"Is This It?" by Rachel Jones // Book Review

 "Is this it?" Rachel Jones asks in her new book with the same title. 

 It is the same question my heart has been asking for what feels like a long time.

 Is this it? 

 Did I really get my Bachelor of Arts to work in a chocolate factory?

 Does the fact I am 25 and living at home make me a failure as much as I feel it does?

 Will I be "the single friend" who watched every friend of hers get asked out, get engaged, get married, and have children while I remain where I am? Single and alone and childless? 

 Is this it? This feeling that I should always be somewhere I am not, that I am failing at adulting?

 Will I ever make enough money to truly be independent?

 Will I always work forty hours per week at a job I'm not passionate about?

 "I'm looking for a book to get you for your birthday," my mom said. "How about this one?"

 I read the description of the book, saw the avocado on the front.

 "It doesn't seem like all of it would apply to you, though."


 "No," I said. "I want this book." (Not because of the avocado). 

 I needed this book. 

 Especially since graduating from college, those thoughts have been circling. And I don't think I'm alone.

 I was suddenly a college graduate. Opportunities I was told would come my way don't. But still, there are so many different jobs I could apply for, different states I could live in, different places I could go, different things I could be. 

 There are too many choices that I don't want. Not enough of the options I do want. 

 So I begin adult life like a baby bird simply dropping out of the nest. I don't hit the ground. At least not every time. But I'm not really flying either. And I think so many of us in our twenties are feeling this way.

 I wish this book had existed earlier. Because what Rachel Jones does in her book is take all of those circling emotions and anxieties and addresses them in two ways. First, she applies the gospel to them. Shows us how Jesus is more important. What the gospel says to each situation and feeling. She speaks truth into our lives. Then she takes that truth and breaks it down into simple and practical application.

 To that feeling of rootlessness, of not having our own place, Rachel writes: "The priority now is to 'go and proclaim the kingdom of God' (Luke 9 v 60). This is wonderfully liberating. It means that it doesn't matter if you haven't bought a house. It doesn't matter if you never buy a house. You haven't failed at life. Being a citizen of the kingdom of God- and telling others about its King and showing others the love of its King- is what matters. And flexible, no-strings-attached lifestyle brings certain advantages to that end" (52).

 To singleness she says, "Being single now is like missing the three-minute trailer for an epic film that you're going to end up seeing the whole three hours of anyway" (138). For marriage only points us to our relationship with Christ, a relationship we do have that is eternally secure. 

 To being paralyzed by decisions to be made: "Life in Christ frees us to take risks. The Christian answer to the question 'What if I do this thing and then it doesn't work out or I don't like it?' is, 'Well, if you do, and then it doesn't or you don't, you'll still be alive with Christ.'"

 There have been critiques on this book. Ultimately it is praised for its gospel centered focus, but older Christians have said Rachel Jones only relies on her own experiences for the contents of the books and that she is dramatizing what is now called the "Quarter Life Crises".  To which my response is 1) Rachel Jones never claims her book is not based on experience. What else would it be based on? And every experience she shares and wisdom she imparts is backed up by and focused on scripture.  2) If we can't have a Quarter Life Crises then they can't have a Mid- Life Crises. Seriously. All snarkiness aside. Both stages of life are hard transitions. Both require Jesus. And sometimes, more than sometimes, a little bit of appropriate drama is okay and necessary. 

 I needed this book. And if you are twenty something or in your early thirties, you might need this book, too. If you feel lost and hopeless and like you are loosing in the adulting world (or know people who are feeling this way), please read this book.

 "And being a Christian ought to turn our expectations of adulting on their head. If we're following Christ, life's big adventure is not climbing the career ladder or meeting milestones- it's about becoming 'mature and complete' in our faith. So the measure of whether we're adulting right is not whether we've got our own place with a pet, but whether our character looks like Christ's. That's what 'maturity' means- becoming like Jesus, the most courageous, compassionate, convictional, kind grown-up of all time. How do we grow in that maturuty? Through trials" (13).  

Painting and Children and Joy // Colombia 2019

 Friends, I had the privilege of going to Medellin, Colombia again with my church!

 While our pastor was teaching the students, the rest of us stayed at the seminary (who also graciously hosted us) and did a lot of repair work, painting, and renovations. This time I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to take a more active role in the work we were doing. Two years ago I wasn't sure what to do and everything I did do required someone taking time away from their own task to teach me. But this trip I was able to help more with sanding and painting- jobs that still required instruction but that I could then do confidently on my own. So it was fun to feel like I was actually helpful.

 Above is a picture of the courtyard where I mostly worked. This is the finished project after we scraped off the finish, repaired parts of the wall with stucco, then painted. 

 But the highlight of my week was Wednesday. We went to a town about an hour and a half out of Medellin called El Carmen de Viboral. 

 After a few hours of walking around the cute town we met with a little church. It was such a pleasure and an encouragement to get to know them and hear how they came to faith. Before our mini church service, we all sat in a big circle with an interpreter and shared some of our stories. I happened to sit next to a woman a few years older than me. Our conversation never got beyond our names, ages, and work, but I discovered she was also single. 

 It is such a small thing really. But to have the one woman I connected with in Colombia this trip be a Christian single woman like me- it warmed my soul.

 And there was the children. Beautiful children with curly hair, wide smiles, and those large, dark eyes. What I love about children is that it doesn't matter what language they speak. I know what it means when she takes my hand and leads me around the small place they meet for church. I know how to play superheros with a little boy even though we speak different languages. 

 Just a few hours before this picture someone asked me what I was really hoping to do in Colombia. I told them I just wanted to go to a school or an orphanage or daycare and play and love on the kids. How kind and faithful God is!

 And underneath all of this, as we studied Philippians as a team, as we learned how much the Philippians were being persecuted, how the book itself is maybe the happiest book of the Bible despite their circumstances, I looked at my own life. Away from my home and country and workplace and everything familiar, I took an honest look at my life. How my circumstances control how I feel every day.

 My pastor said this to us one night:

"If we embrace Paul's outlook in Philippians, 

we'll have his joy. And Paul cares more 

about the gospel than his situation."

  I have always struggled with joy in all circumstances. I have been praying for joy since college. A joy that transcends my circumstances and flows from my hope in Christ. And this joy comes from loving Christ and His gospel more than anything else. A joy I saw in the tiny church we visited where the believers there already have strong evangelistic goals. 

 So this has become my prayer. That as life happens, good and bad, I will be ever more focused on Jesus, on what He did for me on the cross, and sharing that message with others.

The Many Times We Come of Age

There is a literary phrase I can't stand.

 "Coming of age." 

 You will hear it in almost every synopsis of a new Children's or Young Adult book. You will read the phrase when famous authors recommend a new book. They always write, "A {insert adjective} and {insert adjective} coming of age story that is sure to inspire generations of children".

Whether it is about a book or a series of books, the main idea behind a "coming of age story" is that the main character "comes of age". She goes through specific trials that mature her, causing her to think and act more like an adult. This can be on a traumatic level, where a child goes through things that would break even an adult, or on a lighter level where the child or teen learns a valuable lesson and sees the world differently through a more enlightened and mature lens. Essentially, coming of age stories are about  growing up.

 But there is something about this phrase that bothers me more than how cliche it has become in the world of books. 


 Is "coming of age" something that really only happens once in a person's life?

~

If my life was a novel. When would I have had my coming of age story?

You could say I came of age when I was 7 and first saw death, the first time I realized fully and personally that this world is broken and awaits Jesus' return for restoration. 

 Maybe it was the year I turned 12. My best friend moved away, my friend's dad died of a cancer, and my own grandfather died unexpectedly. 

 But it could also be my freshman year of college, the first time I was living on my own one thousand miles away from my family.

 See, I can't pick just one "coming of age" story in my life. And maybe we're not supposed to. Because the older I get, the more I realize that I will keep having "coming of age" moments and times.

 I remember being young and thinking that someday when I was an adult I would just know what to do. I assumed that at a certain age I would suddenly know how to fix a leaky faucet, how to soothe a sobbing baby, and ask the right questions in a job interview. City driving would be easy, I would automatically know what fully cooked salmon should look like, and I would always know exactly what I wanted to do with my life.

 But that's not what happens. I am more unsure about the direction my life will take now than when I was in high school. There is always more for me to learn and there always will be. I will never stop learning, from practical life skills, new situations I find myself in, to God constantly having to mold me to be more like Jesus. Even in heaven we will still be learning!

 I am constantly growing up. 

 So how can a "coming of age story" be just one moment, one lesson, one specific time period in a person's life, whether it's a character or a real person? Even for the people with harder stories who have one moment or event they can pin-point as being life changing and maybe when they "came of age", they must also have had moments and times after struggling, wrestling, and dealing with that specific hard time- moments that also grow them and mature them and help them "come of age". 

 I am always growing, always learning, always changing- hopefully with the Holy Spirit inside of me for the better. I am always coming of age. 7. 12. 18. And now 25. I will always have new discoveries, new struggles, new things God is teaching me. 

 We're always growing up.

That Painful Thing With Feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune, without the words,

And never stops at all.

~Emily Dickinson

 I see a bird with golden feathers. A tiny bird, but she sings as loudly as her small body can. And she is perched on my soul. 

 Tiny golden bird. I think she sang louder than others. Full of hope for the future. Full of possibility and confidence that everything would go right.

 Tiny golden bird. She didn't know about birds of prey. She didn't know sorrow. She couldn't fathom a cage.

 People forget that hope is painful. 

 I find myself in a season of waiting. Before it was waiting for something, waiting for me to decide what to do with my life, waiting for clarity, waiting to know what I want, waiting until I feel ready to move toward something.

 Now I have moved. And I wait for tangible things. Like if I will be able to go back to school.

 And this waiting? Some days, it is easy. But other days I just want to know. Even if it isn't what I want to hear, I want to know if I am going to grad school or if I am saving my money to hopefully go later.  Because at least I will know.

 But the hardest part of this waiting is hope.

 I am waiting on good things. Things that seem like the right direction. Things I know God cares about. Things that I have extensively prayed about. And I am struggling with the tension of wanting to be positive and hopeful that He will answer yes, that He will give me good things, and the reality that these good things may not be part of His plan for me. 

 Please, if you believe that God will always give you your hearts' desires, don't. Don't think that God will give you money, marriage, children, your dream job, a perfect life because you ask Him, because He has promised to answer all of our wishes. That is a lie. Do not believe the prosperity gospel. God is not our genie.

 He has promised to answer our prayers and provide for us. That often is earthly blessings because we serve a good God. But sometimes it isn't. Jesus promised us persecution because we follow Him. Jesus has promised us that He will never leave us or forsake us. And He has promised us to answer prayer, but only the prayer that conforms to His will. He has not promised to send me to grad school.

 But He has promised me life in His name. He has promised to prepare a place for me. The Bible is full of God's promises, the biggest one to send the promised Messiah to free us from our sin. And what more could I ask for or want ultimately? 

 Tiny golden bird. You were never a part of me. You were placed gently inside of me by the hand that rules the world. You were given on the day that I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior. 

 This thing with feathers only sweetly sings of the mercy and grace of my Lord Jesus and His saving work on the cross.

 As I wait, I am hopeful. My heart sings of my eternal hope in Christ. I sing my hopes and desires for this earth for I am a child of the King. And I sing with hope and confidence that Jesus will be with me if my waiting is in vain, if my waiting ends with no good thing. He will still be faithful and will be faithful to sustain me. 

"And hope does not put us to shame, because God's 

love has been poured out into our hearts through 

the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

Romans 5:5

"And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing 

age, was enabled to bear children because she 

considered him faithful who had made the promise."

Hebrews 11:11

My Obedience = My Joy

"No."

 A simple word, written, not said. But if it had been said, it would not have come out of my mouth loud and commanding. It would have been soft, with a deep sadness dripping from it.

 Because that was all I could manage.

 Because though I knew saying no was good and right, it was not what I wanted to say. It was the complete opposite of what I wanted to write that day. 

~

Since high school, I feel as if I have been engaged in a battle for joy. Joy in all circumstances. Joy in Christ alone. Joy in saying "Thy will be done." 

 Later high school years, college, after college- life hasn't slowed down or gone as planned. Life gets hard and I pray for joy and contentment, only for it to seemingly allude me. And in the darkness, I am also confused. Surely God, who delights in giving His children good gifts, would grant me joy when it was He who commanded me to be joyful.

 Life continues, and I realize now that joy is a choice. I am waiting to be zapped by His gift of joy, where instantly I will be fully joyful and fully content in Him and whatever situation He has me in, but where would the lesson and growth be in that? Even Paul had to learn contentment. So joy is a choice. I choose joy as my heart's response. I choose to smile, to be thankful, to trust that God is working for my good even in the hard times, that my hope is not in this world but in an eternity in Heaven with Jesus. I am learning.

 But still there is more. 

~

 After I said no, there was such joy. When that no triggered the action I had feared, I felt this intense peace and joy and contentment that I had never experienced before. It wasn't immediately after in the deep heartache. But it wasn't far behind.

 I assumed it was because I had a few people praying for me. I could feel their prayers. But I think it was more.

 Every fiber of my being wanted to say yes. But I said no out of obedience to God. 

 It hurt more than anything had before. But then, unexpectedly, there was joy. Unexplainable joy in sorrow.  

 So joy also requires obedience. 

~

"Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name..."

Philippians 2:5-9, ESV

 Jesus himself was exalted and received joy by being obedient to the Father. He said yes to what He did not want to do- die a cruel death, humble Himself, debase Himself, feel the wrath of His Father in our place, feel such physical pain- an experience that I will never have in its entirety. 

 Jesus did this for me. He did this for you. But He also did this because it was His father's will, and doing His father's will gave Him joy. 

 And doing my father's will will also give me joy. So this is another piece of my joy. For didn't I pray for joy? I didn't pray for joy in this way. But neither did Jesus.

 When we walk with the Lord in the light of His word

What a glory He sheds on our way!

While we do His good will, He abides with us still,

And with all who will trust and obey.

Trust and obey, for there's no other way

To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

"Trust and Obey"

Counting My Blessings // 10 Things I am Thankful For

 ~I am thankful for the passing of time, that I am no longer in the same place I was two or even one year ago. Two years ago I was still new to working full time, and it exhausted me. One year ago I was recovering from a certain situation. Now as I look back I see so much growth, healing, and a forty hour work week that is no longer too much.

~I am thankful that I am eternally secure. I cannot lose my salvation. No matter what I do, Jesus will hold onto me as His child. Even when I feel distant from Him, even when I sin, even when I continue to struggle with the same sins over and over again, He will hold me fast. What a blessing!

~I am thankful for family.  I never wanted to move back home after graduating from college. But I am thankful for my parents and how they love me. In college I so wanted to spend Thanksgiving with my family, but I was too far away. Now I try to treasure every holiday with them, for I do not know what the future holds.

~I am thankful for reconnecting with old friends. 

~I am thankful for new friends.

~I am thankful for friends who have always been my friends, or so it seems. My sister, my old college roommate who I text prayer requests to and who might as well be my sister, my dear friend who meets me at Barnes and Noble, my smart and sweet and dear friend at Dartmouth. 

~I am thankful to have a job and work with people I love dearly.  I also never wanted to work in a factory. It feels like the complete opposite direction that I wanted and what I thought God wanted for me. But this is where He has me, and I am thankful to be working and to have a steady paycheck. And I am thankful for the people there. My good friend from church, my second mother, my sweet Filipino friends my age who I love, the lady who walked to the break room with me when I almost fainted, the woman in shipping who loves to say my name that I share with her daughter, and my boss who has always been generous.

~I am thankful for almost paying off my student loans!

~I am thankful for good books. Life changes and life is hard, but there is always a new and fabulous book to read. I am currently loving "The Soul Winner" by Spurgeon and "The Fruit of the Drunken Tree" by Ingrid Rojas Contreras. 

~I am thankful for the forgiveness of Jesus. It is disheartening for years to go by and I continue to struggle with some of the same sins. But Jesus paid for those sins on the cross with His life. So though I struggle, though I work to get better, though I fight, my battle has already been won by Jesus.

What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving? I would love to know and praise God together!

How A Tiny Church in Maine Changed My View of Failure

Many years ago my dad planted trees all around our yard. There were two special balsam firs, one taller than the other. My sister and I quickly claimed them as "our trees", and we helped to plant them and decide where they would go. 

 We still watch our trees and see how they've grown. My sister's tree has grown tall, full, and straight. But my tree has struggled. For the longest time it wouldn't grow. The trunk curled to the right and though it straightened eventually, there's an awkward extension like the handle of a tea cup. And if you look closely, my tree is slanted.

 Recently, my tree feels like a visual reflection of my life. Like my tree, my life seems to be going nowhere. I live at home, I'm single, I have a job in a factory, my writing is struggling, my Bachelors degree has been useless, I've only gotten no's from overseas opportunities, and I am unsure about what I want to be doing in two or three years. I'm just like my crooked, skinny tree.   
 A few weeks ago I was able to take a break from all of those things and spend a weekend in Maine with friends. Sunday morning we worshiped with our sister church- a church that, like mine, has the same send off or "mother" church. 

 My friends told me the church was small. I heard jokes about how our group would double the congregation that morning. But I still wasn't prepared for just how small. At the most there may have been about fifty-five to sixty people, there, including our group of twenty-two. And maybe most surprising was the lack of children.

 It would be easy for us and the church to assume they are a failure, but we don't think that way. Instead, it is encouraging. This church was started about eight years ago and the pastor has been faithfully preaching the Word without fail no matter how many people show up on a Sunday. I know it has been difficult for them to press on at times, but the gospel must be preached whether it is for an audience of twenty or two hundred. God uses the churches of small towns and low numbers as much as he uses the gospel preaching mega churches. This little church looks past the numbers and past the traditional meaning of success to see what God sees: a small church faithfully preaching the gospel and reaching their community with the love of Christ. Isn't that what every church does? Isn't that what every individual believer does?

 I would never call this little church a failure. They are not as big as my church. They have struggled more than most of our fellow church plants and are even smaller than the newest one that is only a year or two old. Of course we want our churches to thrive and grow and plant other churches and fund missionaries and have the capabilities to help in our communities. But at the end of the day all that matters is if the church preached the gospel. 

 My life looks like a failure. From a certain standpoint it is. There is a reason I was not offered jobs and internships. Though there is no shame in working at a factory, I have failed to get a writing job and have failed to finish a book.

 I fail every day in my sin. But I am not a failure. My debt has been paid by Jesus' blood. And isn't that the main point of the gospel? I, we, are failures. We are dead in our sin. But Jesus died for that sin. 

 So if today, God wants me to follow Him by working at a factory, being single, applying for opportunities I may or may not get, and figuring out what my future holds, who am I to argue? It may not be what I had hoped. It may not be glamorous. But it is what God has given to me. 

 My tree may be crooked and strange and not the best tree in our yard. But it is standing and green and growing. And it is mine.

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my 

power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast 

all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of 

Christ may not rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I 

am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, 

and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

2 Corinthians 12:9-10, ESV

"But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every 

way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. 

And because of this I rejoice. Yes, and I will continue to rejoice..."

Philippians 1:18, NIV

"The Lord measures the faithfulness 
of our labor, not our success."
~ John Piper

An Open Letter to My Sister Graduating from College

When you started college, I had lots of advice. From roommates to homework to living away from home for the first time, I knew what you would struggle with and I knew what I wanted to share with you.

Now you are graduating. I know many of the struggles coming your way. But if I'm honest, I have little advice to give since they are still the same struggles that I am currently battling.

 So I write to you as an older sister who has started this journey a few years ahead of you, but who is still learning. And this is what I want to tell you about post graduate life.  

 1. People will tell you how you should live your life. 

 People love to share their opinions, particularly, I have found, when it comes to where you should live. Some will tell you to live with your parents because it is financially smart. Others will tell you not to live with your parents because if you do you will not be a true adult. And still others will tell you everything in-between. 

 Some will be people who love you and have wise things to say.  Most, I have found, will be people who will share their opinions whether you want to hear or not. Do me a favor and ignore that second group. They don't always know you and what you need. They don't know our family and what is best for us. So long as you have a job and are doing what you and our parents feel is right, do what you want and not what they think you should do.

 Even taking into consideration the words of wise people who love you, the decision is yours and your alone. So make your choice with no guilt. 



2. Be Flexible. 


If I have learned one thing about life after college, it is its' unpredictability. I told myself that this was when life was really going to happen, and I was right, but not in the ways that I expected or hoped. I didn't get married. I didn't get a job in my field. I didn't even stay in the area I wanted. I think in high school and college our life is settled in most ways. Yes, a lot is up in the air, but we know we're going to wake up in the morning and go to class and in the summers work and go to the beach. But after graduation, there is nothing quite so "fixed" in that way. There are endless possibilities- jobs, more school, travel, internships, locations- and there are endless possibilities within those categories. And it is all before us and all up to us. With so many possibilities, flexibility is required. 



3. The path is not always clear.

 For some it is, and I envy them. But for me, I feel like I have been walking through fog since my college graduation. I can only see what is directly under my feet. 

 Thankfully Jesus is my lighthouse, the light forever glowing and leading me toward Him. Thankfully He is yours, too. 


4. Have fun in this season of your life.

   I don't need to tell you to have fun, the girl who will always have fun and will make fun for everyone else. Just don't forget its importance when life gets hard. Every different season of my life has had its difficulties. But I always miss some parts of them. Don't forget to have fun in the unique parts of this season.

 And it is a part of joy and contentment. It is a part of being thankful for what God has given us and choosing to be joyful in those blessings despite the turmoil and despite everything wrong. 

 So take time to do something crazy that will make you laugh.

5. You can't do this.

 There is debate about when a person truly becomes an adult. No matter when it really happens, you are one now. 

 And you can't do it.

 I can't do it.

 At the end of the day, when we have bills to pay, an endless amount of student loans, a pile of no's from our dream employers, and an empty fridge, we can't do this.

 Luckily, we have a savior who can.

 Remember that with me as we try to figure out our lives and fail miserably. 

Closing Doors and Clear Windows

I have a thing for windows.

Not stained glass windows, though I do find them beautiful. I love plain windows. Big windows with clear glass that I can see through and that let in the sunshine. 

 During my college years, my bed was usually in front of the one window. I would spend countless hours sitting there and looking out onto the campus observing, thinking, and daydreaming. Especially my freshman year, I was always by our window.

 My roommates found it odd, I think. Their quiet and timid third roommate who was often too complying and reserved became a forceful and commanding hurricane only once- when they threatened to block her window with a mini fridge as a temporary logistical fix. 

 I couldn't explain it then. I just needed my window. Maybe it was the sunlight my body craved during the long winter. Maybe it was my curiosity as I people watched. Maybe it was the beautiful tree whose branches grazed the glass. Maybe looking out the window felt safer than walking out the door. 

Maybe it was all of those things. But now, I find window watching to be a visible action that portrays my longing. 

 I long for spring again, with sunshine and flowers. I long for hiking trails with my dad again. I long to have an endless amount of time to work on my novel and have the words flow freely. I long to see new places and explore new countries. I long for marriage and children.

But there comes a time when I have to stop looking out the window and focus on the doors that lead to places.

So I've been knocking.

There is a door called marriage that feels permanently locked. With a dead bolt. For the longest time I have been sitting at the window waiting to hear the chains being lifted off the door. But lately with God's help, I have been shifting away from the window and toward new doors. Doors that would combine my love for writing and my desire to travel. Doors that are completely opposite of marriage, but more toward where God seems to be directing me. 

Lately, those same doors have been closing.

I find myself at the window again.

I recently read These Strange Ashes by Elisabeth Elliot where she shares her story of her first year as a missionary in the jungles of Ecuador. Elisabeth's goal was working toward creating a written language for the people so they could read the Bible. She worked hard that year, going through many trials, but she made progress- only for all of her notes and pages of language study and creation to be lost at the end of the year.

 Can you imagine? This is what God had called her to do. And it was clearly His will for the gospel to go forth. So why would He allow all of her good work to be destroyed?

 Elisabeth says, "I felt like a son who had asked for a fish and had been given a scorpion. I had honestly (surely it was honestly?) desired God. I wanted to do His will... It was a long time before I came to the realization that it is in our acceptance of what is given that God gives Himself. Even the Son of God had to learn obedience by the things He suffered... Each separate experience of individual stripping we may learn to accept as a fragment of the suffering Christ bore when He took it all" (These Strange Ashes).

My new doors made sense, at least to my small and limited mind. If marriage wasn't in my future, surely this opportunity where only my singleness would allow me to go would be in His plan?

 But it doesn't have to make sense to me. Often, it doesn't make sense to me and maybe never will. 

So I sit at my window again, looking out and wondering what I will do, what I will be. Yes, there is longing. There always will be until every longing is fulfilled in heaven. And there are closed doors I wish would open. 

 But for now they are closed. And it is a stripping, as Elisabeth says. "Each separate experience of individual stripping we may learn to accept as a fragment of the suffering Christ bore when He took it all" (These Strange Ashes). 

 This is life sometimes. Maybe often. We go to Ecuador and lose a year's worth of language work. We don't go overseas even though we long to travel and write stories and serve. We don't get married or have families. Our writing doesn't get published.

 But it is for our good, our sanctification, and His glory. 

"Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God's 

story never ends with ashes" 

(These Strange Ashes).

How God Uses My Brokenness for His Glory

Forty hours a week, you can find me hand wrapping chocolate in foils, tying bows, counting stickers, and packaging sweet chocolate shapes. 

 It's tedious and far away from my dream job or even my college major, but I am thankful. 

 Almost six months ago, my boss asked to see me in his office at the end of the day. Hours later, I fearfully entered his office and closed the door at his request, trying to figure out what I had done wrong and what I would say.

 Instead, he offered me a promotion, a small leadership role in my department. The job was almost exactly the same as what I had been doing before, but I would be the coordinator of the room, making sure products were wrapped on time and acting as liaison between different departments we work with directly. 

 I sat in the chair across from him stunned. Because I am not a leader. I am the one who works behind the scenes. I am the one who forces others to make decisions. I am the one who will avoid confrontation and avoid anything that puts me in the spot light on any level. 

 Yet I now find myself the wrapping coordinator. 

 And I picture God sweetly laughing.

 The position is small, but it has been a stretch for me. Some days it is easy and I forget I am "in charge". Other days I regret saying yes. A few Mondays ago it was one of those regretful days. 

My job is unique in that as long as our hands are busy, we can talk. This is a huge blessing as our tasks can quickly get tedious and boring. But sometimes we can get more caught up in our conversations than our work.

 We can all do this, but I have one coworker who tends to do it more often. She is an easygoing and delightful woman who talks with her hands and I noticed as soon as she started working that she would stop wrapping when she got involved in a conversation.

 But I said nothing. I hoped that as time passed and she learned more about how we do things it would naturally stop. Mostly, I didn't want to tell her. And she did get better. Mostly.

 Which brings me to that one Monday.

 We are working at different tables and I ask this woman about a book she had finished. She summarizes the book for me and as she speaks her chair turns around until she is facing me and not the table where she is working. She is so excited about this book, telling me plot and character details. 

 Then our boss enters the room. And he sees her facing away from her work.

 He says little, but he doesn't have to say anything. I see on his face that though he isn't mad, he is annoyed, and has every right to be.

 When he leaves we silently go back to our work, and shame and horror settles over me. Some might not be bothered by what happened. We all work hard and do our best there, and what does a loss of maybe three minutes at the most matter? 

 But it gnaws at me. As the coordinator, it is my job to make sure things like this don't happen. And today, I failed to do my job.

 I am quiet the rest of the day brooding in my failure. But I can't focus just on this failure. All of my failures come back into my head, parading in front of me and taunting me. I try so hard to be perfect and it never works. 

 And I want to laugh at myself. If I was perfect, Jesus wouldn't have had to die!  This is so simple and stupid. I have accepted the truth of my sin and Christ's payment for my sin since I was four years old. Yet I live my life trying to be perfect.

 Though still sobered by the previous events, I feel peace, and I know what I must do.

 First, I write a quick note to my boss since I write better than I can speak. I apologize for what happened, tell him that it was my fault, and that I will try my best to not let it happen again. I slip it onto his desk with other papers.

Then I stay late to talk to this woman when everyone else has gone. 

 "I have been avoiding telling you something for a while," I begin carefully. 

 She listens, and I try to gently explain how easily she can lose focus and stop wrapping.

 And she is gracious, agreeing that she does that and even tells me to just give her a look the next time that happens. I have been stupidly avoiding this conversation for months for no reason. We talk about it more. We even talk about my leadership position and how I never wanted to be in charge of anything. 

 Then I see an opening and sense a push. 

 "But this leadership role has been good for me," I say.

 "How so?" she asks. Her eyes find mine. 

 "This job has helped me see that I try to live my life perfectly. I try to hide my flaws from the world. But in this job, I mess up all the time in tangible ways people outside of my family can see. And it is so stupid since the foundation of my faith is that I am not perfect and I'm a sinner, so Jesus died on the cross for my sin."

 We don't linger on the subject, but this is the most I have ever been able to share the gospel with her. All because I messed up. 

 And this is how God uses my brokenness for His glory.

When I Used to Draw

 I haven't been writing as much of my novel as I've wanted to this past year. Life hasn't slowed down since I graduated from college. 

Full time job.
Family.
Friends.
Church events.
A library full of books.
Big life decisions I need to make.
Tiredness from all of the above.

 You get it. I haven't been writing much. 

 These past few months though, I've been trying to write again. Really write, as in crank out this novel that I've been sitting on in my nest for almost six years. 

 But I feel dry and weary of life and what is in my life. Like my job that often feels meaningless and yet drains me every day. Of the same old routine. Of my student loans that weigh me down. Of dreams and opportunities that always seem to fail. Dreary from the sun that no longer seems to exist.

 How can I write feeling like that?

 I can't. Not really. Unless you want to read a novel that is dull, lifeless, and depressing.

 But I think I found a breakthrough. A breakthrough that started many years ago.

When I Used to Draw  
My writing breakthrough starts with my sister being better at drawing. I loved drawing when I was young. We both did. Books and writing were always more important to me than drawing, but I still loved the feel of the pen in my hands and choosing the colors that filled in the black lines. Until my sister was better.

 Though younger, her drawings were better. Not that I had really practiced. But her artwork shocked our parents. Their mouths in o's, the words "gift" on their lips. They would watch her move her pencil in awe and admired her work like they never admired mine. Not even my stories evoked those emotions from them.

 So I stopped drawing my shameful pictures. And I focused on writing, which had been my first love anyway.

 I don't regret focusing on writing. It is what I love most in the realm of art and always will be. I just wish I hadn't given up drawing.

 Graphic Novels
Then in college I took a graphic novels literature class. I wasn't thrilled about this class, just intrigued, curious, and needing those three easy credits.  With rare exceptions like Peanuts or Calvin and Hobbes, I felt that comic books were for children and lazy adults who never tried to read a real book and had to rely on pictures of superhero drama for their so called literature. (Savage, I know). 

 I never imagined what I would discover in that class. I discovered that in some ways I was right, (which I hope to talk about in a future blog post) but I was also terribly wrong. I discovered that I loved graphic novels. 

 And I was horrified when my professor announced we would be making our own journal comics. My head again filled with the images of my sister's drawings compared to mine. But my professor insisted he didn't care if we drew stick figures, and my grades were at stake. So I drew stick figures. 

 After the initial shame and shock at my horrible drawings, I began to relax and found that I loved it. I loved writing and drawing about what I was feeling. Though I was frustrated that my pen could not even try to capture the images in my head, I still loved making comics. It was fun. It was a release. It unleashed new things in me. I promised myself that someday I would write a graphic novel, words and pictures by me.

The Breakthrough
 It's now been two years since I took that class. I still read graphic novels. I still plan on making one myself someday. But I'm trying to write again and be creative again. I remember the words flowing out of me and I want that again for my novel in progress.

 And this image appeared  in my head. An image of my main character and a vine attached to her foot. I won't reveal my secret of how that correlates with my novel, but trust me when I say it does. This image made so much sense to me. It made me rejoice. Until I had this thought: How do I turn that image into words? 

 That question turned into more questions and more thoughts, thoughts that made me realize how visual I am. How my stories often don't initially come in words, but pictures that I then translate into words. 

 What if sometimes my thoughts must first be pictures on paper before it can be translated into words?

 I tested my theory during the long car ride back home after spending Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania. I had empty, lined paper and my colored pens that only God knew I would need, and I put on that paper whatever came to me. There were words followed by pictures, and pictures followed by words. The emotion, the feeling, the desire of my character in my head became an image on my paper, and then that image turned into words that sounded like poetry. 

 My breakthrough.

 My pictures are terrible. I drew stick people. I drew the lamest bed you have ever seen. I drew the ocean, and no one but me would know it was even water. But the words that followed those silly pictures, I think, make up for it.

Robert Frost's House and the Bennington Battle Monument

 I get hungry for little adventures. I have been a long time Robert Frost fan, and have been wanting to see his house and museum since I discovered it existed a year ago. So my friend and I took the day to explore Shaftsbury and Bennington Vermont. 

 The weather was freezing and rainy, but I was so excited to see my favorite poet's dwelling and spend the day with my friend. Frost's farm is in the beautiful Southern Vermont countryside. Though all of Vermont is beautiful, I can see he didn't have to go far to find inspiration for many of his poems. 

 I seriously contemplated moving there. It was that pretty. And I may have contemplated using "Frost" as a middle name for my future son. We'll see about that one.

We weren't allowed to take any photos inside his house where they had set up a small museum-like display. The inside of the house was disappointing. There were only two rooms and a hallway that we could see. They didn't have much in them except interesting information about Robert Frost all along the walls. Though I learned a lot about him and was nerding out as they analyzed his poetry, I probably could have found almost all of that information online or in a library. 

 But just being there and seeing Robert Frost's house was worth it for me. He writes with such simplistic power that I wish I had in my words, a simplicity that does is not "dumbed down" but everyone can understand without spending half an hour with one poem. But you could spend half an hour analyzing and find such meaning and talent and beauty. He has such a technical command of his poems, the meter, style, and rhyme. He knows when to follow the rules and when to break them, and he breaks them well. 

 There was a path you could walk on through the woods on Frost's farm, a path that Robert Frost himself walked along, but we didn't venture very far. Not only was it cold, but they had several warnings of the many ticks carrying Lyme disease found here, so we decided not to risk it, despite how much we wanted to see everything. 

  Since we were right next to Bennington, I had to see the Bennington Battle Monument. My friend was sweet to let me drag her to all of these places as I satisfied my need for an adventure. The photos are of poor quality mostly due to rain and an overcast sky.

 The monument was built to remember a battle fought during the Revolutionary War in 1777. A man whose job was to tell us all about the monument and take people up and down the elevator all day said it is the tallest structure in Vermont and the 6th tallest in the U.S. We hated to disappoint him when we told him we were just from New England as the highlight of what can be a monotonous day for him is meeting people from all over the U.S, and often the world. 

 Though we couldn't get the full panoramic view, in each direction we had beautiful views of Vermont, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and New York. 

 At the end of the day on our way back to my car, God surprised us with one more special thing. My friend took a wrong turn, and it took us to a covered bridge. 

 I am thankful for the reminder that unexpected turns can become better than what I had planned. Not unexpected for God, but me. I don't know what will happen, but God does, and it will be better than my plan simply because it is the Lord's will. 

Caught In-Between the Yes and the No

The dirt road underneath my shoes feels better than pavement. The birds singing and squirrels chattering sounds better than car horns.  

 How many walks will I take before I have the answers I want?

 A brook bubbles, and the water looks cool and the sun on my back is hot. I could take off my socks and shoes and dip my toes in, make them shiver in the water the sun has yet to warm. I could sit on a rock and wade my feet and no one would care if I did. Or I could keep walking.

 I could pause my walk and get my feet wet- something that requires no permission and has no consequences and would require no thought. I could just go wading or not go wading as I pleased. 

 But most decisions are not as simple as stopping by a peaceful stream.

 A familiar dirt road, a familiar brook, a familiar longing to test the temperature of the water, and familiar questions I want answered. Still. 

I never realized before how much I crave simple yes or no answers to the many decisions I have to make in life. 

 But like this road, I have been here before. Caught in-between the yes and the no, what I want and don't want, what God may do but has not promised me. 

 The waiting when you just want to know whether you should take a step forward or backward.

 In my Bible reading, I have reached Exodus again, a time where Israel was waiting for God to act. And in God's perfect timing, my church is now going through Exodus as well. 

 In the beginning of Exodus, the Israelites are all enslaved by Egypt. They fear God has forgotten them. But God calls a man named Moses to deliver his people from slavery and lead them to the land He has promised them. They have been given hope and they are beyond excited and ready to leave their oppression. So in Exodus chapter five, Moses goes to Egypt and confronts Pharaoh, telling him that God has commanded him to let His people go. 

 And instead of agreeing, instead of being scared of the signs Moses does with God's power, Pharaoh laughs, saying he does not know God. Then he makes life even harder for the people of Israel, and they grumble against Moses and this God of theirs who will not save them.

 I know what comes next. I know the plagues God will send to the Egyptians, all examples of His power. Though tragic, I know that God will show His authority to all of Egypt by causing all of their firstborn to die. I know that God will save the firstborns of His people Israel because of the blood of a lamb painted on their doors. I know that is a beautiful picture of Jesus' sacrificial death for us on the cross, something far beyond what the Israelites could have imagined or hoped. I know that God will humiliate Pharaoh and the Egyptians. I know God will part the Red Sea and lead His people to safety and eventually to the land He promised them. 

 I know all of these things. But the people of Israel did not. They were caught in-between the yes and the no, in-between what God had promised to do and what He hadn't done yet. 

 I think they were tired. I think they wanted to know whether they could hope, if God was going to deliver them from their enemies, if they could start packing, or if they should curl up and die in Egypt as slaves. 

 I think they felt like how I feel now walking this dirt road. 

 I am not enslaved. I am happy and free. But this dirt road has seen my confusion, my desire for a yes or no, how badly I handle being caught in-between the yes and the no.

 If I could go back into the time of Exodus, I would tell the Israelites, "Be patient. I know this is hard right now, but it is part of God's huge, amazing plan. Just wait until you see what He does."

 And the trees above me shake from the wind, like they are lovingly laughing and scolding me. So I tell myself, "Be patient. This is hard right now, but it is part of God's huge, amazing plan for my life. Just wait and see what He does, for He has never been unfaithful."

 It may take a long time or a short time, but eventually I will get a yes or a no. And either way, God will be good and faithful to me, the one who put my Jesus on a tree. 

"Say therefore to the people of Israel, 'I am the LORD, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will deliver you from slavery to them, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great acts of judgment. I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God, and you shall know that I am the LORD your God, who has brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians. I will bring you into the land that I swore to give to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. I will give it to you for possession. I am the LORD.'"

~ Exodus 6:6-8, ESV