deja vu.

I should be working other things. Like the paper that's due later this week or the endless reading that will end with the quarter and not a moment sooner. But I think this is important enough for me to take the time to do. Well, I guess I'm making it that important.

Today was difficult. The kind of difficult I haven't seen (or felt) in quite a while. It was a terrible kind of deja vu or like being trapped in an all too familiar dream I couldn't wake up from.

I knew that this struggle was possible to reappear as I went back to school because the first time I encountered it was in undergrad. What I did not expect was how fearful I would be, of even the slightest inkling of its return. All of a sudden my mind was stuck showing reruns of undergrad and I began to despair of the impending chaos that was due to follow.

I did make it through the rest of the day without completely falling apart, until I got to my therapy session.

Thank Jesus for therapy. I guess you could say I'm a bit biased because that what I'm studying now, but really, I can't adequately express the value of having that space of being seen and heard. As my professor said today, it's a sacred space.

A takeaway: Instead of defining my success in grad school as "Doing well without any anxiety"
I can try out, "Success means doing well, acknowledging I will have times of anxiety, and managing it well when it presents itself."

Finally, I can always count on Henri Nouwen to speak the words of my soul. From The Inner Voice of Love in a section titled "Keep Returning to the Road of Freedom":

"When suddenly you seem to lose all you thought you had gained, do not despair. Your healing is not a straight line. You must expect setbacks and regressions. Don't say to yourself, 'All is lost. I have to start all over again." This is not true. What you have gained, you have gained...When you return to the road, you return to the place where you left it, not to where you started...It is important not to dwell on the small moments when you feel pulled away from your progeess...In everything, keep trusting that God is with you, that God has given you companions on the journey. Keep returning to the road to freedom?"

There is hope, friends. Tomorrow's a new day.

And now back to regularly scheduled programming...

begin again

It has been almost two years since I last wrote something in this space. That's a lot of life—ups, downs, and moving arounds. Even now, I'm in an interesting place, though not a totally foreign one. It's a place of ending and beginning, losing and gaining, fear and excitement. It's the coming and going of seasons.

I am heading into my last week of working with Aplos after three and a half years. It has been such a fun ride and I am sad it's coming to an end. I have worked for the best boss, with the best people, and that has made all the difference. I got connected with Aplos by a friend who knew I was desperate to leave the place I was in, but I could never have imaged how much better it would be. Since we were still a smaller startup when I joined there was flexibility for me to find what role fit me best, which ended up being customer support. Yeah, talking on the phone all day was surprisingly the best fit for me. (Sorry to all of you whom I've had awkward phone calls with—not even my husband is exempt from those. This really has been the only environment where I am not as awkward to talk to on the phone.) This season has been full of surprises and unexpected joys. I have been stretched and challenged and encouraged to keep growing, all while quoting Arrested Development daily and eating Chipotle on Wednesdays. I have learned the difference between cash and accrual reporting, about debits and credits for different types of accounts, and that eating a whole Costco chicken bake so I that can go "to the field!" is worth the stomach ache. I have met friends who will be stuck with me long after my last day. Leaving is held with feelings of sadness, nostalgia, and fear that can come with an ending. The overarching feeling, though, is thankfulness. Let's not overlook that. Oh, how thankful I am.

After this week, Sam and I will be headed off to Northern California to visit our ninth and tenth national parks: Lassen and Redwood. I see this as my transition time—something else I am so thankful to have since I know we do not always have that luxury. It is also, of course, a chance to celebrate that we have been married for two years, which seem to have flown by and at the same time it feels like we have been doing this for much longer in the best way.

Once we return to Pasadena, I will head into orientation, welcome week, and all of the other going back to school things. Aside from the handful of prerequisite classes I took online through a community college, it has been almost five years since I was last in school. That really feels like a long time ago. I am hoping that I quickly settle into the new but not so unfamiliar rhythm of being a student. I'm also a wife, which is new this time around. I am thankful for a husband who has supported and encouraged me to go back to school without hesitation from the very beginning. I am thankful for, albeit still working on graciously and humbly accepting, his willingness to "switch roles" so that I can be a full-time student and not have to balance a job of my own.

Sometimes I fear that I won't be able to bring enough to the table. If I am not working and have a schedule filled with classes and training and small groups, what will I have to give? There are times I feel myself heading towards the spiral of anxiety in the midst of this new and exciting next season, which is just frustrating, honestly. I have found Herni Nouwen to be a source of great encouragement over the years and once again he brings a refreshing reminder about what to do when the red flags and flashing lights of this anxiety spiral start to grow:

Perhaps the challenge of the gospel lies precisely in the invitation to accept a gift for which we can give nothing in return. For the gift is the life breath of God himself, the Spirit who is poured out on us through Jesus Christ. The life breath frees us from fear and gives us new room to live. A man who prayerfully goes about his life is constantly ready to receive the breath of God, and to let his life be renewed and expanded. The man who never prays, on the contrary, is like the child with asthma; because he is short of breath, the whole world shrivels up before him. He creeps in a corner gasping for air, and is virtually in agony. But the man who prays opens himself to God and can freely breathe again. He stands upright, stretches out his hands and comes out of his corner, free to boldly stride through the world because he can live without fear. (Henri Nouwen, With Open Hands, p. 64., emphasis added.)

So I am reminded that it is important for me to be willing to bring myself to the table, just as I am. I work on practicing what I preach about self-care and the great thing it is to allow others to help you in that. This is the beginning of much more than a graduate program, it is the beginning of a new season. One of trusting, hoping, humbling, and much more learning. I head into these next few weeks of transition, of endings and beginnings, and all that is in between with my hands open and eyes fixed above.

a thank you.

Based on the speech I gave at the celebration held back in April for Sherry's work and service at Mountain View Community Church.

I met Sherry Martin about 15 years ago. I was a fifth grader visiting a new church that met at Clovis High School. I still remember meeting a petite, soft-spoken, kind-eyed lady who led me to the K.I.D.S. Church room in Building K on that overcast Sunday morning.

Over the years Sherry has been a knowledgeable teacher, a gracious boss, a caring mentor and an ever-loving friend. I have been serving in children's ministry in some capacity for the past 11 years and it was Sherry who provided me with the first opportunity to do so. I will forever be thankful that she extended that first invitation to me.

Sherry has had such an influence and impact on my philosophy of and approach to children's ministry. She taught me through her words, recommended books and faithful example the precious value of a child's heart, faith and prayer. One of the books she recommended to me was When Children Pray, which I've talked about before. Reading and discussing this book with her gave me a fresh understanding of the importance of what we were doing as we served and loved kids.

Sherry has always been one of my favorite people to talk to about children's ministry and member care. I always felt that she truly understood my passion for member care--supporting, encouraging and equipping the Church and encouraged me to keep pursuing that. That's just Sherry. Even though it's been several years since we've attended the same church she continues to be such a whole-hearted supporter and encourager in my life.

I am honored to have had the opportunity to see Sherry before she got to join our Savior. I found the only words I could muster were thank you. It feels like there's so much more I could or should say, but that's another thing about Sherry, she always made you feel like enough while still gently pushing you to keep growing.  Her quiet patience and unconditional compassion inspire me to be a better teacher, small group leader, friend and hopefully someday, a parent. Her life provides such a beautiful example of what it looks like to truly love those you serve.

Thank you, Sherry.

valentine.

I've held off posting this because I wanted to have the opportunity to share the news personally (in person, on the phone) but I wrote this on Friday night, well technically early Saturday morning...


Today will forever be one of the greatest days of my life.

Today was Valentine's day. I have never really been a fan of this day, all of the  pressure for grand gestures and overpriced purchases to tell your love for others on this one day. Still, today was an excellent day.

Can I briefly back up to yesterday? Just yesterday night. Last night the following text conversation happened:

My best friend drove out to my house, brought me a flower and admired the moon with me for a few minutes. A flower on a day that's not Valentine's day--such a great gift.

Okay, back to today. Since I'm a list person, here's my list of what made today so excellent:

Today, my best friend started my day off with a quote from one of my favorite little books, The Little Prince.
Today, my best friend and I dressed up really nice.
Today, my best friend and I ate panang chicken and it was delicious.
Today, my best friend and I shared a pot of lavender cream earl grey while watching Downton Abbey.
Today, my best friend and I came back to his apartment complex to find my car had been towed. Note, this was excellent because a) it wasn't stolen b) nothing valuable was inside and c)...
Today, my best friend took a "detour" on our way to take me home.
Today, my best friend and I took off our shoes and walked around the place where we met, were declared to be BFFs (by me), took classes together, got to know each other, first liked each other (without the others' knowledge): Fresno Pacific University.
Today, my best friend told me he loved me. (and I told him I loved him)
Today, my best friend asked me to marry him. (and I said yes)

I really don't think it's fully sunk in yet...
that I get to spend the rest of my life, whatever that might entail, with my best friend.
I am humbled to be given such a wonderful gift.
Our prayer is that we will be able to serve the Kingdom better together than we would be able to apart and that our relationship would bring glory and bear witness to our gracious God.

enjoying now.

It's that time. New year, new outlook, new goals...new blog post. I can hardly believe I started this blog two years ago. I didn't turn out to be the most consistent of writers, but I'm glad I've at least written as much as I did.

Two years ago.
I was recently graduated from college and about a month into my first full-time,"grown up" job.  I had student loans looming and a heart pining to be anywhere but where I was...mostly for Portugal. I remembering  feeling (and often complaining) that I was in an awkward limbo place life--finished with one chapter, but not allowed to move on to the next.

Two years later, I must say...I was wrong. Lots of life happened during this so-called limbo time. By the grace of God, my student loans were paid off. I learned a little about designing and coding and a lot about what kind of work environment I want (or don't want) to work in. I met some new friends and became closer to others. One in particular being my self-appointed "BFF"(a story worth sharing...someday) who has truly become my best friend. I started a different job and was given the honor of helping out two non-profits run by people near and dear to my heart. I became an aunt to another niece and found out that there will be three more lovies coming this Spring. There's so much more that's happened, but the point is...the past two years have not been empty. They have not been simply for waiting, although there was definitely some waiting...but isn't there always?

Sometimes there are clear beginnings and ends to the chapters in your life, but I'm finding that more often than that, you're in the middle of the next chapter before you even realize it's begun. I've got a couple of practical New Years resolutions written down (in a list with checkboxes) but I think that one thing I really want to focus on is the NOW. I can get so carried away with planning and thinking about the future or longing for what used to be that I dismiss the life space I'm in now as insignificant. It's not until I take the time to pause and look around that I can see how very significant now is.

I realize this epiphany of mine is neither original nor deeply profound, but I hope it encourages someone as it has encouraged me.

Happy New Year!

Just because I never tire of this view, from our most recent trip to Yosemite.

starting on Someday.

It wasn't too long after I started college that I knew I wanted to work in missionary/member care. Through conversations with missionaries I served with and my own experiences with re-entry and debriefing, I saw a need for a holistic approach to the way we take care of the Body—and I wanted to be a part of meeting that need.  Throughout my time in college missionary care remained something I hoped I'd get to be a part of...someday.  Someday, when I've finished college. Someday when I've had more experience. Someday when I'm better equipped.

Someday, someday someday...

During my final semester of college I realized that I didn't know what master's degree I would or should pursue or if I even wanted/needed another degree. The thought of going into more debt, investing more time and money on something that I didn't know if I wanted or needed seemed unwise. 

So, I didn't. I was blessed to find a job before I even graduated and started a week after that. It wasn't what I wanted to do forever, definitely not a career I wanted to build my life around, but I was working full time—a cherished gift for a recent college grad.

But even though this job allowed me to pay off my student loans and start saving a bit of money, the yearning for Someday remained. I still didn't know how to get there, so I just kept working and waiting for Someday to show up.

A few weeks ago I had a chance to catch up with two dear friends (who also happen to be two of the ladies I lived with in Portugal).  I always leave feeling encouraged, inspired, loved and full of potential after spending time with these two. They both just have a gentle and genuine way of reminding me of who I am in Christ and how they see Him working in my life. During this conversation, I was asked about my passion/dream for missionary care and what I was doing to make that happen. I sputtered out some roundabout response about not knowing how to go about it or where to even start and all the unknowns and questions when my dear friend reminded me,

"The beauty is, you only have to make one decision at a time"

So, I've decided to start being proactive about figuring out what it would like for me to serve in missionary care. I've started researching schools, even went to visit one last month! (Arguably) More importantly, I'm having conversations with lots of people. People who I respect and look up to as mentors and friends. People who have the degrees I'm considering. People who have a heart for missionaries and the Church and taking care of other people.

I'm not at Someday yet, but I'm starting to look for ways to get there.

here we go.

to do (and to not do).

Quite some time ago, my sweet friend Emery suggested I read this book:

That day, I added it to my Amazon Book Wish list and then promptly forgot about it until a few weeks ago when I picked it up on sale at a little bookstore in SLO. And am I ever glad I did. 

One of the things I like most about this book is that each chapter can stand on its own, so I didn't feel overwhelmed to read all of it RIGHT NOW. I breezed through the first few chapters, pausing for some "Hmm's" and shoulder shrugs, but I got a big fat  "Oomph" to the gut when I read the following from the chapter titled, "things I don't do":

I'm a list-keeper. I always, always have a to-do list, and it ranges from the mundane: go to the dry cleaner, go to the post office, buy batteries; to the far-reaching: stop eating Henry's leftover Dino Bites, get over yourself, forgive nasty reviewer, wear more jewelry.

At one point, I kept adding to the list, more and more items, more and more sweeping in their scope, until I added this line: DO EVERYTHING BETTER. 

-Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet p. 54

Now, this chapter already packed quite a punch but it wasn't until a few nights later that I really understood how necessary it was for me to read that.

---

It started when a very tired and disoriented me had an argument with my parents about something so trivial. Feeling overwhelmed, I fled the scene to my room. There I curled up in the dark and all I could hear was the booming voice in my mind was broadcasting, "You can't do enough. You can't be enough. "

I felt sick to my stomach, like my even my body was rejecting me.
I wished I could  get up and boldly stand on the truth--that God is enough, He is more than enough. But Instead, I just cried. Mourning over something I'd never had, someone I'd never been.

And then, after quite some time of being paralyzed by the darkness, I realized I was still learning what I had been hit with over and over last week:
it's not about me.

Let me be clear in explaining that this wasn't a beautiful epiphany.
I didn't just snap out of my pitiful state, get out of bed and slap a big smile on my face.

No, it was more like my process of waking up...which is the farthest thing from immediate. (Ask ANYONE who has tried to wake me up). I have stages of waking up including resistance and grumpiness. I need time. And that's how exactly how I'm learning this whole "it's not about me" thing--slowly, with moments of resistance and grumpiness. But I have hope that I'll eventually "wake up" to the idea as I find practical, daily ways to remind myself.

Coming back to the book, Shauna explains in that chapter how and why deciding what you want your life to be about isn't the hard part, but it's deciding what you're willing to give up for those things that is "like yoga for your superego, stretching and pushing and ultimately healing that nasty little person inside of you who exists only for what other people think."

So, the questions I'm leaving here are:  What are the things I don't do, the things I'm giving up, so my life can be about the things I've decided it should be about? (I hope that makes sense, it's poorly worded)

And the moral of this story is, LORD, I need You.