Ruminations

Anyone who knows me knows that I often spend entirely too much time in my head. Those same people who know, and often see that much also know that I look at the simplest things as a chance to sit back and ruminate. To those who know that and are still strong by my side, I thank you. I can't imagine what I can be like to handle sometimes.

About a month ago I sat down to watch a movie with my parents. My mom, after her busy day of work and running errands, decided that we should end our Friday by grabbing a good flick. I walked into the local redbox kiosk anxious to see what it was that we could have our options for the night. Mom stayed with the car. Scanning through the choices I immediately canceled out horror and thriller genres. She doesn't really do well with those kinds of movies. Unless of course, you're willing to stay up with her for most of the night.

My finger kept hitting the forward button until I got to the weirdest cover. There were animals all scattered on the cover, and an actor that looked much like Matt Damon. I squinted closer only to learn that it was indeed Matt Damon in his newest film, "We Bought A Zoo." I remembered my mom talking about how badly she'd wanted to see it. She has a serious crush on Matt Damon, but then again, I guess most women would ask the question, "Who doesn't?" I wasn't really in the mood for Matt's acting style and frankly I was convinced that the movie would just be a waste of time. I resisted. If she wanted to watch it she could always come back with my dad and pick it up next time.

God heard me and my selfish decision right then.

The only other films I considered worthy of watching were either too much for my parents, or they were out of stock. Out of stock at both of the machines in our local grocery store. For some reason God wanted me to watch this movie. I rolled my eyes, paid a dollar and twenty- eight cents, and carried the DVD out to our car.

Instantly, and as expected, she was pleased. I on the other hand was not all that enthused. By the end of it though, my perspective was entirely shifted toward something new and unexpected.

There's a part near the end of the film that I've seen quoted, and in fact have used myself, numerous times. Matt Damon's character, Benjamin Mee is granted the chance to have an intimate conversation with his son in which he says,

"Sometimes you've just got to have twenty seconds of insane courage."

To those of you still reading this it probably just sounds like one more time society quotes something where they don't really consider the meaning. Fair assessment. If you'll read a little further though, you'll begin to see what it is that I'm thinking. What I was thinking after a movie I expected nothing from.

Twenty seconds of insane courage.

Think of the time it takes you to update a Facebook status, to text, to tweet. Think about the little bit of seconds it takes you to breathe in, to breathe out, and to trust that those moments are real. Think about all that we can do in twenty seconds. Even more, think about the things that we fail to do in twenty seconds.

What about taking twenty seconds of insane Faith?

It's only now, about a month after watching, that I'm beginning to understand the implications of such a statement. Maybe for Mee and his son it dealt with the idea of chasing dreams, of grieving, and of getting the girl, but for me it's hit even further. That line doesn't only apply to the ways of my external life, but it adheres to the internal and spiritual the same. What if we all took just twenty seconds to continue resonating in Jesus? What if the next twenty seconds were chances to show the steps of how He's working in our lives. What if it's twenty seconds to defend, to thank, or to share what it is that a relationship looks like?

Like I said, anyone who knows me knows that I take instances like this and let them stick. Anyone who knows me knows that I thrive on ruminations and considerations.

Twenty seconds of insane courage.

A profound quote with a bit of a different interpretation.


For anyone who hasn't yet seen the film, I certainly suggest it.

Finally...

It's days like today, when I'm hit in the gut with a moment of self realization, that I know my purpose and my steps are real, raw, and true. People say that when a moment like this comes along you're never supposed to forget it; I'm bottling it up, storing it in the quiet corner of my heart, and counting this as the biggest day and the biggest victory God has placed before my cracked hands.

As some people who read this blog may know, I've begun my summer and the end of this past semester working with a non- profit organization called Heart Support. It took a lot of emails, interviews, prayers, and logistics to get here, but this job is everything I've ever dreamed. Placed on my radar from a very good friend almost a year and some months ago, Heart Support has been the experience, the community, and the stories that have allowed me to share my story and grow in all that God is doing with each of our lives. I'm continually blown away by the opportunities I've been given. Whether it's what the team shares with each other or, the students and following we hear from daily, it's truly God taking each of us to new heights and new challenges.

This month we're dealing with the aspect of forgiveness. What it means to forgive others, what it means to understand God's forgiveness and our ambitions to be closer to all he is. We've been getting a lot of great stories of how God has been working in their lives and how it is that we can all work together to live a life of ultimate grace. We've gotten questions, discussions, and just an all around community being built on one of the toughest subjects I've ever come to digest.

While I find it hard to sometimes forgive others and live a life of unending love, perhaps the battle I've struggled most with lately is the concept of forgiving myself. Anyone who knows me will know that the largest part of my struggles, the largest part of my testimony, stems from the death of my best friend and my consistent fight with self- injury. Self- injury which my parents have turned a blind eye to since it began just way too early in my teenage years. As people logging onto Heart Support and speaking with us have been struck by the need to forgive others in their lives, I've felt God calling toward me and pulling me into a space where I could begin to forgive myself.

To forgive myself for his death. To forgive myself for the horrendous scars that have faded but, that still exist in the moments and on my heart.

A few weeks ago I wrote out exactly what I'm explaining, sat on my computer, and sent it to my boss. He asked to know what it was that we thinking about or working toward for the month. Needless to say, the story struck discussion. He asked questions, asked why it is that at 13 I could possibly for something that was beyond my control.

Even still, I don't know if I have that answer. I guess I just feel like it should have been me to go instead of him. Mike always had a lot going for himself, and I just was fading as it was. So ,for awhile after I asked my why not? I wondered whether there was something I could have done to help. Like I could have loved him more, like we could have worked harder to get him stronger. Like I could have been a stronger support system.

Jake said: Talk to him. Talk to him and talk to God. Resolve this and understand it because if you're carrying this around, there's more living to do.

So. I let it sit for a few days. I let it rest but, there were things happening here where Mike kept popping into my head or, into conversation. And so, I took it as a second and wrote a letter. I wrote a letter to him explaining all that happened after he died. The struggles, the pain, the loss, and the smeared regret. I wrote it with a heavy weight in my chest attempting to understand that I was doing the right thing. I asked him to forgive me for being so lost. I begged God to forgive me for being so angry. For spending way too much time running.

The next few days resumed as normal.

It wasn't until this past Friday that I honestly felt the truth. I can't really explain or identify it other than peace. Peace and understanding that he's gone. That he's really and truly gone, but that it's not my fault. It was never my fault. There was nothing, and that the pain I've placed on myself, physically and mentally, was nothing. There's nothing more right now than an endless sea of clarity and understanding. It might not seem like much more than words on a page but, for me I've finally begun to let myself off the hook.

Now, I sit outside my home in New Jersey writing this and letting myself go. 8 years since he's passed and 3 and a half years since the last time I've allowed myself to cut, and nothing sweeps over me quite like the feeling of restoration.

After all the anger, the frustration, the questions, and failed attempts at a life in darkness, this an entirely new shade and weight lifted.

I've seen the way that our words and prayers as a team can begin to offer healing to those who bravely write to us, but I've now seen the way that a community can fortify the greatest understanding. More importantly, how wide God's arms are extended in cradling each and every one of us.

Facing The Day

It's been about a month since I've sat down and just really allowed myself to be soaking in the environment and thoughts around me. Today, for a variety of reasons, I'm being called to just write. Whether it's for my internship in answering some of those questions, writing emails, or being lost in the swell of papers for the end of the semester I'm being called to just write it all down.


Right now is the hour and a half I dedicate to writing and updating this blog, both for myself and just to look back and appreciate exactly what it is that I've been given in these last few months. It's a complete whirlwind. It's a complete menagerie of open doors that just, as hard as I keep trying to slam them closed, fail to stay shut. It's been a balancing act to say the least and it's been, no doubt for a college student, hard to relinquish some of those ties up to God entirely. I feel like that's just one of those pieces of the puzzle I'll be working to comprehend fully as I keep walking alongside Jesus.


I've recently been given a job with the non- profit online community called Heart Support. It's an organization created toward promoting discussion of overwhelming issues like addiction, suicide, pornography, anxiety, depression and the continual realms of mental health problems our world seems flooded with at times. It's an online internship, no interaction except for skype and emails, where I'm basically having my job created for me each step of the way.


This initially began as a long shot. It was an email to a guy named Jake Luhrs, telling him how high and heavy this organization has been affecting my life since I'd heard about it 6 months before. It was an email sharing pieces of my story, of admitting the struggle with self- injury, of trying to just communicate that to someone because I was in a really bad place.


A few weeks later it was an email to ask if they had any volunteer or internship positions available. A few weeks later it was a message to share my testimony to share what Heart Support really means to me. A month ago it was an email saying he and his wife had been praying for direction as to how to proceed. A week later it was an email welcoming me to the team, to outlining my duties and just endless correspondence with a gracious offer. A week later it began.


Two and a half weeks later and I'm working almost 2 hours a day managing social networks sites, praying for and with those who log in, doing some of his tour details, blogging from a personal standpoint, and now, counseling the people that write into us. Two weeks later and it's having coffee, my computer, bible gateway, my bible, and just prayer to know that God will guide my words in whatever way He sees fit.


Oh, and then there's that thing called graduation and an undergraduate curriculum to worry about. There's the requirements to meet, the papers to write, the tests to study for, the events to plan and the sleep to somehow pencil in between. Somewhere along the line I've to remember to breathe. Then again, we all do, don't we?


I've spent so much of my life seeking approval and validation from the world and the people around me. Whether it's through grades, peoples comments, or just general appreciation, I've never really seen my worth through the eyes of God. I've always succumb to the approval and insistences of others. And currently I'm still piecing through that. Still trying to mend some of those broken and prayed heart strings.


Don't get me wrong, I lovelovelovelovelove my job. These past two weeks have been amazing because I'm able to connect with the world over. I'm able to share my appreciation and knowledge of the Lord with others, and sometimes, with people who aren't sure of His existence at all. Just the other night I had someone emailing me to say that she didn't know Jesus, but that she knew great darkness. She said that after reading some of our blogposts, and after speaking to Jake and myself she had begun to pray. She had asked Jesus to come and move in her and begin their journey. I sat on my bed and just balled. Who am I to have this opportunity placed in my life?


And so when the world seems to so stressful. When so much of the current seems to swallow us whole and distort the pieces of the world, it's moments like these that refill the jar. It's moments like these where I need to regroup, need to become vulnerable and watch as God can continue to speak in me and out to those who seek our counsel. It's not about being right. It's not about knowing enough pieces of the gospel to share with others. Instead, it's about being brave enough to begin the conversation of Jesus. It's being brave enough to place our feet on rough territory and taking the moments to say, "Hold on. Hold on and let's walk through this together." It's about leaving the light on and sifting the soil so that more can be planted. And right now, I need to desperately remember that.


Too many times I've spent moments saying, "Oh man. I hope this is right. I hope that this is how this is supposed to go." When really it shouldn't be that at all. Instead, I should be a thousand times more vulnerable and broken in those moments. Instead, I should be as one August Burns Red song explains,


"Show me the way. Take me in your arms. Never let me go. Lord, show me the way, as I give myself to you. Never let me go. Hold me with your everlasting love. Be my strength. Be my voice. Be my glory. Set me free"



None of it is my own anymore. If I fully believe in all that God says He is, all that He says He can do, then I need to face the fact that the blueprint wasn't mine from the beginning. The plan has been treaded on a thousand times and it'll be treaded on a thousand more. The tapestry's not meant for my hand. It's meant for that which is much bigger and I need to put the light on in my heart and study that completely. I'm being called to those moments. Right now, I see the paintings of Easton. I hear the scuddling of footsteps and the overwhelming conversations of many. I see students milling in a direction toward a specific purpose. I see a quiet building with a sense of personal ambition. I see a campus racing toward the finish line and students just pumping full of caffeine so as not to lose ourselves. I look outside at this new season and I see hope. I see redemption. I see new buds, but I don't see that in the eyes of my fellow students. 



I see souls with heavy burdens. I read stories everyday of the same hardships. I feel the blood pounding inside as anxiety increases. Then in those freeing moments, when I get a second to just breathe and close my eyes before beginning the next prayer requests, before writing to the next student, before typing one more passage into bible gateway or completing my homework, I thank God for where my feet are planted. May I be His always and not feel the weight of the world crushing down.



Sturdy feet planted here. Grounded here. His words intact. That's the beauty. 

Reclaim. Restore. Rise Above.

Courageous

Explaining the story of my struggle with self- injury, whether it's one sentence or that entire portion of my life, is never easy. For a good amount of time I spent years just building walls around that portion of my story- it was a habit, a coping mechanism that I could control whenever I chose to. Self injury became the piece in my life where I could cope with the loss of Michael, and to supposedly feel relief from the pain that I had felt in losing him. I'll remember that year, that Thursday night, for the rest of my life. I'll remember the months that followed when this dangerous and somehow wonderful addiction began. It's never been something I've been keen to talk about.

Until about two weeks ago in creating my testimony.
Until one week ago in front of a church of 15 people in Quebec.

It might have only been two sentences in explaining my journey toward God's grace, but I still can't seem to fathom that the words came easily and freely from my mouth. I've always been one to want to hear the stories of others, to walk alongside them, but not really one to sit down and share my own. In the past week? I've done more of that than I have ever thought I would or could. It's nights like tonight, when  I take some time to reflect and digest, that I can begin to realize the distinction between the bones of the story that exist in the present with me, but the words that are given to God.

Truth be told? About 3 minutes before I stood up last Sunday? I wasn't going to identify myself as a cutter. It's not the easiest thing for someone to do. But in those three minutes I just felt this pull from God to share that portion of my story. It's almost as though God was just saying, "That's who you are. It's who you are. Why hide it?" More importantly, "Why hide him?" And so, I thoroughly believe that Michael was in that small church with us last weekend. God whispered to him because he knows how nervous i can get, and God provided me with the language. 3 minutes later I was telling a community of 15 that I used to cut myself. Out loud. Honest and raw.

I'm coming up on almost 3 years free and I think that piece was the final step. God knew the heart, knows the occasion and the meaning, and so empowered me to take the leap and start explaining some of that past. Everyday I work through the temptation, I mull over the waves that come to me in times of defeat, but that's a part of my past. Not my present. Do the scars still hang around? Sure. Are they all because of Michael's death? No, there's more there, but that's not the point. The point is that God allowed me to feel confident and well equipped to share that side of my story with people here at Arcadia and abroad.

This week in Quebec and last night in Montreal have really been an eye opening experience for me. Each chance that I am given emits something new for me to feel, or a new thought for me to consider. The community of believers that exist in Quebec might be little, but their heart and determination is something that has truly astonished me. Their drive and compassion is just something to be seen, and God can be felt for miles in the hearts and homes of those people.

It was a beautiful opportunity to serve with them and be part of a greater movement. It's beautiful to be able to provide the word and truth of God with other people who GET IT. That's not something I get to experience here at home and so I greatly appreciated that chance. As broken as much of Canada may be, it was beautiful to come, to serve, and to pray for restoration and rescue in a country that needs God's hand. It was wonderful to hear the stories of other individuals, of personal ministries, and just to feel God is working in the hearts of those believers across towns. It's through those small steps and conversations that God's kingdom is further spread.

This week pushed a lot of us out of our comfortable space, beyond our norms, but I think it brought each of us that much closer to understanding Jesus. We were given this opportunity to spread the Kingdom of God. While steps were taken to provide for the town of Lachute, I trust that the kingdom has been spread in each of us as well.

I'm still processing this weekend. Still processing the truth and feelings that God has stirred within me, but I'm compelled  to be courageous in moving forward. Each of us saw the broken on a different level and in a different light this week, but the broken exist. The broken exist and we're all part of that population, at some point, we're all broken. Broken because God has even more restoration to provide us with. The trick to being broken is acknowledge the truth, see the pain and the fallen, but to rise above with faith in Christ.

Sitting in front of someone I trust and explaining a battle with self- harm, or standing in front of a small congregation identifying that same story, is never going to be easy. It's only now after 3 years that I'm beginning to see the reason for my brokeness. It's not about me. It never was and never will be, but the words and the scars might speak somewhere else, to someone else's heart.  And that's the beauty of God's power. Courage to recognize how we've been equipped by God, is exactly the courage we need to share the story and aid in restoration.

I've been broken, but I'm all in.
Reclaim. Restore. Rise Above.

Hope in one

Hey buddy. We're traveling to Canada this weekend, okay? It's a lotttt to stand up and mention what happened. You know that. Come and sit in my heart this weekend like you always do, okay? It's home. You're home. You always had the smiles and the courage, so just pass it along for me. We miss you. We love you. You're the reason for hope. I love you, kiddo.

I'll see you soon.

michael david senk | May 5th 2004

Who's Driving

 Just found this great, quick devotional podcast online this morning. Pretty much centered my day like you wouldn't understand. Called out, called on. It's time to really let Jesus drive the van, whether it's home, around the block, or through the city, he's the only one to steer this vessel.

Going Not Knowing

Acts 9:3, 20:23

Hope Goes Surfing

I'm a planner like you wouldn't believe. Thursday's always make me emotional- it's the day that Michael died about 8 years ago, but it feels like just yesterday. I'm a high anxiety student who really doesn't know what margin is. All I'm trying to do is trying to find out. I struggle with self image. I want to be the one that provides hope and restoration, if that's where God calls. I'm someone racing the clock almost every hour of everyday- trying to do as much as I can. I'm full of hope and caffeine. I desperately need to sit back down at the piano and play like the olden days. I'm a reader. A believer. A living spirit. A passenger in the greater ride. A writer with some words, a stockpile of books, and a bunch of images in my head. Let the images pour from my heart and the uncertainty to flow with it.

How can I possibly begin to sew together the pieces of what this week, this weekend, has been for me? If someone asks me tomorrow how am I going to possibly explain what has gone on, the fire and the faith I've seen?

Hope.

Like I said, I like to plan. Like I said, my anxiety most days is out of control, and it's really something I'm trying to restore and reconfigure, for my life and those around me. We left on Friday afternoon and I had no idea what this weekend was going to provide, how God was going to speak to me, how He would speak to others in our group. How he would speak to the seas of people from other schools. So, with the journal I carry almost everywhere, I made a promise to just listen. To try and let go of myself, walk away from the path that my own feet seem to go, from the way that my body and mind both sway, and to just go. To just move. To just soak. To just digest.

For a planner, that's the HARDEST thing to do.

From Friday night when we arrived up until today when we got back to Glenside at 6:30, I have felt an overwhelming sense of hope. There's something about the sight and the stories of others, about the smiles, the labors and the restorations of others, that jolts us back to life and creates an entirely different campus. Sometimes, it's the laughs you hear, the arms you see stretched toward the One we're all reaching to, the simple ways that people are attempting to digest goodness, that makes you fall more in love with the world.

Maybe, what it all comes down to is hope. The simple idea of sewing together the truth and the glimpses when all of the rest of our worlds seems to fall out of place. Under the water and out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind.

Maybe what it all comes down to is the hope in the scar. The restoration in the broken. Maybe it comes down to the community of worship, the binding of writing down promise, the depth of reaching inside and trusting the fire inside to walk us toward the greatest path.

Whatever it is, I'm blown away. There's something about hope. There's something about being in a room, being in a city or a place, or a state of mind where the world doesn't seem so big and the axis doesn't seem to spin so fast. There's something about the hope I see in eyes I've never met, there's something about the path that's chased because, as much as we all want to believe that it's different- as much as it is according to what God calls for our lives- it's the same in that we're looking for God's light, God's restoration. What hope is better than that?

This weekend was one of hope. It's one that flipped me upside down, turned me right again, and flipped me once more. It's one that allowed me to see the sights, sounds, and words of a greater story. This weekend has been one where God has certainly played me one tune, then I sit down in ONE workshop, and He changes the tune entirely.

What do say other than, "Okay, God?" How is that not a sign of hope, because when the world seems empty, when the heart and the mind are tired, God's holding the pen to write a greater story. A story the planner, in her quick moments, might not initially appreciate, but one where she climbs out from under the skin of fear and anxiety and says,

"I'm on my way, God. I'm on my way."

I'm a planner who likes to plan my own notes, my own chapters, my own maps, but this just isn't mine. I'm surfing the current. Heart wide, eyes clear, mind subdued. I have hope. Jubilee gives hope.

Romans 12:12

Shake The Dust. Shake It Again.

Shake the dust. Shake the dust. Shake the dust and after you've taken the time to take the mistakes, the lessons learned, the statements we wished we never said, and the sentiments we wish we would proclaim every once and awhile, shake the dust. Shake the dust, and when it twirls in the currents of our busy atmosphere, when you see it whisper, scream, and turn, take out your hand and your heart, pick it up with the fingers of grace, and toss it again. Toss it again and let it be carried through the winds and the storms, through the sun rays, nights, and days that need it more than I do. Dust, when we muster a little hope, restores its beauty and tells a beautiful story when we're not necessarily looking. Shake the dust.

Tonight I don't know how I am. I don't know who I am to think that I can do this by myself- not for another semester, not to spend more time missing out on life. Who I am to think that I have the strength to do so? The strength to stand in the face of this overwhelming world and say, "Oh, I'm golden. I've got this." A lost soul. That's who I am. And that's when the dust piles up the most, so high that it starts to cloud my vision and distort my perceptions. I haven't figured it out. I haven't put the pieces together, but there's no way I can do this again.

Hey God,

I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'm going to get in that crazy spiral and let my emotions get the best of me and lose sight. I'm...I'm human, but I'm not doing You justice and that just hurts. The pain's real right now- real in losing Gail, real in hearing those boys cry, real in trying to keep level like I said I would. Hey God, I'm afraid to let go. I'm afraid to let go entirely and free the shackles that bare on my mind so many hours of the day- but who am I to think that I have control, right? Who am I to sit here. It's not You I'm afraid of God. It's never you. It's the anxiety building up. It's the fear I have with trust, with understanding, and with reconciling myself. It's with loving myself and feeling worth it in your arms, God.

Sometimes, I feel like all of this worrying, all of this anxiety, is just letting Satan win. All of the calculations might be just a way of functioning for me, but each time I'm doing that and making these conjectures, falling apart to the hands of my mind, well that's not letting you in. That's not trusting You wholeheartedly as I should. A lyric just came on through my headphones, "It's never easy to loosen my grip" and I think that's exactly accurate, God. This whole letting the knuckles loose and coming entirely to You is just so hard. It's so hard to be that vulnerable.

Which brings me to my point: Shake the dust.

I just got back from Bible Study tonight, more compelled to blog and get this whole thing out of my brain instead of doing homework with a heavy heart. This. right now. Is the moment where I shake the dust, Lord. This is whole heartedly where I take my newspaper pieces with the headlines of fear, where I crunch them with the belief that you have command of my life, and where I toss it all that you are. I toss it, and when it comes back down and whirling around, my arms extend to the one that offers me piece and solace, and toss it back up again. Dust is dust. Dust was last semester. Dust was these last few weeks. Beauty comes through the dust now tonight. Beauty is created through the particles of worry and the fear that this girl so lives in, changes right now. It changes right now.

Not by my own command, but by your grace I'm given everything. I'm given everything at each new corner, at each day and each moment of exhaustion, it's by You. It's by You that I am challenged and for Your mighty wonder that I'm dying to know all I can. I'm done making excuses. I'm done of the exhaustion and the self calculations. Your love is what I need to trust. It's what you're handing me as you knock at my door- each new day.

...No joke, there was just a knock at my apartment door.

You're handing me a gift each day. You're given me hope and restoration in each new day. You're offering to comfort me when the world turns too quick, and I need to step up. Step out of my head and into the river of faith. I need to take those dusty caverns and just wash it clean. Wash it in Your hope because I can. Because you offer such great promise.

Is it going to be easy? No way. No way, and I know that. But living my life in calculation, in estimation, in anxiety and worrisome thoughts? That's not easy either, God.

I'm a broken vessel, Lord. I'm a broken vessel who sees the pieces and is desperately crying out to you to be rebuilt. Completely reconstructed.

Shake the dust. Shake the dust. I'm coming to You, God.

Matthew 10: 12
Colossians 2:6-7

The A Game for Gail

A friend asked for an update on my life. She said that I should take some time and just get everything out, form the thoughts in whatever way they come, and just leave a message of what’s going on. While I feel like I’ve been journaling so much lately with whatever paper I can find, and with whatever pen is still running full of ink, tonight I think she’s right. This is just one of those nights where I need to stop turning off the thoughts and just be completely honest, completely vulnerable and legitimate for at least a little while. Evie, this is the message you’re asking for.

I’ve honestly been feeling really lost lately. The new semester has started and while I’m really enjoying most of the classes, experiences, and time I’ve had thus far, I feel like there’s something missing. Of course, there’s 3 of my most wonderful friends missing, but they’re never far from my heart and that’s perfectly okay. I just. I feel like something’s lacking, something’s off with this semester and I can’t really seem to sit down and sort it out so it’s totally clear.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m only taking 4 classes whereas usually I’m wrestling with 5 classes, a lab, and 2/3 jobs. Looking at my assignment book from last semester I honestly don’t know how I kept it together, but now this semester I just feel slightly empty. People keep telling me that  I deserve this time, I deserve this break, and it’s like I believe them, but how can you expect an overcharged, overachieving, perfectionist to let go? How can you expect them to surrender to the down time and silence the worry? It hasn’t happened here yet and so, I’m just trying to figure out how to accommodate all of that together. It’s a bit of a weird feeling.

To make things a bit more challenging I’ve had a major loss to my life this week. We have a family friend, Gail, who has been a big part of my family for years now. She and her family were first closest to Janette’s (my brother’s wife) family because they live down the street, but as John and Janette continued dating Dan, Gail, and their boys, Cody and Dylan have really become a second part of our family. The boys both have severe conditions of autism, but Gail did everything in her power to make a difference for them. She worked day and night with an organization called, “Autism Speaks” just trying to spread awareness and raise money for the illness. She and Dan had another son who suffered from great disabilities and unfortunately passed away at the age of 27. Needless to say, it’s been a challenging life experience for the entire family, but through each obstacle Gail was seen and known to change lives.

My brother worked with her taking care of the house and renovations, working with Dan and being “another man” for him to hang out with, while simultaneously developing a great relationship with the boys. I worked with Gail in finding information about walks and fundraisers for the boys, and just. Every single time she came into a room Gail radiated hope. She told a story with a smile. It was beautiful.

Last Thursday, on my way to ACF I got a call from my mom, but didn’t pick it up in time to answer. I got home that night at around ten and called her back to find out that there had be an accident in Cherry Hill that afternoon. An SUV was stopped at a light, getting ready to head across the highway. When the SVU pulled out, so too did a dump-truck in the intersection.  Carrying a load of sand the dump- truck proved to be too heavy and the load flipped entirely on the highway. When it did the SVU was crushed due to impact and the passenger was pronounced dead at the scene. The passenger, headed home from a weekly doctor’s appointment, was our family friend Gail Walsh.

I do not think the pictures I saw on the ABC website that night will ever leave my mind. Instantly, I broke down. Instantly I thought, “why God? How could you do this? To those boys? To Dan, her husband? To the lives she’s touched.” Still now, a week later, it brings a chill to my spine and a pain in my gut. 

Yesterday was the funeral. I left class Wednesday night (at 10) and was home for the service in the morning. It never gets easier. My mom says that one thing you learn as you get older. The pain lasts, but it comes in brand new forms each time. I walked through the greeting, went up to Dan and he just stood stunned. Stunned that I had come down from school to celebrate her life. He hugged me for what felt like hours and the world just stopped. Everything just felt painfully real.

The boys were there, but they could only handle the service for so long. Eventually, their caretakers had to come and get them for a little bit until the service was over. Dylan seems to be putting things together, realizing that his mom has gone to Heaven now, but Cody seems to be out of it. John said that he asked the other day, “What time is mommy getting home?” And, well. All of just melted. My heart aches for those boys and for the months they have to endure.

As much as yesterday was a moment of grief and of high emotion, as much as this week has not been easy, I think it’s been a lesson for all of us. It’s been a lesson in making sure that your life isn’t lived solely for your own benefit, but that you use your skills and talents and crafts to make a difference elsewhere. Yesterday wasn’t just about the months of healing and memories that are going to have to come for all of us, it was about the truth and the vibrant life that Gail sought to bring to this world with every deed she did. Every person she met. Every conversation she had.

So, am I sad? Of course. Does it pain me to think how quickly things happen, how fast a life can be taken, and how hard it is going to be for life to resume? Of course. The pain will be with me for quiet awhile, but I’ll never forget her life. I’ll never stop doing everything I can to keep her alive. And where does that start?

It starts with checking on my brother, checking on Dan and the boys, checking on the world around us. It starts with knowing all that I can about Autism and about spreading that message, near and far. It’s about getting involved with Autism speaks and being a beacon for the cause. It’s about carry Gail on with me. Carrying her story and her hope.

Setting Up

Whoa, here's to 2012.

It's amazing to see where the year has taken me, where the Lord has pushed me to as I continue walking alongside Him in this greater journey of faith. There have been so many challenges, so many moments of light and hope that I cannot seem to fathom all of how He has changed me and will continue to do so in the next while. Perhaps the biggest challenge was simply choosing to rediscover the glory of God. Perhaps the most challenging moment is to come home to a family of non- believers, of lost hope, and tell them that you're invested and wholeheartedly giving your life over to God. It was He who has gave me the greatest courage to sit down and have those conversations with the people who care about me, the people who want the best for me as I'm desperately attempting to drink from the glory of God and His tapestry for me.

Challenged or not, afraid of my own capabilities, afraid of conversations and the like, I've learned that it's not about me. This is not about me or about the pieces of my life; it's strictly about trusting God, leaning on Him, and beginning to give that over the best way that I can. When my mind gets ahead of me, when the anxiety sets me up for moments of nerve and some restless nights, I have to start reminding myself that this was never once about me. The place that I am is not of my own accord, it's for the will and the love of the One who has so graciously welcomed me. That's the breath I need to remember to take sometimes when I seem to be caving inside myself and forgetting the One who knows me and sees me at the best and the worst. Challenges are meant for a reason; instead of taking the nerves and the worry I need to keep remembering that it was something much greater than any pile of nerves and sleepless nights can ever do for me.

I've completed two applications for graduate school now. One for Arcadia and one for Biblical Seminary school. Are my parents happy about the latter? Of course not, but once again, it's not about me or them. This decision and the movements according are strictly opportunities that God is planting before me to use the skills I continually cling to.

Today a counselor from Biblical called asking to talk before the remainder of the application was completed. He simply asked what it was that has interested me to Biblical and to the counseling program overall: an answer I've been trying to find the proper words to for months now. I've always had the desire to help people, to share the stories of the broken and the hopeful all in the same conversation and what better way to do that through the foundation and heat of faith? What better way to do that then to rely on the presence of God, relying on the ways that he can teach me and provide a harbor for those that I can come face to face with in future months. What better way then to speak the truth and joy of God's gift for those who follow Him? I'm overly hopeful to see what's next.

Apart from the application process I've begun the process of applying for the To Write Love application. There's a video application and a written portion. We'll see how my movie making skills go for this first portion. The goal for completing this process is by Feb 1st as a personal statement to the members of the intern program. As it gets closer, as this organization weighs on my heart more and more with every day, I am so overly excited for everything that is to come.

When the nerves persist, when my mind sinks to the dark corners and the reality floods to the point where it causes me to fail to put God first, that's when I need to step back. Forever and always.

There's great opportunities being set up by the one who has overwhelmed my heart. God, you are great.

Colossians 3:2