Karen Kids Camp, Northern Thailand [Week One of Asia]

How I Feel About...

 

[ saint patricks day luncheon at the diner ]

springtime.

Winter is reluctant to leave Bird in Hand, but Spring is stubbornly fighting to reclaim her rightful position. Sunny days with touches of almost-forgotten warmth leave me feeling deliriously happy. Now and then, birds chirp out hopeful songs. I'm beginning to take walks again. I even broke out the flipflops once or twice. I love how God thaws a frozen world and brings spring to my heart as well.

[ a lovely week in the sun with kindred friends ]

twenty.

It's a birthday too old for me. I'm not sure how it managed to approach so unnoticed. Somewhere between my seventeenth and twentieth year, I decided I'd be happy if I could stay these ages for the rest of my life. You laugh, but it's true. They have been glorious years, years full of learning and challenges and beauty I wouldn't trade for anything. But I realize the ways in which they've shaped me are ways which propel me forward, not call me back. There's more to be learned, more to discover, more to love and pursue and become involved in. So, in my sentimental way, I'm sad to leave my teenaged years behind. But in a forced attempt at a mature mindset, I'm excited to meet the ones ahead.

[ a surprise-the-cousins trip to ohio ] 

asia.

It's ridiculously close. And ridiculously exciting. And ridiculously unknown. I'm about to head out on an exploration of God's Great Frontier, experience things I've never experienced, taste things I've never tasted, meet people I've never met. Today I finished last-minute shopping (I'm not normally a list person, but neccessity prompted organization and I find the industrious check-off-feeling to be immensely satisfying). I honestly can't wait to travel again, and take in culture, and observe different beauty, and look into dark eyes of little faces begging for attention. I've heard stories of sisters and friends who have done similar trips but, knowing how each one varies, I go with no expectations except for the expectation of God showing up. I don't want to stand in the way of Him. My words for this next month: "despite who I am, because of His love, and for His glory."

[ preparing to be brave caving women after the urban youth workers retreat ]

"Perhaps one of the greatest demands God ever makes of us is the willingness for what we fear most if that is what God needs most from our lives."
- amy carmichael

since a picture's worth a thousand words...

There are two canvases in front of me.

Which do I choose?

The canvas to my left is not blank and white as I would expect. Rather, it composes a painting my eyes do not yet understand. To me it makes no sense, holds little beauty. Curious swirls, strokes and brushes blur together colors without name in a masterpiece fully appreciated only by the Creator. Some corners are shadowed, some areas bright with life.

The canvas to the right sits starkly blank beside colored tubes, paint trays and scattered brushes. It appears I would have the choice to pick up a brush, choose a color and commence a design of my own. It would seem convenient, for I am right handed. It would seem wiser, for I know what I want for myself. It would seem safer, for I can see my own work.

But it would be foolish. My own sketchy attempts would create only an illusion of security that would soon fade into a smeared mess. The mystery of the painting I do not understand beckons me. There is hope even in the unknown design and a deep knowledge that its Artist can be trusted. His hand is more steady; His eye, better trained; His vision, most beautiful.

There are two canvases in front of me.

I choose the Masterpiece Not My Own.

Who authored this Story to begin with?
It’s written so differently than if I would be
The one holding the pen
Circumstances, timing, cast of characters
I would have undoubtedly imagined all a bit more heroic

More of a palace, for instance, less of a stable
An announcement so earth shattering that
Stars would fall and the ground itself would tremble in honor
A favorable reputation for the parents of such a King
A political leader and people open to the idea of a Messiah

Instead I find myself turned upside down by uncommon Truth
Brash display of divine power is exchanged for rough sackcloth of humility
Thunder of God-voice becomes the wailing of helpless newborn
Heaven takes up temporary residence on earth’s cracked sod
Sovereign glory walks alone among crowds of corruption
Perfection submits itself to the undeserving lies of a trial

Yes, I would have written it differently
But I hold not the pen
I am not the
Author

Truth is not often a bestseller
To a world expecting a glamorous work of fiction
But this epic of word becoming flesh
Wins every award of my
Worship

“AND THE WORD BECAME FLESH, AND DWELT AMONG US,
AND WE BEHELD HIS GLORY
(THE GLORY AS OF THE ONLY BEGOTTEN OF THE FATHER),
FULL OF GRACE AND TRUTH.”

[ the apostle john ]