Where Do I Go From Here?

What do I put my hope in? Where do I invest my time? Where do I place my value? Recently I'm thinking I may have gotten these BIG questions wrong. I was doing it wrong. I put a lot of hope in a system, which God is taking from me. I've put a lot of time into that same system and the people there, and now God is moving me out of it. And I have received my value from the people in this system.


But some truth:
My hope is in Christ. And Christ alone. He is my strength and shield, my protector, my provider, and my best friend. The days that I'm not running after Him, I'm chasing nothing. And it took being a Christian for almost 9 years for me to get this as much as I do now, which may only be the tip of another iceberg.

How does one invest more time with Jesus other than in the word? yea. I'm still figuring that one out. But of all these questions, that's the only one I feel I have been doing better in for a while now.

My value is determined by Christ. By God. Not by what others say or think or how they react or act towards me... but out of all of these big questions, this one is the hardest to get over.

Is Home Really Where My Rump Rests?

This year has been an odd year, and due to the intense situations ebbing and flowing through my senior year I have been disinclined to truly enjoy where I am. So it was a great surprise to me when, for the first time in 7 months, I actually started enjoying my desert. My spring break was actually full of fun little surprises like that.

It hit me while I was taking the 60 home. I remembered a Dutch phrase I learned last January. Translated, it's something like "if the sun sets red, tomorrow will be a good day". Haha... well, that's not so hard for Phoenix. With a climate not allowing for many clouds or moisture, our sunrises and sunsets have more colors in a single day than most people ever see. So I guess that means a very high percentage of days should have good "tomorrow"s.

While I glided along the silent freeway going somewhere around 70mph with the windows down, the cool desert spring air hit with a slight wet scent which probably meant that somewhere a sprinkler had broken. The mountains shone red in front of me and I heavily considered continuing until I ran out of gas, which in my little car could have been well into the night. And suddenly it hit me. I'm not going to live here. I know, I don't really live in Gilbert anymore as is, but after August I really won't live there. I don't even know exactly when I'd be coming back. A few months? A year? more? I don't want to stay. I'm not wishing I could be in Gilbert or Tucson instead, it just seems so odd to think that my parents house will never be my home anymore. Even though I haven't spent more than 3 consecutive weeks at home in the past 4 years I've always referred to it as my home. It's the place where I send my phone and credit bills, it's the place where I run to when I get tired of real life. But after August I can't just go back to my childhood sanctuary.

I guess Christ will just have to get that much bigger for me.

Better than "good"

So my application for a long term trip to England is due soon. Yes. I made my final decision, for all those who I haven't told yet I am going back to the UK, preferably back to Leicester, for EDGE (actually, its called Connect, but thats not all that important). And my application is supposed to be in ASAP.
So today I looked at all my deadline dates, my potential interview dates, and training dates and suddenly I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. I am leaving. This is it. This is my final year in America, and though I don't doubt that I will come back I don't know if it will be for an extended time, or just for vacations, or what. And I know I don't feel as comfortable here as I do abroad, but I still feel a sense of loss.
This is the country I have called my home for, well by the time I leave, 22 years and now God is calling me on something completely different, into an unknown that I don't really understand at all. And I am completely trusting Him that I won't fall into shambles the second I step off the plane at Heathrow...again. What if I get there and that same overwhelming dread that I had last time resurfaces? What if I am completely alone again? What if I never have the happy ending I always dream of? What if what I already had and dismissed is as good as life gets?
I know that God has the best for me planned, but I have spend so few years knowing of "happy endings" and so many years experiencing painful and dreadful things... often I often wonder if I'm going... nowhere.
And so here I sit, wondering if it wouldn't just be best to stay in America, get a practical job, do the marriage and the babies thing here. The whole "white picket fence" idea. In my heart I keep hearing how "safe" that would be. How happy it would make my parents and family. How conclusive. How predictable.
People have told me throughout my childhood and adulthood thus far that I'm not the girl who leads the "normal" life. That something spectacular will happen with me or for me or from me... something like that. I don't really think that I agree with this position. I mean, honestly, my greatest joy in life would be to sit with a man who loves God and loves me, reading a great book on a warm day in a big grassy field. That is all I really want out of life...my silly little dream. And still, for a person who wants so little, it seems odd that huge things should continually roll through my life. But maybe that is how God works, He gives us more than we could ever dream of... more than my field and book. Maybe my constant thought of "this is as good as it gets" should change. I don't know what it should change to, but I guess that is part of the journey as well.

Nessy v. Frost... Summary: Robert Kicks Butt

My European excursion changed me. Yes. But I think the decisions I made upon my return of my how I was going to change my old ways, though some have subsided into... reality, has stayed constant.

In my last two months in Europe I had a revelation. An uncomfortable revelation. A revelation that I had to do something about. I could have easily ignored it, it is one of those things that sleeps deep beneath the surface and so rarely resurfaces that one can count it as unreleased stress of something else when it does come out. But because it is one of those things that I rarely ponder, yet it has a strong and unrelenting hold in my life, I decided it was time to pull the monster up, slap him around and evict him from his previous residence. I will not be daunted by some scary memory. Or at least that is what I thought.

So I came home, sad about leaving, but excited for my approaching victory, and set about finding a way to begin processing. And my search was concluded with my brand new mentor. I couldn't have asked for anyone better. We eased into each other's crazy and quirky personalities and all was going great... last week she suddenly reminded me what I had asked of her on our first meeting. To help me work though my monster. Crap. So we settled on a book to work through and a regular meeting time. Done and Done. And step 1: not so bad.

That was 5 weeks ago.

This week we met, she told me how to get the book, one of the girls I regularly meet with had a copy, and when I accidentally ran into her on the way home she was able to give it to me. And as soon as she handed it over... there it was. My monster. Staring me straight in the face.

I saw the cover: harmless. It wasn't until I glanced at the back. That sentence. The one sentence summary that so bluntly described my life. My deeply hidden monster. And he stared back at me... smiling.

When I got back to my room I put the book on back of my desk. Face up. It took most of my self-control not to hide it in one of my drawers. But my real test came when I was packing my backpack for the day... putting everything I would need for the day in that bag. And hence was my dilemma: Would I need my dreaded book for the day, or better yet, ever? I could leave it there, lying on a pile of books, or I could take it with me, and even if I didn't find time to read it between classes, exams, and social engagements, I would have intent. I would have a goal. I would venture in to the unknown depths of which my monster lived and reclaim the space which he had so long consumed.

And so I chose the later.

I haven't read it yet. Heck, I haven't even opened it. But I brought the book with me. I took my second step to kicking the crap out of that damn monster.

In the end it makes me think of Robert Frost...

...I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Loving Where I'm At

I've been yearning to write something for a while, but had no clue what to put down. And while watching a film I just purchased it came to me. One of the lessons I am currently struggling to learn and appreciate.

I am 21. I am a Christian. I cannot pretend to be more mature that I am. I cannot react with more maturity than I have. I can only live and make decisions with the information and ability I have at hand.

I think Americans are forced into maturing at a younger age than people in other countries. Or at least that is how it seems in all the countries I have lived in thus far. And this is probably why we all look so old in comparison to the rest of the world. As a Christian, and due to some of my past experiences, I feel maturity was thrust upon me at an age that I could not cope with it yet and so... I rebelled. If there is one thing I am good at in this life, it is rebelling.

So now I am trying not to pretend. I want to live life being who I am right now. That doesn't mean I stop growing. That doesn't mean I make stupid decisions. Actually, I don't really know what it means. But what I think it means is that I forgive myself when I am stupid, that I congratulate myself when I succeed, and that I enjoy growth as it comes.

I mean, honestly, if we were meant to know at 19 what we know by the time we are 60 then we wouldn't have to wait till we were 60 to know... whatever it is that I don't know yet.

:-)

Back to Life, Back to Reality...

Getting back into the swing of life in America is quite an adjustment. And I think the largest adjustment is learning how to live here being who I am now. Eight months abroad changed me drastically, and I feel as if the lessons God is teaching me now are a mere consequence of the fact that growth has occurred so much in my life recently.

The woman I am now is so incredibly different from the one that left Tucson. It isn't simply a change of mind, or mindset that has taken place. I think differently. I react differently. I am... different. I am tidy (That one is just weird to cope with), I am a mac user (that was a consequence of my team and friends in Holland), I like to work out, I don't enjoy driving, I love reading. I am not ashamed of who I am. I am not as ashamed of how I look. I forgive faster. I don't find fault with people as quickly or as often, and when I do I try to forget about it or ask forgiveness for it. And I think the largest adjustment is my honesty. I am far more open with people, and I am a woman who is never open. Trust, with me, is just something that people rarely get, or perhaps I should say "got". Since I have returned I am a new and more honest person. Perhaps most people would still call me emotionally reserved, but my transition from never being open to being just average is a long and painful journey, for me.

Living as this new person in an old environment is odd. But I wouldn't say all this change occurred in England. My alterations have been a continual process since the day I got on the plane to Heathrow from Sky Harbor. Slow... sometimes painful (most times, actually)... and challengingly uncomfortable.

A Note Regarding Stress:

I am not a stressful person. Well... correction: I do not act like a stressful person. I have it stuck in my head that my stress causes other people stress, which is completely true, but somehow that translates to me how I cannot be stressed because I do not want to cause stress to those around me. And though it would be lovely not to ever cause anyone else's life to be more stressful than necessary, I believe I possess an unhealthy level of not wanting to inconvenience people. This idea in my life surfaces on many different levels, but it has recently become more unhealthy than normal and has brought my life to a crashing low.

I am probably not very stressful by nature. I don't mind things being out of order, or a bit untidy. Being a few minutes late doesn't bother me too much, and I really am pretty casual about most things in life. But, I find that I can freak myself out over little things that really wouldn't ever bother anyone else.

I have made a vow never to bother anyone else if at all possible. And finally, it is coming back to haunt me.

I like people to ask me to do things. Sometimes I can be unobservant and don't realize what can be done, but if someone asks then I can help. If they don't ask, I might not help. So why can I not ask someone else for help?

It is a mindset that needs changing...

Coming and Going

Maybe it is the point in life that I am at, but I always feel that I am leaving. I suppose I am coming as well, but since that part isn't as difficult to deal with I focus on it less. Perhaps it comes from moving around so often, perhaps it would be the same even if I stayed in one place, but I always seem to be leaving something, someone, somewhere...

I leave my parents and EVBC-ers in Gilbert, I leave my bible study girls and the many of my close friends in Tucson, I left my Argentine friends in Argentina, and soon I'll leave my English and Dutch friends to go back to America. I am always leaving.

I'm not trying to focus on the unhappy aspects of life, not in the least, but I am beginning to wonder if I am leading a normal life. Or if I want to lead a normal life at all. I recently spoke to a very wise man who told me to "be confident in my life's calling". I know exactly what he means, and I think that part scares me the most.

I don't think that I lead a normal life. Normal people don't really travel the world, meeting new people and going on random adventures with them. Normal people care about what they are eating, where they are sleeping, where they are going. I care about those things, but at the same time, I don't as well. Perhaps I'm not "normal". Normal people don't choose to study something difficult just for fun, or major in two totally different things just on a whim. Normal people question why, and I do, but I don't as well. Maybe I'm really not normal. And as I begin to ponder the average life, two kids, big house, white fence, dog, it makes me think... who the heck wants normal anyways? When did "average" become good? I don't think that "normal" is meant for me.

Sometimes I wish it was though. How nice would it be to know that you fit in with the crowd?

Age v. Maturity

Conferences are funny things. You go to them, meet great people, hear good things and before you know it you are on your way back home and you think to yourself, "wow, that went by fast. It feels like I just got here". Or, that's how I always seem to relate to conferences.

I just got back from a Dutch Christian Leadership conference yesterday (not that I am Dutch, nor a leader, but that is not the point). And as I have moved from country to country within Europe and this is my second christian conference this summer (neither of which was American based) I am finding them more and more interesting. For me, the most influential and important part of the week is the people I meet and grow deeper with and the conversations that I have; perhaps it is my age group or my personality type, but these most interesting conversations always seem to happen at night. A few nights ago there was a campfire (yes, most good conversations seem to include a campfire) and many of the students were gathered around it. So I, being the sociable person that I am, was there as well. As I wandered from friend to friend around the fire I struck up a conversation with a girl I hadn't met yet; her words are the ones that caught me the most. To be honest I can't remember her name, even if I did I probably couldn't spell it (her name being Dutch and all) but she opened up and shared her heart with me. She mentioned how her life had seemingly fallen apart in recent years due to family issues and how she felt a responsibility to pull her life back together. After hearing her past and how God was challenging her to step into it to repair herself from it I was touched. Just a few nights before one of the conference leaders had visions of people who might need prayer, she had been one of those people. And in the midst of conversation I realized that God knew that if He had given someone a vision to pray over me I probably would have just run away, but this girl, this conversation which pointed so directly into my life, I could not run away from.

She talked about how she knew now that she needed to seek out a councilor to help her deal with these issues. She and I are the same age and so I asked her if she felt that she was too young to have to deal with this stuff yet, especially from a professional therapist type person. She said she felt that, but knew that if he didn't deal now it would only get worse for later. And that is when it hit me. No matter how old I am there are certain responsibilities I will have to take. I will not be defined by the poor circumstances of my past. I have reached an unfortunate age where I no longer feel I can place responsibility of my poor decisions on someone else, so I will not let someone else's poor choices determine who I am.

yea... growth.