Trees: Surrender, Brokenness, and Growth

I'm going to indulge in a few moments of symbolism. This morning, through one avenue or another, as I was thinking of this season in my life, the image of the willow tree came into my mind. Before I relate this all together, I wanted to share a few words and markers this year has brought for me.

The year started off with the word growth. I thought I knew what that meant but I. had. no. idea.

Over multiple situations and seasons I am seeing real brokenness at a personal level I haven't grappled with before.

I know strongly that I have been called to stand faithfully in the midst of all this, yes even for the rest of my life, to hold my lantern through the night. A vision I keep seeing. And a symbol I have embraced. Fidelity by God's grace alone.

A calling to relinquish control. Surrender. E V E R Y T H I N G. This feels like the lesson I just have to keep learning. Over and over again. In deeper and more real ways. The old Hannah loves control. She loves that false sense of security and self-righteousness and well-calculated plans. She loves to manage risk and shape outcomes. To be honest, this is the hardest one to face, the hardest one to let go. But we are all called to a posture of surrender, obedience, ready to do hard things and let go of my own way and ideas. 

Guys, just as a sample of how stubborn I am on this: at the start of this year I had plans A, B, C, and D, and when those plans got destroyed, I created plans A, B, and C, for plan A and for plan B and plan C and plan D. If this sounds confusing, guess what, you have no idea.

The call to not shrink back. This one runs deep in me. But not anymore. God makes me brave and he calls me out, and it looks terrifying and risky. However, this coming forth is a lesson in trust and breaking off the old patterns of me and being filled with the new me. I will not shrink back from pain, with God's help I will come face to face with is. This is where God is close.

The call to wait. Just going to say it, I hate waiting. But you know what, I also love waiting, because this is where growth happens - it's foolish to think growth happens when we see the outcomes. This is where faith is grown, this is where deepness comes. And it doesn't matter if, at the end of the waiting, the outcome is what I wanted to wait for or what I wanted to avoid - I'll be ready and I'll surrender.

God is close to the broken. God moves and grows out of pain. He quiets my soul and comforts. He delights in all my broken pieces, He moves me towards sacrifice and shows me the way.

Some markers that have pushed me in my faith this season:

The Broken Way by Ann Voskamp

Restoring the Christian Soul by Leanne Payne

Lectio Divina Journal and the Common Book of Prayer

Scripture Typer app for memorizing verses

What does surrender look like? I don't really know. I pray God will continue to show me. But I know that surrender does not look like shrinking back. It does not look weak. Surrender requires bravery and strength in humility and without bravado. Surrender takes a look at my own way and puts it back in the hands of the one who created me. Surrender is asking for more of God and the Holy Spirit and Jesus. It takes everything. And is is so good. It is sweet, like a child in a mother's arms; deliberately content and at peace. A crying out to God. A thankful heart, a thankful in advance, a thankful for things not seen, a thankful for things that you don't want to be thankful for. 

And the willow tree? It's just a tree. It's branches bend down and sway in the wind - shaped by the wind even, but they are not broken by the wind. The branches have been used as a palm for Palm Sunday. The tree has enormous roots, and soaks up any water nearby. A willow tree can symbol humility. It is associated with femininity in some Eastern cultures. A willow stands. When things are rough it stays and grows. I love the ways God's creation can reveal his heart, help us understand the depths of His revelations. I love trees, growing up in the pine mountains of Honduras, trees feel like home and shelter and belonging. 

Pieces

"Oh, I wish December were sooner so he could come back sooner."
And then, a small voice, Do you not wish I would come back sooner more?

Grammar aside, my heart is overwhelmed. How long will it take me to process the last 8 months - no, the last 12 months, and place everything again? China, oh beautiful country with beautiful people, the place I have longed after for years, I have lived there and breathed there and thrived there, but now I am back. Or am I? It seems that so much of me is from there, lives there, grew there. And then. And then this whole accept a human as a potential potential for lifelong partnership thing. And his heart blows me away. And the things I have learned about myself, about the world, about him, did I mention myself? - Well, it blows me away too. Maybe I am just a kite now, since there is so much that blows me away.

Oh my heart.

Oh my Jesus, I want you back sooner. So many do. The whole world does but they just don't know it yet. So can't you come soon? 

So, how do I fit things back together when all the pieces are down and more are scattered ahead with no signs of stopping? This, this is my beautiful undoing. Maybe all the pieces are supposed to be messy like this. Maybe the more pieces on the ground the better I can run. Maybe the more pieces on the ground the better I fight. Maybe the more pieces on the ground the better I know who's really God and who's really not, who's really strong and who's really not.

It's me - I am not strong. I am not God. I do not put pieces together.

And here, here, here I can rest. Here is the peace. Here, still, is the longing, oh my Jesus I want you back sooner. You are King. You move pieces, you give and take them, you make them, you heal them.

And I'm crying out because my heart is everywhere and it hurts, not with my pain, but with all the pain I see. I'm not the only one with pieces, not the only one who didn't know what to do. So please come soon.

I remember. I remember all the times I asked you to show me what breaks your heart and make mine the same way. I won't stop asking.

I'll be running. I'll keep the pieces because I know they aren't mine. I'll keep running, because I know that you care about all the pieces, not just mine.

I don't care how many pieces are here, just use me to serve what you are doing with the pieces scattered all over the world. Because I can't see pieces and pretend they aren't there.

And I know you can't either, because you broke your Son into pieces to make your children whole, and because I know that you are coming. And I know that you are King, King of all these pieces.

A Post I Blogged a While Back

Last Semester, as part of the IJM Longhorn Chapter leadership, I opened up a blog for local freedom fighters with a post of my own. I've copied and pasted it here.
Hi Everyone! Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Hannah, and as much as I discount myself, I am an activist. I believe that God has a heart for justice, which is Biblically based.  As a redeemed wreck myself, I am called to seek His kingdom on this earth. I don't know about you, but when you start looking at modern-day slavery, the view is daunting. We can feel so small, buried under a pile of our brothers and sisters with our heart bleeding out the brokenness  we feel inside. And yet the work of justice is personal, approachable - in fact, the individual is everything. It is unique to each one of us, and it starts with us when we rise in the morning. Empathy and compassion and mercy are the steps we take each day as we seek our Lord's heart and therefore his kingdom. Justice doesn't happen because I wake up and decide to be a great person, it happens in spite of me! I'm a huge fan.
     So today, as I open up this blog for fellow travelers far more talented and interesting (basically I mean YOU), my heart is to unambiguously tell you: justice and freedom starts with you. You have a story to tell. We are in chains and we are set free day in and day out, and we have the honor of becoming a co-laborers.
    Being an activist doesn't look like what I thought it would. I was certain I could never be considered one, and yet I continued to seek justice. Now I realize, I am an activist. And you are too, why, if you ever shared a facebook post about some social issue you cared about, then you are an activist by definition. So the question is not whether or not you can fight for justice, but whether or not you take the time to intentionally fight for justice? 
   Tuyo - Hannah Colbath

A Long-Winded Day in the Life...

Hello!

I'm writing from a hard seat on a 14 hour long train ride from Hohhot to Xian – it is mid-Autumn break and several classmates and I (along with the rest of China), am boarding trains and traveling. Officially one month and some change into our program, I decided it was the perfect time to write a bit of an update. Though you may see the highlights from my facebook or instagram, life has been up and down, and I'm savoring every minute as best I can. The program I'm in has many talented and brilliant students, but there is no replacement for anyone in this world. I miss my family and friends in Honduras, Texas, and scattered across the globe, but of course, I'm no stranger to this feeling. I'll start with an account of my day to day life, give some highlights, and share what's ahead in the near future for me. I hope you enjoy!

Since school started, I am enrolled in Chinese class from 9 to 11, not counting the weekly Chinese lunch with our professors and the twice weekly one on one Chinese class. I also moved up from the class I was placed in early on, being somewhat between the classes. Due to this, I am working very hard to keep up with my class.  My three classmates (all boys – reminds me of all my brothers!) an I start off class with a dictation test, then we turn in about three pages of homework, after which we each deliver a 2-5 minute speech on a specific topic that was prescribed to us the day before. Some topics I have covered are: a graph on AIDS, how to protect your environment, the various types of pollution, and the impact of single parenting on society. These issues have taught me a lot of vocabulary useful for reading the paper, though I still can not read the paper without help. After our report, it is time to dive into about 8-15 different grammar structures as well as correlating vocabulary. We get a five minute break halfway through, and as soon as our talented teacher's alarm goes off we breathe a sigh of relief, and either gather around the map of China, or walk out to visit with the other students on break – but we can not speak English on the floor of our classroom – so the conversations are usually entertainingly punctuated with gestures and knowing glances. Near the end of the class, we glance apprehensively at the remaining structures to cover – will we go into over-time today? It is not uncommon to do so, since even after class is over we have to discuss what must be done before the next day's class. As soon as we are out, we bounce down the stairs, some headed to nap or work out – others (like myself and my classmate May) must rush to their rooms and pack their bags for the commute to work.

At 11:15 on three days a week, May and I rush to eat before getting the 11:40 subway to work. We either push some dumplings or little steamed buns into our mouth, bought from a friendly couple who kindly make sure we have enough to eat as we sit out on a fold out table on the road, hot bamboo steamers of the goods laid out in front of us, and with plenty of chili oil, vinegar, and soy sauce to dip the nuggets of goodness into. If you think this is a flowery description, you are correct, it is. I just really enjoy them! If we have more time, we'll eat together with classmates at the school cafeteria, where I will usually choose rice, a vegetable (my favorite is Szechuan green beans), and one of many types of chicken stir fry. This will usually put me out about 1.30 to 2 dollars.

After lunch we stretch our legs as far as our pencil skirts will allow us to rush to the subway station. We make one transfer and use one busline during our commute, the regular time is about an hour and twenty minutes to get to our destination – the 798 Art District. Not only is our internship at a wonderful company (The Starfish Project – look up their jewelry – it is gorgeous), but 798 is the epicenter of all things artistic, as well as home to a few sweet coffee shops. Suffice it to say that the atmosphere in Beijing, despite all the pollution, is magnetic and intoxicating for someone who loves to always be learning.

When work is done, it is time to head back to the campus in time to get to class. I use the time on the subway to read class material or write in my journal. When we get out of the subway on the way home I stop at the lady who has a truck full of oranges and apples parked on a bustling sidewalk. I'll buy an apple from her, and maybe some juice from the convenience store. Afterwords my colleague and classmate, May, and I will finish the long march back to the campus. We affectionately nick-named May The Chairman, because though she may be the shortest of our group, her personality organically organizes people around her.

Back in my room, I clean up a little, cut my apple, place it in a container with peanut butter, and then head upstairs to my class. Monday and Wednesday night class is only an hour an a half, and I do Chinese homework while I listen, as I am just auditing this one. On Tuesday nights, however, our Chinese Politics class lasts 3 hours. A few, like me, arrive from their internship, and we listen to our renowned and talented professor, Dr. Moser, educate us. It is an honor to be his students, but when 9:30 hits, I and a few members of my class that I've become closest with go down the stairs and out to the street to get a “Hand-grabbed Pancake” or a sort of tortilla cooked with an egg on top, coated with a dark sauce, and rolled around a piece of lettuce. It is the perfect dinner to end a long day, and after the street vendor cooks them up we head up to our dorm to work on homework for a few hours. There is a lot to prepare, and I usually decided to get up at 5 to get some work done before I go running and then head to class. The nice thing is that our classrooms are in the same building as our dorm, so commute time is 5 minutes (a huge improvement on my standard 1 hour from condo to UT campus in Austin).

Concluding my long-winded account of a day at Capital Normal University as a CET student in Beijing, I'd like to share what special things have been going on. I'm getting settled in Beijing life, from study places to Mexican restaurants, to places of worship. Our program here has planned activities, while leaving time for us to have our own independent travel. The second week in our program I got the opportunity one weekend to take the fast train 5 hours to Qingdao – yes of the German beer fame. Qingdao lies on the coast of China, and during the gunboat diplomacy days it was under German rule. The sea port has a rich history as well as the interesting influence of German architecture and customs. We got to see a German manor, an old Church (where dozens of couples who were about to be married took their wedding pictures. It is a custom in China to take the pictures in the dress and suit well before the wedding), as well as the famous Qingdao Beer factory. All in all, it was a great bonding experience with four of my now closest friends in the program. Though we faced many obstacles, everyone made the best of it and had an amazing time in spite of sparse trials (such as walking to three different hostels across town before arriving at the right one near 9pm). Due to this trip, the self-titled Kill Squad was born, since we had to call ourselves something, and if you let two guys from the U.S. Naval Academy come up with the name, you know it is going to be good. We made the most of our two days there, walking from one park to the next monument and running into new friends along the way. Getting a feel for a different city in China was a valuable experience for me.

This week, also, I am traveling about China as this week is our fall break during the national holiday for the Mid-Autumn Festival. The rest of China, as I mentioned, will be traveling to go home – bearing moon cakes and gifts for their families. We have taken this opportunity to travel to Inner Mongolia (a place I've wanted to see for quite a while), and Xi'an (of the Terracotta Warrior fame). Halfway through our break, I can share our Inner Mongolia experience with you all! We boarded the 10 hour hard seat train near 12 am on Friday evening/ Saturday morning and arrived in Hohhot mid-day Saturday. The train was packed and the seats were, indeed, hard to sit on. The next day we enjoyed the National Inner Mongolia Museum, which took us half a day, as well as busing around the city to go to markets and parks. After that we left the next morning for the really exiting part – a trip out to the rural grasslands of Inner Mongolia.

Not only did I feel a little constricted by the intense city of Beijing, but I naturally yearn for romantic landscapes, something I attribute not only to my personality but also to the fact that I grew up part of my life on a rural mountain amidst pine trees and low-lying clouds. Getting to spend the night in a yurt, eating delicious home-cooked food, wandering and running over the rolling hills of the grasslands scattered with lambs and cows, I felt my spirit and heart swell even as the land expanded before me, revealing more sky than I have ever seen in my life. I loved every minute of it, and was able to feel a sort of recharge wandering off with my thoughts, uninhibited by obstacles. The sheer beauty of the blue sky, and later the clouded sky stretching so far in every direction drew me closer to my convictions. 

One night we spent in the Grasslands, and now we are off to Xi'an, which I am very excited about as there will be much to explore. For now, though, I'll stop here and move onto homework. There is a lot to get ready before the next week. I wish you all well and I hope you enjoyed my long account of life. I hope to impart a bit of the similarities and differences between day to day life in China versus wherever you may be, so if your picture of life in China is only a little more colored in, I have accomplished my goal. That's it for now! 

Sincerely,

Hannah G Colbath

A German Church in Qingdao

The May 4th Monument in Qingdao

Couple posing in Qingdao

Part of the old Soviet Factory Architecture of 798

The Inner Mongolia National Museum 

Our Yurt

Train Ride Selfie!

Navigation Explanation: Train Rides in China

How to Prepare for a Train Ride in China

The train system in China can be both exhilarating and painful. As a student, the availability of lines running from city to city, combined with prices ranging from “let's go!” cheap to “I'll have to watch my budget” expensive makes the train system truly perfect for many situations. In fact, if you are going to travel anywhere in China, the train is the best way to do – provided that you are prepared, open to new experiences, and ready to get a little exhausted. I am not saying taking the train is easy – I am saying it is worth it (unless you are are sick). Therefore, in order to give you a good mind picture of what it is like, I am going to draw on my limited experience in three different classes of trains to give a little outline.

Step 1: Make up Your Mind

This step basically requires the soon to be train transported individual to decide where he or she wants to go, when, and on what class. It being China, there are about 784,349 different variables to this one decision. Do you want to see Shanghai and live it up classy-style? Do you want to escape to the grasslands of Inner Mongolia and romanticize? Or would you like to see the pandas and do a little hiking? Here is how to narrow down: how long will it take to reach there by the choice transportation. There is the fast train (Beijing to Shanghai: 5 hours), and the slow train (Beijing to Xian: 15 hours). Sometimes the fast train is worth the extra money in the time you save. Most times, though, I would encourage the slow train. Next, consider the distance. If it is less than 8 hours, then consider hard seats, more than 8, go for the hard sleepers. If you are traveling in a group, it is best to sit all together as the travel will become safer and more entertaining!

To buy tickets, you can ask a room-mate, the concierge, or a friend to help you. However, if you can read even a little bit of Chinese such as time and “hard” or “soft” you can book it online or at a train ticket office yourself with little hassle. The sense of accomplishment you get once you book your own tickets is worth the time spent on Pleco looking up the word for “seat.”

Step 2: Prepare

There is no joking about this step – you could have the best time or the worst depending on how you prepare. For students, I recommend bringing the homework you do not like to do, because you will experience a forced focus on your homework in the hours when you are stuck with nothing to do. First, though, you need food. Pack a back that can be stowed under a bed, seat, or in a rack. Include such readily available items such as oranges, apples, peanuts, Haw-fruit roll ups, Pringles, and instant noodles. I also like to bring tea, a thermos, and tea-dipping biscuits for the morning when you are close to the end of the overnight train ride and need refreshment. There will always be a water broiler in each car (for water, tea, instant noodles, fruit washing). Take advantage of this commodity to have a great train ride. Keep your face wash, tooth-brush, and sweater in an easy to reach place as well. During the train ride, if it is an overnighter, you will feel weary or dirty. The best way to get an instant pick-up is to use these things to freshen up. Make sure you will not have to carry too much, as trains and stations are crowded and hard to navigate. If you like to listen to podcasts, remember to download them. Get your phone charger to full battery so you can charge the phone on the way. Lastly, remember to wear comfy clothes and pack your slippers!

Step 3: Navigate the Route, Station, and Train

Depending on where you depart from, you could use taxi, bus, or subway to get to the train station. There are also multiple train stations in most big cities. So, you must check and double check that you have the right station and can get there with an hour or more to spare for any mishaps, or time to grab a meal. Pack your ticket and passport, and do not forget to take a picture of each for emergencies. Once you arrive at the station, take time to buy any water or the last meal you want before you get on the train. Keep an eye on your things, and remember that everyone will start queing to board long before you have to get on. You can wait peacefully from your chair if you don't feel like fighting with hundreds of people who have no bubble to pop. Your ticket will get you to the right car when it comes time to board. Settle in and get ready to get close with your neighbors, use the restroom now, as it will get dirty as the time goes on. Keep your belongings close! The train will stop at stations, but never longer than a few minutes. Enjoy the train ride!

Being Faithful to the Most Faithful

"Fret not yourself because of evildoers;

    be not envious of wrongdoers!

 
 

For they will soon fade like the grass

    and wither like the green herb.
Trust in the Lord, and do good;
dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.
Delight yourself in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart
Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him, and he will act.
He will bring forth your righteousness as the light
and your justice as the noonday.
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;
fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way,
over the man who carries out evil devices!"
Psalms 37:1-7

A year ago, I confessed how I lived in doubt over whether God would see and give me the desires of my heart, even though He had confirmed these desires over and over again. After my confession, I still struggled to hope. I have seen my hopes dashed many times when I put hope in things instead of God, so I wanted to guard my heart. Even still, in the weakness of my faith and trust, there have been so many miracles. Not even half of it was how I expected it to happen, and I'm not even in China yet, but I have tasted and seen His providence.

I used to look at others, and envy the miracles they had, I would pray that I could have miracles like them. I'm laughing now, because I act like such a child. Notice that's not past tense. I still act like such a silly child, proud, willful, envious, unrestrained. Despite all of this, God has blessed me beyond my imagination, God has moved mountains for me, God has encouraged me and sustained me in hard days and good days. He is the most High, most Faithful God. That's who He is, regardless of who I am. 

So my challenge for the next month and a half, and even beyond that: to live in faith that all the details will work according to His plan, and not to stress out or further doubt just because there are a few more things that must be done. "To live in full faithfulness." My challenge for you: live in full hope that God will fulfill the God-given desires of your heart, with full faith that it will be according to his plan. Don't be like me; don't envy. Don't compare. His timing is beyond us, the ups and downs we take are to build us up, not to tear us down.

Support Hong Kong

So when was the last time you heard about a protest movement being described as taking the "high ground???" That kind of blows me away, and most of these are kids in High School, College, and new grads. What a story. I am anxiously awaiting the result of the talk they have agreed to have. This is one of my former and very respected Chinese professors, who organized some of her students to show support for the HK protests. 
I recommend this article from the New Yorker, for a general update, but I'm sure that the information will soon be old news.
http://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/streets-hong-kong

The Future and the Past with a Present God

 Something hit me pretty strong last night: what if all the time I used thinking about yesterday, tomorrow, and seven years from now was suddenly open. That would leave a whole lot of time for right-now head space. 

"Come home to the present, where you will find Me waiting for you (Young, 2004)."

My deepest desire, when I am truthful with my soul, is to join God wherever he is. Abide in Him. Worship Him. If I live out of the present more, I'll be in God more. Sounds like a win-win. 

Two things I've never really been "good" at, and avoided as much as I could day-to-day:

Prayer

True Worship

Truthfully, I've always enjoyed praise and worship time at church, because it is so good to remember and remind myself of all they things God is, and all the things God can do. True worship, though, seemed so hard to get into, I worry I'm not genuine, I get distracted easier than a two year old in a new playroom; "the singer is too loud, look she is wearing heels, his hair is really trendy, why does it have to be so trendy, why do they all look coordinated, who is here today, what is everyone else doing, what do I have to do as soon as I get home, gosh I'm cold, I hope John is okay, wow I miss Bubby, that little kid reminds me of him and now I want to cry, I'm missing out on my family's life, oh is the song over now?"
Something's a little different. At World Mandate it seemed to be all about worshiping God, and the whole posture of my heart changed. I was able to let go, realize that I feel at home with God, and that I really, really, really want to worship Him in whatever way I can because all I want is Him. I still get distracted easily, but God is bigger than that!

Prayer. Most of my older years prayer has scared me just a little. I could journal to God every other day, but I couldn't pray aloud, or so I though. Recently, though, I just keep seeing the power of prayer in my life and walk with Him, as well as in the life of my family, and I just want more! There have been a few times I've been able to pray aloud and nobody laughed, no lightning fell, and all awkward moments were just okay. I hope that I can continue learning about growing in prayer.

These are just some random things going on right now, and I'm taking a break from memorizing my Chinese characters for the ever-present vocabulary quiz tomorrow (only 17 words left!!!!). I was also able to meet with the Hope for The Nations director and his wife for dinner last night, and talk about my Asia desire. God keeps telling me just to focus on the next step not the end result. I could be in the states of a year or two after I graduate in the school and end up with a team from another community in the country I want to go to. In a way I am not worried about staying for another year or two as anxious as I am to get there, because I will be able to get a job with the OAG or maybe the OOG in Austin. 

The First Canyon Trip

     I go home to Honduras for Christmas. I also started writing this post maybe a year ago. I'll put quotations on the stuff I had written and then keep going. This happened on New Year's day of 2013, and the day after that.
   "It was lovely to be back home for the first time since moving to Estados Unidos last May. Many traditions were observed, including the one that means hiking past the back of our property to find a rumored waterfall we never could find. Last summer, though, the kids found this waterway far below our property in what may be described as a canyon.

Looks dark, right? That's because it IS a canyon of sorts. 

  I'm not to that picture, yet. You see, we decided about noon (more or less) that we were going down according to tradition. I was the driving force on this, as there were reluctant members. John specified that we could only take good swimmers - this ruled out a few. We were left with my brother Arnol (in the blue) and Reynaldo (in the red) shown in the picture plus John. We wanted to get out the door quickly - the" 

 I'll keep going, the day was already getting on maybe 12 or 1, I'm not sure, and we packed a jar of peanut butter, half a loaf of bread, one machete, and one water bottle. We make it out the door in high spirits - I'm especially pleased because I've managed to selfishly coerce my brothers and sister into doing this for me, mainly because I felt a little out-of-touch and jealous that they went and did something without me (it was my first time back, I didn't want to face the fact that I didn't live there for most of the year anymore, like I didn't want to face it AT ALL).

  The trip took us into Chungo's property, a local campesino who grows sugar cane and coffee. We go on and we're not finding any path down, but we keep going, doubling back once or twice, as we attempt to get down the mountain the very narrow way we took sometimes had us holding onto the side of the mountain, with a drop off on the other side. We manage to slide down a considerable amount, pulling up a few trees as we try not to roll down, but this is not bad at all. 

  We get to the bottom. 

This picture was taken another day, but it looks like this when we get down.

John says that last time they went to the left and came out in another neighborhood a mountain over, but it took about 2 hours and wasn't a very good way. So we follow him to the right, which we thought must lead out quicker. 

I don't know how long it was before we came to a big pool looking like this (same place, different day). 

We know we're going to have to swim, but we are already standing around shivering. John crosses, I tread water in the middle, we cannot find any bottom, and it takes time for my brothers to try to cross. Once they are in the water they are incredibly scared, and start to fail, so my sister and I try to help them across. We make it.

We wade through more rocks and water, it's getting later, and we come upon another big pool, this one looks larger. The scary bad part for me is that John and I had to yell and plead for a long time to get my brothers to try and cross, Faith and I again help them cross while John waits at the end ready to help. My brother is in tears, crying out before we get him to cross. He crosses okay, but my other two brothers are also getting a little hysteric once they are in the water and it is a huge struggle to get them to cross, with times that I felt like I was being pushed under, crying for John to help, and he did, but he told me that when someone feels like they are drowning they cannot understand that they are really forcing the person helping under. Praise Jesus we crossed, lost the machete and some shoes, as well as our water on the way. After that one I thought I knew without a doubt that if we tried to cross another one someone would drown. We find a sandy area and call our parents with the phone we took, hoping it won't soak up water. I remember asking John not to make us go further. So we wade as far as we can until the next big pool and and then find a small nook against the dripping wet rock wall of the canyon that is wet sand but not underwater. It is very dark down there, since the sun doesn't get in. I swim on, but the pool is too big and I don't find any exit. Faith and I do not want John swimming. 

We decide to stay there for the night until someone can come help. We don't really know what is going to happen the next day but everyone feels they are too cold and too tired to move on. So, that began one of the strangest nights. There nothing living in the canyon except for bats, which was very interesting because we could see little dull pinpricks of their eyes and hear them bumping off the walls. Our feet almost dipped in the water when we all lay down, and we begin to talk. It was a little cold to go to sleep. Timmy is very upset because he believes we will never be able to see the Hobbit movie (the next day dad had said he would take us into Tegucigalpa to see the first Hobbit movie, we were so pumped!!), among other things. Reynaldo is completely quiet, and I don't want him to feel like I am holding against him what happened earlier. Arnold was not very quiet, but after he calmed down he focused on getting Fudgy, our STINKY STINKY dog to cuddle with him. I don't know what John, Faith and I talk about, but I remember that we did a lot of laughing, not that we were happy go lucky, but I think we wanted to help everyone out and these sort of situations tend to make us just a little goofy (ask about the time we all had to hide in the show while Mom and Dad manned the doors at night). John buried our feet to help us warm up. The funniest thing was probably the fact that here we were, trying to cuddle to get warm, and worried about the next day, and laughing about the fact that we were scared a crocodile was waiting to come nip our toes, and yet every single one of the guys, in the pitch dark, had to go to the bathroom about every 5 minutes. It's tough to be a girl. 

The next day we are afraid to get into the water, we are cold. We are supposed to wait at our island, so John being the man he is, starts a talent show. First, he and the boys scrape pond scum, vines, and the like to "decorate" this giant log hanging across our island. After that we find to mini islands (about 2x2 feet, maybe), one of them is designated for the bathroom, now that it is light, and the other is for John's talent show. In which he tries to show us he can lasso with his short rope (which is totally untrue, but he tried over and over again). We are all laughing that nervous scared laugh. I don't know how to describe it. We weren't happy, some of us didn't think we would  be able to get out all together, we were scared and cold and thirsty, but we were laughing. We found Yoda's stick, as we fondly call it (it looks like a stick got wielded to a piece of dried and petrified poop, and it's exactly how we think Yoda's stick must look like). We wait a long time, our phone is getting wet and running out of battery. We can hear yelling above us - the Foster's our good neighbors from another mountain have come to help mom as far as we can tell. The common consensus was that mom was going to kill us when we got back, which is part of what we talked about most the night.

 We find out that some of the guys who live on the mountain are coming. One finally does come, he helps us get back across one pool, helping the boys make it across. We then see that the easy way out is a two tired cliff that has a slippery alcove where one person can stand and pull a rope up to get another up. We learn that dad is still looking for us, he has gone down a different entrance and so any yelling I hear I think is him. My brother John gets in the alcove. I can't tell you how scary that was. While the other guys are on top, pulling the second rope. The two little boys go up first. Then Faith, it takes an incredibly long time, and the drop is straight onto rocks. This was probably the hardest part for John, Faith and I, because we could swim but Faith and I can't pull our weight up, and to be gripping onto John while he tries to tie us up as he is straddled in a tiny foothold on a slipper cliff with no rope holding him there and no support was too much. Faith and I consider swimming back, but we don't know if we can get up the mountain where we slid down, and John and the guys tell us we can do this. I remember Faith screaming. The look on her and John, but he got her tied and stayed on. She got up. My turn. I remember thinking about the fact that I could pull John and I down onto rocks maybe 15-20 feet below so easily if I messed up. Also, I couldn't pull myself up very well and it was very hard for the guys to get me to do it, but we get up. Faith and I get mad at the dog who has pawed up the dirt to where we can't climb up the last part easily. Relief when I see John make it. Shaking and resting with Faith as we make the hike home, now out of the canyon, but still with mountain to go up. We make it. We eat, we go to bed. The worst was finding out my Dad had basically swam all night to get to us, came back, got another Missionary dad with two tire inner-tubes and tried again all morning. He is wiped out when we get home. That night was hard. My Parents, I can't even imagine what they had to deal with all night and all morning. I don't know. 

But, we made it, all of us.

I don't want to be dramatic. My fingers are still shaking and it's hard to type all this up. But I've been trying to for more than a year, almost two. I think doing this will be the last step. Last January my Dad insisted that we, all of us who went the first time, go again, this time with him and several inner tubes. We called it an adventure and we were scared. But we went past the place we had spent the night a year before, we went on for almost 8 hours and came out the way my Dad had come in that night to try to get to us. We were safe. That was one step, this story is the last. I'm sorry if this was not too good an idea to put it on the internet. 

Main point: we learned a lot, I learned a lot. I was being stupid in the first place to make my brothers and sister go, we didn't prepare, and we put a lot of people besides ourselves through a lot of pain and worry. I was being prideful, but even though it was clearly not something God led us to do, he was so faithful. There were so many ways that it could have gone wrong, out of our own stupidity, preparation, or leadership skills. God still got us out, all of us out. I should think that all of us have grown because of it, at least I hope I have. God rescues us even when we are stupid, people, over and over again. It's all over the Bible, all over our history, all over us, but He is Holy.

Since last January when we went back for the second time, Tim's boy scouts have been down there and so have some of my family. All the pictures of the canyon, except for the first one, are from the Boy Scout's trip. 

(Above) This is our island, a year later, with the log that was once decorated with pond scum and vines.

More than a year later, they find the machete I dropped, I kid you not that thing felt like an anchor when I was trying to swim with it.

Sometimes I Teach my Heart not to Hope too Much

There have been a few things shifting in my heart this summer.

         I realize something shocking this morning; I taught my heart not to hope too much. I did that.

    My heart like the Jews, who for ages must have dealt with false hopes and promises of fake deliverance while they wait for Jesus. So many imposers and laws that they educate and speculate about just how their messiah will walk, how he will look and speak, what he will do and what he will be. They spent lifetimes guarding their hearts against any false hope. 

    So what happened with Jesus comes? They cannot see him. They have a hard time allowing their hearts to hope again, to run and greet their Messiah. So miracles happen, again and again, enough to fill the world up with pages and pages of accounts. This is enough for some, but not all.

    I add the miracles part, because, when I guard my heart too closely I am ignoring all the miracles that have happened to me, personally. 

    Where this is coming from: I want to go to China. I believe God has called me there. I built a degree around this fact, but in my heart, I say "I'll believe it when I see it," and in my mind, I list the things I'll be able to do with my degree like a lullaby to tell myself it will all be fine if I never make it to China, or if I don't ever find my purpose there.

    Oh my heart! I'm asking Jesus to teach it how to let my heart free to hope, because hope is running away with a light spirit. It is vulnerable and it is joyful. A hoping heart is expectant and doesn't hold back. I love him. I really really don't want to hold back from Jesus's promises, and I do have hope about a lot of things, but sometimes I let my flesh say "no more." 

     I recently heard a college professor say something to the effect of "there is not much place for the cynic with Jesus, though there be realism and some skepticality." 

Finals - Time to look at why I'm doing this

So, it's finals time again.

Note the excitement.

What makes finals hard: self esteem on the down low, people pleasing mindset, living by my expectations of myself, and believing I could never live up to those high expectations, study habits that come back to bite you, research papers, CHINESE.

What makes finals worth it: CHINESE

God's plan for me

Eternal mindset

Learning

GROWTH

When I graduate I feel like I have been called to go to Asia, where I plan to work with U.S. - Asia relations on the side (or so I think!). Aside from finals, I really do love learning. Most of it is practical for my future (or so I think!).

Bottom Line:

Finals are worth it

I have the summer to repair

Grades don't matter in Heaven, character does

What is Good

I like learning, but there are some things that are emotionally taxing to learn.

Like a whole class on Modern Day Slavery.

Thanks UT, right? It is amazing that they provide a class on this topic for students of all levels.

 We, the students, get to read books, watch movies, research product supply chains, and hold debates over this topic. It's a lot of fun, but at the end of the day, I'm noticing patterns that tell me I'm in a bit of an emotional bind. At first I thought it was just me, being sloppy, lazy, unhealthy in some instances. And sure, I am all of those things sometimes (right, mom?), but not all the time. 

 Of course, I didn't exactly connect two and two until 3 weeks before the close of the semester. Saturday. I was sitting outside the Blanton Cafe waiting to meet with a woman who had been in the foreign service for many years. It was nice weather, and I enjoyed being outside. Then, in my head, I thought, "these are good things," as I looked at the leaves on the trees and the grass on the ground "this world has good in it."

 That was it. I realized, after a few moments of wondering what had prompted such a response out of the blue when I wasn't focusing on being thankful or anything like that.  I had been learning about a lot of bad. Sometime experience, also, makes me unconsciously expect bad. Slavery is bad. A generation of children born into HIV and AIDS is bad. A generation of loved children working in a way that Americans don't understand beyond feeling that the work they are made to do is awful. A professor who explains the headway Christians made in Civil Rights as merely fodder to their ego, and in some ways, I see that. I see people who want to ease their conscience, I do too, and what that takes is surprisingly little. So much pain. So much grief. I easily blame anything I can, and that is ugly.

 Now that I know, coping with all the information is a goal. A prayer goal, Lord calm my heart and preserve my empathy. I don't want to be stuck at pity, I want to move with compassion. Compassion, con passion, I think of the Holy Week and your passion. I love you, I love that you are good and you were moved to the passion by your compassion on us. You have already defeated poverty and consumerism and trafficking. 

 I feel tender, just now, and I am fine with that. It doesn't matter what this does to me as long as some of it can be used for others.

Nightmares

I don't know how to start this.

I don't think that very many of us will be exempt from having nightmares. I just had a few last night.

Here's the thing; as a child, we seek a place or a state we know is safe before we try to sleep again. If it is our parent's bed, our floor, or, if crying and drinking water makes us feel safe then we do that.

My Mother would pray over me, and then I could get back to sleep.

Naturally, when I wake up from nightmares now, I try to cry to God. I tell him I don't like nightmares, or ask him to take them away. This is good, but it isn't getting at the root.

Last night I tried something new. After crying to God and asking Jesus to be with me, I told him what the nightmares were preying off of, my fears. I'm not going into specifics here, but when I was able to tell God exactly what the nightmares reminded me of, he began to help me see that nothing nothing nothing can snatch me away from his hand. I began talking aloud, repeating that and then I began to understand that even my worst fears couldn't destroy my soul, even they could not make me so sullied that God could not redeem me. I was and am forever His. 

I think Jesus wants to bring us healing, not just a good night's sleep, and talking about our fears and his realities with him is healing.

And that is how I deal with nightmares, starting with last night.

The Dreams and Jealousy

 The truth is, I've been wanting to talk about this for a long time, because I feel it inside me. I can't ignore it anymore.

Deep inside you, you have dreams that you know will probably never come to anything. The dreams could be anything, anything you value or find beauty in. Something that you see and think, that's it, I want to do that. Then there are dreams that maybe you tried. I'm just not cut out for it.

Like ballet, or college. A marathon or an instrument. All things you could conquer, you could, hear me? But maybe you will never be able to try, life is already rolling - time has got you in a ball curled up and afraid to reach out because you are rolling fast. So much to do, so much you do, for everyone around you.

What you do, just isn't pretty and lovely and as valuable as the things you might do with those dreams. I mean, who doesn't play and instrument these days?
Then there is the thought that people around you who have these talents, we call them, and fulfill them - this idea that those people are better than us. We just can't deal with that, so in our dark moments when the beauty or the privilege of the dream is so present, jealousy comes in to say hello and makes our eyes like his scandalous eyes and our thoughts like his dirty thoughts. I feel guilty writing this.

Honestly, jealousy happens to me every day, and it's a sin.

"Unmet expectations. Many times we place unrealistic expectations on ourselves and the people around us. Often times we feel things should come easier and faster to us. Then if things don't happen when we think they should, we inevitably run into someone who already has what we want. All of a sudden, we feel this surge of ugly, green emotion called jealousy."

-Karen Wolff

Do I want to be that person with everything going for her, yes. Do I have standards of perfection on me that God didn't place there, yes. Do I wish that instead of this wonderful creation God made for me I would look like someone else, a copycat, when I have my own creation, yes. How dare I, how dare I? How do we dare to tell God that we're not good enough yet, we want to be able to do this or fit into that. 

No, instead of worship we want to work on our salvation again, we just can't receive a gift can we? And someone is so delighted about that, if Satan gets delighted. 

When I put it that way, dead in my tracks. . . No more. 

Jesus you are Enough. That means I am enough.

Can we just believe that together? Can we write it on our walls and dwell on it every morning?

I'm such a sinner, but the gift I have, the gift so big I say that I am not worthy, so big it makes me want to work for it. That gift, that is the gift that will teach us how to receive.

How to Use What You Have - And Get Rid of It

The child took the candy from the pretty voice and ate it. All of it.

When his mother called her for a good, beautiful supper, she was full. Everything she loved that her mother cooked was before her. There was her favorite bread, sweet ham, beautiful dollops of sweet potatoes and all the things her mother made that she loved. 

But she was already over-full with the cheap candy.

"If I could do it over again, I would not eat the candy and wait!" Thought the girl. The candy felt revolting in her stomach now, and the foods she knew she loved before her made her feel worse.

Her mother hid the sadness that came with knowing that her child had chosen a false meal instead of her wholesome one.

   At a youth group today our teacher was talking on something like this. It hit me because it is something I've been thinking on quite some time.

Would this be us?

On the day when we are welcomed home - will I be filled with all these substitutes and unable to stay at the table - will all my life be consumed by the pretty on the outside and not the good on the inside? Can we reverse the instinct to keep on with "life" and not give our time back?

First, don't get lost. Giving our time back isn't something I say. It's when I choose to read, to pray, to ask and share with God. To persevere when it is dry, because I know that the joy and the peace and the good plans God has for me will keep me full.

    It comes down to realizing I am empty and to constantly be assessing myself and putting into action what my Father gives me. Like a ballerina, who is always checking if her stomach is in, her head high, her core engaged, an inch taller, a little stronger, the knees wider, the shoulders back more, the point, harder harder - until it hurts! All this the good teacher reminds the ballerina and the pupil takes it and uses it to become better. 

   I like that. God is not silent. He will help. He will always be there when I start over. Again and again.

    And here is how to use what you have. Well, in order to not get calls asking "Where's my water buffalo?" I'll clarify by what I mean when I say "what you have" into something more like - what you should have. There. 

You should have trees nearby.

You should have a hot glue gun. 

You should also have a bit of yarn for knitting. When you get all these things and throw them on your floor, you should look at this picture, and start your own idea. This craft idea came from something I saw in Anthropologie. The picture is mine. This is a craft I began with my mom. That's so nice to think of.