forgotten.

"Draw upon the resources of My grace." 

My souls breathes this in as if its very life is on the line.

Forgotten. I've forgotten to count.

When I stop counting His grace gifts, the air my soul breathes runs low.

When I forget to count, when I forget to seek, when I forget to truly see through a lens of grace...

I forget everything.

And then, once again, I hear His sweet and gentle voice, an extraordinary Savior in the midst of drowning in the mundane:

"You are my precious and beloved daughter. Nothing can change your standing with Me. I love you and I am always with you, yes even in the ordinary. That's why You must continue to seek My grace gifts - so that you know I am there - waiting in the little details all around you. Open your eyes, My beloved - and see."

My mind wanders to the story in Mark 8 where Jesus led a blind man, by the hand, outside of his village to heal him. I am this blind man, desperate to truly see but unable to see past the distortion, grasping the strong hand of the One who truly heals. First, Jesus puts His healing hands on the blind man, and asks: "Do you see anything?" He responds: "I see people; they look like trees walking around."

"Once more Jesus puts his hands on the man's eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight restored, and he saw everything clearly." (v. 25) Sight is grace. But blindness is also grace. Because how can I truly appreciate what it means to see, unless first I am blind. How can I truly know what it means to look through the lens of grace, unless I first confront my distorted vision?

I had forgotten.

But Jesus is always reminding me.

"open your eyes, My beloved - and see."

This is grace.

the big dream.

Wanted to share this great video, set to audio portions of Jim Rayburn's (founder of Young Life) speech "Big Dream" at his final address to the staff in 1970. I love being a part of such an amazing, long-standing ministry that now stretches to over 90 different countries.

"So the big dream stated another way is this: it's a group of people bound together in the single minded purpose that there's no price too high to pay to see to it that young people have a chance to know the Savior." - Jim Rayburn

{click here to view video}

or watch it here!

lately.

Y'all. I was greeted this morning with one of the best texts ever from my teammate:

Happy one month officially in Nica and one year since we both moved to Central America!

Can anyone else believe that it has been that long? This time last year I was hopping on a plane to Costa Rica for one of the most unexpectedly beautiful adventures ever. And this time last month I was hopping on a plane to Nicaragua for round two of said adventure.

I won't lie to you...the first couple of days, I was in what I can only explain to you as "the fog". I slept until 2 PM my first day in Nica. Waking up, I remember sitting on my bed, not exactly sure which way was up, saying to myself over and over:

"I just moved to Nicaragua."

I am not sure if I even remember those first days in the country because looking back I feel like I was just a zombie going through the motions. But one night, as I was falling asleep, I asked God for clarity and told Him I was ready to face reality. And the next morning, I could actually think clearly! "The fog" was lifted.

All that to say, Nica living has definitely been filled with many different types of adventures. Like the adventures of opening a bank account (in Spanish), car shopping, learning directions, phone plans, getting used to a different type of currency, making new friends, attempting to decipher the Nica-Spanish accent...the list goes on and on.

And so lately, life has been spent on a lot of "figuring out". Figuring out how to do life somewhere new is a big task and one that will continue, I am sure,
through the next days, months, years, ect.

So while I continue to figure it all out over here, I thought I'd share some pics of what I have been up to lately...enjoy!

Valentine's Day "cabin time" (aka campaigners aka Bible study) with some of the Central Managua chicas.

Jen and I's alter-egos at Young Life club...the Duck Tape Sisters. (we may or may not have made entire outfits out of duck tape...) 

Young Life leader retreat with our student and adult leaders...at the beach! (I know, I know - rough life.)

Publicizing our first Young Life club of the year at the high school...

...Russian Family Olympics club! (hence the mustaches in previous picture)

manipulate.

It hit me there, sitting around in a group of 15 other women whom I had known for just over two weeks now. Beth Moore coming through the speakers, recreating the story of Nehemiah with only the scratching of pens heard in the fleeting moments of silence.

"Give Him your heart completely and allow Him to manipulate your thoughts and emotions."

I pause and immediately my guards go up. Manipulate? Allow myself be manipulated by someone or something? It seems so wrong.

I scribble it down, intrigued by the thought but allowing it to pass by focusing on the rest of the study.

It's not until after, hands cramped and mind full, that I look back and allow myself to ponder this thought. In true womanly fashion, we split up to process together. Groups of women sharing their hearts, sharing what was impressed on their soul.

My mind replayed this word in my head: manipulate.

I can't get a grasp on it. It sounds so wrong.

Later, in the quiet of my home, I search the word using one of the most handy websites I know: dictionary.com.

ma-nip-u-late: [muh-nip-yuh-leyt] v. to adapt or change to suit one's purpose. synonyms: shape, wield, form, mold

"Give Him your heart completely and allow Him to adapt or change your thoughts and emotions to suit His purpose."

I'll take it.

But what really struck me fell under the opposite of manipulate. The antonyms:
leave alone
idle

"Give Him your heart completely and He will never leave you alone in your thoughts and emotions."
"Give Him your heart completely and He will never stand by idly and leave you to drown in your thoughts and emotions."

It's a promise, this word manipulate. A promise to shape me, wield me, form me, mold me for the plans and purposes of Jesus. A promise to never leave me alone, to stand by idly.

He always working, this God of mine. Always manipulating this heart to clear away the blemishes, to break away the strongholds.

That same night, after sharing these thoughts, a friend spoke directly into my soul: "Yes. And what happens to clay when it dries up, becomes hard? It breaks. It falls apart when you try to mold it. If we harden our hearts, when God begins to mold...we break."

And I have never been so thankful that, in all His goodness, God's grace covers the inevitable brokenness too.

"Yet O Lord, you are our Father.

We are the clay, you are the potter;

we are all the work of your hand."

-Isaiah 64:8

snapshots: {pt. 1}

For those of you wanting a little piece of life here in Nica...here is part one. More to come!

because who could ever tire of this view?

Nica pineapple.

journal & agua.

"coffee & the Word"

my alarm clock (the sun) & air conditioning (the fan).

porch.

Mr. Raccoon...living the dream.

Sirius.

life.

"Lord, thank you for the rain and that it gives life" she prayed.

Heads bowed all around that circle, I hear the murmuring of agreement. Like a perfectly cued chorus, the rain grows stronger around us: the melody echoing off the tin roof, engulfing us in its musical notes…singing out to us, singing life to us.

Rain gives life.
Grace like rain.
Grace like rain gives life.

The earth could not survive without rain. We cannot survive without grace.

The earth can teach me: the way earth, eager to receive, soaks it all in. Allowing the rain to embed itself deep down. Allowing the rain to saturate so that even the hardest places become soft and malleable. The earth drinks in the rain, welcomes the floods.

Because the earth knows something I am failing to learn: rain - deep rooted rain - brings life.

And so it is with grace.

Yet, at most, I simply acknowledge its existence. I brush a sloppy mess of thanksgiving over these daily graces and move on. And all the while my hardened heart, unsatisfied, wanders and seeks something more.

But what if I let this song of grace pour over me daily? Washing me in its extravagant harmony of love, forgiveness, kindness, mercy. Wooing me gently to open my hands, my heart, to accept. To give in. To let it take me over. It might ruin me in the most beautiful way possible.

Yet this is a risk I am willing to take.

on plane anxiety & adventures.

I heard something about flying once: the first 60 seconds are the most dangerous of the entire flight. There is the most potential in those first 60 seconds for something to go terribly wrong. And so with every flight, as the wheels lift off the ground, I count.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…

Never do I talk to myself more in those first ten seconds. "Everything's fine. Everything's fine."

7, 8, 9, 10…

As the plane accelerates into the lower atmosphere, the hot flashes begin.

11, 12, 13, 14, 15…

Turn the AC knob full blast towards my face.

16, 17, 18…

Remember to breathe. In & out. In & out.

19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26…

Just when I think I'm in the clear, that stomach-tossing, breathe-taking turbulence begins.

27, 28, 29, 30…

The counting gives me something to focus on other then the eminent crashing of the plane.

31, 32, 33, 34, 35…

Anxiety continues to rise.

36, 37, 38, 39…

The calm & collected voice of the airline attendant begins to list the complimentary in-flight beverage options.

40…

A sudden jerk of the plane renders my eyes back to the window to make sure we aren't plummeting.

41, 42, 43, 44...

Slow sips of water.

45, 46, 47, 48…

The clouds begin to cover the windows, leaving my brain without a grounded spot on which to concentrate.

49, 50…

Not sure if I'll make it at this point.

51, 52, 53…

I'm sure I am on the verge of an anxiety attack. I illegally turn my music on before the suggested cruising altitude in a attempt to soothe my mind.

54, 55…

Count. Breathe. Listen. Count. Breathe. Sing along. Count. Breathe. Ears pop.

56, 57, 58, 59…

And just when I am about to turn to the person next to me with tear filled eyes, we emerge.

60.

And the sight from the window is something magical. Those cotton candy clouds beneath us give off a child-like joy and simplicity. The marvelous majesty of being above the clouds is one I hope to never take for granted. They calm me. And though I am 30,000 feet above the ground, I find solace in their beauty.

And isn't this the way it goes in adventures? Those first steps, those first 60 seconds, those first days - they hold so much fear and anxiety and uncertainty and we aren't sure if we are going to make it. Fear can be so real, it suffocates. Anxiety so present, it stops us in our tracks.

But the real adventurers are the ones who risk. The real adventurers are the ones who push through the "what-if's". The real adventurers are the ones who don't let those first 60 seconds deter them. Because it is the life of adventure that draws me closer to who I was created to be. Big, small, life changing, simple, life long dreams, short term goals…God truly writes the best adventures. The question is - am I willing to take those first steps, walk through those first 60 seconds to find out what the adventure might hold?

I want to be a real adventurer: who allows no fear to lay hold, no anxiety to control - who allows the hard adventures to shape and mold while letting the sweet adventures comfort and strengthen.

Because I do know one thing for sure about adventures: they are always filled with grace.