froze.

This is how it feels to come back to the States for Christmas after living in a tropical climate for 10 months.

Forever cold.

turbulence.

Clouds bounced around outside my window in their own playground, their own world, without a care. It was almost as if they were calling me to join them: to simply come and rest happy.

Grace gifts - these clouds of mine. And mine they had become as they accompany me on my travels back to the place I know (or knew) so well. Sailing smoothly through the upper atmosphere my nerves were surprisingly calm, considering the amount of anxiety normally experienced in flight. And I was almost fooled into thinking I had conquered my arch enemy of turbulence as we began our descent.

I did not realize how wrong I was until these clouds of mine turned on me, covering the view from my window - my one source of security at 35,000 feet above the ground. And the bumping and jerking and stomach dropping and sweating and holding as tightly as possible to the arm rest came. Just keep breathing, I remind myself. Breathe in. Breathe out. And then, a Voice.

That tiny Voice from the depth of my soul that so often only whispers. It claims over the voice of fear: "Ella, I've got you." And in that moment, the emotions and reality of life flooded in and I could not stop the tears from flowing. Because I realized, then and there, even in the turbulence that is life, He's got me. His is a love that is forever.

And a peace spread over me, like a warm blanket covering in the cold of night. All the ups and downs and curves and punches and doubts, all the grace giving laughter and heart tearing tears of life: He's got them. So I simply come to His feet and I rest happy in His grace because what else can I do with this Love that holds me so close to His heart.

heart.

If you asked me what I have learned in the past ten months…and you forced me to chisel it down to just one thing…I can promise you I would not tell you the 14 ways to conjugate a verb in Spanish. Nor would I tell you about the bus system of Costa Rica. I would not explain how to sleep in when the sun rises at 5am or the correct Spanish pronunciation of the word "desafortunadamente" (translated: unfortunately). I would not talk about the correct way to greet someone in a Latin American culture. And I certainly would not tell you about all the different ways you can serve rice and beans as a meal.

If you so compelled me to answer this question, this one important thing that I have learned in my time in Costa Rica, it would be this:

Grace is the heart of Jesus. A heart that surely beats for me. And so with every steady, faithful beat of the heart, grace pumps from His to mine - two hearts intricately connected through the cross. And without this grace blood - this same grace blood that was shed by Love at the cross - without this grace that flows so freely to the heart, mind, soul...I am left broken. But because His grace streams down and never stops and covers all - it creeps in and fills all the cracks that my brokenness leaves. And so because of this grace, I am broken…yet I am full.

goodbye.

After feeling the sadness of missing the wedding of a dear friend in September, I began to realize what this time in Costa Rica has really been about…more then Spanish and Young Life and culture. This post has been in formation for the last couple of months and it seems only fitting that in my last two weeks here, it is finally ready to share. I hope you enjoy the rawness of heart shared here. 


It’s a weird feeling. The world going on without me. But one I have to accept. Because it is not my world anymore. Well, okay, it is my world and always will be my world – it is world I will always be a part of. It shaped me. Made me who I am. The world that holds my family, friends, loved ones. The world that holds my fun-loving childhood, my agonizing teen years, all four and half years of college and that awkward post-grad year that no one warns you about and is always the hardest. So many laughs, secrets, tears, memories – all held, bound to this world. This world that is now a part of me. For better or for worse. But it is no longer my reality.

My reality is this beautiful view of the mountains outside my window, this cup of coffee warming my hand and body, the sounds of Spanish floating up to my room from down the stairs. My reality is dirty buses and sometimes sketchy taxies, the constant feeling of fatigue from translating another language in my head, cat calls from strangers, relationships via Skype. What a strange feeling – that my now reality is not the world I once knew so well. It is no longer the comfortable, known place I cherished for so many years. And if I’m honest, I don’t really know that place anymore. Or at least, the girl who used to live there.

If I met her on the street now, I think I would be sad for her. For this girl who thought she knew exactly who she was but was really hiding - motivated by fear, unsure of herself, with layers and layers of protection so carefully placed to shield herself from the flaming arrows her precious world threw at her. But with these layers of protections, she was not really living. Sure, she was safe. It’s easy to be safe. But by living safely she grew more and more comfortable with the half living. The unfull life. She grew comfortable behind these fortified walls, sitting with the broken pieces of her soul scattered around her. Trying to make sense of them all. Safe and sound. Or so she thought.

The moment that girl stepped off the plane, she knew. She knew she would no longer be the same. Something deep within her was awakened once again. And a new reality was formed. And now, the longer I am here, the further I travel from this girl - this girl I used to be. And the more the layers are pulled back, the closer I become to this person I was created to be. Alive. Real. Able to feel. Unafraid. And so, while things carry on in my other world and it is sometimes sad to watch them go by, I am here. This is me. This is my reality. I would not change it for anything. I, in fact, could not change it.

This new life is like breath to me. With each deep breathe I take, healing happens. Sure, scars begin to form and do bruises ever really fade? But in the midst of the brokenness and pain and hurt and disappointment that are so easily hidden from the rest of the world, in the midst of layer after layer being pulled, stripped, removed, forced off - I am laid bare. But in this place, I am also made new. Because in the midst of it all, a new kind of joy is found. Because by allowing the heart to feel the hard, my heart is freed to truly feel the good. To feel and see and touch and hear and taste the beautiful graces of life that got lost in my mission of self protection.

This is a life worth living. And so I am learning to say good bye to this girl that I once was. Although a piece of her will always remain, she knows it is time for her to go. And I did and do and will grieve the loss of her and the comfort of who she was. But as I am laid bare and vulnerable before Christ, a new person is forming.

A real person.
An alive person.
A person who is no longer content with the life of counterfeit fulfillment.
A girl who is set free.

giving thanks.

Thanksgiving. It's always been a favorite of mine. And by favorite, I mean the absolute best holiday out there. I think I originally claimed it as my favorite because it just seemed forsaken - like other holidays get so watered down by all the hallmark hoopla and no one really cared about Thanksgiving. (Leave it to me to show compassion for a day of the year…) But honestly, it bothered me that everyone made such a big deal about other holidays and forgot about sweet ole simple Thanksgiving.

Now, more then ever, I enjoy this day more then any other day of the year. Because this idea of giving thanks has become a way of life  - a way of survival even. This giving thanks, even in the hard, to receive joy. This opening of hands daily to receive the grace gifts God showers on me. This praying for open eyes and open heart to fully see. To fully live.

"Joy is the realest reality, the fullest life, and joy is always given, never grasped. God gives gifts and I give thanks and I unwrap the gift given: joy." writes Ann Voskamp, on her ever lingering search for joy.

Proof is there in His Word as well:

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples saying, "Take it; it is my body." Then he took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them and they all drank from it.

- Mark 14:22-23

The thankfulness is there, even on the eve of His wretched yet grace giving death on the cross. Even in His darkest hours, giving thanks was a priority.

So it's no wonder Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians to "give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you" (5:18).

And again in Ephesians, we are "giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ" (5:20).

Thankfulness has become like a breath of fresh air to me and when I harden my heart to it, I harden my heart to true joy and true life. So this Thanksgiving, I got to celebrate this hard revelation that God has so sweetly pressed to my heart. Though my family was missed terribly, it was still a day spent with friends, games, Spanish, English, worship, gratefulness, laughing, running, rain, sunshine, cowboy boots, sunsets…and of course, delicious food. All. Day. Long.

thankful: these two for getting me up at the crack of down to run a 6k Turkey Trot.

thankful: the aftermath of a 50 person Thanksgiving meal.

thankful: celebrating cross culturally.

thankful: years worth of leaves where people have written their  thankfulness. 

thankful: hours of games and playing and laughing outside.

thankful: more leave of thankfulness.

 thankful: these two goons and how much put up with me and make me laugh.

thankful: these girls and the community they have become.

 thankful: sunset over mountains and city.

thankful: these crazies and their inability to take a normal picture.

(above point made.)

 thankful: friends who let me eat their leftovers and have Thanksgiving #2.