Psalm 143- a psalm of David

“O Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my cry for mercy; in your faithfulness and righteousness come to my relief.Do not bring your servant into judgment, for no one living is righteous before you. The enemy pursues me, he crushes me to the ground; he makes me dwell in darkness like those long dead. So my spirit grows faint within me; my heart within me is dismayed. I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. I spread out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. Answer me quickly, O Lord; my spirit fails. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have but my trust in you. Show me the way I should go for to you I left my soul. Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hide myself in you. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. In your unfailing love, silence my enemies; destroy all my foes, for I am your servant.”

-italics and underlining are added by yours truly

-photo credit: darlingmagazine.org

Okay…so based on what I have gleaned from my blog writing so far, here is what I would see as my target audience:

If you….

-have ever oscillated between thinking you were incredibly witty, creative, morose or contemplative

-are a fallen human being who just wants to see God’s beauty amidst the brokenness

-believe in spontaneity and the joys and repercussions that accompany it

-think pretty DIY crafts can easily follow a rousing and deep theological blog entry

-love to laugh

-want to travel the world and witness the pain and the hope that fill it

…then you might find something amongst these writings.

These characteristics might not follow the parameters one would establish for say, a style blog or a how-to blog, but it is the best I can do at the moment. Perhaps outside perspective can help me glean a better appreciation for this space and an audience as I continue to grow and figure it all out.

Happy blogging/identity finding!

-”So, are you going to come back with one of those little red dots on your forehead?”

-”Why would you want to go there?!”

-”My friend got stuck in India one time.”

-”Let me guess, you’re not getting paid, again?”

I soon realized that India is not actually a destination country in people’s minds. Personally, I was looking up flights when I was 17, trying to justify visiting my best friend’s family in southern India (since stowing away in her suitcase didn’t seem like the most efficient solution). Even before that the image I had of India was that my great-grandmother had visited it in the late 1960s. She was one of two women on a small team representing the Methodist Church as they established their first church group in India. I have a picture of her with Indira Gandhi, it’s as awesome as you can imagine.

But the question still remains, why India? To be honest, I cannot even answer that question truthfully. Around mid-2011, I knew I was suppose to be somewhere serving in this world. I had finished college and except for a few important weddings near the end of the year, had zero commitments. It was now or never for leaping into the unknown and honestly asking God to take me where he wanted me. Through a series of events I still do not fully understand, multiple applications to different organizations, and various phone interviews, I was offered this internship in Kolkata. Never before in my life have I been so sure that I am doing something in order to fulfill God’s glory, not my own.

India is a fascinating place, full of a rich and broken history that speaks of violent oppression and ever present hope. I am not entirely sure what I can expect out of this experience but I am sure it will be nothing short of life-changing. Thanks for occasionally checking in and joining in the madness, hopefully it will be worth your while.

Today I had the opportunity to spend the evening with one of my mom’s good friends. She and her husband have been kind enough to house me for a good portion of the week while I am in Washington DC in preparation for my departure to India. I always enjoy these times to interact with my mom’s closest friends because they remind me of the benefits of investing in worthwhile friendships and that I am, without a doubt, turning into my mother.

The two of us had seen each other recently at my sister’s wedding but had barely spoken to one another amidst all the chaos of the weekend. It was nice to enjoy a nice Italian meal and some wine in downtown Bethesda on a Saturday evening. As we were swapping stories and updates on life, she shared with me a fun story about my mom when she was pregnant with me.

For starters, I apparently was a challenge even before I was born. My mom will deny such a statement, but the truth of the matter is she was sick for most of her pregnancy with me and it was a difficult nine months (sorry about that, Mom). Her friend told me that after my mom had attended a conference for work in Florida she was going to fly up to Washington DC on Veterans Day weekend to visit her for the long, holiday weekend. The capitol had been pleasant that whole week, so my mom had been informed that she wouldn’t need to pack heavy clothing.

However, as my mom was in route from Florida to DC, mother nature decided to take its course. As her friend watched a blizzard slowly build its way up to her house, she realized her little car would not withstand the turbulent weather nor be safe for my uncomfortable mother. Now, this was November 1987 – there were no cell phones for her to be constantly texting my mom before she got on the plane nor Facebook updates from the airport for my mom to know the exact conditions before her departure. My mom’s friend had only a few precious hours to frantically call every rental car and hotel in the area near the airport only to be turned away, saying they could not withstand the snow or they were filled for the night.

Becoming desperate, she called a limo service that was operated out of the owner’s home. The driver’s wife answered the phone and upon hearing my mom’s friend’s frantic pleas to help her heavily pregnant friend arriving in an hour, she called her husband in from shoveling snow to figure out a solution. The driver assured my mom’s friend my mom would be looked after and he would have her at the house safely. Later they found out the driver and his wife had four children of their own and when the started the limo renting company, they offered free drives from hospital to home for mothers and their newborns (some things really do not seem coincidental).

When my mom arrived in DC, she headed toward the line snaking around the baggage claim area for the pay phones, hoping to reach her friend. With a specific description of my pregnant mother’s characteristics, the driver approached her and told her he had a limo waiting for her outside and her friend had arranged everything. My mom had not packed for a blizzard, so he had made sure to have the heat blasting when she sat down and had water and snacks for her. The limo came with a phone so she was able to eventually call her friend while comfortably sitting down and not waiting for an hour in line.

What I love about this story is how my mom’s friend never stopped until she had figured out how to safely and comfortably get my mom to her house. There was never a hesitation that she was going to do whatever she could for her friend. This is only an illustration of what this friend has been for my mom over their many years of friendship. She has laughed, cried, comforted and advised my mom through every chapter of their lives and mom has reciprocated to the best of her abilities.

My housemate, Brie, and I were having a conversation about true friendship last week. She summarized our thoughts simply and eloquently –“being a true, good friend takes a lot of work, but when it happens, it’s worth it.”

Friendships are a sacrifice: you are allowing yourself to become a more vulnerable person when you invest so many emotions and trust with another person. Sometimes friendships can lead to betrayal or disappointment; a risk that had to be taken to truly invest in a person’s life. Other times you have to live with the realization that those friends who love you the most are the ones who expect the most out of you, causing them to be hurt even more by poor decisions you take in your life.

But between the heart ache and tough love, the gut-wrenching laughter and countless DIY face mask days, an indescribable bound is created that can never be severed. The kind that will call you at any hour of the day to make sure you are okay. The kind that will wake up at 3am to drive you to the airport. Or the kind that will never stop until you have the nicest ride in town through the craziest of blizzards.

Photo credit: darlingmagazine.org

In college, I would start arranging letters, pictures or mementos from the semester on a bulletin board. When I moved to Santa Barbara a year ago I started that again. The goals of this little project are three-fold: a) to enjoy looking at moments and people that make me smile b) pretend to look artsy by putting something resembling a collage up and c) eventually arranging all these items in some scrapbook like fashion, even though I am the worst scrap booker ever (no joke).

So, without further adieu, and which will probably sit in storage for year until I get back, the things that made me smile in 2011.

January 1, 2012
I have been looking forward to this year.

It might have been the result of the Aztec calander “end of the world” hype I received in Mexico, but I have wanted it to be 2012 for some time. 2012 would be the year I turned 24- an age that has always been poignant to me as it was the “grown-up” age of my mom when she got married. I always pictured doing something epic in 2012- seeing the world, enjoying life and doing something completely different.

Clearly I followed through on my wishes because in 27 days I leave on a one-way ticket to Kolkata, India working for an anti-human trafficking non-profit organization. I’ve never had a desire manifest itself so clearly, while at the same time knowing it is not for my satisfaction, but for furthering God’s glory and hope for this broken world.

I’ve been thinking about the hardships and emotional struggles I have recently had to endure, and in all honesty, still am. I have thought about the broken person I am and that I am really not at my strongest as I leave on this trip. But maybe, just maybe, that’s the point: perhaps the way I have been responding and acting to mistakes and consequences serve as a greater reminder to me that I do not have it all together and I am kidding myself if I think I do. My actions might look great on a resume or sound uplifting in a blog entry, but the truth of the matter is I am clueless as to what is happening in my life or where the repercussions of my decisions will take me. But, I do know that God does and that he has been preparing me for this trip for some time.

As I think about my prayers and reflections from 2011, I think about all those mornings, especially in the summer, when I felt so much peace of mind. I was satisfied where I was, where I worked and with the knowledge that I was preparing myself for the next chapter of my life. I think on that period in my life and remember that there is a time for every emotion. I knew even then that that peace would not last forever and prayed I would have the strength to endure when it ended. Now, being in a new, confusing interim period of my life, I realize my endurance is only possible through the patience and love of my Savior, manifested in friendships that have become even closer this year.

***
Happy new year, everyone…3 days late. May this year be as epic and wonderful as you envision. May we all become a little more honest with ourselves and others. And may God’s amazing plans for your lives begin to manifest themselves in your hearts, in your relationships and in your actions.

These actions would constitute, I believe, independence. This word is revered in Western society, especially among young women in the last forty years. To not have one’s independence is to be submissive, tolling away over a stove for a bread-winning husband and a multitude of children. Obviously this is not the case – I know countless women who are strong, opinionated and could easily be classified as “independent” and are happily married. I have seen plenty of examples growing up of such women from my teachers, to my church and my own mother.

Growing up, no one questioned the strength and abilities of my female friends. But then, something strange happened…I went to college. Correction, I went to a liberal arts, Christian college. There are many things that I will cherish, appreciate and miss about my time at Westmont but one that I do not miss is this continual tension from the student body of “a woman’s place” and the usage of “independence” in an almost vile tone.

I was recently talking with some friends about this approach to independence in Christian circles. It started because one of my friends had genuinely said something about admiring my independence. I told him that, in all honesty, it is still hard for me to hear that from my peers, especially ones that are male. I said that when people older than me comment on my “independent nature,” it is seen as an accomplishment for my parents and their ability to raise me to live on my own successfully. However, when I hear girls my age tell me I’m independent or “I was always different than everyone” I hear, “it’s okay, we can live through your life choice while we go get married.” Even worse, when guys note my independence, I hear “wow, okay, get THAT out of your system before any guy would consider being with you!”

Obviously that is not what 95 per cent of what my peers, regardless of their gender, are saying to me when they note an independent feature in my life. I find it ironically sad that it wasn’t until I moved into a predominantly Christian culture that such an attribute was questioned. As brothers and sisters in Christ, we should be building one another up and encouraging the characteristics within each one of us that makes us unique in the eyes of our Creator. And yet, I have been stung countless times by the phrase, “I know, I know, I don’t want to come in the way of your independence!

So here’s to every person’s studio apartment dream in some new city. Here’s to understanding independence not as some character flaw for a young, Christian woman but something that should be celebrated and encouraged in more of our peers. Here’s to seeking God’s plan for planting an independent spirit in our hearts and finding even greater glory in his name because of it.

The VIP bathrooms at the Global Forum on Human Trafficking. Including wooden floors, marble tops and something that makes it smell nice.

If this isn’t inspiration to work yourself onto a VIP list one day, I don’t know what is.

One of my professors in college read this book out loud to us each day of class as a devotional. It is less than 100 pages so we finished it fairly quickly but I remember enjoying immensely. I recently checked it out at the library. Suffice it to say, it’s worth a second read.

One thought that has recently stuck with me:

“In our world of loneliness and despair, there is an enormous need for men and women who know the heart of God, a heart that forgives, that cares, that reaches out and wants to heal. In that heart there is no suspicion, no vindictiveness, no resentment, and not a tinge of hatred. It is a heart that wants only to give love and receive love in response. It is a heart that suffers immensely because it sees the magnitude of human pain and the great resistance to trusting the heart of God who wants to offer consolation and hope”

Cara had an extra ticket to the death cab for cutie concert at the Santa Barbara bowl tonight. Doesn’t get quite better than this!