My First Christmas

This is my first Christmas in many ways: it's my first Christmas away from home, it's my first Christmas away from my parents, and in many respects it's the first Christmas I forgot to celebrate. Maybe because of all those previous firsts it's hard to remember how to celebrate. So here I sit in my brother and sister-in-laws home after dutifully taking my meds for another cold, sipping hot water and honey and watching the winter sun lighten patches of ancient Japanese forests. You may think the description "winter sun" too poetic, but really it's the only way to describe the greyish glow that only winter suns have. It brings with it a warmth all it's own and when it touches snow-dusted forests on mountains you have to crane your neck to see the tops of, that's a Christmas joy in and of itself.  I miss my family, and I miss my church. I miss the excitement in the air and wondering about the Christmas wish about to come true just as soon as you rip open that wrapping, but I'm beginning to treasure this time of missing, this uncluttering. 
So, while there are no stockings hung with care, or sugar cookies with the amount of frosting only holiday stomachs can endure, I'm still celebrating. It's not traditional or even familiar and I am still boycotting the song, "I'll be home for Christmas" for tearful reasons, but it's uncluttered. Just me, a mug, a foreign country, and a winter sun. Sometimes being devoid of holiday traditions is the only way to remember why you celebrate in the first place. Sound cliche? Not while I'm staring at this view.

Psalms of Remembrance

Inspired by my friend Carrie, I began to wonder what it would be like to write a Psalm of remembrance. If you think about it the main themes found in Psalms are all about the importance of remembering; remembering who God is, who you are, and what He has done. Here's a teaspoon taste of God's faithfulness to me, and my need for remembrance.


Remember to praise God
For His steadfast love endures forever!
Though an enemy, filthy and vile
You were adopted and grafted in
Never to be alone, without identity or love.


His steadfast love endures forever!


Through dry spiritual moments 
And childhood spills you were held.
When the future seemed uncertain 
And the next meal's source a mystery
You were sustained.


His steadfast love endures forever!


Through naive choices 
And blurry career paths you were led.
On roads winding through Kenya,
Amsterdam, and Romania you were guided.


His steadfast love endures forever!


When loneliness and doubts
Stripped you of purpose and identity,
and when singleness seemed an unwanted weight
You were treasured. You were pursued.


His steadfast love endures forever!


When darkness and disappointment
Turned your spiritual limbs to led
And your heart to a stone
You were watched over.
When the wind seemed to rip at you
And your boat about to sink,
You were never in danger.


His steadfast love endures forever!


When the sun began to shine again
And beauty seeped in once more
You were smiled upon.
Though the ups and downs 
Of life and healing continued,
You were steadied.


His steadfast love endures forever!


Through preparations and overseas flights
You were safe and you were assured.
While sickness and challenges seemed to overwhelm
And your manna for the day insufficient
It's never more than what's meant to be.


His steadfast love endures forever!


May forgiveness be given for the doubts we allow
Even in the face of all this.
Through every trial and every challenge,
Through all the smiles and tear stained laughter He is present.
Praise God, our Abba and patient Teacher.
For no matter the state of the road we are journeying on
His love has and will endure forever!

Giving Up Too Quickly

"God Knows." These two words seemed to be freakishly programmed to placate any misgivings or worrisome events that presented themselves to me today. Don't get me wrong. God does know, but I realized how easily I stop there. What if those hard times when cultural norms pull out the proverbial rug from underneath you, or the even harder instances when you watch loved ones go through hard times that tears at your heart, what if those times were suppose to be a jumping point for an actual conversation? "God knows...please show me." "God knows...but I still don't understand." "God knows...please take away the pain." God does know, and there are those times to realize the mystery and power of a Creator who knows all and you don't, but there are also those times when not knowing is His way of opening up that continual conversation a bit more. Maybe it will end with a not-knowing scenario. Maybe by the end of the conversation you will know what God knows. Maybe sometimes it will simply end in knowing Him better. Kinda makes you want to not give up so quickly doesn't it?

I Have A Question

Do I really feel called? It may surprise some of you to know I do not feel called to Japan. In fact, I lived a majority of my life without a calling. Throughout college I struggled as I watched my fellow classmates fulfill their lifelong dream, their "calling" if you will, one class at a time. I was taking one class at a time alright, but I didn't know what for. You may even think my sudden switch in majors was a sign that my calling had been made known. Not exactly. To be honest I can't even remember what sparked my switch in potential careers. A couple of discussions, one meeting with a professor, and a potential trip overseas and I was signing papers stating my intention was to study Intercultural Studies. No calling, no passionate cries or sudden epiphanies. Even throughout my classes I felt guilty that I  didn't have the same "I heard about these people who've never heard the gospel so I'm going to tell them" kind of experience. I enjoyed studying other cultures, I felt peace in switching, but I felt like a fraud. Every textbook and case study was one more reminder that I was lacking in the purpose department. I had no people group, no special cause, no country that my heart broke for or that even began to align with this non descript heart God had given me. 

I am ashamed to say, the closer graduation came, the more I prayed for a husband who would have a calling on his life and thereby spare me the shame and embarrassment of graduating without one. Cap and gown were donned, pictures were taken, and no such missionary knight arrived. So, I started looking back on my life trying to find those fire moments; the times my heart came alive, my gifts were poured out, and God's smile that He reserves for moments when we finally get the idea were most visible. 

I realized then the startling truth that my calling was for those called. I wanted to minister to those ministering. Almost sounds like a cop out I know, but let me explain. During those formative final years of college I went on the ICS trip required for my major (you know, the one that made switching my major so attractive). So, on to my first international flight I embarked with14-15 other team members. 3 countries later I realized my reactions where not what I thought they would be. While the sufferings, joys, smiles, and struggles of Africans, Romanians, and Dutch reached my heart and will forever be in my mind, I couldn't take my eyes off of my team and those we met ministering in each country. 

This became especially clear to me as we walked down red-lighted streets in Amsterdam and learned all the statistics and facts associated with the ministries there as well as what daily life looked like for those ministering. One particular evening as we sat listening to stories and struggles of Shelter workers, I saw one of my teammates walk over to the window and sit staring across the channels of water at the red-lighted windows watching as old and young men lined up for their chance to go in and close the red curtain behind them. After awhile someone asked her if she was alright? Did she want to come back and sit down? She simply replied, "I just want to be sure she's alright." She couldn't do anything for those girls in the window, but her heart was so heavy for them she just wanted to be sure they were alright. 

That's always stayed with me not only because of my friend's heart for those suffering, but because that was the burden I felt for the other side who were in ministry. They were there to watch and make sure those girls were ok, to do everything they could to help them. But as I looked around I realized there was no one there doing the same for the workers. I began to really look into their faces and while I saw God sustaining faith and purpose, I also saw dark circles and lines. How long would they last? 1 year? Maybe 5? 

Years later this all came back to me as my purpose. There I was post college, husbandless I might remind you, with no idea what I was trained for let alone passionate about. Oh, how I wish it all came to me as a miraculous moment. I'd like to picture myself under some large oak with a sundress on simply dozing with my ESV Bible in my lap when suddenly God's voice booms telling me the specifics for my calling in life. Up I would spring, and with tears of joy streaming down my face I would run home eager to begin my preparations for my divine purpose. Ha ha. No such luck. One minimum wage job and two office positions later I found myself looking back at my life with a goofy realization of what was obvious; my passions, my gifts, and my life experiences pointed to ministering to Missionaries.

It would take more schooling, research, and Lord help us all paying off more loans than humanly possible. Now, here I am in Japan with a good job, friends surrounding me, and an amazing support base at home all of which I truly do not deserve. Here's my point, (the word"finally" is probably running across your mind)  I am a naive, pompous, shamefully self-entitled follower of Christ. Today I began listening to an audio book which I had forgotten I even had. For months leading up to this Japan adventure I began wondering how I could live my life passionately. So, I began the book "Sun Stand Still" by Steven Furtick. Keep in mind, it's been months since I've listened to this and had stopped listening mid page. The very first words I hear today are about having a God-sized vision and purpose without an entitled mindset of comfort; to realize the sacrifice already given and to let that be the standard set for your sacrifice. Makes my pains, sniffles, and allergic reactions a little less of a deal breaker for this calling. While I'm not called to Japan specifically, I know God wants me here: to learn, to minister, to cry, to struggle, to pay off some loans, and probably a lot more I don't even realize yet.

Earlier Today

I'm sitting in Starbucks sipping my Christmas themed cup of holiday cheer listening to an eclectic mix of Christmas music. I shouldn't be surprised. Christmas is only 2 months away. I look forward to the newness of spending a holiday in a place with different traditions, but I dread the pain; pain of homesickness, pain of causing my parents to spend the holidays alone.

I know I haven't written in awhile. It's not that I've been slacking on processing the feelings and culture shocks. It's been busy with Halloween parties, children with sniffles, and daily pushing myself to do more on my own. I don't get many opportunities to sit and think. Usually I'm reminding kids to speak in English, not push their classmate, or use proper English structure (most of them still leave key words out of sentences like, "Lydia. Yuki, hit...ow...here"). Let's face it, I also use escape as an excuse to not process. For the past year I learned how to answer my friend's and roommate's question of, "Heart Check, how are you?" Now I have to learn to ask and answer my own question. I'm failing pretty badly right now. I usually don't know something is wrong until my body tells me in random tears or an upset stomach. Part of the learning process I guess. We'll see how it goes once I move into an apartment by myself this month.

I'm also realizing more and more how to have eyes connected to a broken heart. Eyes on their own will see a train of people nodding their heads in time with the jostling tracks or spacing out as they listen to their music and see only fellow commuters with no backstories who are easily glazed over. Eyes connected with a broken heart will see and feel; feel loneliness, feel curiosity, and feel some sadness. Those eyes and heart will also being interested in the person, not just the statistic. But how does one invest in a long-term culture with a short-term future in front of them? Ah, the age old Lydia question. I don't know, but I have begun to realize how much I rely on those before me. I heard once about the analogy of a seed in reference to the Christin witness: one person may plant a seed, the next water, the next cultivate, but there is no guarantee that they will see the outcomes of their work. I don't know where I am in the planting process with people, but chances are I am 2nd or 3rd in the work line. How's that for processing for you? 

My Lists

The ups and downs continue. In my mind is the unofficial list of victories and frustrations that make up my day. As each event passes I mentally shelve it where it belongs; Shopping for butter on my own, victory. Trying to refill a train pass, frustration. Mingling with more than just those with the last name Dugan (who have been more of a blessing than I think I can comprehend right now), victory. Spending 750 yen on train fares only to find the school is closed, good surprise but still frustrating. One doesn't particularly fill a hole that the other cannot. Each one makes up my day and I wouldn't trade them for anything.


But it's on days like today when the house is quiet, the rain is falling on leaves I still can't name, that I begin to want the release that certain emotions can bring. Not the kind that you can explain away by something you ate or because you need chocolate, but the real release of something bottled up and the comfort that comes not only with the expression of it, but the support of someone who sees it. Moments like this, silent house and rain drop moments, reminds me of the blessing of what was left behind; the blessing of people who know you so well that if you stepped outside your door with a certain look on your face you know the question would come, "Are you ok?" The real blessing comes from those who keep digging even after the initial, "I'm fine" escapes your lips. Sometimes, that's the only way certain emotions can find release, when someone asks you for it. I still wouldn't trade this time for anything, but man do I miss that release.

Can I Get Off Here Please?

Today was crazy. I knew it would be. When your boss calls the evening before with news that a coworker can't make it to work so could you please cover his after school class, you know it's going to be a long one. That compiled with a regular work day plus an unexpected tamper tantrum (not from me though sorely I was tempted), and the continual running around of official foreigner paperwork has got me beat. So much so that as I passed by my usual home station on my way back for Duchool seconds I contemplated jumping off the train, running up my little mountain, slamming the door, and simply hiding. My job isn't bad at all. In fact I'm reminded of how much of a blessing it is rather than a burden. Today I'm just done. 

Now, my logical side has kicked in as my throat tries to release what little emotions I let enter my consciousness. Everyone goes trough days like this. there's a song about it for goodness sakes. Except I can't remember if my mama said it or not. Whether I struggle or not the sun will continue it's course, the children will hopefully learn something from their frazzled teacher. I will eventually get off at my station, climb my little mountain, and close the door. I'm just trying to decided whether to allow myself to bring more emotions into the light before that or not. I'm thinking no. Besides, God has been gracious to remind me of what He can do and how much in control He is...which is totally. I'm just tired from being a crazy person telling my own hand not to grab hold of the reigns again. You know the characters you see on movies who look like one of their hands is posessed as they try to keep it from doing what they don't want it to do? That's me, and I'm tuckered.

Wondering About Others

Today I began to wonder what others thought of me. Picture the only foreigner on a train platform in a rural part of Osaka. Now picture the morning rush of suited up workmen and uniformed youth commuting to the local train hub. Even if there wasn't the obvious physical differences you would know I'm the only foreigner due to the "tourist" look; slightly agape mouth, wide eyes, and a posture that practically screams naiveté. Today I wondered what they thought of my observation. As I stand there waiting for my 7:20 train I look at everything. I stare at bamboo forests, I follow the pigeons gathering their nesting materials, I even stare at gardens. That's right, I watch grass grow cause it's all so new. 

To my fellow commuter they know their surroundings. I don't. I don't know how the next gust of wind will affect the bamboo trees, I've never seen a pigeon nest in anything other an an elm or window ledge, and some of these plants would keep my head in a botany book for weeks. So, here I am, month number two around the bend. I wonder if those used to their surroundings will ever get used to my awe, cause I don't think it's going anywhere anytime soon. I'm stuck with this "tourist" look for now. 

Burning Rice

Today I walked to work with the smell of burning rice patties clinging to my clothing. Later, I walked off the train with the same smell clinging to the air. The smell is important to me because it is part of my new world. After all the rice is reaped than the rice fields are burned. Very Biblical with chaff and all that. This momenteous time for those who have worked hard to cultivate and harvest is now here. It's new to me and important to them. Of course that is much of what makes up my days now. Lots of new things for me are important stages that are lived out every season for those around me. My mission is to learn. So much to learn; traditions, cultural norms, words, sentences, seasons, and what's important to everyone else. 

As of right now, I know I'm not called to this kind of life long-term...the living in a different culture than your own kind of life I mean. We'll revisit that later this year so stay tuned. Because of that, I'm not struggling right now as so many do. Those who are here, and know that next year will simply be a cultural 2 year old experiencing new things and missing the old, they are the ones who struggle. I'm getting a glimpse of what those called to the long-term lives with. It's not all struggles. So many victories come in to lift you up for awhile; using your new found language skills to communicate an entire conversation, shopping for and cooking an entire meal by yourself, being able to maneuver streets that were once unfamiliar. These victories begin to make up your life until suddenly, you're that person. The one you marveled at when you first came here. The one you wish you could be like. The one who adapted until finally this was your home and the other place was somewhere you visited.

That's how I think it goes anyway. Like I said, that's not me, not right now. In a year or so I will be going back to the random food runs, familiar streets, and original language that I am simply getting by without now. When I come back I'll probably be that annoying person. You know, the one who always mentions how it was in the country they visited. The person who says, "oh you like ramen? Well, let me tell you my experience at this little ramen shop..." Don't worry, I'll restrain myself, but you'll have to excuse a couple of side comments or random Japanese sayings.

So, in all how am I doing? Man, does that question ever seem self- centered. Hopefully, you'll forgive my monologue since you are reading a blog and that's how these things work. I'm suspiciously fine. I say suspicious because I've been trained too thoroughly as an Intercultural Studies Major to think that I'm over the hardest part and it's all downhill from here. I can now wake up in the mornings with the first thought being, "ok, here we go. kids waiting to be taught, Japanese people to meet, and a language to learn" rather than, "I have to do this for a year?!" That's an improvement wouldn't you say? 

It's still hard though. I can still talk with those I miss. Important Skype dates have been made and kept and each time I remember what I left behind. Job well done Coley. It's those random times I miss. You know the times you randomly think of someone and can call them or drop by? That's what I miss. I can email and Facebook, but my home world is asleep when I think of them. Not to turn this into an, "I miss" paragraph, but I also miss random food runs. You know those times you don't want to cook or just want to grab something on your way to work...yeah, they don't do that here. All that to say, if that's the worse thing I go through than hallelujah, but I'm still a little suspicious. 

Culture Shock

I'm experiencing my first culture shock. I'm hoping this is the worst it gets, but it probably isn't. Yesterday was a great day of learning, walking, sunsets, and little kids. Last night, during my weakest jet-lagged moment, I committed my first cultural boo boo. While standing in the door way of the family room trying to figure out culturally how I might excuse myself so I could sleep, I was prompted to sit down. When the lady of the house moved to get me a chair I was told that culturally I must accept, which I did. Then I learned all the ins and outs of accepted acts of service. Since I was in their home than the correct response would be proficient apologies that I had inconvenienced her. If it wasn't in their house and she had made a move to get me something than I must insist on doing it myself. Lots to remember? Oh, I'm not done.


There's also the high context communication style to take into consideration. High context means that the atmosphere, style, and mode the message is given in is more important than the message itself. Because of this there is more reading between the lines in communication. Here's how I learned: while sitting with the family and friends in the tv room which has the traditional bamboo mat flooring, I began rocking back and forth on a small floor chair ( a chair with no legs on it). Out of the corner of my eye I see the lady of the house hop up and then all eyes turn to me. I must have done something wrong so I waited for a further clue as to what I should do next. In comes the lady of the house with a blanket saying something about me being tired and maybe needing one. Mike then explained what she really meant; that I shouldn't rock back and forth because it might damage the bamboo. How the two come together I have no idea! It might have been a look, a slight lilt in her voice, or just a constant awareness of what the other person might mean. 


Maybe someday I'll figure out what to look for to figure out what someone is actually saying. For right now it's thrown me deeper into culture shock. How do I know it's culture shock? Because I don't want to interact with anyone or leave my room for fear of offending unawares! This is the stage where I feel I must be totally on my guard, every set back is devastating, and running home sounds like a good alternative. It's intimidating to forget the past years of trying to not over analyze conversations and now to realize that that's how this culture works. Everything means something, sometimes completely different than you think it is. 


The mountains are still beautiful, the people are still so welcoming, but today I don't feel ready to be thrown into more new things and uncertainty. What do you do when you're love language is the thing affected by change? How do you adapt something like that?


The Lord did give me comfort after writing all this. After listening to some songs I had put together for other friends of mine going through tough times, I cried and tried to figure out how I'm suppose to do this alone. I have to say Shane and Shane not only takes me back to ICS trip times, but it also reminds me that I'm not here to navigate this culture perfectly. I'm here to learn, yes but more importantly I'm here to glorify God. When I start to focus on the how before the why I begin to become overwhelmed with the unkowns, mistakes, and general freaking out that can happen from navigating another culture. Focus on Jesus' face first and my relationship with Him. The next water walking step will come.

Faith on a Train Platform

It's 5am here. Yup. jet lag is kicking in. It hasn't been too bad. The first time I encountered good ol' Mr. Jet Lag was a couple of nights ago. Asleep by 11pm and awake by 3am did not a stable Lydia make. Thankfully that was on Sunday so not a lot of responsibilities laid on my sleep-deprived shoulders. The following day wasn't bad at all; asleep by 7:30pm and awake by 6:30am. Today we are back to awake by 4:30 am. I try to fight it until to do lists start forming in my head and then I know the battle is lost. Besides, I haven't had time to process a lot the past few days so why not do it while the house is still asleep?


I'm now at the Dugan's senior. It's been such a blessing to stay with mike and Carrie during my first few days here. They've helped me learn, navigate the train system (which still intimidates me), and helped me to generally not freak out. Now I'll be staying at the elder Dugans for about a month as a start work, save up for an apartment, and generally try not to freak out.


I have yet to have an all out, "What am I doing here, this is a mistake!" freak out moment. That's been a huge blessing. I do have to say the assurance I felt so keenly before buckling that seatbelt and taking off to the unknown is a little farther from the surface than it use to be. I have to dig a little bit more where I use to be able to recall instantly. Since I got here it's been a constant roller coaster ride between, "Can I do this?" and "I can do this!" For example when I step onto a train platform, look at the unknown Japanese writings, and wonder if I'll one day get lost in the never-ending maze of train cars and streets with no names...that's a "Can I do this?" moment. When I step into my classroom and hear all the children say, "Hello, how are you?" in their wonderful accents as they run up with smiles on their faces...that's a "I can do this!" moment.


So, my question is, when does this roller coaster level off, and how do I hold on until then? Not to be a Sunday school child of 4 years, but Jesus and prayer are the biggest things I have to remind myself of minutely (as in the time not the measurement). In James, it reminds us to ask God for wisdom when we are lacking it (when are we not is my question), and to ask with doubtless faith. In fact, the opposite approach has some pretty strong consequences; that person is foundationless, not able to receive whatever it is he asks for in this instance wisdom), and becomes double-minded. Yeah, that faith approach looks like the better option. I start to wonder what doubts might arise when asking God. Is it all doubts or is James referencing a certain kind of doubt? It could be all doubts. I'm no scholar so I don't know, but earlier when talking about asking God for wisdom he characterizes God as a giver without reproach. Makes me wonder if he's not specifically thinking of the doubt that arises from a finite, messed up person asking an all-knowing, righteous God for something. That realization, while good also leafs to doubts of whether we can go to God wearing our everyday cloths instead of trying to clean ourselves up and put a little concealer on at least before going to Him. Those doubts could keep you stuck for a pretty long time. Of course, any doubt that arises when asking God, who may I remind you told us to ask Him, directly relates to how truthful we think God is about Himself. Is it normal to be concerned and worry when your fridge is empty and a paycheck is not in your future? Golly Bob, yes it is! Did we give up any rights to react list a "normal person" in situations of uncertainty? Heck yes we did!


Right now these are just words. Within a few hours I'll be putting them into practice as I step onto that train platform, figure out dollar to yen conversion, and struggle through the general freaking out times. I'll let you know how my practice goes if you tell me yours.

Airport Faith

Aussie's have walk abouts. Native Americans have spiritual journeys. I, I have airports. Once you're there it's not a problem, but everything in between is a test of faith from correct baggage handling, to e-tickets, to tight flight schedule. Oddly enough I had the opportunity for an earlier flight, but I didn't take it. part of the reason for this move is that it puts me in a situations where I can't help but trust in Him. What better way to build up my faith muscle than a 54 minute layover to catch an international flight in an airport (I made it by the grace of God)?


I also said my final goodbye, besides the goodbye I said to the flight attendant as I disembarked, but I don't that counts. My parents and I have had a few days together which has given me the opportunity to say a slow and steady goodbye. It culminated in a quick and final goodbye as I hoisted my carefully packed and weighed luggage from their car and headed into the organized chaos of the Atlanta airport. I can't believe I'm doing this. A few days ago my friend said, "You're so brave. I wouldn't be able to do what you're doing." Funny, cause I was that girl saying the exact same thing about a year ago. The only difference now is that God has lead so clearly that I can't NOT go. I know, double negative, but it's still true.


"Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen." Hebrews 13:20-21


When you've been handed the tools, positioned in front of a plot of land and given the assurance that you're not alone in this daunting project, it would seem pretty silly to just stand there. You may have all sorts of misgivings, fears, and feelings of inadequacy, but it would still be silly to just stand there if you've been given everything to succeed.

My Least Favorite

Have you ever made someone cry? Well, now I can say I have. This is officially my least favorite part of the journey. You know how I wrote earlier about being let go? I'm forcing someone to let me go, and believe me there are repercussions. Don't get me wrong. I still believe this is where God is leading me, but is it ever hard to walk this part journey. Today is my last day here. I have one more performance to go (I'm stage managing a play), one more night in Minnesota, and then it's off on a two day road trip to Georgia before departing for the literal unknown. I have yet to freak out or even shed more than a few tears. It's not that I'm totally cool and collected. On the contrary, there are many times I hear my voice talking to someone and I think, "Huh, that voice sounds very calm. I wonder who's talking...oh wait! It's me!" It's also not that I don't have tears to shed. I'm leaving my home and friends who have become family for goodness sake! It's just that with the play and the packing my head isn't there. More like my emotions aren't there. I'm still thinking of light cues and actors when others are saying goodbye. My mind still registers this hurts, this is goodbye, this person means a lot to me. I'm sure the tears will come. I begin to worry about when. Will it be when I get my complimentary peanuts? Will it be at baggage claim? Will it be when an unsuspecting stranger across from me asks if I'm going for business or pleasure? Then I remember God knows what I can handle. Even though it feels like all this is too much, I know my breakdown won't be ill-timed. The nice thing about these goodbyes, and don't laugh, is that it's almost like a funeral. I said don't laugh. Really, as much as it hurts I get to hear how God used me in peoples lives, what I meant to them, how much I'm loved (sometimes in spite of myself. I have some very patient people in my life). What's nice is I get to hear it without having to die. Ok, seriously. Stop laughing.

Water Journaling

This may be my last journal entry by an American lake. It feels so right to be sitting here enjoying an unusually cold morning in September, sitting by a lake, feeling the breeze and trying to figure out...everything. Yes, I'm still trying to do that oddly enough. I know. What's this girl's problem? I'd be happy even figuring out some of these feelings in general. It's nice to rely on the experiences of others in times like these. I learned that at an early age as I watched from my safe little perch growing up as my brother tested all the boundaries I was too afraid to approach. No doubt, if I had been able to formulate lists at the age of 10 I would have filled a trapper keeper full of "note to self: don't do that." Now that I'm older, and less of a pansy, I'm able to recognize the benefit of seeking advice from others. If you've never asked someone, "Based off of your experience, are these feelings valid?" then pounce on your pride and look around you. I'm willing to bet a plane ticket to Japan that there is someone around you that God has already brought through the same feelings, worries, and struggles. Just take a look at Proverbs. You'll see what I mean. Or, maybe like me you do know it, but just haven't done anything about it. Maybe you should sit by a lake too. You may not figure everything out, but man is it ever peaceful as God hammers away at the stuff keeping you from being God-glorifyingly awesome.

Tangible Countdowns

My calendar now shows the month of September. It's funny how nothing has really changed. September still has 30 days, but boy does it ever seem smaller to me. I can also see the date 22nd now. It used to be a number in my head brought to the surface whenever someone asked, "so when do you actually leave?" Now I can see it. I can also see the crammed days leading up to it. When my focus was on living here my value was in balance. I wanted to be sure I had rest as well as time with friends. Now my focus has been shifted to time with friends and community no matter the imbalance. Don't worry, I'm sleeping and eating just fine. I'm just finding myself with the expected realization when faced with something extraordinary. I should say the extraordinary I face makes me see the extraordinary around me here. 


I have the extraordinary blessing of having lived with one particular lady for five years and with perfectly placed women of God over the past four years. Since my sophomore days I've had the extraordinary blessing of living in community. Every day was filled with "how are you's," hugs, and a shared appreciation of how chocolate always makes things better. I've also been blessed with a church family who've picked me up, shaken me up, and made me more of who God wants me to be. Even my coworkers have been extraordinary. From the Mail Center student worker to the Border's book seller and the GCE support team, every single one has shown me a bit more of the extraordinary within the ordinary of everyday life.


I want to leave well. That's a challenge when your evenings are swallowed up by rehearsals and late night practices (another extraordinary that I love). I find myself wanting to mass produce something I could give to each person that would express...everything. That's not too much to ask, right? I wish I had something that would wrap together everything I feel for and from them. Something that combined the words, "you've blessed me," "I'll miss you," and "it was no mistake we met." I want to leave knowing that each person knows how blessed I am to have known them. I also want to leave having given them everything I was meant to give; a last hug, a final word, a listening ear...whatever it is they need. But I can't. I can't guarantee that when I get on that plane I will have no regrets and no last minute, "Oh shoot, I forgot to say this to so and so." I'm just praying that I get to say goodbye well to the extraordinaries in my life here. September, don't you dare go by too fast.

My transformation into a clock.

I can feel each second go by as if I'm slowly morphing into a clock. I feel seconds, I speak in minutes and hours. I constantly live in the realm of time; Time spent and time to come. I've begun to measure my life by "how many's." How many Sundays I have left, how many goodbyes. I've even counted how many grocery trip runs I have before leaving. I feel a constant battle is raging in my heart and head to eek out every possible moment with people and experiences here yet the warring side is encamped on the other hill of overwhelming pain and confusion. In church today I almost couldn't hear the sermon over the aching words, "how can I leave this church?" It's the kind of ache that doesn't subside with rationale; "you'll be back," "this isn't goodbye." I feel the ticking of precious, unattainable seconds go by as my aching heart keeps me motionless. Dramatic? Tell me about it. I don't like drama and I don't like this stage of the journey. But since it is part of the journey than I need to go through it. If this is a grieving process than I want to give it full credence, but I also don't want it to keep me from seeing other's pain and joys. I don't want to be a self-absorbed traveler. What fun would that be? I want to be present in every step but I want to stop looking at my own feet. It's just that right now the throbbing ache I feel keeps my head bent. I know I'll be able to look up again soon, but man are those ticking seconds ever loud!

Blessings of Being Let Go

I'm preparing for Japan.

My brain is a million miles away...almost literally. As I begin to think of to do’s and “last times,” I can feel my brain and emotions become confused with the now juxtaposed with the could be. One thing I want to appreciate, and it is a painful appreciation, is that blessing of being let go. It’s funny to realize that a majority of the grief in leaving isn’t in me going, it’s in the forcing of a situation on those you love. I’m forcing others to let me go. It’s been a few weeks now since my decision and consequent communication to others, but already I’ve experienced practiced Letting Goers who I wish weren’t so familiar with it as well as the Letting Goers who twist your heart just enough that you can functionally grieve. 

I never want to forget the blessing it is to be let go. To realize the friend, daughter, emotional stabilizer, and dependable one that you have become to others (sometimes by choice, sometimes by God's grace alone) and to allow the grief that comes with taking that away. There’s also the humbling reality that you aren’t necessary anymore. There’s a pain in seeing those people move on while you’re still here. That role you’ve held, or held on to, isn’t meant to be much longer. You know while you’re gone that life moves on, news will happen, large instances to you will now seem insignificant to others and vice versa. There’s a peace in knowing this is normal, and there’s freedom in the grieving that it is true. Come it must, and pass it will. This is where I’m suppose to be and somehow God works it out best for others as well. Calm eyes to look into, and waves that could potentially engulf me lapping at my feet. The challenge is to look into those eyes, not the waves. That’s a journey in and of itself.

Boxes in my future

I'm sitting in my room looking at shelves full of worn books. I reach for one and then draw my hand away again. I know each of them. I can remember the first few words, the opening scene as if it's a movie in my head. It's almost as if I don't need to read them anymore. Just look at their covers and remember. But now I'm also trying to figure out how each of them will fit in a box and can I ship them overseas? 


You see, I'm moving. I will soon be the teacher of 4-5 year old Japanese kids. The plan is to leave towards the end of September and for 6 months or longer see what God has planned.


It's going to be great, it's going to be intimidating, and I am confidently freaked out. There's stages of grieving to get through, people to tell, books to pack, and goodbyes to be made. The last time I said an extended goodbye was when I moved with my family on a cold Christmas morning from Georgia to Minnesota. I'm not used to this kind of thing. I have friends who say goodbye for a living. Believe me, we make quite the contrast.


But I'm also at peace too. Did you know God has brought up the opportunity to go to Japan four times? Four times! Each time it fell through. That was a journey in and of itself, and believe me, I lost my way a lot on that adventure. I may tell you about it someday. But this time, this time I learned to look at the Giver rather than the gift. Now is the time, and I am scared to death.


But into the boxes my books will go. I'll continue the goodbyes and grieving. My To Do list may even get done in time, not likely. But the day will come whether I'm ready or not, when I will board a plane by myself, most likely with tears still blurring my vision of the flight attendants and captains ushering me in, and we'll take off. I'll begin to wonder what in the world I was thinking! I'll wonder if my church family will still be my family while I'm overseas. I'll worry about what catastrophes will happen while I'm away. Then I'll pull out my journal, the one I've written every promise, every verse, and every encouraging word from friends and family and I'll remember, I'm where God wants me. I will rest, I will trust, I may even enjoy the airplane food. Then those thoughts of home won't be stabs of pain, they'll be joyful memories.


For a year God has prepared me for this. When I first was presented with an opportunity to go to Japan, I wasn't ready. For an entire year I've struggled with faith issues, God's sovereignty, and my own pride. As I look back now I can recognize God's grace in my pain. One year ago I didn't have a strong church family, I didn't know myself. Some of you may not believe in these things, but for me and what I went through this year, it would take a concerted effort for me NOT to believe. So I guess I just will, and I know there's a lot more to come. So, with that in mind, I'm going to go pack some more boxes.