Mongolia

Mongolia…. In my mind it is a wild, untamed place.

In my mind when I think of the people there, I think of descendants of Ghengis Khan. Fierce and independent men and women. Forgotten royalty from a forgotten era.

In my mind I see I rolling steppes and wild horses. Nomadic people who choose to live nowhere and everywhere. I see hunts led by men on horseback with falcons on their arms. I see herds of reindeer in the cold northern places. I see snow and ice, and deserts and heat.

Tomorrow I will arrive in this land that I have dreamed about since I was a little girl.

And my heart is dreaming about what I will find there.

Manta Rays

I have to share a video of my last adventure in Hawaii! Some friends and I went and swam with manta rays on our second to last night here. 

I can't even describe how incredible it was to swim with such massive, primordial, strange and gentle creatures. 

What an experience...

Missing Kona

Cool mornings, hot days, warm evenings.

Truly enjoying the relief that cool breezes bring.

Ocean. Always the ocean.

Palm trees.

The way it feels to sink into the water.

Swimming with the knowledge that you’ll find something beautiful.

Papaya.

Early mornings spent swimming with pods of dolphins.

Warm summer nights spent stargazing.

Weekends spent exploring waterfalls, hiking new trails, laughing with new friends.

These are the things that I will miss about Kona...

Yes

This week I chose to say yes.

Yes to everything—the new, the scary, the unexpected. The purposeful and the pointless. The boring and the fun.

And I tried to make it a wholehearted yes as best I could.

You see, I realized one day how my answer is almost always “no.” Why is that? Why is it so easy to hold back if an idea doesn’t originate in my own heart and mind? What is it that makes me distrust everything that comes from outside of myself?

It doesn’t matter if it’s a family member, a friend, or even God asking me to do something, come somewhere, enjoy something… it’s easier to say no. To hold myself at arms length and remain aloof until I’ve weighed the options decided how involved I want to be.

It occurred to me that this holding back and hesitancy can’t be a part of having a joyful and fulfilled life, so I decided to spend my last week in my DTS responding with a confident, crazy, joyous “YES” to all things.

And I am so glad that I did.

It’s not as if I stumbled upon a magic formula to constant happiness, but I think something changes when you decide to always try to say yes (using discernment, of course) to the things that find you.

When my heart is in a position of always saying “no” it is focusing on the likelihood of disappointment. On a lack of trust for anyone or anything outside of my own heart and mind. That heart posture effectively says that no one else is worth my time, my love, my risk. No one. Not my friends, my family, or even my God.

Who would want to live like that..? It’s a wall that, though breachable, keeps out so much good. It keeps you from getting hurt, but it also keeps you from receiving love, and even more importantly, from giving love to others.

But, when I choose to say yes, my heart is saying that it expects great things. That life is good, and that joy is coming. That beauty is in this world, and there is light everywhere if only you choose to see it. It says that the people I surround myself with are worth taking risks for. They are worth going out of my comfort zone for. They are worth taking off the armor and shields that we pick up throughout our lifetimes to keep ourselves safe. 

They are worth giving the benefit of the doubt.

It says that I am brave enough to let myself make mistakes, and courageous enough to love people even though people are as prickly as cactuses and being close to them without being covered with armor hurts sometimes.

I’m not saying that it’s wrong to say no or to have boundaries. I think that in order to have balance in your life, you must know where to draw the line. But for someone like me who has no problem drawing hard lines in the sand, it’s good to exercise saying “yes” for a change.

It puts my heart in a place where light can get to it easily and make it grow. It’s a choice I can make that brings joy and trust within my grasp.

So here is to many more weeks where I choose to say “yes” as often as I can.

How to Love

Love is patient.

Love is kind.

It does not envy.

It does not boast.

It is not proud.

It is not rude.

It is not self seeking.

It is not easily angered.

It keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil.

Love rejoices with the trush.

Love always protects.

It always trusts.

It always hopes.

It always perseveres.

Love never fails.

Sometimes I like coming up with excuses for why I can dislike someone. Let’s be honest, it’s a little too easy to find reasons not to be friends with difficult people sometimes.

Recently though, I realized that is a complete lie to believe that that is acceptable.

If, as a follower of Jesus, I am commanded to love everyone, then that means that I am literally meant to love everyone.

To choose kindness, patience, selflessness, humility, trust, fierce protectiveness, longsuffering, and perseverance in the way that I act towards them, treat them, and talk about them.

To choose to not be self seeking in a friendship is such a counter cultural thing. I think that in American culture we choose our friends based on what we can get out of that friendship.

How does they treat me? How do they affirm me? How do they make me feel? How often do they say yes to me?

But what if I chose to offer the hand of friendship to anyone, and not based on my human standards, but based on the standards that Jesus set? What if I decided to love people well just because people need to be loved well, and the more difficult the person, the more their need is.

Not to say that boundaries are wrong, or that we shouldn't have friends who do love us well. We need that. But I do feel challenged to learn to better love the people that I would naturally rather avoid.

Sometimes I like to think about eternity. It’s an idea that our brains cannot comprehend.

No end.

Compared to that, my life here is such a tiny little blip. It is so small. So short. Too short to not choose to radically love. Too short to put my own desires above my call to serve and love others.

So God, help me learn how to love. I’m not perfect. I will mess up. But change my heart to look more like Yours. Help me to see what you see when I look into the eyes of the angry, the unkind, the obnoxious, the socially awkward, the smelly, the ugly, the broken. Give me Your compassion and help me to be a friend to the forgotten.

You say that You are near to the low and to the broken—that when we love them, we love You. So help me to love You well…

Evangelism

This Friday during one of our classes my DTS discussed evangelism, and practiced by breaking into smaller groups to talk to each other about Jesus, since that is something most of us had never done.

This did not go over well (at least not in my head).

I never realized how strong my opinions were about evangelism until someone told me to evangelize.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like feeling like I’m going to be the rich white girl standing in the street of someone else’s nation and telling a group of strangers what to do with their heart and soul.

I don’t like the lack of follow up and relationship that I imagine exists when the medium for proclaiming your faith is standing on top of a soap box.

I’ve seen “those people” on my own college campus and they’re always doing the same thing. Screaming at strangers and telling them how they are going to go to hell, and accomplishing nothing more than turning off every passerby to Jesus Christ.

I don’t like it because (to me) it’s not love and it’s not grace and while aspects of trust exist in it, it’s certainly not the whole truth.

It's a bunch of loud and angry people who yell at you and try to scare you into faith that's based on the love of God. That feels counter-intuitive to me. 

Needless to say, I had a pretty bad attitude.

Sidenote: I feel like I should probably clarify here—no one in YWAM is telling me to stand on a street corner and tell strangers they're going to hell. No one is saying I should preach to groups of people without also trying to build relationship. What they are saying is that they want to be obedient to God in all circumstances, and if that includes going up to a stranger and talking about Jesus then so be it. 

Anyways, I don’t know why, but the topic of evangelism really stuck with me—I was more irritated and offended by it than I thought normal, so much so that even after talking with one of my team’s leaders about it, it was still on my mind, just hanging out in the back of my head bothering me.

My family is in town, so I ended up venting my feelings about our evangelism exercise to my mom— the poor woman had to listen to me list off every thing I saw weird and wrong in it.

She listened, I ranted, conversation waned, we went to dinner, and I thought that was that.

The next morning as we sat on the back porch of their condo sipping coffee and watching waves crash on the rocks (pretty magical, by the way) she brought up the topic again.

My mom has been studying the prophets in the Bible and that morning had read some things that made her think of me. She said that we each have a natural response when God asks us to do something, and that you can see it particularly clearly in the prophets.

When Moses was called he said, “I won’t do it.” When Isaiah was called he said, “Woe is me.” And when Jeremiah was called he said, “I can’t do it.”

In my mother’s opinion, I’m pulling an Isaiah. Because the truth of the matter is that I felt compelled to deviate from my life plan and spend six months of my life in YWAM. Three months going deeper into my faith in Jesus, followed by three months spent implementing that love and faith in Jesus by serving and loving others.

That is a call, and though I’ve been obedient, I’ve also been vaguely horrified that I’m voluntarily going outside of my comfort zone. My obedience has not been a joyful one. It’s been a hesitant and weirded out one with a foundation of cynicism rather than trust that God leads me well.

Here is the verse that my mom pointed out to me. I think that God’s message to this prophet is so applicable to anyone who shares my attitude regarding how far they are willing to go in obedience to Him:

Jeremiah 1:4-8

“The word of the Lord came to me saying, “before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”

“Alas, Sovereign Lord,” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am too young.”

But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the Lord.

Verses 17-19

“Get yourself ready! Stand up and say to them whatever I command you. Do not be terrified by them, or I will terrify you before them. Today I have made you a fortified city, an iron pillar and a bronze wall to stand against the whole land—against the kings of Judah, its officials, its priests and the people of the land. They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the Lord.”

To say I felt convicted by her insight and these verses is an understatement.

This isn’t about rehearsing the best speech I can put together in order to yield the best results.

It’s about acknowledging that each of us has been called.

It’s about choosing joyful acceptance in that call instead of hesitance or fear.

It’s about finding ways to prepare myself so that if/when God asks me to speak I can more easily honor him with instant obedience and immediately give a joyful “yes!”

This is not saying that my responsibility is to pick soapboxes to stand on and then speak from them when I feel like it. In fact, I think if that is my method, I'm doing something wrong.

Followers of Jesus have a constant call to serve and to love—to wash feet, to love and rejoice over the unlovable and miserable, to give freely of what we have received.

But in the event (and in my opinion, only in the event) that in addition to loving and serving, my God does ask me to climb up in front of a group of people and proclaim my faith in Him, it’s not a bad thing to have been somewhat prepared.

He is Almighty God and He has commanded me to stand up and say whatever He tells me to. That includes speaking with a friend over dinner, it includes my silence, and it includes me standing and proclaiming whatever He wants on a street corner.

I think the bottom line is “Will I be obedient?”

I claim to believe that my God has a plan for me and guides me well in the big things and in the small. So then, if I hear Him ask me to do something that offends my sense of what is socially acceptable, will I still say “yes” with joy, full of trust that this is part of the path He has chosen for me?

The answer must be yes. Because my sense of awkwardness cannot take precedence over the will and command of God.

Man. What a challenge this DTS has been to me. It’s hard forcing myself to really consider why I believe the things I believe. Is it just because I want to believe it, or is there some foundation beneath it all—besides the foundation of my own opinion?

It’s so good, but it’s so hard. I don’t think a day has gone by when some thought or understanding I have has not been challenged. I wish that everyone could experience this. This ripping into your own soul to figure out exactly why you think what you think is so rewarding. It gets your eyes and heart down to the very core of you, and you finally stop being blinded to what God really wants to do in you.

I hope I always have the courage to ask for more and to say "yes" to what is given.

Understanding vs. Enjoying

This is a little late in coming, but I wanted to share my thoughts from last week on enjoying God versus understanding God.

Classes last week were… difficult. Frustrating. Paradigm shifting. Offensive even.

I think that’s because I have been intent on understanding the mind of God for the sake of an experience. Please don’t misunderstand me, I don’t for one second believe that my desire to understand is a bad thing—I think that my desire to know the “why’s” and “how’s” are nothing less than a gift from Him. I like to imagine He enjoys my curiosity and wonder because behind it all is a hunger to know Him.

But I think it might stop being a good and useful thing when all you can do is ask questions instead of enjoying the things that you do see and understand.

It stops being a tool to knowing and loving God more, and instead becomes a blockade.

This week, we were lucky enough to hear firsthand from a man named Dan Bauman stories of the adventures he has had while pursuing his greatest passions—loving God and loving people. I haven’t had the privilege of listening to many people speak who are as passionate about simply loving and being loved by God as Dan is.

It was good.

It was also annoying.

This is a man who has audibly heard the voice of God. A man who has experienced dreams and visions. A man who has been imprisoned and tortured for his faith.

One of his more mind-bending stories occurred during a two month period where (due to political unrest) he was forced to leave his job and country of residence. He ended up in Thailand at a prayer meeting with some friends, and as he prayed and asked God what they (meaning he and God) should do until he could go back to his country, he received the name of a specific people group and the command to  go to them and pray for them for three weeks.

He had no idea who this people group was, so he started asking every person he came into contact with whether they had heard of it. He finally spoke to a man who not only recognized this people group (who lives in Northern China), but who actually had an Australian friend who lived near this ethnicities territory. Unfortunately there was a problem. This man had no idea what his friend’s address, phone number, or email was. He only knew the name of his city of residence (a city of 7-8 million people) and some vague impression that his Australian friend was studying a language there. He eventually confessed that it was possible that his friend wasn’t even in China at the time.

Dan was slightly discouraged by this, and though he continued praying, he received no other direction from God. But as the message he had received was clear, he felt he had two options. One—he could go to China with no more information than one name in a city of millions out of obedience to God. Two—he could stay in Thailand with his friends at a prayer conference.

He chose option one.

A short time later he found himself on a Chinese train that would deliver him (92 hours later) in the city he hoped that his contact was in. He walked up and down the train and eventually found an English speaking Chinese man who offered to give him a ride once they arrived. Dan very happily accepted.

“Where does your friend live?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Oh, well what’s his address?”

“I don’t actually have it.”

“Alright, well do you have his phone number?”

“Umm… no.”

Blank stares. Incredulous laughter.

At this point, Dan felt his first bit of direction since he had chosen obedience towards God. Ask about the main university.

“ Sir, do you think you could take me to the main university?”

“Of course!”

So, a few hours later, Dan found himself standing on the campus of a massive university in China in the middle of the night with no contact, no place to sleep, and no idea if this Australian man was even a student here.

Walk into the lobby. He walked. Stand here for twenty minutes. He stood. Walk down this hallway. He went. Knock on the last door in the hallway. He knocked and as the door opened, found himself facing a German professor. Dan immediately struck up a conversation. He told him the situation-- that he had no idea what the man’s address or contact information was, and the bemused German man informed him that he would never find his friend with so little information to go off of. Before the conversation ended the German professor asked Dan the name of his Australian contact in the city. As Dan said the name, the German professor’s face paled and eyes widened.

“I know the man you are looking for. Can I take you to him?”

“YES!”

Within the hour, Dan stood at the front door of his contact’s apartment in the middle of the night in a strange city, and knocked, praying that someone would be home.

The door opened and Dan looked the Australian man in the eyes, knowing that this man had no idea who Dan was, or why Dan was there. “Sir, I have been looking for you.”

Dan introduced himself, was invited inside, and told the man his stories.

The Australian man’s eyes filled with tears as he told Dan that a week previously he had been lying flat on the floor pleading with God to send people to pray for this specific group of people in China. For the next three weeks the two men prayed and Dan was even able to visit this people group. Great things are in store for the people that God told Dan to pray for. Many other stories were connected to this trip, but what struck me the most was the reasons God put such specific instructions into Dan’s heart and mind.

The Lord’s direction was good and true, and He did it simply out of love. Out of love for Dan, who was willing to be obedient. Out of love for the Australian man, who wanted an outpouring of God’s grace on others. And out of love for this people—a people that He sent His son to die for, and who were living in separation from Him.

Now, back to me describing listening to these stories as “annoying.”

If I am entirely honest, I was slightly offended by this (and other) stories that I heard from Dan this week. After all, I love God. I want to experience God’s love and direction and grace. I’m willing to be obedient. So, what’s the deal? Why do I receive so little when I see Dan receive so much?

Why does he get to experience God chasing after him as a pursuer, when (if I’m honest) I sometimes feel like God could take me or leave me and not care much either way?

I think there is a lot that needs to be unpacked in all of this, but hey, it’s only week one of my DTS.

As I struggled through Dan’s stories and waded through my own frustration and impatience,  I started to think of enjoyment. I was hearing wonderful things about how God is moving in big ways all over the world. Shouldn’t that make me happy? Shouldn’t there be joy on some level? It was then that I began to wonder whether my mindset had began to warp to make this all about me.

How much do I experience.

How much do I understand.

How much do I know.

It’s an easy thing to do, because after all, this is my life.

But I realized there’s a better way that yields better fruit. The questions I should be asking aren’t centered around myself.

How is God revealed in this?

How are people being served?

How can this help me enjoy God?

And with that, I felt I had a tool to handle my frustration. It’s so easy to throw a fit when God is revealing things that we don’t quite understand, and we have the freedom to do that if we want. But to what purpose? All it grows is frustration and annoyance.

I decided it was better to ask God (as His friend) to help me hear the things that would allow me to enjoy Him more as  I listen to my brother in Christ shared stories about his adventures with our heavenly Father.

I won’t say that there hasn’t been frustration since then, because the hunger to experience what I see in the lives of others is still (and I hope will always remain) inside of me.

But focusing on who God is and what He can do? That, my friends, changes everything.

More

I have officially been at YWAM Kona for one week. 

It has been intense in a way I wasn't expecting. I expected the intensity to come out in a very mental way-- lots of thinking and lots of wrapping my mind around big ideas and thoughts. But it didn't quite occur to me that it would be intense in a personal, relational way too. Living in a room with seven other girls, and being surrounded by crowds of people, and constantly meeting new friends is an exhausting process. Going before God constantly throughout the day is exhausting too, in such a unique and different way. 

It's funny how the things that fill you up to the brim can at first be so exhausting. 

Since I arrived here last Thursday there has been one think that I've really felt the Lord has been telling me-- I know Him. I've heard His voice, and I have felt His love, and it is real and valid and good. But for whatever reason, I have only been comfortable allowing a certain (and very manageable) amount of His love into my life. 

But for the first time I'm seeing that He has so much more for me. 

And it's like my eyes are open, and I think that's what He was waiting for. For me to ask for more than the little slice that I have appropriated for myself, and I am getting the sense that He is overjoyed to give us more if we ask for it, but He won't force us into a level of intimacy we aren't ready for.

I think we all approach the heart of God with our own agenda of what love means attached to it, and I think that the baggage of that agenda often weighs us down and stops us from seeing how all encompassing that His love can be. It's like we are wearing love-shaped goggles (whatever that means to each of us) and if His love doesn't fit into the shape of love that we have experienced, we're blinded to it.

If I'd heard that statement last week, I would have agreed with it in my mind, but after this past week I can agree with it in my heart. As dramatic as it sounds, I feel like a blind person who all the sudden has been given sight. As simple as Christ's love is, I feel like I have been missing it. Even though it has been real in my life, it has been simply part of a pie chart of activities that make up my day. More of a routine than the overflow of an enamored heart. 

And I'm so hungry for more. 

Week one. And I'm ready for even more intimacy. 

Youthful Dreams

I will write a list about anything, and anyone who knows me well can back that statement up.

So, it make a lot of sense to me when I was thinking over which of my wishes fell into the category of "youthful dreams" to make a list. Here it is:

- own a tiny house

- sell all of my stuff and spend 6 months travelling around the continental U.S.

- go on a backpacking/biking/camping trip

- convince as many friends as possible to join me on the above two dreams

- grow a vegetable garden

- eat the vegetables that I grew in the aforementioned garden

- learn an instrument

- learn another language

- maybe spend some time in another country so that I can learn another language

- get a dog

- work on a farm

- mentor someone younger than me

- take an art class, or a sewing class, or a writing class-- anything to foster creativity

Someday, when I'm married and have children and am looking back into my 20's, these are some ideas of what I may want to accomplish. They aren't necessarily on the level of promises to myself, but they are definitely ideas. Ideas and inspiration to remind me to use my time wisely.

To Squander or to Save

Recently at work I have been going through a lot (hours and hours worth) of paperwork, checking and confirming monotonous details that only require a few brain cells.

To ward off the monotony, I have been listening to a lot of Ted Talks. If you’ve never listed to any, you should without doubt check them out!

I found myself naturally gravitating towards Ted Talks that focused on minimizing the “stuff” that you have in your house, home, and life in general. Maybe that’s because I’m leaving for Hawaii soon and theoretically am going to try to fit everything I’ll need in the next six months into one backpack and one suitcase, but lately I have been thinking of how life would potentially be different if the only stuff I cared about having was the stuff that I actually needed. How much less bogged down would my life become?

Then it struck me.

I am free.

I am free to dream and create plans based on those dreams for a bright future, or I am free to choose to go through whatever door is most conveniently opened to me, wasting my free time watching TV and surfing the internet searching for more things that I don’t need.

I am free to squeeze every drop of potential out the life given to me, or I am free to squander it like it’s nothing.

Sometimes life can look so much like a script we all of the sudden realize that we were forced into reading—first is the scene where we go to school, then comes the scene where we go to college, then comes a job, a mortgage, a marriage, a child.

None of those things are bad. In fact, some of those are things that I dream about… someday owning my own house, getting married, becoming a mother—those are dreams that are close to my heart, and there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, those are dreams that I’m proud of.

But in the here and now I am not married. I do not own a house. I do not have kids. And right now I feel inspired to take advantage of these days of freedom while they last, because I know that when my future dreams of marriage and motherhood come true, I will look back on my days of complete and total independence and freedom with longing.

I don’t want to waste my days, and at the same time I don’t want to be kept in a prison of my own plans.

As I think about intentional living, I am so glad that I’ve chosen to do a YWAM DTS. It was hard to decide to deviate from the route that I thought I would be travelling my life by after I graduated college, but I think it’s such a good choice for me. It may even have been the first catalyst for all the thoughts I’ve been having about how I really want to spend my 20’s. It has reminded me of the sense of responsibility I have for my own life.

My life was a gift to me. I am my soul’s steward, and I am one hundred percent responsible for my life and my time. If someday I look back on my 20’s and am disappointed in the way that I allowed these days to slip through my fingers, it will be on me. My responsibility. My waste. My regret.

And I choose not to allow myself to do that.

Now I’m just left with the questions that follow that choice: What now? What do I want? What do I do once I figure out what I want? How am I going to think this through, and how am I going to put my plans into action?

My answer now is that I don’t know. But I will think it though, write about it, formulate a plan, and then put that plan into action.

This is a vulnerable post for me. I don’t usually just scribble out what’s in my head and throw it onto my blog, but this time I am. Maybe as a way to hold myself accountable to the way I choose to spend my days.

Rest assured that there will be more to come on this. I hope to have many conversations about how to live intentionally, and to think long and hard about what I want.

The definition of squander is to waste something (especially money or time) in a reckless and foolish manner or to allow (an opportunity) to pass or be lost.

And I choose not to let that happen.

Hair of Many Colors

There are days when all I want is a multi-colored head of hair.

Look Up

I love this.

I am not anti-technology, and I see the convenience of facebook, instagram, twitter, and linked in-- especially since it gives us the option to stay close to friends and family all over the world.

I don't think that having an active life on social media necessarily means that you have sacrificed real, face-to-face community, but I do see a tendency in my generation to replace "real" lives with social media lives.

After all, it's a whole lot easier to connect with people when your "connection" is limited to a comment here and a post there. It's a whole lot easier to deal with conflict when all you have to do with someone who irritates you is unfollow them. Dealing with people face-to-face is... messier.

And while I think that would be great if the conversations that were had on social media were comparable to conversations people have in real life-- they aren't. At least I haven't experienced many that are. So I think we miss out, and I think that that's a real shame.

Props to Gary Turk for seeing something that bothers him and sharing his opinion in such a lovely way.

Ted Baker

As I prepare over the next two months to leave the great state of Texas for the even greater state of Hawaii for my Discipleship Training School at University of the Nations, I find my wardrobe a bit.... lacking.

For instance, though I have a plethora of high heels, sparkly dresses and leather pants (seriously. three pairs), I am shockingly low on more practical pieces of clothing like shorts and T-shirts (and socks?) 

What is more, I now find myself on the market for a one piece bathing suit. Honestly, while I have a hard time feeling excited about shopping for T-shirts and shorts, I'm thrilled about the swimsuit search! 

Although I have always been a big fan of the high-waisted swimsuits-- I mean come on, they're so flattering-- ever since watching Jessica Rey's presentation on The Evolution of the Swimsuit, I began to see the issue in a different light. Less emphasis on fashion, and a little more on the modesty factor. 

Seriously, if you've never really thought of the effect that bikini's have on the male brain (not mind, brain), watch Jessica's presentation. To call it "interesting" is a huge understatement. I've never been one to really harp on modesty, and honestly I'm still not. I think that men are responsible for their eyes, minds and thoughts, and that what women choose to wear cannot be a scapegoat.

That being said, I also have no desire to be seen as (literally) an object, and if that's what wearing a bikini gains, then I'm happy to cut the boys some slack and go for a more modest swimsuit.

Anyways, the search for a fashionable one piece swimsuit led me straight into the arms of Ted Baker, and you guys, Ted Bakers arms are a good place to be.

He is my new favorite. 

Here are some pictures of my favorite Ted Baker pieces. Granted, they cost you a pretty penny, but I'm thinking they may be worth it.

I love how much inspiration he draws from floral designs and oil painting. After all, what better place for art that on our bodies?

The Story-Teller

These past few weeks my heart has been heavy as I watch from the sidelines as one of my closest friends battles through the twists and turns that the tragedy of a family death brings about in the heart. She has handled the sadness with grace and wisdom, and I am so proud of her heart.

As I have experienced the past few days through her, my thoughts have shifted to loss. To pain and comfort, life and death.

I have a feeling that at least once in their lifetime, every person has wondered, “Why?”

Why are they gone?

Why is this happening?

Why so soon?

Why so quick?

It may sound strange, but I think that Jesus communicates to us, and that often He does so in ways out of the typical realm—almost as though He’s making sure you really hear what He’s trying to say, so He says it a little differently than He normally would.

I’ve often felt like God communicates to me through stories. Stories resonate deeply within me, and I think it’s because I think of each of our lives as a story woven into a tapestry larger than we will ever understand, all to illustrate a bigger story than our minds could contain. He is the ultimate Story-Teller and Dream-Weaver, and I think the sadness of life and death blends with the joy of it to tell a story of awesome beauty. A story that I think we will be told someday in all of its entirety.

As I witnessed my friend in her love and her grief, I felt that whisper of a story on the edges of my mind as I leaned on my Jesus and asked Him where He was.

I’d been thinking all the normal questions—the why’s and the what for’s when a scene from one of my favorite stories of all time surfaced in my memory.

It’s from the children’s book The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis. For those of you who haven’t read it, the magical kingdom of Narnia had just been discovered by the two children Digory and Polly, who through a series of misadventures, have stumbled into this land as it’s first being sung into existence by Aslan (who C.S. Lewis based on Jesus). They bring with them an evil witch who threatens to corrupt and destroy the brand new world.

After meeting, Aslan speaks with each of the children, especially with Digory (whose mother was near death), for he is the one responsible for bringing the witch out of her world and into Narnia.

The following conversation between the little boy and Aslan is the scene that came into my mind, line by line, as I grieved with my friend:

"Son of Adam," said Aslan. "Are you ready to undo the wrong that you have done to my sweet country of Narnia on the very day of its birth?"

"Well,  I don't see what I can do,"  said  Digory.  "You see, the Queen ran away and -"

"I asked, are you ready?" said the Lion.

"Yes," said Digory. He had had for a second some wild idea of saying "I'll try to help you if you'll promise to help my Mother," but he realized in time that the Lion was not at all the sort of person one could try to make bargains with. But when he had said "Yes," he thought of his Mother, and he thought of the great hopes he had had, and how they were all dying away, and a lump came in his throat and tears in his eyes, and he blurted out:

"But please, please - won't you - can't you give me something that will cure Mother?" Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.

"My son, my son," said Aslan. "I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet.”

Maybe you have to read the whole book to really get the beauty of that moment, but as I remembered the story, Jesus spoke to my heart more sweetly through those words than He probably could have through any Bible verse and said: "There. That is where I am. Leaning close to the broken and sharing their sorrow with them in every moment. Staying close because I promised that they will never be forsaken. Never alone." 

I know that it’s true that my God allows life to run its course and end in death, but I also know that He seeks us during our life so that when our eyes close in death, it’s just so we can begin an eternity with Him. I know that He allows death to happen, but I also know that He understands the pain of it, and that He loves each of us more than we can imagine. That when we hurt, so does He, and He offers His hand in strength and comfort if only we will take it.

He is with the dying in their final moments, bringing peace to the ones who know Him, and just as present with those who do not, still whispering to the spirit in His own words that life does not have to end in death if only they’ll hold on to Him. His love is strong, and I don't think He ever stops asking for His children to be reconciled with Him, not even at the very end. You see, He is the great Bridge-Builder in life and death, and for those of us who cling to Him a bridge is built into eternity, and the chasm between life and death forever defeated. How lucky are the ones who come to know and trust that early in life.

I was blessed to watch my friend cling to the hand He offered, and know that as a result she feels the peace and the blessing of the beautiful life her loved one lived.  I see her and I know that the grief she faces is more for the ones left behind than it is for her beloved family member who today is rejoicing in paradise. It will not crush her, because it is a grief whose root grows from hope. From hope and joy and love, and a very sweet knowledge that there is more to life than death, and soon, we will be reunited and there will be no tears.

Flower Beauty

If you know me, you know I love make-up.

Now, I'm not saying that I paste it on, because I don't, and I'm not saying that I never leave the house without it, because I do.

But as much as I love adventures and mischief and getting into trouble (in the best ways possible), I also love all things girly-- sparkles and high heels and smelling nice and pretty things and makeup.

On occasion, I have even been known to spend  a whopping $34 on a single tube of Yves St. Laurent lipstick, which I love dearly and am happy to use on special occasions, but which is not exactly practical or cost efficient for daily use. In order to give my bank account a break, an epic search for a brand of makeup that looks pretty and is reasonably priced began. Mostly I just bought a bunch of cheap, crappy makeup and got closer and closer to resigning myself to spending way too much money on something as unimportant as the shade of my lip tint.

Imagine my delight when I discovered Flower Beauty, Drew Barrymore's line of makeup sold only at Walmart.

I don't consider myself a snob, but I tend to turn my nose up at buying makeup from Walmart. However, I initially heard about Flower from a friend of mine who is in the top twenty finalists of girls who hope to become the new face of the make-up line. I figured she was a reliable source and figured I might as well try it out.

I bought the Kiss Stick Velvet Color in Desert Flower and am so pleased with it. It's pretty! It feels nice! It smells good! It stays on! It's cheap!

Though I didn't do more than try out some samples of items like the creme eyeshadow and highlighter chubby, I have a feeling I'll be back to make those purchases in the near future.

Props to you, Drew Barrymore. You did real good.

My new favorite lipstick shade. I love it. 

Lou & Grey

Happy Easter (rather, happy day after Easter) world!

This weekend I not only got to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus with my family, but also with a dear friend who flew into town for the weekend.

We were together from the time we woke up until the time we went to sleep. We had wonderful conversations, spent quality time with friends, laughed, watched movies, ate, and shopped.

My closet's newest addition

It was lovely.

One of the stops we made during our day together was at Loft, where I rediscovered an old love of mine—Lou & Grey.

I couldn't resist posting some pictures of the comfortable, soft, loungey clothes that Lou and & Grey designs so masterfully.

I can’t help but imagine myself in a quiet mountain cabin or lounging in front of a beach campfire when I try on their sweaters. 

Here are some pictures of some of my favorite pieces.

Enjoy!

Home Sweet Home

I write this as I sit on a back porch swing, gazing out across gardens that are full of azalea blooms, ferns and dogwood blossoms. The gardens end where the lake begins, and my view ends with the forest beyond, though I know that behind the forest farmland begins-- rolling green hills full of tall grasses, bales of hay, and the occasional livestock.

A family of purple martins lives in a birdhouse by the lake, and their songs are mingling with a dozen other melodies. The sun is shining and a breeze is coming in. Chopped wood is piled up next to the water, ready to be burnt should one decide to make use of the chiminea.

It's spring in Tyler, Texas, where I am now a resident. I am back at home, and it is good.

There are so many things that I could write about right now. How I had my misgivings about leaving California, how quickly those disappeared and how happy these first few days in Texas have been, all the reasons that Spring is my favorite season.... I could seriously go on and on with a million different thoughts that are in my head.

I think that what I will start with though, is the journey that took me from the beaches of Southern California to the rolling farmlands and green forests of East Texas. I mean that literally-- this time last week I was packing up every last minute thing I could think of, and was preparing to pick my dad up from the airport so that the road trip from Laguna Niguel to Tyler  could begin.

First of all, I just have to brag on my dad for a minute. If I was in charge of awarding a Father of the Year medal, he would get it. The older I get the more I realize that as far as fathers go, I have been truly blessed. There's not many men who would jump on a plane after a day of meetings and fly across the country just so that they could be crammed into a Camry loaded down with every item their daughter owns, and then proceed to drive for three days just to get back home. I mean, come one. It's ridiculous.

However crazy, that's exactly what my dad did, and I am so grateful for it. We drove for hours and hours and hours, and while I can't deny that driving that long was tiring and uncomfortable, I can say that getting the opportunity to talk with each other for so long more than made up for it. Do you ever notice how the experiences that are so draining at the time end up being the ones that you draw the best memories from?

Even in my most tired, sore, grouchy moments, I was grateful to have my dad there. It was good to simply be together, to talk about whatever random thing came into our minds, to discuss the history of the seemingly barren, empty deserts that we drove through, to ask questions and to answer questions. I wish that all of my siblings and friends could have that kind of time with their fathers, though I'm sure not all of them would appreciate me wishing a thirty hour road trip on them.

We even had the chance to deviate from our route and add a little fun into the driving routine! We stopped and took pictures of cacti taller than both of us combined, we spent one morning in Tombstone, Arizona watching cheesy re-enactments of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday in gunfights with outlaws. We ate entirely too much fast food and coffee, and kept each other awake when we drove though six hour stretches of nothing but desert.

And at the end of that long weekend of driving, we were finally home. No matter what the circumstances, a three day drive will make you love being home, and it made it all the more sweet as I unpacked my bags and got settled into my old room, where I will be staying for the next three months until it's time to head off to Hawaii.

It almost surprises me how happy and content I am to be here. After so many years, it's good to be home for a while, and to know that I have the time to enjoy my siblings, to catch up with old friends and to make some new ones.

Keeping your heart filled with the spirit of contentment is such a happy place to be...

Welcome home, self!

Whale Watching

Ever since I moved to California almost exactly one year ago, I have wanted to go on a whale watching tour. I know they're cheesy and only for tourists, but I LOVE them.

So, with only one day left in Laguna Niguel, I woke up this morning and drove to Newport Beach. I paid for my ticket, and earned a few pitying glances when I walked on board and it became clear that I was literally the only person in the group of 50 who chose to came alone. It may have been awkward, but after spotting our first gray whale about 2 minutes after we left the harbor, I was much too delighted to notice.

I love whales. I think that they are beautiful and graceful, and that their migrations and relationships are endlessly interesting. While I watched mother and baby breach the water over and over as they swam up the west coast on their way to Alaska, I was able to savor the moment.

I loved that it was a morning to be utterly enjoyed. I loved that a sea lion followed the whales and tried to coax them into playing. I loved that the winds were high and the water was rough, even though it meant we had to return early to the harbor.

I loved that I was able to see a beautiful member of creation. I loved that it was a moment that I was able to enjoy on my own.

I love that even after returning home, my hair still smells like salt water and sea air.

This is one of my favorite pictures because it captures a moment I hope to have someday.


It is a dream of mine (it's high up on my bucket list) to someday swim with whales and this photo lights that dream up inside of me.

Today however, I was completely content to sit back on a boat with excited tourists and their seasick kids and simply witness their beauty.

Mermaid Heart

These last few weeks have been a blur. Extra work opportunities appeared out of nowhere (thank you Lord) and my days have been filled with a combination of the productivity of projects completed at work, and with the happy chaos of packing up a chapter of life in preparation for whatever is next (and oh, how I love to daydream about the “next”).

But before the blur of these past weeks began in earnest, I had a day at the beach that has made its way into this tired girl's dreams as she lays in bed at night resting from another busy day. It was like being picked up from the midst of a busy schedule by a higher power, and plopped straight into a day from 15 years ago on one of my first trips to the ocean-- back when the sea and I first fell in love. Sometimes you have to re-visit what it felt like to be eight years old and at the beach, and a couple weekends ago, I was able to do just that.

The day started out normally enough-- I woke up early for a Saturday, made coffee, grabbed my surfboard, and headed to the beach. I met up with a friend and we paddled out, and spent our time in the waves floating and talking about things that mattered rather trying to catch many waves. We eventually left the water and walked around downtown San Clemente, going in and out of shops to browse and see what there was to see.

I sipped watermelon juice and we walked and talked and it was good. Sometimes there is just nothing like walking around with a friend, feeling salty and rumpled from the sea. Wearing no makeup and not having the slightest desire to impress anyone of anything. All your focus is on sunshine and friendship, and it’s enough.

She eventually left and I met up for brunch with some other friends. We had good coffee and good food and good conversation, and after they left I knew that my day was only just beginning.

I had no desire to do anything but go back to the ocean and lay on the beach, and that is exactly what I did. Thus the best part of my day began. I napped and when I woke up and looked out at the water the first thing I saw was a pod of dolphins coasting up and down the beach and my heart just wanted to laugh at their playfulness and freedom.

I sat and watched and all I could see was a cloudless sky and kids playing in the surf and dolphins swimming and seabirds calling. And in my mind I was all of the sudden a mermaid-- gripped by that playful spirit that inhabits us so fully as children. So, I shunned my surfboard in favor of my boogie board and ran out to play with the rest of the kids (the ones who knew that really, they were mermaids too) and I stayed in the water for hours, just playing and floating and frolicking and feeling right with the world.

There’s something about that feeling of submerging yourself entirely in the ocean, surging forward suddenly so that you’re pulled along with the waves… getting caught in the crest and tumbled around underwater, or being exactly in the perfect spot of the water’s pull and getting lost in the feeling of flying towards the land. Feeling that somehow, you've become part of that wave for one magical second. All you can feel is the tickle of bubbles and seafoam and it is so, so perfect. 

It feels like the heart of a child. 

It feels like eight years old at the beach. 

It feels like the perfect way to say goodbye to my favorite part of California—my friend, the sea.

Dreams of Barcelona

Right now, the only new things in my own life are trips to the mechanic, job hunting, excursions to find good packing boxes, and new rolls of duct tape. As I sit at my apartment and strategize how to fit all of my worldly possessions in one 1998 Toyota Camry, or at the mechanic's shop wondering how it is possible for such a small mechanical part to cost so much money, my sister is exploring the streets of Barcelona.

For obvious reasons, I have decided to write a post in honor of my sister’s much more glamorous life.

Street in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona

Barcelona.

I think of that city and immediately see visions of Moorish architecture and pitchers of sangria. Paella and cobble stoned streets and bullfighters and dark eyed women in flamenco dresses.

My only personal experience with Spain was when I made her acquaintance on a brief weekend jaunt with my friend Margot years ago. One morning we awoke inexplicably bored with the quiet streets of Bordeaux, and decided there was nothing to do but jump on a train and head south. We didn’t make it to Barcelona (or even Madrid) and instead spent a weekend exploring a small town near San Sebastian in Northern Spain.

San Sebastian

We arrived late in the night, hungry for food and conversation. We dropped our bags off at a hostel, and then happened upon a small restaurant that had stayed open late so that the owners could watch a game of futbol. With a clumsily constructed mishmash of French, Spanish, and English, we made friends with the owners and watched soccer and laughed and drank sangria, then ran to the ocean and jumped into its warm waters (just to say that we did) before returning to our rooms to fall into bed happy and exhausted, dreaming of what the next day might bring two bright-eyed, happy-hearted friends.

No, I’ve never been to Barcelona and can rely only on my imagination (and stories from my sister) to piece together a description of a city that I imagine is old and young and full of romance and stories.

La Boqueria in Barcelona

In my imagination, Barcelona is full of artists and poets and people with curious hearts that are eager to learn.

In my imagination, Barcelona’s streets are charmingly crowded with buildings close together. Lace curtains trail out of the windows, and plants grow in pots on rooftop gardens.

In my imagination, you go to Barcelona to fall in love and dance with strangers and make new friends that you recognize immediately as kindred spirits but may never see again.

In my imagination, once you go to Barcelona, you never want to come home again, but when you do return, you’re left wondering if that magical city was just a daydreamed fancy.

One of these days I will go and find out for myself if what I imagine Barcelona to be is near to the reality of the city.


But until then, I will continue to dream the city up in my mind, all bright and beautiful.

Vasanthi

I stumbled upon beautiful things this morning...

The Danish company Vasanthi specializes in lighting. According to their websight, much of their inspiration comes from the color and light at festivals in Thailand and Sri Lanka.

I love how something as simple as a clothes rack is made beautiful by their lights.

This bassonette becomes whimsical and perfectly suited for a baby girl when you add these beautiful peach and pink lights.

You can so clearly see how their adventures in the East have come through in their creative designs shown in these pictures (all from their website). 

The result is magical and romantic and whimsical and simply perfect.