The Mission of Loving

Oh the bliss...

Right now we're experiencing a 2-week Easter Holiday, so while it's next week that my personal holiday from SM life begins, this week has been incredibly light, praise God.  This Sabbath is the Messy Church (Easter Theme) that I volunteered to coordinate, but with the help of more experienced women, it hasn't been as scary as I thought it would be.

I don't have all the pieces put together yet, and there's so much that my godless perfectionism could pick a fight with about life, but I feel God leading me out of my black hole and it makes me SO HAPPY.  This isn't a pendulum swing, but like a springtime walk.  Slow but beautiful and ... not too slow, for the record.  This morning I read a quote from Oswald Chambers I thought was wonderful:

"'Ye shall receive the power of the Holy Ghost' - not power as a gift from the Holy Ghost; the power IS the Holy Ghost, not something which He imparts." (My Utmost For His Highest, April 12)

I've learned these last 2 years more than ever how risky it is to hand me a "full cup" as Ellen White calls it. I'm glad that God doesn't just hand us power in all its potency - that He never leaves us and never ceases to be our tenderly teaching & loving Abba.

You know something else that's nice?  Like really nice?
The English spring is blooming here at Stanborough.  The trees are getting leafy and some of them have white & pink blossoms.  We also have lots more sunshine than we've ever had.  The weather isn't consistently warm yet, but it all produces the lovely heartache that we love about spring after so much winter...  There's a calm smile inside of me these days.  And it's there most of the time.  Like God's giving me a gift and patiently teaching me how to take care of this gift, since what I'm best at is pendulum swings - oh the glorious highs and the dastardly falls...  But this is different.

Francesca Battistelli - awesome Christian artist - sings this song called "Worth It" and it's about love.
There's a line of it that goes like this:

"Love can steal your pride
But love won't let you hide
It takes everything you've got
Love's not easy
But it's worth it."

It's bondage to cling to pride.  Sometimes you have far more peace in the risk of trust & vulnerability than you ever EVER will in hiding & licking your wounds in silence.  Humility after so much pride & "toughness" is initially uncomfortable, but afterwards it feels so nice to just let go and let God's correcting love come in.  He also comforts and counsels...

Here's the link for the whole song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AunpKZ0vIdk

I thought I'd share this poem I wrote almost a year ago.  It was a gift to newlyweds, but there's so much in it that isn't exclusive to marriage that I'm taking the suggestion of a friend and posting it here on my SM blog.  I hope you're blessed by it.  It's inspired - I could never have written it on my own with my cloudy brain by itself...  I think that if you ask God to help you re-interpret parts of it, it fits being a student missionary - it fits BEING A CHRISTIAN - like a glove...

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To marry is to meet, mesh and meld together

Two separate beings becoming a new one

To marry is to embark on the best and worst of times

The worst for the work and war of loving each other uphill

The best for the blessing of your beloved being finally, completely yours.

We live in a world at war against love

But we are a people made in Love’s image

We were made for the mission of loving:

God first, His people next…

For the greatest commandment, and the second one like it,

Were molded to make the Great Commission:

Showing Jesus to others:

Globally…Personally…

For to know Jesus is to love Him

And to love the Lord Our God

Is to be turned over and over

Back to your beloved

With a heart made new to love another day.

Love is not a feeling

But it is something you can feel

Love is a choice; God’s very character to cultivate

It’s a choice you’ll often have to make

Despite the road your sense would have you take.

There’s a surplus of the world’s view on love

So, here is the eternal supply of God’s Truth on love:

Patience over haste

Kindness over callous

Being sincere and hating evil

Clinging to good and keep up your spiritual zeal

Sharing with the needy

Practicing hospitality

Rejoicing with who is joyful

Mourning with who is mourning

Living at peace with – not in power over – others

As far as it depends on you.

Perseverance in the opportunity of opposition

Because failure isn’t the falling

It’s the choice to not return.

Don’t take revenge; vengeance is God’s

He will repay the measure of abuse

Do not ever pass it on.

Forgive and keep no record of wrongs

Difficult?  Yes.

But better to climb to life

Rather than to slide to death…

Don’t delight in evil – not even at a distance.

Always protect each other

Always choose to trust each other

Always hope against hell’s say

Always persevere.

If you do all of these things,

You cannot lose, for love never fails

And this great summation

Is what it means to love.

God Himself loves you both like this

And His love is everlasting, captivating…

His love is who He is.

It is safe in His arms,

So trust in the LORD

Don’t lean on your own understanding

But forever consult the One

With your whole horizon encompassed in His gaze.

If in doubt, wait on Him.

If in pain, be still and know both that and who He IS.

If you put God at the center of your union

As your cornerstone and lodestar

The closer you grow to God

The closer you’ll grow into each other.

The more white space you give Him

The more of His image can be painted

The more of Your love story He can write

It’s His love abounding from you both…

Binding you together.

Saying “I do” was just the beginning

Your courtship was the easy prologue

For marriage is fabulously hard.

The real adventure has just begun!

And now Christ is sitting in Your married hearts

Waiting for choices to paint his portrait

With the colors of the fruit of His Spirit.

More white space means more story

And more story means more opportunity

To receive and redistribute His gifts

For a good thing kept covered inside

Soon becomes rank and bitter

So receive God’s love

And keep giving it to one another

Then share it to others to return it to God

For whatever you do to the least of these

God counts it as done unto Jesus.

The more you practice love

The more loving you will become

The more like Jesus as you keep becoming one

God’s glorious, beautiful genius be praised!

For the more like Jesus you become

The more you resemble who He made you to be

You become who you really are…

Never alone, but together!

For the blessing of God on your marriage

Remember and revisit the Beatitudes

For the sermon Jesus preached on a mountain

Is the map for the steps of your journey in marriage.

Blessed are the poor in spirit

For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

The poor in spirit know their lack

They are unashamed to ask and to beckon.

By maintaining this mutually sweet spirit of poverty

You’ll always both beckon and be there for each other.

Remember that the kingdom of heaven

Was once compared to a mustard seed:

Though starting small, it grows up huge

And provides shade against a future scorch.

Being poor in spirit is key to the others.

Being poor means you will mourn at times

But you are blessed by the promise of comfort.

Being poor means you must be meek

For you’ve nothing of your own to boast about

All good things come from the Father above

But you are blessed that your poverty is the vacancy

Into which you’ll inherit the earth.

Being poor in spirit means you hunger and thirst

But you are blessed by the promise of sustenance. 

Being poor means you won’t hoard mercy, hence your poverty

It was heralded and returned back to Jesus

So you are blessed by mercy continuously cycled back to you.

Being poor makes you pure in heart, not puffed up or packed tight.

There’s no clutter keeping the eyes of your heart

From the blessing of seeing who God IS.

Being poor makes you a peacemaker, not a power-seeker.

You have no possessions to want power to protect,

For your treasures are stored in heaven.

Making peace takes steps to Christ;

You are blessed and known as God’s own.

Being poor means you’ll be persecuted

For the righteousness God gifted you.

Persecuted because you chose to not grab power

Through earth’s gritty riches.

Being poor makes you easy to persecute:

You have no high walls against ridicule from the world

But you are blessed, for being poor in spirit

Is the fruit of belief in God,

Which makes perishing impossible!

Instead, the kingdom of heaven – eternal life –

Knowing the heart of God is yours!

Outwardly you will age, wrinkle, and waste away

But inwardly you can be renewed day by day

In being poor in spirit, you will fix your eyes

On the unseen eternal, rather than the tactile temporal

And therefore you will not lose heart.

You just have to choose

Over and over.

And by doing this together,

So much the better!

You may be in love in a world at war

And the blows against you will likely be unfair

But with God, you freely have the LOVE

The one thing that is never stagnant, but ever steadfast

The one thing that makes all things new:

The one thing unlike all else…

The only thing that never fails.

May God bless you both

As you build a home and haven

Of faith, hope, and love,

While remembering: the greatest of these is love.

Treasured & Overwhelmed.

I am treasured.

I am overwhelmed.

I am overwhelmed by a treasure.

The treasure treasures me.

It is overwhelming.

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Every human heart is a treasure.
And this treasure weighs a great deal.
When you're not feeling the weight of it, you're experiencing the vastness of it.  

Human hearts are so alive but can be so deadened...
Human hearts are so delicate yet they can survive so much...

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When I had just barely turned 19 a certain painful event took place in my life where I was publicly embarrassed and shaken off by an older friend I looked up to and trusted.  I was stunned, felt very betrayed and it changed me forever.  To me, it made no sense, was completely unfair, and was just WRONG.  "Not right" and "wrong" were the only terms I could find for it over and over as I tried to put myself back together while being flabbergasted by the pain.  What I hated even worse is that I was made to feel like there was something wrong with ME.  Later, this person offered an explanation that they had felt extremely pressured by my relationship to them.  But there was nothing remotely apologetic; in fact an earlier letter I'd hand-written and delivered saying I forgave this person was responded to with a brief email saying that I'd gotten it all wrong.  To add insult to injury, I had not initiated this friendship...

Here's the thing...

I can now understand much more of this person who hurt me, though that situation has several differences to my current one.

However.

Not all my new understanding that is bubbling up softens my view of this past event.  While I initiated - as a student missionary - this situation that now overwhelms me, I have not made any promises or said anything that future actions would betray.  I've been a clear communicator and rather than making this precious person feel that there's something wrong with them, I've patiently sought to teach/enlighten about the concept of boundaries and I've lovingly shared ugly truths when necessary.  I have never acted as though it's a breeze to me to do what I do - I've been very clear to relay that I'm no angel.  Sometimes I feel like a jerk for doing the right thing, but I remember it's helping the other person's health and it keeps me from being completely depleted.

It has not been easy to keep this up.  My inner reactions look nothing like my outward appearance, but God helps me keep going and I've sworn that I will not cause the sort of pain I was forced to experience.  I've come to grips with a lot of the crap that's happened to me because I've deliberately sought out the lessons to be learned from them, but that doesn't mean a lot of what happened to me was not wrong.  I've sworn that I will not let what's happened to me change who I am into what I despise.

The difficulty peaks sometimes, because as I get older and experience new things, I see the logic in other people copping out & cutting moral corners.  Logic is very attractive to a brain like mine, but the heart has reasons that reason knows not of.  I don't care that Satan's sugar-coated lies make SOME sense.  They don't lead you home.  And so I'm committed to the hard road.  Plus, just because I was proactive in the aftermath of being emotionally wounded doesn't mean everyone who gets wounded will do what I did, which life has taught me very clearly.

And so I have a responsibility to CHOOSE patience when I'd rather scream and lock myself in a tight space to calm down.  Choosing patience doesn't mean you feel patient.  Oh no it does not...!
Merciful heavens...

Here at Stanborough, it needs to be considered to be careful how much you encourage attachment, since we SMs leave and then teens have to deal with loss.  I definitely haven't been encouraging the attachment that has overwhelmed me since it bloomed, but just because I'm leaving in less than 2 months doesn't mean I'm going to slack.  It's a tight-rope to finish out my remaining time here without a landslide of sorts...

I struggle sometimes between being grateful for closure about previous situations when other people allowed me to blindly adore them and dealing with the resentment at realizing previous older "mentors" weren't all they seemed and were in fact unbalanced with wrong priorities while acting as though life would line up for me if I'd be like them.  I'm grateful for how God has sustained me through past scenarios and for how He is sustaining me now.  Like I said already, being patient doesn't mean feeling patient.  Choice is indeed a powerful thing and the power looks like this:

You choose to control your expression, you choose your words carefully, you choose to maintain a loving demeanor while not going overboard "lovey-dovey" while also choosing to not be chilly.  On the other side of the wall that is your face, you are crying on your knees to God, begging for what it takes to make it through the next 5 minutes.  And every 5 minutes you repeat this process.  And people think you feel as patient as you look and that you're as calm as you let on.  This is how you build true strength, because on our own we are all leaky vessels.  Even the people who love each other the most want to strangle each other sometimes.  But though it's a nearly irresistible feeling - especially when it spikes - it's not an enduring one and with God's help the feeling becomes controllable; the choice to not indulge it more & more easy to make.

'See, there's nothing WRONG with the person who has latched on to me that isn't wrong with all of us.  There's no "outstanding sins" and nothing to be ashamed of.  There's heart matters, there's struggles, there's need, there's emotional scarring and unhealed wounds.  That is simply life.  It's a different "w"-word: weight.  It's not wrong, it's weighty.  There was nothing hideous about me when I was 19.  I wasn't a criminal or a crazy person.  I was human.  My heart was heavy and it had struggles.  I see a lot of myself in this person I've been drawn to help, which is part of what tugs at my conscience & heart strings.  The weight has to be handled carefully with God's help and the help of older people.  And part of this correct handling is to teach - not force - this person to be more independent and wise.  When you're forced - like I've been - to become more "independent & wise" it isn't that simple.  Rather than truly independent, the result is to become more solitary and the source of the neediness isn't really addressed - the method of coping just gets more creative.  Rather than learning godly wisdom, there is one more convert to the acidic, cynical worldly wise crowd.  Undoing these ripple effects is not easy.  Frankly, I'm still struggling with the results of what other people's insensitivity pushed me to acquire, though I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm pursuing wholeness.

In the interim, I'm grateful - and kind of in awe - that God has made it possible for us to impart what we only partially possess.  He's a Genius Creator and Generous Comforter & Counselor.

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I know God treasures me.

I'm so grateful my heart doesn't overwhelm Him...!

I'm so glad for the treasure of getting to feel overwhelmed by how GREAT our God is...
...so thankful for those moments of beauty that hit me just when I'm feeling calloused or exhausted...

Being treasured by God is to be protected and taught.
Being overwhelmed by God's beauty is receive rest and renewal.

I'm tired right now, but I'm still thankful.

Blue Skies ... And in contrast: a proper RANT.

A line I love from the film "Sense & Sensibility" (based on Jane Austen's excellent novel) is when Marianne Dashwood and her younger sister Margaret have taken a walk in the countryside and it starts to properly POUR rain.  Margaret never wanted to come along and whines, "I told you it would rain!"  Marianne pays her no attention and says the following memorable line:

"There is some blue sky!  Let us chase it!"

She promptly starts to run down the hill (not wearing sneakers) and falls, spraining her ankle.

It's April today.  The month of March is over, and in it was a great deal of pouring rain.  And it was very busy.  VERY.  For several months - not merely this last one - I've been making sure I was getting by and hanging on and making spiritual progress here & there, because I didn't feel up to chasing blue sky, not to mention there were times I couldn't see any to chase; it was a time to settle in and serve and I'm sorry to say (uncomfortable to admit) my relationship with God was more on the back burner than it's been in awhile.  Now I think God is slowly showing me bits of blue sky to pursue.  I don't feel that it's without risk; not at all or else I'd have been racing by now...  So I'm thankful for that gift of His...

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I'm not as frequent a blogger as others, and a good bit of what I write about isn't just detailing what I do but also what's happened to me as a result of all this - the gems I have to share from struggles and successes.  I wish I could write more because I have SO many stories, but I'm so busy doing what I do (or recovering from it) that I have little time & energy to write...  Also, my blog is read by people here in England, so I feel it would be disrespectful (and in some cases a violation of confidence) to reveal everything I have to tell.

I mentioned in an earlier blog that the UK is similar to the US in a lot of ways.  If it were more different, it'd probably be easier to select tales to tell and sharing what all has happened would be a bigger motivation.  Becoming an SM here at Stanborough Park Church has greatly involved my personal life & affections.  While I refer to the teens as "my teens" that's getting a little more awkward to say here in England (not so much on this blog) because they're not my spiritual guinea pigs and never have been.  Beforehand they were strangers who intimidated me, and now they're my friends and family in varying degrees.  I love them and will miss them more than I can say...  But nevermind about that now.

To write in more detail would be to pull the plug on my personal life and theirs, which I can't just DO...  It definitely is a JOB to work here, but what the job IS is living a new life.  Even when it's my day off or when I'm not in the middle of an event, I'm being watched and people continually adjust their opinion of me.  While it'd be so much simpler to brush off or scoff at some people's complaints (since some just ARE ridiculous), I can't because it'd look bad.  I just have to swallow it down with grace.  Believe me, sometimes I want to retaliate, make myself heard and get some stuff to just QUIT because of how trivial it seems to me, but I can't.  Not to mention, people WILL NOT hear even the best persuasion unless they're open to it.  They'll literally will against hearing.

My fellow SM (Sara Baptist) is a choleric-sanguine, whereas I am a melancholy-sanguine.  She is primarily a doer, secondarily a talker.  She is a complete extrovert and often makes me crazy.  I am primarily a thinker, secondarily (close second) a talker.  I have DEEPLY ROOTED introvert needs but have the appearance of an extrovert, which screws up people's expectations about me.  I know for certain that I make Sara as crazy just as often as she makes me crazy.  But despite our differences, we are good friends and have bonded over our taste in food, a portion of our taste in films & music and the fact that we're apparently the two SMs who invest the most in our hair & makeup compared to the last two sets who've worked here.  For all the people who've sometimes joked that they think I have ADHD, let me tell you that I know I don't have it, because Sara does and I now have almost 8 months experience of living with what it REALLY is like.  For whatever reason, she is nearly incapable of sleeping past 6-8 hours and most nights sleeps for less than 6.  I am not that way at all.  I am a deep sleeper and since I am an intense person who expends a great deal of energy after waking up, I have major needs to recharge my batteries physically in sleep as well as emotionally in time alone.  I don't remember the term, but when I took my first psychology class I found myself in reading that some people's bodies keep track of the sleep they lose and won't feel rested until that sleep is made up for.  I carry this burden.  I am NOT lazy or slow, this is just the way my body works.  If I get only 4 hours of sleep one night, it doesn't matter if I get 8-10 the next night.  My body still carries around the deficit.  It's not a nifty or pithy thing in my life, but I have to deal with it.  Once, when traveling to the Middle East, in recovering from jet lag, I slept 21 hours in a row.

When I first arrived, as I've covered a few times, I was depressed beneath the surface and so I slept extra on top of taking a long time to recover from jet lag.  Since my job as an assistant in the bookings center is to get up at whatever time necessary and set up rooms, I had to face a lot of early mornings as a ROUTINE.  I'm a caffeine addict for a reason, as you can see, but even caffeine is no help when it's hard to wake up in the first place so that it can be ingested at all.  Once in early October, we had - what I thought - was one of the meanest bookings schedules EVER.  In addition to the other random bookings, we had to have a big room ready by 7:30 AM (tables, chairs, drinks table,  & projector/sound I think...? + cleaning up when the day was over) every day and serve breakfast, lunch & supper.  I can't quite remember if there was a 3rd meal, but there were definitely 2 and one was breakfast.  After they'd finished, we had proper dishes to do, since they weren't using paper cups, plates & utensils, like most bookings.  There was a morning that week, when I'd gotten up for the early bit, but having gone back to bed during the breakfast meal, I'd slept through the doing of the dishes, which Sara was not happy about.  I wouldn't have been happy either!  My boss (I have so many of them, this one is Michael who's in charge of the bookings aspect of Stanborough) asked if I was alright and then said I needed to get myself under control.  I had no defense; I had a struggle, I'd made a mistake I was sorry for and I could only be embarrassed and agree.

A few days ago, Michael has told me that he has complete confidence in me and describes me as "very reliable."  I was so glad to hear that affirmation from him!  Because I worked VERY hard to tidy my personal struggles (and preferences) so they wouldn't cross lines into my work & responsibilities.

Something ridiculous that I wish I could make others quit is their joking about my "sleep life."

This is the most recent example, which made me angry, which is why I'm typing this blog:

Earlier this evening, I was rehearsing in the sanctuary with my pianist because I was asked about a week ago to sing for the baptismal service tomorrow.  We met up before the teen vespers began so we could hopefully get it done (the song is simple) beforehand so I could stick with all my responsibilities.  We didn't quite finish on time (but the teens seem to deliberately come late anyhow, with a few exceptions) and I got a call from the youth pastor asking where I was because one of the teens had asked and someone else joked that I must have been upstairs sleeping.

Really?  At 7:30 PM on a Friday, THAT is what I'm doing??

I STARTED TO SEE RED.

There's still a little red on the edges of my perception right now.

There's an option that no one seems to think of: since I've been awake, present & dedicated to all my usual responsibilities and have been POURING myself into NEW ones that I VOLUNTEERED for, why can't that stupid joke begin to get shut down by the people who know me?!  Where is the loyalty??  I don't give my own loyalty & effort IN ORDER to get it back, but I'm sure I can get an amen or two (at least) that it's VERY NICE to have what you give returned back to you; i.e., to at least NOT get what you DON'T deserve.  I know that life is unfair, but this is a rant, so I'm say it like it bubbles up.

The loyalty is as simple as saying,

"That's not funny anymore; I'm sure she's around here somewhere."

It's as simple as taking the affirmation given to me in private and turning it inside out as a defense to someone saying something ridiculous...!  Since affirmation given in private by a man who doesn't suck up or mince words is VALID, then why can't it be just as valid - even more so - when interacting with teenagers on scene??

Remember how I said Sara's the extrovert and I'm not?  How I was not hip as a teenager?  She blends so well with the teens she's nearly one of them.  I love her - warm fuzzy feelings & everything - she's my friend, and I don't judge her differences from me.  But I'm never going to BE her.  My gifts and abilities mean that I'm capable of growing to getting along with the teens, being their friend - and occasionally counselor - but I also get very involved in things that Sara doesn't.  It doesn't mean I'm less dedicated to them, it just means that I get spread a little wider.  And what Sara does with the teens and for them is EPIC.  She's an amazing events planner and is fluent in speaking "teen."  I'm capable now, but the stuff she does without breaking a sweat is stuff I'll never be able to do without stressing.  Sara is friends with all the more popular teens, and I connect more readily with those on the edge and a few who are flat-out rejected.  But since they're not as socially prominent, it's less seen or more easily forgotten what I do for people.  I listen when some girls want to cry and I pray for/with others who are so depressed that they hide in their hoodies, while most people look at them like they've got a bad rash.  The more socially prominent teens aren't all that interested in opening up & dealing with their crap so my friendship with them can only go so far.  It's fantastic that Sara gets along with them better and for a longer time than I do - they have as good a connection & reason to come to church socials because of her friendship as the depressed, troubled & rejected kids do because of mine.

There's a conflict here between Main Service & Parallel Service.  Parallel is less traditional; an alternative with a lot of heart and less ... pomp & circumstance, if you'll forgive me.  I was mistaken for a "main service" person over Christmas break since I'd spent so many Sabbaths in there.  Main Service reminded me of home while I was still adjusting; it was more of a comfort zone.  Being mistaken this way disturbed me because I support Parallel's ministry and STRONGLY disagree with people who say it's "not doing what it's supposed to be doing" just because people attend Parallel & not Main Service.  Church is about JESUS, not which room & style you choose for worship.  End of story.  When I was informed of this misunderstanding, I threw myself into Parallel and have pretty much not seen Main Service except on the first Sabbath of every month when there IS NO Parallel Service.  I get called to do a lot of musical favors in both Main Service or in afternoon/evening services.  When Messy Church happens, since I'm not a natural with kids & crafts, I help prepare food in the kitchen & set up chairs & tables.   Trust me, I made mistakes and wasn't always at the right place at the right time when I was learning the lay of the land, but now I FIND places to be helpful when the instant options aren't what I'd be a great aid to.  And at Stanborough Park Church, several different places need help at once when events are happening.

I also get angry that my differences with Sara continue - by some - to be interpreted so she is the ninja and I am the slow follower.  I'm not slow or stupid.  I take longer to process things and I don't have ADHD which basically forces me to always be on the go, nor was I born with such a hearty sanguine streak that I can't stand to be by myself.  And what gets me is that some of the same people who highlight this difference between us criticize/make fun of Sara behind her back just because she doesn't apologize about who she is or try to hide it, and continue to compare her to a former SM who is Sara's best friend.  Sara also has a beef (though she presents it with a smile) to not be seen as stupid just because she's a social butterfly; she's incredibly smart - someone it's not wise to mess with.  Both of our personalities block people's perceptions of our true worth sometimes.  Yet since Sara is more of an overt doer than I am, there is this struggle I'm ranting about that she does not share with me.

Not only was Sara not home-schooled, but she hasn't been living with her parents since she was 15.  We're both 21 now.  I was home-schooled and while I did shoot into the dorm as soon as I started college, I kept coming home in the summertime.  Sara loves to argue, debate, get things done, talk, laugh and just zoom, zoom, zoom!!  While I am definitely an avid & animated communicator, and while I'm capable at completing tasks and fulfilling responsibilities, I'm not super-choleric and always on the go.  I'm an artist and a feeler.  I get recharged - not depleted - by being alone, and I'll readily admit that my congeniality wanes to a very forced & plastic form when I'm depleted, and I very well may APPEAR slow since it takes MORE effort to piece things together and/or understand in a HURRIED situation though I'm getting pretty good at it now...  What makes me good at my job NECESSITATES that I not be always on the job, whereas others have the luxury of being energized by never quitting.  Such an annoying phenomenon to live with...!  Even more annoying that Sabbath is the least restful time of my week.

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What happened to Sabbath in our church?  The Sabbath DAY and the Sabbath PRINCIPLE of breathing OUT, not just breathing in...!

It's as if we maintain our Seventh-Day Adventism by making sure that lots of Christian busyness happens on Saturday, when what God wants it to be is admittedly against the grain of our culture: to set the day aside for HIM.  To calm down and stop working.  To let the fussing CEASE!  We want people to come into the church because we say a relationship with God is important, but there's so much DOING in the church that there's less time than ever to do what DOES build a relationship with God; unplugging from people & life in order to plug into God.  He is a jealous God and while it's a blessing that we can pass up popcorn prayers as we go through our days because His Holy Spirit is always with us, we shouldn't treat it like cheap grace and never make the effort - let alone shame those who do make the effort! - to spend extended time alone with God!!!

*

I'm angry that of all things, this stupid joke about my sleeping habits (never mind all the on-the-spot jokes & pokes I smile & brush off at how my personality is different from Sara's) makes me feel guilty for taking care of myself in an extremely basic way.  Tonight I wasn't off at the cinema or shopping when it was time to put some chairs out, and for heaven's sake it was only chairs!!  (And good grief, the bulk of the teens didn't show up for the next 15 minutes!)  I was right across the hall doing something I NEEDED to do - not for myself - but as a student missionary.  SHEESH!!  Being irresponsible, being absent, being rude in social situations: bring on the corrective criticism!!

But oh wait...

I AM responsible.
I'm NOT absent.
I AM polite in an almost SPARTAN way...!

And ONCE MORE:

My "sleep life" hasn't caused a problem for the past 5 1/2 months.
Sleeping is a very basic need.  I APOLOGIZE (with a bow & flourish) that my body works differently than others' do.  WE ALL need to recharge our batteries, I work very hard and I'm sick of this dumb joke and even sicker of people continuing to let it slide like it's still a current issue and then lecturing ME because someone JOKED.

Seriously???

Get a life.  Get some glasses to fix your vision, because I haven't been doing anything wrong or missing anything for a VERY.  LONG.  TIME.

Bah...

Shades of Gray

It's not just in an English sky.

Ministry sometimes feels like a MASTERPIECE of the shades of gray.

Gray is a mix of black and white.

Black - I think? - is a color vortex...

White on the other hand contains all the colorful hues in the spectrum.

Even if it's a shade of gray so dark it's almost black, there STILL IS some color & hope in there...

AND the cure is shockingly simple, though difficult; like learning to lift heavy weights:

Keep adding more white and the gray gets lighter.

Keep deliberately adding God in, keep pursuing God with determination and your spiritual surroundings WILL get lighter & brighter...  It doesn't eliminate the Great Controversy at all; rather, it invites God's Companionship & Protection in closer...

I heard people tell me over and over again before I left that England is very secular.  One woman told me - though I didn't appreciate her tone - that she thought I'd fit in very well here in the post-modern environment.  To some I'll always be a black sheep; oh well.  People say stuff like that to those they just don't understand.  When I arrived here, the easiest places to fit in were the most traditional places.  I had to loosen up and step outside my bubble to begin blending in as a more useful, contributing SM to the alternative Sabbath worship service - Parallel - and especially with the teenagers of this church.  My first Saturday night social here in England with my teens (the 2nd night but 1st full day of my term here) scared me to death.  As soon as it was feasibly polite, I went up to my room and cried into my pillow.

I was not hip in high school.  Not only that, I was home-schooled.

I think my experience here - now that I'm far more comfortable-with and LOVE being with my teens and will miss them TERRIBLY - has given me the high school experience (among others) that I never had.  Here in England, from what I understand, the secondary schools where the teens attend are not private ones.  The environment in their school(s) is an eating disorder/body issues-ridden, smoking, drinking, sexually active, scholastically competitive, yet emotionally depressed one.  It might as well be a high school film, never mind that I LIVE in a Seventh-Day Adventist church.  There's the issue of broken homes for some kids and the shockingly traumatic stories laid on my heart from young people confiding in me, which sometimes means responsibility on my shoulders...  The human heart is simultaneously the most precious and most heavy possession there is.  It can take such a beating, but it still needs so much protecting...

My own faith took a bad beating before I arrived here in England.  I won't go into it, but I came to England feeling like a mess on the inside.  God came through for me, I'd lapse, and He'd keep helping me through...  Sometimes I'd glow with a spirit of gratitude, other times I just turned off inside to make it through the day.  I'm not a teacher.  I don't have a job that's easy to analyze & execute, though I have a high respect for the people and SMs who tackle teaching responsibilities.  As a temporary SM, I am either latched onto because it's my job to be a listening ear and ready embrace or in other cases, it's taken more than half my time here for certain teens to be willing to make friends with me since my stay here is temporary.  I'm a necessity.  I'm an option.  I'm here to serve, but I also have to know when to say no and when to push forward.  I'm a person, but I'm here to preach with my actions.

I'm exhausted.

I'm very thankful I'm taking a holiday in April...

I started typing this blog about a week ago, but then would not have been a great time to post it, because I was not yet on the other side of a spiritual crisis, and my message wouldn't have been encouraging or accurate.  It would have only whined and cried.  I still feel like I'm soaking wet and shivering a bit from the storm in my heart that's just begun to pass over.  I'm not "better" yet, but I'm better.  Gratitude is beginning - just barely - to become more constant, rather than an occasional pop-up.

Before I became a student missionary, before I even realized that the time had come to cash in on my "yes" to God about a year of service, I imagined the needs and struggles of a student missionary to be not having enough resources.  Not clutter.  In a culture more foreign to the US than the UK, it'd be easier to compartmentalize clutter because the differences are so much easier to pinpoint.  I can say that without ignorance, because I've traveled all over the world; not everywhere, but to many different places.  In the UK, it's different enough but still so similar, creating the need for a very delicate hopscotch on my part.  Just one example: yes, it's good to be able to hang out with teens & young adults and build the bridge for a relationship, which builds a bridge for sharing God's love, but if I become SUCH a good friend to them that I'll go with any flow around me, then where's my credibility when I need to call them to a higher standard in a specific situation or on our every Friday night teen vespers?  And if I over-focus on my credibility, I'm too puffed up or raised up to be on a serving level...!  There really isn't a specific formula, which is why being an SM can be exhausting: changing variables is pretty much the only constant, and most of it is either so hard or so new or so out of my control that I might as well be bruised for all the times I throw myself at God's feet begging for help on the inside, while maintaining a poker face on the outside.

Some people on my Facebook think because of all my posts that I'm SO spiritual or a huge blessing or a major example or the platonic soul mate they've been searching for.  The multiple posts and the majority being spiritual communicate my desperate need for God as I work, not necessarily that I'm a walking female Mecca of what a relationship with God is supposed to look like.  I'm passionate about having a relationship with God, because I've had so many crucial times when HE was all I had.  And I mean that literally.  I'm a very flawed person.  I'm learning more than ever, but a part of my environment I've adopted without meaning to in the time I've been here is the clutter.  More clutter inside my heart than I've previously struggled with.  Clutter and stress enough to make me emotionally eat my way to 30 lbs. heavier than I was in July as just one representation.  And it's quite the struggle, because it's clutter on top of a great deal of serious truth, making the fight a major clash sometimes.  A clash of opposites, counterfeits and look-a-likes.

Like I said, I'm exhausted.  By God's grace, I've overcome times like this in the past.

This is just the next & bigger one.

By God's grace, somehow I'll put this dark gray season behind me in what will be a praise of God's deliverance, not pressed away denial of what's been galling.

I would GREATLY appreciate the prayers of any & all who read this blog.

Fact. Hypothesis. Guess.

In being a student missionary you'll want to be selfish a lot.
In being a student missionary you'll have the least room to be selfish.

Fact.

9-12 months of choosing to be unselfish despite what you feel is why SMs come back changed - at least.

Hypothesis.

Those who come back most changed from who they used to be are those who tried hardest to embrace the grindstone.

Guess.

Back to December ... My English Christmas

December was rough, I'm not going to lie.
Nearly everything I'm usually involved in was intensified by Christmas.

Stanborough Park Church Main Service?

-Christmas Fellowship Lunch happened on the same Saturday as the teens' banquet.  Most of it was set up the day (Friday) before (which involved what seemed like every table we had making rows that filled up all of Cedar/Sycamore room, which is a sizable space), chairs for the long table rows and decorations.  Again, a bunch of us were waiters & waitresses.  Luckily, the Fellowship Lunch meal was served in shifts.  Pat Walton sent us out like troops, so it was much more organized.  Another stroke of luck is that sundown was extremely early at the time (like app. 4pm), so we were practically shooing the lunchers to get out of their seats so we could set up the room for Teen Banquet, which meant different tables; not the rectangular folding tables, but the heavy ones that look square and have a tricky-to-install round table top to attach.  And we had 90+ teens coming, so... yeah.  It was quite the deal.

Date: December 4, 2010.

Our teenagers?

-A huge teen banquet that involved helping decorate (Sara was the queen of it all; she volunteered for so much decorating in December and is quite the trooper; kudos to her!) as well as setting up the tables & chairs.  The icicle lights hanging from the ceiling were quite an adventure.  We wore banquet attire, while waitressing, helping with entertainment, doing dishes and cleaning up afterwards.  I sang, "Let it Snow!" at the beginning and towards the end, "Silent Night."

Date: December 4, 2010.  

Toddler Club?
-Visit from Santa Claus + drawn-out Christmas crafts.

Dates: December 9 & 16, 2010.

Senior Club?
-A huge Christmas party wherein Sara and I were waitresses and performed a messy musical skit about the 12 Days of Christmas, which involved a drop cloth 2 chickens (actually purchased from ASDA/Walmart), bells, fake phones, bins of water, eggs, bells, and several other things.  The eggs didn't make it.  We weren't involved in the decorations (they were done the day before by the Senior Club members), but boy we were with the clean-up.

Date: December 13, 2010.

Tuesday Talks?
-As fate would have it, we had a reunion for Christmas' sake.

Parallel?
-Basically it was another banquet, but the dress code was semi-casual and we called it "A Christmas Cafe" but 95% of the effort for teen banquet was called upon to be repeated (with a few twists) for Parallel's Christmas Cafe.

Date: December 18, 2010.

*

Now, all of this was made even harder by the fact that I got sick.  This wasn't a cold or a virus or the flu. Somehow, I picked up a sinus infection from someone, and that bug was a BEAST.  I first felt the twinges on December 2.  This was before most of the seasonal chaos began.  The evening of the Teen Banquet, I knew it was more than a twinge.  Sunday, December 5, I realized it was full-on war.  It didn't help matters much that all of us "flat-dwellers" (Dejan, Deana, Sara and myself) had been invited to a friend's home for some of the most delicious and regrettable food: pizza & hot chocolate.  This wasn't just any pizza - it was unique and completely handmade, and our host Kept It Coming.  The hot chocolate was made from actual melted chocolate and cream.  It was thick, smooth and divine.  I knew it was the stupidest food to eat when you're getting sick, but I didn't want to be rude, and I knew that I was too far downhill to avert the bug anyhow.  I slept for 8 hours that night, woke up to help with a booked room for 45 minutes, went back to bed and slept for 7 more hours.  I was completely knocked off my feet.  I had a slight fever when I woke up in the late afternoon, but it didn't last through the night.

This delightful BEAST of a bug was the bane of my existence for FOUR WHOLE WEEKS.

During the first week, I had a sore throat and was very phlegmy.  Sorry for those of you who are sensitive and frequently squeal "TMI," but I promise I'm leaving grossness out.  I googled the specifics of my symptoms and diagnosed myself with a sinus infection.  I mistook it for chronic, but my mom (used to be a nurse) set me straight that it was acute.  By the end of the week, I had gone to the doctor (ridiculous: 50 pounds to be seen by a professional to ask me what I already knew, agree with what I'd already figured out, write me a prescription and shoo me out in UNDER 5 minutes - no joke.  Psh...) and was in possession of antibiotics (at the near-screaming urges of friends on Facebook, bless their hearts), aside from having gotten cough drops and sinus-directed pain killers.

During the second week, I felt less stopped-up and sore.  Instead, my nose started running a marathon and I began to sound like a man.  In the evening, I sounded like Yoda from Star Wars or like two drug addicts talking at the same time.  I've lost my voice before, but this time around I set a record for sounding terrible.  No special musics were possible until the Christmas Eve service - even then I was afraid I'd cough, but God is good and there was no coughing.

Third week = chest cough + nasal marathon still happening.  Dejan suggested I get cough syrup.  So I did, and man it had so much menthol that drinking water after the cough syrup felt like what I imagine hard alcohol feels like when one swallows.  I wouldn't know, so I can't verify, but you get the idea.  My nose was red from being sore from being blown so much.  BLAAAAAAAH.

Fourth week = nose & cough still an issue but noticeably lessening.  I didn't begin to feel like I could see the light at the end of the tunnel 'til the fifth week.

Through all of this nastiness, I pushed through.

And you know what?

It showed me what I'm capable of.  Sure, I probably would have recovered sooner if I'd been able to rest more, but I feel like I still got enough rest, and until this happened, I never knew how strong I was.  Plus, exercise isn't a bad thing when you're sick and I definitely had exercise, albeit indoors with all the tables & chairs.

And you know what else?

I called December rough - yes it was.  It was also TONS OF FUN.  My last Christmas was much less joyful and much harder to adjust to than this one, and last year I wasn't away from family and I didn't have a sinus infection.  Last year, we completed the move out of the home I grew up in (we built it when I was 4 years old; we moved out when I was 20 = 16 years) and into a completely different house in a completely different geography: California.  I'm a Michigan girl.  I dream of white Christmases and my old house was surrounded by trees.  When it snowed, I was in a diamond fairy tale setting and our house was filled with warm, familiar Christmas decorations.  I was incredibly blessed.  Last year, for my Christmas break, instead of driving 15 minutes away from Andrews University to be at home with family, my mother and I were flying to California with my grandmother who was having serious heart problems and our cat Chutz in a airplane cat-container.  Poor thing.

I first met my grandmother (to my conscious memory) when I was 6 years old in Kenya.  She was independent.  A real kick-ass woman.  She drove her own vehicle and lived in a house by herself.  Sometimes she had people stay with her.  She had a huge fan base in her town and she took us to Nairobi and on a safari.  She didn't have a heart problem back then.  She barely used a cane, definitely didn't need a wheel chair and didn't need an oxygen mask with an oxygen tank on wheels.  But that was over 10 years ago.  Last year, I nearly fell apart because Grammie's condition was so serious; she'd had to move in with us and couldn't drive her own car anymore.  Gradually she used a walker more & more and then a wheelchair became her primary mode of transportation.  Seeing my tough-cookie Grammie in the hospital being emotionally vulnerable and sweet nearly broke me.  I'd start crying at the most inopportune moments and I dropped one of my classes.  Instead of Christmas "at home," it was Christmas in California.  California was flat, brown-bordering-on-gray, cloudy and cold with no snow.  We went from a 2-story brick house to a 1-story house that wasn't brick; I don't know what it was.  When my mother & Grammie and I finally made it there (I became Grammie's caregiver during this time & slept in her room at night to replace her oxygen mask when it'd slip off & beep and to help her in & out of the restroom when necessary), there was no heat in the house and no furnishings or decorations.  An impersonal hotel room would have felt like home in comparison to our new address in Lakeport on Riggs Road.  That night I slept wearing a bunch of clothes (as well as my winter coat) on a mattress on the floor.  It got better, though.  The heat got fixed, Daddy & Lucy & my dog Belle (Golden Retriever) arrived via truck, having driven across country.  And then Katie arrived by plane.  We slowly put the house together and even decorated a little bit.  We couldn't do presents, but we had stockings on Christmas morning and watched George C. Scott's "A Christmas Carol," "The Grinch," and other things.  We ate good food.  We spent time together.

As cheesy as it sounds, Christmas came.
Christmas isn't about what's familiar.
Christmas is about Jesus and Jesus is all about LOVE.

Back to Watford, England.

I was sick, I was physically miserable a lot of the time, but I was too busy and too happy for it to depress me.  Truly.  Having a sinus infection was something I dealt with in a box all its own.  I'd be running around fulfilling my responsibilities and helping with all the Christmas fru-fru and not even notice that I was sick.

Proverbs 18:14: "The human spirit can endure a sick body, but who can bear a crushed spirit?" (NLT)

I have never been so seriously sick for so long (4 weeks!!).
Nothing like it has ever happened during Christmas, of all times.
I have never been so happy and upbeat despite being so sick.
I never dreamed I'd have such a blessed Christmas even though I was "away from home."

God gave me an amazing gift this year.  I already noticed that Stanborough Park Church (when I first got here) is a brick building, surrounded by trees.  At night the moon comes through my window - the sunshine pours into Sara's room, which is fine with me; I prefer the bluer daylight of not receiving direct sunlight.  Back in my old house in Berrien Springs, I could see the sunrises & sunsets shading the green trees with pink light and the autumn trees with purple light.  The moon would shine through my window at night.  And in December, England had SERIOUS snow.  It was gorgeous snow - difficult to drive in (hehe, England thinks it was "so much" but not compared to my Michigan winters & Sara's in Colorado) but so incredibly gorgeous to look at.  My heart felt so Romanced by so much this Christmas.  God knows the things that make us come alive, that puts a sparkle into our eyes and sometimes he just dumps these things into our situations to show us how well He knows us and how much He's thinking about our hearts.

Another phenomena I experienced was that of receiving ZILLIONS of Christmas cards from people I knew well and some people I hardly remembered meeting!  Sara and I both got cards and chocolate and little gifts for all our SM work in the church.

And then came Christmas day.

We went to a friend's house for dinner - they told us to bring our cards and gifts and not open them.  So we did :-)  First we had some drinks while lunch was getting ready to serve.  The house was decorated form Christmas in a way that reminded me of home.  There were presents under the tree and Christmas music playing from the radio (or a CD?).  We had an amazing and HUGE lunch, which we took our time with.  I can't remember if it was at the end of lunch or when we gathered for "tea" (i.e., a light supper bordering on a full meal during which tea was served LOL) after presents that we heard the Queen's Christmas address on the radio...  But that was really neat!  Especially since I was around people who were British and so for them it was a moment of transcendence because a member of their monarchy was speaking.  After lunch, we opened presents and what do you know, they had a tradition that we practice in my family!  1-2 people put on Christmas hats/headbands and pass out the presents until everyone has their pile, and then they're all opened.  People cross the room to hug and thank family members and friends who gave them something they either wanted or were surprised by and still loved anyway.  I was excited just to have my stack of cards, a gift from Sara and I was looking forward to her opening my gift.  But lo & behold, by the time all the presents were passed out, I had a little stack to open too!  It was one of those moments when you're so happy you could cry, but instead, you're so full of joy that you're quiet, can't stop smiling and there's no such thing as too many hugs.

I fell asleep in my easy chair for an hour (we'd gotten up a little earlier because the Christmas service in church is longer than the usual service, plus Sara and I had helped with a special children's story skit about candy canes) and afterwards it was time for "tea," which - as I mentioned earlier - was basically another meal.  Less hot food, but pretty much just as abundant.  When we'd finished this part of our Christmas, we returned to the living room to play games.  Not card games, not board games, but REAL games.  A lot of us had changed out of church clothes into either casual clothes or actual pajamas.  They were the kinds of games you play at camp, where the rules are simple and it's tons of fun and there's no age restrictions.  No more stiletto heels, no more fussing about fancy church clothes - it was play time :-)

We didn't leave to return to the flat until after midnight.

It was one of the best Christmases I've ever had in my life.  Ever.

If you simply stay open to receiving,
If you let go of what you think you need to be happy,
If you leave room for God to surprise you,
If you remember He knows your heart and wants to give good gifts,

God can and will sweep you up into His arms in the most unexpected and amazing way.

Deeper and Wider.

People who return from being student missionaries for a year are always changed.

It seems to be dawning on me that the change comes from beginning a brand new life.  It's hard to say that you're beginning that life from scratch, because the new environment that you enter as an SM is actually abundant, in my opinion.  But it's abundant with what is foreign to you, because you've left home.  It feels like you're making a new life from scratch on the inside ... probably because our choices as individuals have never meant as much before.

As university students, we had a cafeteria and a dormitory.  So much of our lives were organized so we could focus on our studies.  And before college our parents took care of us while our siblings either sanded or heightened our rough edges.  :-)

Taking a year OFF from school part-way to be a student missionary is like taking a year of life ON early.  Life = of work, time off, play, relationships & rest.  School is a learning process we need - especially since our world has developed so much - but life in school isn't the life most people are living.

This year off from school isn't like a temporary internship for the career we're actually pursuing; not unless you're really lucky with where you got posted as an SM.  I think it's like a temporary internship for character.  Things get put into perspective.  What wasn't justly thrown at you finally falls off.  What you never should have taken on finally sheds.  I think these are the results of living in an environment of service.  In an environment of loving others with our actions and hopefully our words as well.  Love is a collection of choices, not feelings, and often ('seems like most of the time, the older I get...) those choices MUST be made regardless of the feeling at hand, or else it isn't love- it's of-self.

Love is patient.  It's not impatient.
Love is kind.  It's not mean or deliberately cruel.  It's being thoughtful of the feelings of others.
Love does not envy.  It's content vs. covetous for what others possess.
Love does not boast.  It's modest of heart and speech.  Not self-deprecating but modest.
Love is not proud.  It's humble.  Not self-loathing.  It looks into the eye of the other person and keeps the eyes of the heart fixed on Jesus Christ.
Love is polite.  It does not dishonor others, while still adhering to uncompromising truth.
Love is not self-seeking.  It doesn't not take care of itself (we are supposed to be temples for God's Holy Spirit), but it isn't myopically self-focused.
Love is not easily angered.  It doesn't not get angry, (even God gets angry) but it makes sure the journey to anger isn't rash; it pursues blamelessness.
Love keeps no record of [forgiven] wrongs.  Forgiving is like letting go of a heated rock[offense].  It's heavy and only burns you to keep carrying it.  Yes, it was handed to you but that's no reason to hurt yourself by hanging onto it.  Keeping no record of an unforgiven wrong is denial.  Make sure your heart is all on the table with God and then let Him help you clean the house of your heart.  Keeping no record of wrongs is a strength-building task because forgiving an offender doesn't change them even though it liberates you.
Love does not delight in evil.  So often, evil is veiled or sugar-coated.  Too often, evil is accepted as normal.  It's very difficult in our society to not delight in evil.  Especially when an evil means is supposed to justify an end.
Love rejoices with the truth.  Again, this is difficult.  The truth can hurt and is often ugly - not pleasing to the eye of the beholder.  Truth, these days (when there are so many "understandable" options around what is right), is harder to embrace than ever.  It has ramifications.  A key word that is helpful in carrying out this act of love is the word "rejoice."  Joy and happiness are not the same thing.  Happiness is more of a feeling.  Joy is a deeper, calming knowing that joins hands with God's peace that passes understanding.  We can trade our sorrows and shame for the joy of the Lord about the truth.
Love always protects.  It doesn't let someone get hurt when it could otherwise be prevented or averted.
Love always trusts.  This is tricky, because people are consistently untrustworthy.  Even your loved ones let you down.  When you love someone, they don't stop being human; disappointment on some level is inevitable.  So who do you always trust?  God.  God is the only one 100% capable of keeping promises and doing the impossible.
Love always hopes.  Another definition for hope is desire, I recently learned.  It's keeping the wanting - the thirst - alive in spite of soul-crushing circumstances.  It's always darkest before the dawn and God's love is more faithful than the morning.  Hope does not disappoint.  In Proverbs (somewhere - forgive me for not directly quoting) it says that hope deferred makes the heart sick.  But don't stop hoping.  God will attend to your wounds and in the end, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger - especially in matters of the heart.
Love always perseveres.  Perseverance is the carrier of hope.  Perseverance is done by choosing.  God made our choice a special creation.  He wanted creations who would love him back, not be obedient robots.  This allows for rejection of Him, which is extremely sad, but it also allows for eternal life which - when we get to Heaven - we will find out has been cheap enough indeed!  Our choice is a special creation because Satan cannot force our choice (but don't estimate how dirty he'll play) and God will not force our choice (but don't forget God will never give up on you, never leave nor forsake you).  I think that perseverance in all that love entails is why Love Never Fails.  If you employ your impregnable choice over and over in persevering alliance with what can never fail ... God's blessings can never be robbed from you.  Until we are in heaven, Satan will always try to bring us down - especially those of us who work to actively choose God - it's the result of the war on our souls; symptoms of the Great Controversy in the spiritual realm that we can't see with the eyes of our flesh.

Clearly, to love one another is a high standard.  It is not a joke.

There's a quote that says to shoot for the moon because even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.  Only God can love perfectly, but when we try to follow this standard (walking with God & listening for His specific guidance is necessary for the application in our individual situations), it changes us.  And when we're trying to follow this standard for a whole year because it's our job and because we chose this job (whatever you think of yourself, be encouraged: nobody trips & falls into the life of an SM; you made months of choices towards where you're at, God saw it all, still sees it and is with you, helping you), God nurtures and leads us to love others and to be transformed by His love working through us.  His Holy Spirit conveys what we can't put words to and intercedes for our needs in a language we could never grasp.

I think that - whether you have seen it yet or not - a very likely theme in every SM's experience is healing of a sort.  What I've come to learn about healing is that it's not the same as restoration.  Restoration is pure gift.  We don't have to work to receive it - it's grace.  Healing, on the other hand, is neither glorious or easy.  Healing requires active participation.  Healing is mundane.  Healing brings joy but not a steadily happy high (which isn't natural anyhow).  Healing isn't glamorous.  There's no euphoria in healing.  Sometimes the healing began because of a painful, spiritual operation on your heart that you couldn't even understand at first, making the first leg of your journey laborious like nothing you've ever known.  Being an SM can scrub off the crud from your soul.  For some that means you finally begin to value yourself more highly.  For others, it means an uncomfortable look in the mirror.  Being an SM can reopen wounds that never healed correctly so they can finally be ministered to.  I've discovered there's a wealth of ministry received as an SM in ministering.  Only by love is love awakened.  I never saw it coming that in being a student missionary I was entering a year of feeling more loved and laughing more often than I ever have in my life - and it's for exactly who I am; no one else.  Nobody tries to shove the square peg that I am into a round hole.  All this love & joy I've received came about because I'm working hard for people and for events that have nothing to do with me...!  Who knew, huh?  Being an SM can also call upon spiritual muscle that you've never exercised, making you sore at first but eventually stronger.  At the end of the healing journey, you start really living again.  And for many who've finally healed after a life-saving operation or after kicking a long-time disease, re-entering life has never been so sweet.  I think that's the event we see - the spark in ex-SMs' eyes - when they return from their post and pick up where they left off.

But you know what's really beautiful?  Your SM post isn't a laboratory.  It's a real part of the world.  The people you bond with are real people.  It's not like the Pevensie children in C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia who have to leave at the end of each story and have no control over whether or when they can return to that beloved country.  Our lives are deeper and wider because of our year of service.  Because of our year of aspiring to love.  Love always leaves a mark.  It isn't a small world after all.  We return home to the friends we miss having made new friends to drive us through "the missing experience" all over again, but the pain of temporary parting is only the poignant piercing that we have such wonderful people to miss - that we have been enriched so greatly.

So I invite any SMs who are reading this to think about how God has been healing you and enriching you this year.  I invite you to pray and ask Him to reveal what He's been doing in your life.  Even if you feel you've already got a handle, with God there's always more to know and more love of His to feel - infinitely more :-)  It's the Christmas season and we're away from our families.  Ask God to bring His love and His glowing intentions home to your heart for Christmas; it's a joy that surpasses all others and a joy that cannot be taken from you.  I got the idea to also ask God to make me into a Christmas present back to Him (since He gave it all up for me) and see where that leads.  It's one of the many ideas I've had in how to make my Christmas unique, since it's my first away from home & family.

God loves to give good gifts.  Love is never out of season, but other things often are.  If you feel like something you want isn't happening or coming to you at the time you'd like, remember God loves to give GOOD gifts.  He wants the timing and the ripening to be perfect so that it will be sweet - so that you will feel it everywhere, once it's yours - if indeed you're meant to have it.  But a prayer request God always answers YES to is when you ask Him to reveal more of His heart to you.  And He never tires of responding over and over and over again.  I'm praying that all of you experience something beautiful with Jesus during this unique time.

To any fellow SMs who are reading this - and to the rest of you - I wish a Merry Happy Christmas!

With love,

Chloe