snapshots.

Because I believe pictures really can speak thousands of words, I thought I would share some of what I've been up to via these word-less yet story-filled snapshots...enjoy!

rocks.

It was incredible how well she could articulate exactly how I am feeling with just a few words.

She described a small jar. A jar full of sand and rocks and water - all settled and calm and nice and pretty.

And then it gets shaken.

The sand mixes with the water and the rocks clank around against the glass jar and it almost seems as if the whole thing is on the verge of shattering. 

As this glass jar gets put back on the table, the whole thing looks like one. big. mess. It's murky and dark and unorganized and unpretty and you might wonder if it will ever look the same as it did before.

The hard truth is that it won't: The rocks will never be in the exact same position as they were before. The sand will not fall back into the exact same spot. It is forever changed, this simple glass jar of rocks and sand and water.

But it will settle. The sand will find its home amongst the rocks. The rocks will find their places against each other. The water will become clear and this jar, though different then it was before, will be calm again.

The key, she tells me, is to wait. There is no possible way to force the sand and the rocks and the water to lay still any faster.

Wait. Let go. Surrender. Sit in what may feel like the murky waters of your thoughts and feelings and questions.

So I sit while the rocks and the sand settle back down. I wait for the water to clear. And in the sitting and the waiting and the surrendering and the letting go, I seek hope. 

imperfect.

I'm the first to admit that I'm not perfect. I know my baggage way to intimately to try to pretend it doesn't exist (though sometimes I still do try, you know. To pretend it doesn't exist. And shockingly enough, it doesn't work). It has been a long process to get to the point that I know where and what I come from. I know who I am and I embrace it all. All the ups and downs and bruises and joys and scars and smiles. { all of it. } I've learned to not just accept the happy memories but also embrace the sad or painful ones because those are a part of me too and to deny them is to deny my true being and Christ didn't come to make sure all His people looked good and had it all together (which I really did believe, for a long time).

But I've gotten into this habit recently. This habit of taking all my baggage, my issues, my junk and trying to make it look pretty. Oh sure, I'll be happy to share about this part of my life with you - but look at how much I've grown from it. Oh yes, I struggled with that for a long time - but now look how differently I live.

And while these things might be true, I'm still not fully living when I put a bow around a scar. Because when I talk about the past and make it sound pretty when it wasn't - it's a downright lie.

This habit of mine, I am starting to realize, is affecting my ability to live in present vulnerability of the here and now. Because it's hard to let people see my mess. To allow people enter into to the mess with me and sit with me there. I would rather sit alone, figure it out and tell you about it later (and all that I learned!) so I might feel like less of a burden or less imperfect.

Let me tell you - that place is l o n e l y and not the way it was meant to be. I so wish I could tell you how I've now figured it all out and learned this amazing secret on how to let myself be vulnerable. But the only secret that I can come up with is this: vulnerability is hard and it sucks and it's risky.

So what's the good news here? The good news is a promise. A promise of hope for those days I feel stuck in the overwhelming, messy waves of life. A promise that I keep coming back to everyday:

"He is before all things and in Him all things hold together." -Colossians 1:17

Vulnerability is hard and it sucks and it's risky. But Jesus was in the mess before I even knew there was a mess. And He holds all things together even when I feel like they are falling apart. He gives grace after grace after grace to His messy, imperfect children. This abyss of grace, this free fall into surrender - this is where I experience Jesus in His purest form. Because, as I said before, Jesus didn't come to make sure all His children looked good and had it all together. He came to sit with us in the mess.

coffee.

I have the utmost of respect for those who can wake up without coffee.

Who roll right out of bed each morning.

Who don't have to wipe the sleep out of their eyes just to see straight as one stumbles into the kitchen.

Who reach for the healthy glass of OJ or ice water first.

Who don't have to plan their entire day around when they can get their hands on this black gold.

As for me, this is my view - every. single. morning. 

{ and afternoon... }

Some might call it a problem.

{ They may be right. }

But the way I see it?

Coffee is a gift from above to those non-morning people out there.

To those of us who need a little extra help when the sun rises in the east each day.

To those of us who really do want to wake up each day with a smile on our faces.

To those of us who actually try to open our eyes at a decent, socially-acceptable hour.

We need a little help, okay?

So here's to you, steaming hot pot of energy and focus.

You're the best sidekick a girl could ask for.

story.

One of my dear friends packed up her life last Tuesday to move to another country. She actually has a pretty incredible story of how she got where she is and it is yet another story that gives hope to the hurting.

It has been a gift that she has allowed me to walk alongside her in this process, which began almost two years ago. We've laughed together, cried together.  We've prayed together, adventured together. She has been there to listen to my stories about the craziness and the loneliness and the bittersweetness. I have been there to listen to her stories about the waiting and the grieving and the rebuilding.

And now she is on the brink of something beautiful - the newness that life abroad brings - and I find myself ever so slightly...jealous.

I am jealous of the host family experience.

I am jealous of the language learning process.

I am jealous of the room with a view.

I am jealous of how Jesus will pursue.

I am jealous of the afternoon coffee.

I am jealous of the adventure.

I am jealous of the learning.

I am jealous of not knowing which way is up.

I am jealous of the tears that will come.

I am jealous of the joy that will abound.

I am jealous of the unexpected.

It seems wrong of me to say these things. I feel strange even writing them now. But as I was pondering over these things this morning, Jesus found me in the jealousy, in the sweet way that only He can.

Please don't get me wrong: I love my life now. I would never, ever, ever want to change it or the process it took to get here. This story is mine and it is one that was written just for me. But as I look back on all my different phases of life, those first ten months of being abroad are closest to my heart. And it was because of so much more then just the experience of a new place, new people, new culture - it was the experiencing of Jesus in a real, raw way. In a way that I so desperately needed but never knew it until it happened.

In many ways, the things that I am jealous of in my friend's new beginning are things that still happen  for me every day. There is still much to be learned, Jesus still pursues, tears still come, joy still abounds. Coffee is an all day craving, I often do not know which was is up, I have come to expect the unexpected and it is always, always, always an adventure.

So in the midst of the shallow jealousy, I find deep gratitude. A gratitude that only comes when Jesus finds me in my unsatisfied state and puts His lens of grace over the easily discouraged eyes of my heart.

He shows me how to lean into Him, instead of standing on my own.

He shows me how newness of life is an every day thing because His mercies are new every morning.

He shows me how it is always about the process because He is always in the process.

With all the fondness of my heart, I will forever cherish those first ten months abroad. They prepared me, changed me, challenged me in ways I never knew possible. But in the midst of jealousy and missing the simplicity that life held for me then, I now see through a lens of gratitude - lens of grace - lens of Jesus. I am so very thankful that I have something that was so sweetly bitter to look back on and say:

{ this. this is where Jesus wrecked me.and this is where Jesus restored me.

because Jesus is always in the business of redeeming His children. }