becoming that person

I get lost in the beauty of everything I see

The world ain't as half as bad as they paint it to be.

If all the sons and all the daughters stop to take it in

Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin.

Pain, poverty, thirst, hunger, longing, loneliness, homelessness, hurt, shattered dreams, and violence

fill the same streets, neighborhoods, homes, cities, states, villages, and countries as

hope, love, community, unity, dreams, goals, motivation, service, help, friendship, and family

in the same place that you will see hopelessness

you will find that one person who keeps smiling when their backs are against the wall

when God seems to be gone

when there is no reason to believe

they will.

It's hard to be that person.

It's hard to believe in this world anymore.

with all of this

war

unequal distribution of wealth

natural disasters

distrust

and every man for themselves attitude.

I have struggled to believe. I have felt hope leave. I have tested the edge of ambivalence. That's a risky road to walk, a scary place to go. It's easier. It's a lot easier, but the road of hopelessness goes

Nowhere.

So, with tragic news each night on TV, with every child that goes hungry, with every woman who is in a painful relationship, with each corrupt government official, with all of these destroyed families, and with my very own struggles, wrongdoings, and sins,

I will pray. Things will get better.

The world ain't half as bad as they paint it to be.

I can try and be that person that smiles and believes. I may try, and I may fail. But with God, I can have hope. And with hope, you have everything.

You Say I’m Lucky to Love Something that Loves Me

I watched an old best friend get married this weekend. MARRIED. Her horse carriage that brought her to the aisle was stunning, and watching the groom's face—not just the bride's—brought tears to my eyes. I don't know Dusty, the groom. We've met a couple of times in passing. But, as I watched Kristen and Dusty exchange vows on a secluded ranch upon a hill, surrounded by trees, green, her loved ones, and the fresh Colorado air, I knew she was just following her heart.

I think it's a good reminder about what in the world we are all doing here.

God—the way I see, feel, and know Him—is a God that moves, lives, and goes.

He moves, lives, and goes with us.

And, I know it's important to take life slow. To hold it, to touch it. But, when I feel God, I just want to move. Faster. And, I just want to go.

I know people say slowing down is good. It really is, and I learnt and lived that in Ghana.

Still, there's something about vigorously savoring each day, unafraid of change, fearlessly finding new people, things, and places. It's how I've tried to live my whole life. Even as a young girl, I was never idle. I wanted to play at the park any chance I could, I wanted to explore, I wanted to find. I didn't really know what I was looking for, but I never was interested in daintily brushing my dolls' hair. It just wasn't me.

Even with struggles, challenges, and obstacles, there's no reason to stop.

Maybe I'm not going down the aisle anytime soon.

But, I'm glad Kristen did. Because she's happy, and she followed her heart. What an honor, for myself and our friends, and her family, to watch someone commit themselves wholeheartedly to somebody else. Especially, for this person to be someone we all care about.

I hope one day I will.

And, I hope it will be beautiful whenever marriage for me comes along.

But, no reason to wait around.

There are experiences—each day—to be had, people to love, and life to be shared.

When Kristen and Dusty came back down the aisle, as Mr. and Mrs. Warner, everyone was beaming. It was good moment.

It was love.

Whether it's at a wedding, at a lone gas station, at the small corners on a college campus, on the streets leading into downtown, in vast and faraway places, or right in your own home, it's everywhere.

Go, and find it.

American Honey

Amurrrrrrica.

I've been back for a month.

I've been feeling, experiencing, seeing, and questioning a lot.

These are figments and pieces of my thoughts, emotions, and feelings as I have adjusted to America again.
They all come from my cute, gold, flowery journal.

Peace and love.

-----------------------------------------------------

It just took over 72 hours for it all to really start sinking in. I can’t really pinpoint what triggered it, but I was at the gym doing crunches, and then BAM! Someday by Rob Thomas came on my IPOD and I glanced around and saw white, and I thought of Rukia. Closing my eyes, it was like I was in Ghana again, back in another world. The tears came fast; I headed to the bathroom to be alone. I was supposed to stay for Pilates, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to explore; I didn’t want to be trapped. Maybe I was afraid of being alone with my thoughts. Whatever it was, I left. I got in my car and headed home. Soon, I was on my bike. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, but I found myself at the soccer complex near my house, just off of Arapahoe Road. The fields are green and lush, reminiscent of the soccer fields I played on just a few hundred feet away, just a few years ago. Now, where I once adorned shin guards and blue and white for Colorado Storm Soccer club, stands Target, Best Buy, Dick’s, and Sunflower Market. Hello, infrastructure. As I bike over a creaky wooden path and park my bike against the old brown bark of a tree, I just stare. Immaculate and well groomed fields are everywhere, as kids of all ages are learning the game of soccer. Coaches, players, parents, everywhere. Will everything always go back to Ghana? Because my mind reminded me of how almost one week ago, I too was playing football, in Ghana, mind you. I played in Kissemahn park, on rock filled dirt, with stones marking the goals. I played with Godwin, with Daniel, with Forgive. My friends. My children. Football rules. Period. Grass or not, they will play. One game, two different experiences, two worlds.

-----------------------------------------------------

Relatively speaking, I’ve suffered little in my 21 years of life. I’ve grown up comfortably, I successfully graduated high school, and I’ve found great opportunities at Hendrix College. I’ve always had a roof, a family, a support system. I’ve fallen in love with God. And, I have friends that are unquestionably my soul mates. They get me. I’ve had struggles in my life, no question. Life is hard. But SUFFERING. What does that mean to me? I have been a witness to suffering: The Gathering Place, Pascagoula, New Orleans, Vietnam, Birmingham, Conway, Kissemahn. Suffering is everywhere. I have seen pain and true brokenness. And, I have also seen some that have nothing and possess everything. I pray I have the heart to feel, eyes to see, and to find solidarity from the suffering in this world.

-----------------------------------------------------

Summer always has a certain smell, feel, and vibe to it. I think a lot of that is a true sense of FREEDOM. Less responsibility, more time in the sun, and lazy afternoons. Or was that what summer WAS? Summer was always about the pool, friends, family, and relaxation. I’m struggling to find any of the above. Other things are looming, and adjusting into the fanciful expectations of summer after months and months in Ghana is challenging. I’m not alone, I know that, but sometimes even with all the love and my family around me, it’s been hard not to feel that way.

-----------------------------------------------------

Walmart.

Why?

Out. Of. Control.

-----------------------------------------------------

Back in Colorado for the summer. Only this time, this transitioning period is new. Unmarked territory—full of tension. Tension, not in the wow, I feel uptight and uncomfortable sense, but rather in the I’m a crossroad, becoming sense. I’m coming off a whirlwind experience in Ghana. In a couple months I will head off to my senior year in college. I’m a woman. Don’t be fooled, I am not afraid to jump in and make sand castles with the kids, or even take part in an occasional puppet show. It’s just, I’ve grown up too. So, fitting here has been hard.

-----------------------------------------------------

Amidst the excitement and joy of our family as we took pictures outside the Ritchie Center in Denver, I glanced over and saw a woman in beautiful African garb. Complete with the headdress. I got so excited, I tugged at my grandma, wanting her to see the beauty of Ghanaian fashion. She smiled and seemed excited too. More and more, I am wishing I made my diva dress into a Ghanaian women’s outfit. I just don’t think I could ever be that fabulous. I mean REALLY. It was nice to see the vibrant colors, styles, and designs again. So beautiful.

-----------------------------------------------------

I’ve been sad, anxious, and confused. Unsure of where God is leading me next. Yet, fully aware of the passion inside of me. There is so much ahead. It’s insane, really. There’s also so much here.

-----------------------------------------------------

As I was asking God for peace in my heart, I realized that even if I don’t fit, it doesn’t mean I don’t belong. This is home. It always will be. So, as I deal with this tension I can find grace in knowing I am here for a reason. I am home. And it might just be as sweet as American honey. Like the wise and poetic Lady Antebellum says.

-----------------------------------------------------

I talked with a Liberian woman, Ida, who has been a favorite at the Gathering Place for years today. Her accent, her dress, she was a give away. I knew she had that West African woman spirit, seriously. The minute she mentioned plantains, I had to approach her. We had an instant connection, and for me, an instant admiration. A Liberian refugee, bringing her children her to America and making a life for her family here, I was truly humbled. I asked her how in the world she adjusted to this crazy American life. She scoffed, laughed, and simply said, “I didn’t really have a choice. You do what you have to do, and you just keep on loving God.” Two days later, she brought me and the rest of the family area staff fried plantains and a Liberian stew. West African women might just be some of the strongest, most intense, passionate, and kind people you will ever meet.

-----------------------------------------------------

God never ceases to amaze me. On the same day that I got to talk on the phone with the children of Kissemahn, I got to spend all day with 4 children at the Gathering Place who I developed close relationships with two years ago. I finally got to see them again—Betty, Jesus, Janet, and Lizzy. Needless to say, the blessings and beauty of this world come unexpectedly sometimes. That’s the best part, isn’t it? I forgot how much I loved being called Auntie Heather, and I forgot how great it was to hear prayers in Spanish. Life is beautiful.

-----------------------------------------------------

Maybe if all of America knew about Ghana time, life would be felt a little more. Are people that rush around, barely looking away from their closed tunnel vision, numb to what is going on around them? Why don’t people say hi to each other more? Why don’t we just STOP and just enjoy? Hospitality goes a long way. I know this. I know this, because the other day, as I got into my car, absorbing all of the thoughts racing through my mind, a man in a wheelchair waved. I felt loved. I felt the way it felt when people spewed out “Akwaaba!” and “How are youuuu?” in the markets of Accra, or even walking towards Blessed Bless to get an egg sandwhich. Yes, hospitality is a gift, and something I hope offer more to the people around me. My family, my friends, and complete strangers. It might just slowly help the world become a better place.

-----------------------------------------------------

I feel like I am trying to vicariously live my Ghanaian life through the Black Stars during the World Cup. When the camera crew shows the flag, and Ghanaian football enthusiasts I get teary eyed. Do I need counseling? No, not really, but it's funny that I feel much more strongly about rooting for a team that I lived in that nation for over 4 months, versus my OWN nation, in which I have lived for well over 20 years. Ghana makes you do funny things.

-----------------------------------------------------

It’s Father’s Day. I feel even more grateful and blessed with a wonderful father than ever before. My dad is a silly man, most people would tell you that, but they would also say that he seeks to understand me than a lot of other people. We are close, not because he knows the intricate details of my life, but because he has a deeper understanding of what makes me happy. My dad came to Ghana for me. It was the most wonderful act of love he could have done, and now, he understands, more than anyone, how weird, strange, and hard it is to live back in America. That makes things easier. Even in just that week and half in the land of the Black Stars, he caught a glimpse of Ghana, and what it’s like to live in a completely different part of the world. He gets it. Sometimes I just need a hug when things feel overwhelming here. And he knows that. So, I’m extra thankful today. I also have a wonderfully supportive stepdad in Randy, and a wonderful Grandpa too. How did I get so lucky? The men in my life are strong, compassionate, and loyal. They have the things that I hope to find one day in a man, and I think that’s a pretty cool thing.

-----------------------------------------------------

 

Hidden Treasures

It's no secret my family tree is complicated. If you have ever been my friend, you have probably been confused. That's mostly because, yes, my parents are divorced but also both sets of my grandparents are also divorced. My parents are remarried—so voila! 6 sets of grandparents. Confusing? Yes. A blessing? Absolutely. It's also no secret to those close to me that my Grandma Genevra (my dad's mother) is my kindred spirit.

 

From the time I was little and as I grew up, she was a guiding force in my life. From little things to big things, I learnt a lot from her. So much of me is from her. It runs that deep.

For the past 7 years Grandma Jenny and the rest of our family has had to deal with MS: multiple sclerosis. It is the hardest thing I have personally dealt with in my life. Which, says a lot, because I am not the one suffering directly from the disease. But, that's not what this is about. Not today.

 

I'm writing because tonight I reconnected with her, and not in an expected way.

 

Grandma is practically paralyzed on her left side now. She has very little control of her body—no longer can she form many coherent, words, sounds, or sentences. Just last week when I popped in to see her at the nursing home, I watched as she tried to brush her teeth. A struggle, and also an impossibility for her now, she must solely rely on others for her care giving.

 

When we went to Josh's baseball game in Highlands Ranch she could barely see. Her back hunched over from her depleted muscles kept her from keeping her head up. It's getting harder to take her out. But, Gary (essentially my grandfather) does it every single weekend. The mountains, Denver, Boulder, you name it. They go.

 

I was thinking about all of this as Lance and I dug through some stuff in the garage. We were having a garage sale, and dad wanted us to sift through some boxes. I found old china, my old dolls, and old kitchenware. Nothing totally unexpected.

 

That is, until I found one of my Grandma's old purses. A stylish, sophisticated, coffee cream color purse, it screamed Grandma Jenny.

 

Giddy, I opened it up.

 

It's amazing—it smelt of Grandma. Her scent, like I remember it, a mix of Chanel No 5 with the sweet smell of rose blush. I hadn't smelt her like that in years. I kept digging.

 

This purse was clearly hers before she got really sick and the MS took a turn for the worse. She had a Colorado MS magazine, and a letter from her doctor too. She had two pairs of sunglasses, big, and diva-esque, as per usual. My Grandma always exuded classiness.

 

Grandma also kept everything. Old receipts, letters, notes, and God knows what else. All in her bag, too. I even noticed in her old checkbook how her writing progressively got shakier and shakier as her muscles gave out more and more. An old billfold. Pictures. In one of them, she is completely glowing. It's Christmas time and she is looking admiringly at Kaitlyn, my cousin and one of her other granddaughters. Strong, vibrant, protective, and compassionate.

 

There was an envelope in her purse too. Dotted with various phone numbers and miscellaneous information, I opened it up. She had an article cut out, a check from my uncle that never got cashed, and old pictures. One of the pictures was when she couldn't have been older than 22. She is wearing a gorgeous red dress with black heels, holding a pair of white gloves in her hands. She is posing next to a grand piano, with her hoop earrings, bright red lipstick, and glowing smile. I never knew this young woman. I only knew her as my grandmother, and yet here is evidence of a life well spent as a beautiful woman. I felt like she was really here again. I grew up wanting to be like her. I still do. Finding this purse and finding mementos and remnants of Grandma before MS made me incredibly happy. Sometimes it is hard to separate the disease, but it can be done. MS doesn't define her.

 

I struggle with what has happened every day. She always crosses my mind at some point. When I see someone sewing. When I want breakfast for dinner. When I see CSI come on. When I go to the library. When I play sports. When I watch old ladies work in the their garden.

 

No, she's not dead, but in dealing with this disease you lost a lot of that person—inevitably.

She isn't gone though. I was reminded of that as I perused through her old belongings. For the first time ever really, I am at peace. I don't feel anger. I don't feel so sad. It is what it is. I still have with me everything she taught me. She let me dream. She let me know anything was possible. She held me. She showed me the small things in life and told me that these are what makes this world beautiful. And love too.

 

Always love, she would say.

 

So that is what I will try and do. For so long I have been angry about what happened to her. But years have passed, and time keeps going. God is working in my life, and in hers, and I am finally letting go. I can't change what has happened, and I can't change what she might be going through. I can still love though. I can always love. Here's to love.

this little struggle of mine

I have been struggling for a little while.

A minute struggle, a struggle that in the grand scheme of things doesn't even show a blip on the map.
There's a lot of hurt in the world. A lot of pain. And a lot of tears.
And so maybe, I know that this little struggle is just that--a little struggle.
I've faced harder things, that's for sure.
I've dealt with heavier things, no question.
But this problem--this wall--has crumbled down.
And it's nice. I feel like I can breathe again. I feel like I can just be me, all pretenses to the side. I feel like I'm home.

I couldn't talk to God.

Progressively, over the course of days and weeks, closing my eyes to pray was a lot like trying to eat when you aren't hungry. When you try to run and you havn't had any water. And when you take a test without studying.
It felt forced.
It felt strange.
It felt fake.

I couldn't talk to God because I was holding back. Or rather, I couldn't bring myself to just let it all go.
And the funny thing is, there wasn't really anything in particular to let go. It was just me. Me, my guilt, my emotions, my thoughts, my dreams, my pain, my happiness, my laughter, my tears, all of it.
I was keeping it inside.
Maybe I was scared what I would find if I just put it all out there.
As if God didn't know.
As if I didn't lay it all out before anyway.
But for a few weeks there, it was kind of scary. Uncomfortable. Stifling.

And worst of all, lonely.

It was like being surronded by complete beauty, and then being utterly unaware. I had to force myself to see something beautiful, and when that happens you know something just isn't right. Beauty shouldn't be that hard--not when I am around incredible people, wonderful scenery, and I get to bear witness to the love of humanity everyday.
But.
Beauty was hard.

I can't really explain what happened. And, I can't say I am one hundred percent cured! Aha! Praise God!

No, no. I am not back to where I started. But guess what? I don't think I want to be.

I think this little struggle of mine was a chance to grow, a chance to endure. Faith and God just can't be easy all of the time. And even though life in every sense was wonderful, I didn't have it together with my heart, and my faith.

So, now.

Where am I?

I don't really know. I don't know about the status of my journey.

AND THAT'S OKAY.

I don't find it healthy to identify my spiritual journey in terms of where I am. Instead, right now, I feel wonderful talking to God. I feel honored, I feel loved, and I feel right. Even if I'm sad, scared, worried, at least the words are there. At least, in the very least, I am still somehow manuvering through life with God right there with me. That's all I can really say. But from here on out, there can't be any "status" on how I'm doing with God. The ups, the downs, that's real. It's okay to fall away, even if just for a short while, because coming back makes it so much more worth it.

Here I am, God.
Here I am.
I don't do it right most of the time.
I screw up. I'm mean. I'm rude. I make mistakes. I hurt people. I lie. I am selfish.
But God you give me the opportunity to be a lot more.
And I'm so thankful for that.
This little struggle of mine is small. It's barely caused a ripple in the sea. But You've helped me all the same. Help me find my way home again.
Help me breathe.
Help me just inhale the fresh air of this world, really just take it all in, and then love.
Love, love, love.

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

redemptive love

He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. ~Clarence Budington Kelland











People talk about gifts that God gives them and blesses them with—strength, passion, love. Some of these are like flowing rivers, constants that shine through people all the time. I know people like this. When I think of determination I think of mommy, when I think of strength I think of Grandma Genevra, and when I think of courage I think of my dad. There is just something about associating beautiful characteristics to the people around you. What happens when these characteristics are not enough? What happens when words cannot evoke the perfect sense of feeling, the right description of qualities? More importantly, are these words just a figment of our imagination, a creation to attribute others with boxed in traits?

Regardless, God does equip us with abilities and with His love, so that in our lives we can exemplify His love. Lately, what I have witnessed is His power to give you feelings and abilities you may have never known existed.

When I first found our my dad had gotten in trouble, I didn’t know what it meant and to what extent he was in trouble. My parents were already divorced and when my mom told me that dad was coming over to dinner, I knew something was up. Dinner? Talk? What words were going to be exchanged? I feared more words would be splattered like a snowball thrown against a barren tree, in which the snow would fall and spill over, like our family. When he came it was weird. But it also felt okay—my parents were cordial, warm even. We ate and sat down in the living room and he spoke. It’s a blur now—the words from his mouth are beyond me, like a fuzzy dream that no matter how hard you push to remember, you just can’t. He came to tell use he got a DUI. Drinking Under the Influence. He got it a couple days prior to this. He had been driving in his beloved black ford truck, and drinking beforehand, when he slammed into the side of the road. Nobody got hurt. No other car was involved. He didn’t even get physically hurt. His car was totaled. And because of the offense he had to spend the night in jail.

He had to go to jail.

Jail. My father. My daddy. In jail.

My whole body went numb. How could he do this?

God it was so bad. But it was bad enough that is happened. I couldn’t concentrate for the next few days, I was completely lost and wanted nothing more than to escape. It was worse though, how I responded. I was angry, disappointed, sad, but mostly angry. I tried to tell him everything was okay and that I wasn’t mad at him. I tried so hard not to be. Everything started to return to some sense of normalcy, but I felt I was carrying a heavy burden. A burden that weighed heavily because I was still so angry. Everytime my dad and I would disagree or argue, I would throw everything back in his face. I would use my anger as a weapon and try to feel better from my dad’s guilt. It was awful, and I cringe when I think about how I used to be. I am not proud of that person, and I am disappointed. I think apart of it was how high I held my dad up; I put him on a pedestal, I wanted to be everything that he was. So, when this happened, it all came crumbling down. Yet, maybe I had to go through all of that to learn who I didn’t want to be. Maybe going through that opened my eyes, trust me, it opened my heart.

It took years for me to forgive. To truthfully release the anger in my heart, the burden on my back, and the regret in my soul. I don’t recall exactly when it happened, but I knew God had given me an attribute that I never knew I could have—the ability to forgive. It was a long road there. I went through emotional hell, and put my dad through it too. I blamed his mistake, and his alcoholism for the divorce. Granted, it was apart of it, but his issues were in no way the only reason my parents’ marriage fell apart. They fell out of love, they weren’t happy. The drinking was more of a result of the unhappiness, if anything. The words of bitterness leaving my tongue were not me—I knew that—but it kept happening anyway.

Yet, healing and forgiveness came along one day. It didn’t happen in an instant, it was a long time coming, but when it came everything changed. My world wasn’t a battle as much as it was a sincere effort to find love. The best part is that my heart transformed. You might say I woke up, and I smelled the coffee! I didn’t use my anger as a means to build a wall up from my dad, instead, it tore the wall down. God gave me the ability to forgive my dad. I thank God for that.

I needed that more than anything. It’s a funny thing to feel anger leaving your body. It’s like taking the first jump into the pool on a scorching hot summer day. It’s refreshing and nothing has ever felt so good. That was the beginning of my challenge. Forgiving my dad and investing new joy and love into that relationship became a priority that topped all other things. We went golfing, to Chipolte, and of course spent many lazy Sunday afternoons throwing the football around outside. With anger subsided I could tangibly see all the beauty that my dad’s heart entails—his witty sense of humor, his devotion to his family, and his strange personality that always embarrasses me, but I have grown to admire, and at times emulate. The challenge of forgiveness did not completely diminish though, because I could feel it in my heart. Not the forgiveness I found to give to my dad, but the forgiveness of myself. Forgiveness, you see, can at times be two-fold. It goes both ways.

I forgave daddy.
I did.
But me?
How could I put him through that?
What kind of daughter does that?

I would watch my friends with their dads and I would feel horrible. Like, something was eating at my insides. Because I felt terrible for not supporting him when he needed me most, and for letting him down.

This was something I had to reconcile. I prayed. Over and over.
But my heart wouldn’t budge.
I was holding myself in contempt and didn’t think I deserved to be forgiven.

To this day I feel a tinge of guilt for spewing anger at my dad when he made that mistake; that mistake that changed him, and made him better. I feel guilty for choosing anger instead of love.
But somehow along this journey I have found peace. I have found solace, and it brings tears to my eyes, because it has been the most redemptive and freeing emotion that I have experienced. This peace has set me free. God once again, has provided that which I though was impossible.

I have forgiven myself.

As the cans of beers have slowly dwindled away, due to my dad’s steadfast commitment to get his drinking under control, my heart has slowly, but surely come to find contentment. God is so good, and I am so blessed to have been through all of this. It’s taught me about myself, daddy, life, and God. As I relinquished my guilt, I can look back and literally see how God was working in my life. Right around the time I was able to forgive myself, was the time I really found Jesus. God works in funny ways like that.

I’m embracing my life fully knowing and at the same time, being utterly unaware of God’s magnificence and His abilities. I have experienced the beauty of His love and power, and I now know that anything is possible.

My dad is one of my best friends. He is quirky, funny, weird, hilarious, loving, and strong. That man, he is so strong. The things he has been through are unbelievable, and yet through it all he becomes a better person everyday. I am lucky, so lucky, to have him as my dad. I wouldn’t be me without him. I wouldn’t be loud. I wouldn’t be fearless. I wouldn’t be strong. My dad got me through not just this struggle, but just about every other struggle I have faced. My dad is my hero.

No regrets.
No bitterness.

It’s the only way to live. <3>

spiritual autobiography: climbing the mountain of faith

I wrote a spiritual autobiography over a month ago. I deeply enjoyed writing it; it challenged me, and also allowed me to really see how God has been working in my life. It may not be best work to date, but I loved the experience. Dr. McDaniel simply said to write about our spiritual or religious experiences in our lives. This is what I came up with.

Climbing the Mountain of Faith

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me’.” – Matthew 25:40

I grew up in a place where love was easy. There was the unrequited love from my dysfunctional, yet somehow perfect family, the adoring, unyielding love from my dog, and the “I love you no matter how weird you are” love from my friends. Yet, love in my life extended well beyond relationships. My whole existence, from the earliest moments of youth, to the rebellious days of being a teen, had one important continuity: my love for the outdoors. As a 10 year old wanting to prove my acquisition of independence, I would ride my bike down the shady sidewalks of suburbia and would feel the cool Colorado air against my face. I felt free. My countless trips to the Rocky Mountains helped me realize the passion for nature’s splendor that I have always had. The smell of mountain rivers and the serenity of small mountain towns has fascinated me since I was young. My brother and I would run unreservedly and barefoot along the river bank in Frisco, Colorado and I would glance up and become mesmerized by the magnificent mountain encompassed by the pure blue sky. I experienced moments of awe; I was in the presence of something much bigger than myself. Of course, there were the soccer fields too. I could never forget how my dad would yell for me, “the bulldog”, as I aggressively pushed through the swarms of girls trying to get to the ball. The grass stains were notorious in the Newell household; we loved “being one” with nature at every possible opportunity, even if it meant falling face first in the grass. All of this love made growing up so fun and meaningful. It is a major part of who I was as a child, who I am today, who I am becoming. Yet, it was not until the later stage of my crazy teen years that I actually came to form my own worldview. It was not until my teen years that I fell in love with Jesus Christ.
It seems weird looking back now. How could I have grown up with so much love in my life, and not realize how deeply love was intertwined into my existence? I only went to church on the important days, like Christmas and Easter, during the years when I was younger. Though I had the belief of a supreme being instilled in my mind, I had no idea what that meant. To me, Jesus and God seemed like very cool ideas. Like, about as cool as getting ice cream from the ice cream truck. It was all so hypothetical to me. Most of my religious experiences did not provide all of the roots that I would really need to grasp the idea of God.
This all changed my freshman year of high school. My family experienced a divorce, I had a minimal sense of identity, and became lost among the social norms of high school and teenhood. Soon after though, I found myself in the warm, hospitable presence of something divine and extraordinary. We started going to church regularly, and at the Christmas Eve midnight candlelight service my heart opened. I finally let God in. It wasn’t Him that had been missing my whole life; He had been there the whole time. Before, even with all the love surrounding me, I never felt apart of something so remarkable. I didn’t sense or feel God—God ruled from above, and to me, the separation was distinct. As I sang that night, I felt differently, and I knew that Jesus was my Savior. My whole existence—physical, emotional, spiritual, mental—was flooded with indescribable emotion. My notion of love amplified to the biggest degree imaginable; this was more than just the love of family, the love of nature, or even the love of others, this was the love of Jesus. For once, love could not be boxed in or defined, it was simply just there.
Once I became a believer, it wasn’t as though I transformed overnight. Believe it or not, I didn’t become a healer for the sick, I didn’t have further revelations of the good news, and I certainly didn’t behave any better. In fact, coming to understand what being a follower of Jesus entails has taken much longer. Slowly though, I did begin to develop perceptions of the world, and how I wanted to live my life. The most inspirational part of Christianity, to me, is how Jesus lived his life. He saw no social constructs; he saw no “other”. His ministry revolved around loving all people. I have found great inspiration from this because the Bible tells us, “Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:4). Through life experiences, I have found that my spiritual gifts are to serve and develop relationships with others. Specifically, I have found my calling in loving the less fortunate and building relationships with those who often times have been rejected from society. I feel strongly this calling exists because when I am with the homeless and the poor I sometimes struggle to find the right words to say. Somehow though, God provides and the words flow.
I remember having a conversation with a woman I met in Birmingham. I was with a group from Hendrix, and we were helping serve breakfast as apart of a church’s homeless ministry. She walked into the room with such radiance. Her smile was electrifying and she lit up the entire room. She sat down at a table to eat breakfast, and I felt compelled to join her. This woman, Rosalyn, spoke to me about her journey through life and conversely wanted to know mine. God was there in that moment. He blessed that conversation, and I think back on that experience as validation for what the rest of my life could look like. I feel like in these moments I am genuinely living from the center and experiencing a moment of what Buddhists might call karma yoga. By extending my heart outwards to those around me, I feel complete. The doing of selfless action helps me grow closer to not just that individual, but to God as well. By serving others I am inherently serving God. I feel that when I am in service, I am closest to sympathetically conforming to the mind of Christ.
One notion that I have come to experience through the grace of God is the mystery of his ubiquity. When I first started exploring my relationship with God, I thought I had God all figured out. Of course, in delving deeper into a spiritual communion with God, this could not be the furthest from the truth. I have come to acknowledge that God is infinite, while the world is finite. I cannot put the power or love of God into a few measly sentences. God is much bigger than we can even know. This has become the stepping stone to giving meaning to my worldview and life; because God is everywhere, everything is apart of Him. I recognize God in people, in things, in nature, and throughout the hustle and bustle of everyday life. This has allowed me to grow more intimately with Him because I know He is with me at all times, through the good and the bad. I trust that He has provided the people and situations in my life because He has a plan for me. It’s overwhelming, astounding, and filled with His loving hand of grace, and it makes me fall in love with Him all over again everyday. Because I can feel God in most anything, I have developed more of an inner peace. Little things do not bother me so much, and I can be myself. I am happier. I am kinder. I am more grateful. And even when life feels unbearable, I know He is with me every step of the way.
Wu wei, a Daoist term, oddly enough can describe a lot of how I feel in the presence of God. When I am praying, singing, or even just living in the moment, I feel an incredible burst of spontaneity. Not spontaneous in the sense where you might randomly go on a two- hour road trip, but in the sense that my self-desire falls away and I am just living—it is when I am genuinely, wholly me. When nothing is calculated, and I am just as I am. This past summer I made the decision to be baptized. I felt it was a necessary step for me in my journey of faith; I was ready to make an outward commitment to God. As the words of my proclamation flowed out of my mouth to the congregation looking on, my pastor unhurriedly dipped me in the water. It felt like the most natural thing in the entire world. Just me and God. I hold that moment dear to my heart because it was one of the most intimate moments I have ever had with God.
One of my favorite passages in the Bible is from Psalm 23: “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.” I love that God restores my soul. I have felt renewal and restoration many times in my life. One point of restoration has come more recently, particularly in regards to my notion of Christianity. My perception of Christianity has always been apart of the exclusivist approach. I was under the impression that heaven was a glorious place reserved for Christians. For only Christians. I didn’t consider the value of other religions. I thought that my path in believing in God was the truth, the only truth. I began to be exposed to people different from me. People who lived life so beautifully and yet they weren’t Christians. Or maybe they were Christians but were considered “radical Christians”. Apparently you can be Christian and a Democrat. Or maybe they didn’t even profess a religion. Whatever they were, they were different. How could I reconcile this beauty with my belief that Christianity was the only way? God is bigger than Christianity. I began to question how my worldview actually fits in with the world, and this discovery has led me to believe that there are many paths up the steep mountain to God. Christianity cannot be the only way. God loves all of creation. Jesus is one way to the Father, I just happen to think that there are many ways. I love that Jesus is my way. I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for it.
I don’t have all the answers. After growing with God for the past six years I have not only recognized this, but have accepted this. Still, I believe I have begun to tap into the magnificence of faith. I have found that my faith is not only having faith in God and His love for the world, but also having faith in people. My grandma, Genevra Rose Newell, demonstrates to me what having faith in people is all about through how she lives her life. She treats everyone she meets with fierce compassion, and she would do anything for the people she loves. Every Wednesday when I was young, we would walk hand in hand around the park to feed the geese with wonderbread. It was a spiritual experience for her; she valued spending time with loved ones more than anything in the world, and being able to do this outside in nature brought the most heartwarming smile to her face. Her smile was like her heart being projected to the outside world, vulnerable and yet unwaveringly passionate. She would talk to me about anything and everything. I remember her telling me about life and all the great things I could encounter. She believed in me, and told me I could do anything as long as my heart was in the right place. I think she was talking about God. I think she wanted me to find Him. Now that I have, I am eager to grow in my relationship with God and discover and experience the plan He has for me. The journey has been long, rough, and difficult at times. But it is my life, and the glory of God always wins. He is taking me somewhere inconceivable, so really, the spiritual journey has just begun.

True Inner Strength

Donald Miller is just fantastic. Oh yeah. He really knows what he is talking about.

"And so I have come to understand that strength, inner strength, comes from receiving love as much as it comes from giving it. I think apart from the idea that I am a sinner and God forgives me, this is the greatest lesson I have ever learned. When you get it, it changes you."

He is so right. It does change you. For the better, of course. God loves me. God loves me. That never gets old.

My relationship with God lately has been..I can't really explain it. I read the Bible when I can. I pray as much as possible. I want to continue to grow spiritually. Honestly, I really do. In fact, I could really use it right now. School is so so hard right now. Between classes, field hockey, clubs, etc I need Him now more than ever. I just need a little more "umph". I am sincere when I talk with Him, but lately it has been more of a reeling off a list of names or situations that need some direction. I am a believer that everything, everything, I do is done with God right there with me. Without believing in that, I don't know how I would get through the nitty gritty of life, the hard times, the mundane times, the iffy times, the good times, everything. He is there all the time. So, I know that Him being there is not the problem. That never is. And I know how much He loves me. That much is apparent. He has given me so many wonderful things. He has given me the big things like a family, great friends, education, shelter, and more. But more so, he has given me the little things too; a beautiful sunset, a nice conversation with a cafeteria lady, laughter, and more. Without these things where would I be? So, I know He loves me. I know He is there. So what is the problem?

I guess I can turn to Donald Miller again. From the great work, Blue Like Jazz:

"It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running, but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things."

This sounds more like it. I feel like I understand this. I do feel like running. I feel like tackling everything in my life. Maybe I need to slow down. Yes. Maybe life is on a stroll right now, and that to really accept the love God has for me I just need to take slower steps and look around. I need to realize and accept that God has a plan for me. He isn't going to leave me out in the dust to fend for myself. He is there and He is just waiting for me to see Him once again and to feel His love all over again. :)

I wouldn't say I am in a spiritual crisis. Oh no, not at all. That could imply that I am questioning Him. And while there is a time and a place for questioning, I am not there at this moment. I am just a girl, a 19 year old girl, who loves God more than anything and yet I feel caught up in the ickiness of the world. I want to let it all go. Because I know when I am walking around campus and I can see the beauty of this world, both in human interaction and in nature, that is not justwonderful observations. That is God. He is glorious. And I need to let go of all of the stuff that doesn't even matter. That is going to be my goal for the next week. Relenquish everything. Because really, when I can continue to grow in my relationship with Him, everything else will fall into place. It always does. And, it always will.