May.

So the month of May happened. I can hardly believe that it's over (this longest month ever) and I can hardly believe that it actually ended. Do you ever have those months - the ones that happen so fast yet drag on unbearably...but then when that new number one of the next month rolls around, you realize how desperate you were to see that fresh start?

I always like the start of a new month. A new thirty days. (Or thirty one. Or twenty nine. But let's not get technical here...) A new beginning, middle and end. A new breath of fresh air. New lists to be made. New plans to made. (And then, new plans to be scratched out and changed again). A new month to be scribbled at the top of each journal page. It was not until last Sunday morning, when I wrote "1st of June" in my journal and let out that sigh of relief, that I realized how long this last month was. That I realized how desperately I needed something new. Now don't get me wrong, a lot of great things happened during the (what I'm now calling) Longest May of My Life. Some of these things include (but are not limited to):

Attending Campamento de Crecimiento (aka Growth Camp, aka Vida Joven Managua Leader Weekend)

Celebrated Young Life's last club of the year with "A Night at the Oscars"

Parents and brother came to visit for some surfing and beach relaxation

And got to spend Mother's Day celebrating this babe of a mom!

On Tuesdays, continued to help out with a local Vida Joven (Young Life) club at a Nica university

Moved into my very own place...

...and welcomed my new roommate to her new home in Nicaragua!

Then started to do super grown up things like make fresh orange juice

Continued to have some amazing Cabin Time meetings on Fridays after school with some freshmen girls from the American Nicaraguan School

Had a pre-celebration birthday scavenger hunt for my dear friend and teammate, Jen (complete with rhyming clues, embarrassing bike ride decor and challenges to complete at each location)

And celebrated this sweetness turning a year old

So yes, all of these (and many more) super fun and exciting things made for a lot of laughs and smiles - but all being crammed within a thirty-one day time span was enough to make my head spin. So I welcome you, month of June - with your own up and downs and twists and turns and business and relaxation and going and coming and just living life.

A Franciscan Blessing.

May God bless you with discomfort...

     At easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships

     So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger...

     At the injustice, oppression

    And exploitation of people

      So that you may wish for justice,

      Freedom and peace.

 

May God bless you with tears...

     To shed for those who suffer pain,

    Rejection, hunger and war.

      So that you may reach out your hand to comfort

      Them and turn their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness...

     To believe that you can

    Make a difference in this world,

      So that you can do what others

      Claim cannot be done.

questions.

It has become hard to write recently.

How do I write about something that my heart has yet to work out? That still makes my head spin? It keeps me awake at night, a constant string of thoughts bouncing around in my mind, much like the ping pong game that never ends.

Before I moved to Costa Rica and then to Nicaragua, they told me about culture shock. They told me about how tired I would be all the time. They told me about how making decisions would suddenly become difficult. They told me about how my capacity to complete everything on my to-do list in one day suddenly would become impossible because some days, just going to the bank or the grocery store can take hours. They told me about the decrease of real, everyday community. They told me about the cultural differences: that being late is normal, that rice and beans is for breakfast, that men will stare, that shorts just aren't worn in public (no matter how hot it gets).

I feel as though I was fully prepared for all these things and more. And after a 10 month stint of language school in Costa Rica, where most of my transitioning consisted of laughing off the tiredness and indecisiveness and counting every mistake made as an adventure, I felt even more prepared for Nicaragua.

But was I wasn't expecting, what I wasn't prepared for, what hits me everyday like a ton of bricks is the questions. The questions that have rocked me to the core of who I am and what I think. The questions that before now, I was never allowed to think about. Or never needed to think about. Or never wanted to think about. Or some mixture of all of those.

Questions about myself, my faith, my theology, my God suddenly become popping up left and right as I began to experience life in Nicaragua. As I began to experience a new world beyond the sweet little Southern city I lived for 23 years of my life. Some days it feels like everything I thought I had figured out is wrong. And it is terrifying. So when the questions first began to come, I stuffed them down (knowingly and unknowingly) - I didn't want to think about them. But they kept coming and they keep coming and I am still unsure with what to do with them or where to turn with them.

Still, I am learning to lean into the questions. To let them come, to let myself ponder them. I am learning that questioning and doubting and being unsure are not the antithesis of faith. In fact, they may be the portal that opens the doors for a deepened faith, a wider view of God's kingdom and a sweeter taste of the grace of Jesus.

I recently read a book about "the questions". This is what the author writes, in her conclusion:
"And yet slowly I'm learning to love the questions...and slowly I am learning to live the questions, to follow the teachings of a radical rabbi [Jesus], to live in an upside-down kingdom in which kings are humbled and servants exalted, to look for God in the eyes of the orphan and the widow, the homeless and the imprisoned, the poor and the sick. My hope is that if I am patient, the questions themselves will dissolve into meaning, the answers won't matter so much anymore, and perhaps it will all make sense to me on some distant ordinary day."

This is my hope and this is my prayer - that the questions would keep coming. That I would not shun them away in fear but that I would let them enter in, stay a while and keep my faith alive. That I would know and believe that the hope is not in the answers - hope is found in the questions themselves.

A Postcard from Nicaragua...

Thanks to everyone who has been following along and sending so much love, encouragement and prayers my way. I have definitely felt the love!

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." -Ephesians 3:20-21

(click to enlarge)

Easter.

In terms of family traditions, Easter is top on my list (after Thanksgiving and Forth of July, of course). The five of us pack up for a long weekend to the beach, which includes long beach walks, surfing, homemade Chuck Salley dinner specials, sleeping in, dying Easter eggs, Hammock Shops trips, waking up without an alarm, cinnamon bread from a local bakery... the list goes on and on.

Sunday morning would always come along with our pink, green and blue Easter baskets filled with goodies and Easter candy for breakfast quickly became the norm (once my parents decided to choose their battles and if our teeth rotted out? Well, it was our own darn fault). We'd head to church in Georgetown, SC, where my mom's parents were members. There we would meet up with my mom's entire side of the family (it's grown quite a bit over the years!) - making sure to get there early enough to save at least three to four rows worth of pew seating for the entire family to sit together. We have a slew of hilariously awkward inside jokes that have come that pew section: That one overly ambitious, Southern down-to-her-roots woman in her Easter's best asking a bunch of wide-eyed, sugar-high kids, "Where the egg at?!" in the children's lesson. There was also that time my younger (at the time maybe 7 years old) brother dropped his communion bread in the wine (grape juice) cup while dipping, which led to a bunch of (grown adult) giggling Salleys, Juks, Stewarts, Draffins and Avants during the entire communion service. When the service ended, there is the not to be missed, family photo shoot in front of the flowered cross in front of the church. (And let me tell you, it is a beautiful cross.) Due to the extremely large amount of people in our family, staying true to our charm, our crew is always - let me repeat, ALWAYS - the last the leave. Then all hundred of us (so it seemed) jump in to our cars and head back up the beach to eat our Sunday lunch. And it is always - let me repeat, ALWAYS - delicious.

These times. These memories. These are the ones I miss the most when I am here and not there. These are the ones I cherish now more then I ever thought I would.

This Easter looked unlike any other Easter I have had. It included church and good food, yes - but it also included a pool party, hanging out with some Latina girls who are in the process of getting adopted, lots of laughing with new friends and plenty of pizza. I remember looking around with these friends, after about four to five hours of sitting poolside, smiling and thinking, "This is such a bizarre Easter."

And as much as I miss my usual Easter tradition with my family, I look forward to seeing what new bizarre holiday traditions will come out of this time here in Nicaragua. So here's to you, Easter - and here's to remembering the sweetness of family traditions and to recognizing the bittersweetness of change.

25.

It's funny to me how popular the "list" blog posts are: 5 Reasons To Drink Coffee, 10 Ways To Get Better Hair, 40 Ways You Know You Are From South Carolina (a personal favorite of mine).

Being that today I am celebrating being alive for 25 long years and keeping with my theme from last year's birthday post ("24 Ways I Can Tell I Have Turned 24"), I have decided to yes, make another list for this years quarter of a century birthday celebration.

I have a list that I keep in a little gray notebook. "grace moments" it reads. It is a list of grace. All the ways I see God's grace in the everyday, seemingly ordinary moments. It is always so sweet to look back and see the different ways I saw Jesus in a year. So this year, I am going to share twenty-five of my favorite grace gifts from the past year. 24, you were sweet to me!

1. learning the secret to Spanish pronunciation
2. running in the rain
3. comfy pajama pants
3. three dollar movie nights (with caramel popcorn) in Costa Rica
4. laughing and smiling so much it hurts
5. friends who speak truth
6. sleeping in a sweatshirt
7. giggling with Olga
8. group texts with my parents
9. getting caught in the rain with no umbrella
10. red toenails
11. Instagram filters
12. Oswald (Costa Rican brother) hiding in my closet
13. sunlight spilling onto my bed in the morning
14. tears
15. the sound of my pen as a write
16. early morning sunrises
17. bad Spanish days to remind me I can't do this alone
18. cracks in glass that reflect the sunlight
19. cinnamon in coffee
20. snowflakes on airplane window
21. all of my stuff in one place for the first time in two months
22. Dad's homemade chicken pizza
23. realizing I had forgotten to count grace gifts and seeing how much a difference it made
24. eating sno-cones with high school girls
25. the sound of pouring that first cup of coffee in the morning

The graces keep coming and I hope I never stop seeing them.

Here's to you 25...I have a good feeling ya!

surrender?

Today is one of those days. One of those days where as much as I want to believe it, no amount of black coffee will suffice.

I came to realize something this morning: I desperately crave a schedule. A schedule that doesn't change or get rearranged last minute. Something solidified. A week where I don't have to mark my pen through previously planned thing in order to move it to another day or add something else in. As the weeks go on, my planner begins to look more and more like a fifth graders homework, where they just can't seem to find the right answer.

I can feel myself growing more and more desperate for stability but the further I grasp for it, the faster it disappears.

And isn't that always the way it works in life? We chase after these things we think will complete us, satisfy us, make us happy...but the longer we chase them, the harder they are to catch.

Stability. Does such a thing even exist in this new life abroad I am stumbling through? I can not be sure. But yet I shamelessly attempt to obtain it, no matter the cost.

But this morning, it was ripped out from under me like a rug and I am left sitting on the ground, looking around for someone to blame. Until I realized that someone to blame was me. Because more then stability, I want control. (There's always a root issue, isn't there?) I want to control this life of mine to turn out the way I see fit. Is there anyone out there that can relate to this or am I the only one attempting to tame my own life?

Surrender to Me, I hear Him whisper to the depths of my soul.

Surrender sounds nice but it is actually terrifying. So I fight it - everyday - running to stability instead of the Holder of my heart. Grasping for control instead of the Soother of my soul. Seeking my schedule instead of the Author of my faith.

And instead of bringing the peace and joy I expect, I am left disappointed, frustrated and confused.

I wonder how many days of disappointment, frustration and confusion it will take before true surrender really happens? I'll have to keep you posted...