and I am grateful that I forgot to close my blinds the night before. Because snow is falling. And I lay snuggled up between my flannel sheets watching the snow fall gently onto the evergreen trees. Lauren comes in my room to lay on my bed to rejoice in the new snow fall. It is here. The snow has come.

It's been a while since we have had snow. I know that sounds crazy considering I live in the Rocky Mountains and it's December, but it's the truth. There hasn't been much precipitation to be had around here. 

But this morning it came. A whole six inches of it and it hasn't stopped yet. And I am grateful.

Because when the snow is falling the questions stop for just a little bit. Because I am assured that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. My weary soul rejoices when the snow arrives. The snow is indicative of new life. It is indicative of a clean slate. It is Jesus in our place.

"Though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be white as snow."
-Isaiah 1:18-

And this morning I am reminded of the holy night. The night that the Savior came. The night that brought Hope to the weary world. The night that still gives me hope. 

Because in that night a baby was born. His name was Immanuel, God with us. He came to save the world. He was the thrill of hope. And He is still my thrill of hope. The hope that lets the questions settle and all my thoughts return to Jesus. He is the One who stills my soul, who is doing a good work inside of me, and who has saved me. He is the grace that covers all of our imperfections. And for that I fall on my knees; He is good. 

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Me, Myself, & Coffee

If you and I were to sit down to coffee, I would (1) absolutely love it and (2) pray that the words I speak be full of both grace and truth. Because if you and I have are sitting down to coffee I want you to know that I am your biggest fan, I want you to know that our Father in Heaven loves you, and I want you to know that His mercies are new every single morning.

So when you cry I want to reassure you that it is absolutely okay and that the Lord will cry alongside of you and will one day wipe every tear. And when you do not do as well as you hope and you are disappointed I want to be an encouragement and tell you that there's always another shot. When life starts to really suck, I want to just sit beside you and be in it with you. Then there's the time that you are just ecstatic, and I want to experience that joy with you in the deepest part of my being as well.

Because that's how we love other people. It is how we are friends and how we connect deeply with others.

But with myself, I talk to myself in a whole different way. Some days it's a little heavy on the hard truth, completely forgetting the grace that is overflowing. Some days it is full of lies and hurts and pains.

I am beginning to realize: We need to learn to talk to ourselves the way that we talk to our friends. I need to learn to talk to myself the way that I talk to my friends.

When a friend says they just feel ugly, we absolutely never agree; but we will agree with ourselves in that one. We let ourselves deceive our own minds and hearts to not believe the truth. Because the last time a friend told me that they felt like a failure I did not in fact, affirm that to them and say "yes, yes you are a failure." But I did say that to myself in my moment of self-defeat.

That is not okay. We have to learn to be our biggest supporters and we have to remember the Lord's immense love for us.

God is teaching me to love myself. Not in the egocentric, self-centered way, but in the way that I cover myself with both the Truth and with grace. And in a way that celebrates the praises and allows the pain to come in all the same day.

He is teaching me to see the small victories in getting a Colorado license and tags. He is teaching me to not get mad at myself when anxiety creeps in. He is teaching me to remind myself that it is going to be okay. He is teaching me to let joy and tears coexist. He is teaching me to tell myself that climbing the mountain is possible.

So here's to being nicer, kinder, and more gentle with ourselves. And here's to believing that it is necessary.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Why Growing Up is the Worst, but Why I Do it Anyways

I like to consider this season of life as the one in which I grow up and become an adult. I like to think and hope and pray that all of this transition is going to lead to something.

But really this transition time is hard. It's strange and no transition has been quite like this one.

Learning to buy a car in this season of life is like having your eyeballs plucked out.

For some reason going to grocery store feels like your are climbing a really big mountain.

Buying a comforter feels like it has a really lasting significance and I could never make the right decision.

Waking up before the sun rises is less than ideal.

Making a budget seems ridiculous and so incredibly necessary, but also impossible.

And now there's no end in sight to this life in Colorado. Since I was a little one, there was an end date, but now my home is Colorado until the Lord moves me else where.

Thus, growing up is the worst. 

...Now I know that is way overdramatic and I don't mean it in a literal sense... It's just the lie Satan has been consistently whispering in my ear since my internship ended.

I am afraid that I am going to fail at being an adult. I am afraid that I will make the wrong decision or buy the wrong thing and then everyone will think that I have failed as an adult.

But in the end I am choosing to grow up anyways. I am choosing to because I know that those thoughts are all just lies. I can't fail at being an adult. And ultimately, this life here is absolutely nothing about me. It's not about the car I drive, the job I have, how well I spend my money, or how "good" I am at being an adult.

It's about Jesus. It's about bringing glory to His name. It's about realizing that nothing on this earth will ever be enough. It's about clinging to hope in eternity. And it's about coming home.

Home for so long has meant North Carolina. And to define it now seems a little more difficult. Most of my plane flights end in Denver and my license plate represents the colorful state, which may just mean that Colorado is home.

But ultimately my home is in the loving arms of the Father. It is "the center of my being where I can hear the voice that says: 'You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests'---the same voice that gave life to the first Adam and spoke to Jesus, the second Adam; the same voice that speaks to all the children of God and sets them free to live in the midst of a dark world while remaining in the light" (Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son).

And I haven't been doing the best job in resting in that home. I've been so busy worrying about being an adult that the days have seemed daunting and dissatisfaction has been all I've known.

But that tender, still small voice is reminding me that it's time to come home. And it's time to walk through this season of transition and learning with Him by my side. And it's time to kneel at His feet. For...

It is the place of light, the place of truth, the place of love. It is the place where I so much want to be, but am so fearful of being. It is the place where I will receive all I desire, all that I ever hoped for, all that I will ever need, but it is also the place where I have to let go of all I most want to hold on to. It is the place that confronts me with the face that truly accepting love, forgiveness, and healing is often much harder than giving it. It is the place beyond earning, deserving, or rewarding. It is the place of surrender and complete trust.

-Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Deep Waters

The past month I have been the friend no body should ever want. I have been the most difficult person to reach on a phone. I return calls weeks after they come and I secretly hope to get people's voicemails when I do call them back; I just feel like I am "too much" these days. I am always on the go, traveling from one place to the next or trying to figure out one thing after another. I have been needy, needing rides to and from the auto shop and needing friends to help me move an irregularly large dresser at a moments notice. I call my mom to cry about not feeling settled and not having a comforter.

I feel most days like I might just be in over my head; and well, I probably am.

I am frantically trying to stay afloat as I begin my job as the housekeeping supervisor at Crooked Creek, not really knowing exactly what I am doing and hoping that nothing falls apart. I am moving into a house with new roommates, bringing with me no furniture, but a ton of junk (mainly clothes and pictures that have no place to go now). I am doing my best to help run a volunteer Young Life area and a team. I am trying to make my life permanent in Colorado and buy a car for this crazy winter town. When I stop to breath and think for too long, I begin to realize the whole list of things that I need to process through from the last year; then I stop again because I don't want to deal with it all.

There is a lot of trying, a lot of tears, and a lot of hoping for the best.

I keep checking with Jesus, that this is really what He had in mind. I feel frantic and like this all may be too much. I keep thinking that it may be nice to just fast forward to three months from now when things feel a little more together.

But then I remember, God may just be calling me into things that put me in over my head.

In Luke 5, Jesus asks Simon to "Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch." Jesus wants Simon's nets in the deep water. In the water that is over his head, in the water that Simon does not believe will be successful, and in the water that does not make perfect sense. The Lord does the same in our lives; He asks us to let our nets down into deep waters. Waters where our feet may fail without Him, waters where it's dark and difficult to see what is happening; waters where it feels like everything may just crumble to pieces at any moment.

But Simon obeys. He obeys reluctantly, but obeys nonetheless. "Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets" (v. 5). At the word of the Lord he obeyed. He obeyed with his feet, even when it did not make one bit of sense.

And Jesus made sure of the catch. Their nets were almost breaking with fish they were so full.

And I am reminded that maybe, just maybe, I have to keep going out of reluctant obedience. I have to keep trusting that maybe the deep waters will not swallow me alive and that maybe Jesus has a far better plan than I do. And that the Lord will do the catching. He will hold the pieces together.

So today I am thankful for Simon and his reluctant obedience. And I pray that my dragging, kicking, and screaming feet will find the same kind of courage to step into the deep water and trust that Jesus will give me the power to move.

And for all my friends who are in a place feeling like you may just be in over your head, I am with you. Here's to doing hard and holy things together. And for all my friends that I owe a phone call, it is coming; I promise.

Monday, August 11, 2014

The Voice of Summer

And it all lays quiet. Not a person is stirring and all the buildings are asleep for a nap. We all take a sigh of relief because summer is over.

A still, small voice is saying, "I love you." A voice that I searched for, hoped for, and yearned for this summer. And voice that some days was hard to understand and hard to be believed.

Because this summer was one of absolute chaos. It was the summer of ending a year internship, but the beginning of transitioning into a full-time job. And it was the summer of having fifteen new friends come into our home. It was the summer of applying and interviewing for a job and then anxiously awaiting to hear. It was the summer of loving Colorado, but missing North Carolina. It was the summer of living in limbo and trying everyday to love twelve high school girls that worked in the washboard. And it was a summer of searching for the voice of truth... for the voice that comes after the clouds clear and after the tears have been shed.

session one buttons: mary margaret, katie, jordan, taylor, hannah, mia, abby, meg, sarah neal, grayson, gretta //
bosses : cara & robyn 
second session buttons: stelly, jessica, deanna, ashley, ashia, kinsey, sarah, laney, olivia, lauren, alise, lizzie //
bosses: hannah & lindsay
third session buttons: gabrielle, morgan, brooke, abby, mc, claire, jade, leah, lauren, izzy, kendyl, lucy caroline // bosses: kaylan & cassidy

And that's hard. No one can ever really prepare you for the amount of transition you experience that first year after the college, and well probably not for the second either. No one tells you that one morning you may wake up feeling completely alone, only to go to sleep feeling so incredibly loved... or vice versa. No one tells you that just when you think that you have met all the best friends that you could possibly have, that there are still more to come. No one tells you that tears are the words you just can't put together. No one tells you that heartbreak comes in more than one fashion. No one tells you that some days feel like shit and the next day feels like heaven on earth. No one tells you because it is hard to feel that anything is stable and that any day is going to be the same as the one before.

And in all of the chaos, the voice still speaks. The voice never stops speaking. Some days the voice feels far away, but it is always still full of truth and beauty.

Colorado summers show you that. When the snow melts, there is abundant moisture and green fields to frolic in. While some days you feel stuck in the valley, the mountaintops are proof that there are high places.

I needed to know that this summer. I needed to know that I am not stuck in the bottomless pit of transition. I needed to know that the Lord still loved me, even though I didn't love myself every single day. I needed to know that there is beauty in the ashes.

And the Lord showed me that in days spent playing outside, in sweet new friendships, in sunsets, and in adventures.

:::here's to a summer that I will absolutely never forget:::

{dominguez canyon backpacking}
{fly camping with these girls}
{packs for days with the best}
{tip top of a fourteener in sandals. we do weird things}
{carnivals on carnivals}
{mountaintop fourth}
{rainbow promises}
{washboardt captain laughter}
{meet new longtime bestie, hannah}
{hearing this girl's testimony at work crew night}
{table panoramas for days}
{devil's thumb hiking adventures}
{forever friends}
{playing in fields}
{sunsets in rocky mountain national park}
{rooftop love}
{granby ranch}
{crooked creek ranch summer interns 2014}

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Welcoming MJ

Word on the street is that twenty-three is good. And well the second year out of college sounds better than the first.

The truth is that no one really explains to you what life is like post-graduation. There is no way to really put words to it. It is all described in vague terms with no real picture of what it is really like to be a girl, out of college, away from all your best friends, and just trying to figure out what the hell you are doing.

And that's how I spent my twenty-second year: wondering a whole lot of what the hell is this and learning that life is hard, but much better with Jesus.

In my twenty-second year I also moved from North Carolina to Colorado for the year, but in this twenty-third I'll make that move permanent and become a Colorado resident, license plate and all.

Twenty-two left me gasping for air, wondering when a break was coming, and when I would finally feel fully like myself. It left me missing North Carolina while also falling in love with the Rockies. It showed me that Jesus is better than anything else, but somedays it just wouldn't always feel like that in this life of mine.

And now twenty-three is coming. Well actually, it's here.

And I have high hopes for twenty-three. It's time to move myself into a little house nestled here in the Fraser Valley and to begin my job as the Housekeeping Supervisor at Crooked Creek. And it's time to begin figuring out more of this post-grad life. It's time to buy a KitchenAid mixer because I can, I want one, and I don't think it has to be a wedding gift some later time in life.

And it's time for the blog again. My time has not been spent here for a while. There are a lot of excuses why, but mainly because my heart hasn't been in it. I haven't quite known what to say and I have been living in the moment (hello summer at a Young Life camp #insanity). I am excited to work in this space again and to pour my heart into it once more. And special thanks to Hannah and Sarah in the Crooked Creek bakery who were such an encouragement.

I don't have much figured out. Not much more than what I had in the twenty-second year, but this time I'm learning to be okay with that. I am learning to go with the day and to accept the things that I simply cannot change, but trust that Jesus will do immeasurably more than all I could ask or imagine. I am beginning to see that most things are more about the process and a lot less about the end result.

So here's to my MJ year. I welcome you.

I welcome your questions, your confusion, your adventure, your plane tickets, and your goodness. I know that you won't be easy, but I know that you will be that good for the soul, stretching kind of year.