Sweetly Broken

When you go through rough times in life, they always say there are stages you go through, stages that you progress through, as your attitudes, emotions, and the situation itself changes.

Last year, my sophomore year, I spent some of those months and weeks angry and mad. I remember feeling lost, confused, mad, and pissed. Pissed to the point where in the midst of crying in a Starbucks bathroom, trying to read the face of my best friend, and trying to sort out of all the feelings I had after our meeting with that man, that I couldn't find any other word other than a bad one to say. I tearfully spatted, "What the fuck?"

And that pretty much summarizes how Michelle and I were feeling.

I was in a hole. A hole, that I wasn't sure I could get out of.

We were lost.

I was lost.

Christianity, and God, and what was being done right in front of me, was just not making any sense. Beliefs that I had maintained were being challenged, and I was being turned off from a brand of Christianity that brought me to a breaking point.

Thank God, I kept praying. Thank God, He gave me such supportive and wonderful friends. And thank God, He brought us to Greenbriar. Greenbriar isn't perfect; nothing manmade on this beautiful Earth really can be. But it was what I needed. It was what I was looking for you. And though I had lingering questions, my faith was not so much of a stumbling block, as much as it was like an ocean reaching land, just wanting to get a taste of something real.

God helped me get through the muck. The confusion. And now, have I figured it all out?

Oh no, oh no. But that's not really the point.

My love for God, and the recognition of His love for me has become even more real, more than ever before. God is big. He is more than what us humans can even comprehend. And He knows that I've been to a dark place, that I've had my moments, that I've almost walked away, and that I've had a struggle. A big one. And yet, through it all, I've always felt loved. Never alone. I really, truly believe He has been with me the entire time because only His grace, only His love could get me through the hard times.

And it's not as if the hard times are over. Because believing something, having faith, it just isn't easy.

And you know what? It shouldn't be.

Just this summer I've had to see, witness things that made me want God to fix, and that even made me frusturated with being faithful.

I've wished God would bring more resources to my friends in Vietnam--a better bathroom, an accessible way for the children to receive education, and an awareness among the world of the extent of poverty.

I've wanted God to find a way to protect the women at The Gathering Place. I've wanted him to just provide, because ultimately, isn't that what our gracious God does?

And then I've relalized--sometimes slowly, sometimes right in the moment--God is with us. He is with the children in Vietnam just like He is with the children in Denver at The Gathering Place and just like He is with me. I can't even begin to understand How big his love is for them. In Vietnam, despite lacking in some resources, an abundance of love was in all of the people we met--we were welcomed with graciousness into their communities. And at the Gathering Place, despite women living in projects or on the street, many women exude faithfulness unparalled by many; I have sat at a table with a women and her 3 children and prayed with them, as her child asked for blessings for the hungry and the strength to get through the week.

And that is God.

God knows the need.

God knows the world--and He is with them.

And, when I looked over at Thelma this morning, I was reminded that it is important to care for each other, and to pray for each other, but that it is equally important to trust that it's in God's hands too. With Him, change will come. And I was reminded of this from Thelma because of everything she reflected.

Thelma can be immediately spotted when you walk into the massive sanctuary at church.

Maybe it's because she's a loud woman.

Maybe it's because she's a big, black woman.

Maybe it's more so because she's the only loud, big, black woman at church.

But also, because of the way Thelma comes to God.

Today, as I carefully walked in the middle of the congregation, I glanced at her. And right before I nudged my mom to tell her that my angel, Thelma, was in attendance today I saw her weeping. She took out a kleenex, removed her big ole glasses and wiped her tears away. Putting the tissue down slowly, she then raised her hands, high and with gusto, and sang the worship sonds LOUD and with the some serious soul power. Seriously. She seemed to be struggling, but I saw her give that to God. I couldn't believe I has just witnessed something so purely genuine, and beautiful. What an incredible, moving testimony to faith.

Through all my frustrations, anger, and doubt, there came a point where I could simply embrace God and just that. And deal with the implications, the doctrinal sensibility, and understand what makes sense as I move forward with my spiritual life and my relationship with God. In church this morning, I didn't focus on the words being uttered that would my spark my critique. I tried hard not to judge the message too quickly. And I avoided being angry at the call for evangelical unity. You see, I have spiritually diverged significantly away from Fellowship Community Church, but at the end of the day, I just wanted God. And singing, from the very deep rooted love in my heart, with my eyes shut for God to paint a picture, I felt that today. And that, was just what I needed. Sweetly broken I may be, but I am just so in love with God. And so joyful that even through tribulation, love can overcome anything. Love really can move mountains.

"Though our feelings come and go, God's love for us does not."

--C.S. Lewis

FOOTBALL

Confession: When I was a younger girl I had a secret fantasy.

No, not that kind of fantasy.

And no, it didn't involve pink.
It had nothing to do with being an actress (but, that was later in my youth, of course).
It was the furthest away it could be from becoming Miss America.
In fact, most girls entering their teenage years might have dreams of seeing the world, or maybe having the hottest boyfriend in school, or even making straight A's just to impress the teachers.
I, of course, was not that typical girl.
Sure, I liked pink. But I liked green better.
I liked ribbons. But I liked my hair back in a messy ponytail better.
And I liked dollhouses. But I liked grass stains better.
I liked boys. But they still had cooties.
And yes, I liked gymnastics, and even the girls soccer team that I was on.
But I liked something else better.

As far as I was concerned, I was going to play football. And nobody was going to stop me.

And yet, I must have known. I must have known the social norms about that sort of thing. A girl? Playing FOOTBALL? I never really mentioned this little plan of mine to either of my parents. I thought they would think I was crazy. And while me being crazy is certainly negotiable, I didn't think this plan was completely out of reach. After all, the Broncos had just won back to back Superbowls. They would be needing some serious talent to continue this run. Maybe a girl could be the answer? Maybe, I, Heather Newell, could play for the Denver Broncos.

So, I coerced Lance to play football with me in any spare moment. Like little kids immersed into their own little fantasy world, a world that only kids could create, we played. We designed secret plays. I would be the quarterback, Lance the receiver, and on our street, on the hot steaming pavement in late summer evenings, magic would happen. At least it would feel that way. When we were feeling particularly reckless, we would wait for our parents to go to sleep and then would play the "sacking game" on the couch. I would pretend to get the ball, and then proceed to try and avoid Lance, who would try to tackle me on the couch. It sounds silly. And looking back, it was. But I was taking this thing pretty seriously.

I remember when I realized this dream of mine, this fantasy was an impossibility. Normally, I don't believe in impossibilities, but ultimately playing football, for me, was not in my cards. I remember going to Lance's first pee-wee football game. The boys were good. Real good. And I thought about myself in one of those stinky, nasty uniforms. I thought about what it would like to be tackled, really tackled, by a boy. And somewhere, at somepoint between the touchdowns, half time snacks, and cheer, after the game I recognized that I just quite simply couldn't play football. And I was sad. I was. But I was okay. Because I knew I could focus my energies and dreams elsewhere.

I think my dream of playing football evolved into me becoming a hard core fan of football. After I started playing competitive soccer I found a niche, and football became more of a hobby instead. I collected every Bronco sports card I could find, and every year that we went to Broncos training camp, I would study the roster, and I would remember the players, their stats, and their contributions to the team. I could watch football on lazy Sunday afternoons, no problem. I would do my homework during commercials, and try to stay focused as my family and I always had serious debates about the state of the Broncos.

I think I love football because it's a perfect combination of physical competition, as well as strategy. I like trying to understand the plays. I like the absolute talent that football breeds; some of the players are just incredible. But I like football, most of all, because even though the winner changes, crazy plays happen, different players emerge as great, and each play leads to the unknown, it also stays the same. I find the same joy in eating a hamburger while watching the game. I find joy just watching the game play out, trying to decipher what could happen next.

And I like being a fan.
I think being a fan is fun. It creates community, unity, and cohesiveness. And, I like that. I like wearing Orange and Blue, and telling people that God is a Bronco fan simply because when the sun sets, blues and oranges often compose much of the color palette. Why else would God use those colors ; ) ?

And, many people think I'm crazy. That I'm crazy Bronco fanatic.
And I wouldn't say that. Already, I have embraced the Jets due to the influence of my northern friends, and ultimately I recognize that really, football is just a game. Like field hockey, like soccer, it is just a game.

But I keep watching because it's fun.
And I do still throw the pigskin around. These days, I have different dreams and goals, but when I throw that ball I remember what it felt like when I was a little girl and I wanted to play in the NFL. It's a good reminder of how strong dreams are, and that even if your dreams do not come true, everything happens just how it is supposed to.

the wild wild west

Aurora, Colorado to Las Vegas, New Mexico 305 miles

Las Vegas, New Mexico to Sanders, Arizona 287 miles

Sanders, Arizona to Flagstaff, Arizona 153.1 miles

Flagstaff, Arizona to Needles, California 306.5 miles

**Grand Canyon**

Needles, California to Barstow, California 138.5 miles

Barstow, California to Bonsall, California 294.2 miles

**San Diego**

Bonsall, California to Barstow, California 267.7 miles

**Las Vegas**

Barstow, California to Glendale, Nevada 496.4 miles

Glendale, Nevada to Junction I-70 (Utah) 237.6 miles

Junction I-70 (Utah) to Parachute, Colorado 305 miles

Parachute, Colorado to Aurora, Colorado 236 miles

TOTAL 2,722 MILES

I knew this trip was going to be good. Somewhere between awaking at 4 am to get on the road on Day 1, Dad's continous singing and ridiculous dancing to The Who and Bruce Springsteen (which, for the lack of our ingenuity by forgetting to bring any other CDs, we listened to the ENTIRE road trip), and the beautiful scenery on the endless roads in Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, and Utah, I became aware of just how cool this was. This was no ordinary road trip. I was getting the chance to explore. Explore the West, explore the frontier. Okay, maybe that's being a bit dramatic. After all, it is easy to develop some over sentimental and romanticized version of the West, the land of cowboys, horses, and ghost towns, remaining from the crazy days of the wild wild west. Nevertheless, as we rev'd up the F-150 (yes, we took a freaking TRUCK for our epic journey), I knew I would be seeing and experiencing things that were just...beautiful.

After I woke up just past Trinidad, Colorado (the sex change capital of the world, mind you) I began to immerse myself in a new book. It's called Leaving Microsoft to Change the World. It's one man's story of leaving behind the corporate world to help with illiteracy worldwide. It brought me back to Vietnam, and I spent some of the first moments on the road remembering. Remembering the incredible children, the village, and how I fell in love with Vietnam. An interesting thing to think about as we trekked out West.

As we pulled up for fuel in small town, Arizona, we were welcomed to a full service gas station. Window wiping, oil checks, the works. They even pump your own fuel. I had never seen a full service gas station before. Ever. To make matters even more interesting, the man helping us was a Navajo Indian, dad said. My dad can be ruthlessly shy at times, but for whatever reason, always makes friends pretty easily on trips, and talks to strangers for days. He talked with this guy about his life, him working at the station, and living on an Indian reservation. It got me thinking--because we passed reservation after reservation during our car ride in the Southwest. What is it like? How would it feel--are they happy having land and area to preserve the practices? Or are they pissed? Having to just, I don't know, stay secluded and stuck on a limited piece of land. I don't really understand it. But I want to learn more.

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The Grand Canyon

You can google image the Grand Canyon all you want. You can find pictures in books, pictures that you might think do it justice. But, when you walk slowly towards this magnificent creation and just stop. And look. The goosebumps are overwhelming, and it's clear no picture could do this place justice. The Grand Canyon is in a word, grand, and honestly, it didn't feel real to me. It was so surreal, it looked like God was painting on this earth and He just kept going. It's large. It's huge. And it didn't look real to me. Seriously. The colors of reds, browns, pinks, oranges, greys, and more unite together and just pop. The crevices are neverending, and the shape of the rocks and the canyon itself is remarkable. It was a moving experience to see the Grand Canyon, and even though tourists were everywhere, license plates from California, Pennsylvania, Florida, Arkansas (GLORY!), and even people from all over the world, I felt strangely alone. I closed my eyes and felt the wind, and smelled the rocks, and could not believe I was in the presence of something so...cool. This is just the begininng of the variety of American landscape we will get to see.

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San Diego

So, I feel dirty. There's sand under my nails, the scent of salt on the skin of my body, and sweat seeping through my bright orange Hendrix shirt. So, really, maybe I'm clean. Because I feel rejuvenated, relaxed, and joyful. I just got back from a run around San Diego, on Fashion Valley Boulevard, no less, and before that, soaked up all the California sun I could. You see, earlier today we drove through the Mojave Desert and it was HOT. Yet, even with the A/C running, I wanted that heat. So, I pushed the gas pedal harder, anxious for our rendevouz at the beach. I wanted to go fast like the red mustangs cruising passed us, to leave the Sierra Nevada in the dust, and to beat the sun. It was a race, a race I wanted to win. I guess the California sun has an interesting effect on people, or at least weirdos like me.

Yesterday was another sunny day in Southern California. We spent the first part of the day at Sea World. I loved seeing the animals. Especially the manatees and the orca whales!! But, as awesome as it was to see "Shamu" and company, I just found it unsettling to watch the animals perform tricks for thousands of people. Maybe it's all they know, but what if know about the world out there. About the expansive ocean, about the ocean floor--what if they know!? They should be free. I don't know the whole story though. And I did have fun at sea world, I really did. But I couldn't shake the vibe of consumerism and capitalism there. Later, at Mission Beach, we met up with Savannah and her and I had the chance to catch up. I love seeing Hendrix people outside of Hendrix. She took us to downtown San Diego, and her and my family just hit it off, despite our conflicting conversation about Obama and the pending health care reform situation. I guess you can't win them all. Wow, I'm so glad we came here.

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Las Vegas

Vegas is unlike anything I have ever seen: there are so many lights, people, and energy. But I suppose that doesn't separate it from any other big hoppin' city. Las Vegas is all this--and more. It's flashy and extravagent. Frankly, it's sinister. Billboards and cards are all over the place with nearly topless women. The place just screams money & sex. And for a little while, I didn't like it here. I just didn't get it. And then, slowly, I started to feel the fun vibe. People come here to relax and party. And I looked around, and saw people genuinely having a good time. Maybe I don't drink, maybe I don't even party that much, but hell, if I was 21, I could come here. I could come with my girlfriends, and we could have fun. I know it. After all, there was a show that featured HOT Australian men...enough said. I sneaked passed the casino frequently, with Lance riding my tail, to catch a glimpse of gambling. It's a strange world, and it was one of those things where you just can't look away. Vegas is kind of like that. You just can't look away. Now, would I get married there, as I saw some do? HELL NO. But, for a couple days of laying on the roof top pool, walking the Vegas strip, and riding intense rides on the top of our hotel (over 1000 feet in the air!) I had a great time. And as quickly as we came, we left. On our last night, after getting into bed right around midnight, my dad jokingly said we could leave then as opposed to getting up at 4 am. We laughed. And then decided, what the heck, let's just do it. Spontaneity at its finest. We jetted out of Vegas right around the time when most people's nights there had just begun. And we drove back to Colorado.

What a trip!

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It's an interesting thing, to begin a summer exploring the land of Vietnam and then ending the same summer roadtripping across the West. A perfect way to begin. A perfect way to end. And then theres everything in between. I saw beautiful things these past 3 months. Things that have changed my life. Things that have challenged me. As I pack up and hit the road, leaving home for my other home, I'll look out the window and smile.

But as the sun sets, it also rises.

A new day begins.

A new year at Hendrix.

A new year of adventures.

I'm ready.