In this place, I am weary yet rejoicing

It has been one of those days where I feel again that in this place, before these students, I feel His pleasure. He has given me high and lofty goals and I am trusting him with those, but in this classroom before my students from 7 or 8 different countries, it is pure joy.

   I listened to an interview done by Bethel Church recently. Two Olympic runners have started going to that church and attending the school of ministry. Can you imagine- being a professional runner. That career alone is proof that God made us all unique and different!!
 
   And Sarah Hall, who runs steeplechases, talked about how she knew that God wanted her to run. And she talked about her passion for justice, for the poor and how that felt so much more important. And yet God said, run. Run because I can do more through you running that by yourself-with just your two hands on the mission field. And it shook me a bit. Because you know I have struggled with my identity and finding it in a holy and high calling. And it has been a journey finding it in Jesus. I am still on the road and it is a long pilgrimage with new friends and unexpected showers and dusty roads that remind me where I came from but it is beautiful and new and it feels right.

   Standing before those students today, the ones that so intimidated me only a week ago, I feel His Pleasure. It is coursing through me and I feel 'light as a butterfly' and I know His Joy must be shining because I can hardly keep it in. I feel like bursting.

And it is in these moments that I am thankful for the trials that have taught me to speak through against the lies. To catch the lies at their early stages and see their destructive end. I don't catch them all and I, again, am still on this journey, but it is a bit of beauty I am finding in the broken places. It is restoration and redemption for the lies that have rocked our little boat. So we are learning and I am thankful. For in those moments, when Truth has scattered lies and I am lifted up to see His great tapestry of love and I catch just a glimpse of the beauty that he is weaving, I am transfixed. Transformed. Renewed. And then I am back to where I can only see the knotted underside of that tapestry but it is enough. Enough to press on, with tired feet, and to remember that these feet are beautiful. That me with my lack of grammar skills, can teach English and bond with students and proclaim His Love. It is more than Enough.

Grateful

Yesterday I had so many great ideas for blogs. Sundays seem to be so very inspired when we are able to get to church and then primarily rest during the day. And yesterday was just such a day. Hank was gone flying all day long and so, while it was a bit lonely, I had lots of time to hammer out lesson plans for my ESL classes and I had lots of time to think and relax. Oh my how I need those times!

     And it was after a very busy day at work that I headed off to teach my students. Sometimes, on certain days, I just feel the joy of the Lord. Today was just such a day. He is good and today he kept reminding me.

He kept giving me energy and motivation and when I got to class, I just felt a zing of energy and... giddyness? Yes, I think it was pure giddyness. It is always such a joy to see how my students respond when I am excited about teaching them. My attitude seems to be infectious and even the students who normally are a bit lost, seem to be getting it!

  We started with review and moved on to consonants. Normally, half of my students (for some reason it is the Somali half) seems to be tracking along with me. But the other half (the Burmese students) seem to struggle. I have a feeling that it is partially due to the fact that Burmese does not use the Roman alphabet and doesn't seem to have a lot of harsh consonants. So, these students are starting off at -square 1.

   When we finished reviewing sounds and listening to words that started with those sounds. I had students help their partners review and pronound words from the book. As it worked out, all my Somalian students were helping all of my Burmese students. They are such a sweet class and they are always helping eachother and trying to communicate in what little English they know (can anyone say Charades?!)

Well, my Somalians were helping my Burmese and it was just so hilarious because when the one students would point to a word and say it, the other student would come out with something completely different. My African students were having such a time and we were all laughing at how ridiculous we sounded. For some reason (I think it was the giddyness) we all just burst out laughing and it took a bit to stop.

This language learning thing is hard, and complex and humbling and it turns out I need my students to help me teach and they need me to remain a student long enough to learn what they need.

It was a glorious day and it all started with a good dose of His Faithfulness and a reminder that He knows exactly what he is doing even when I feel a bit lost.

Canticles

Funny how I can pray in the morning for the Lord to fill my day and then go the next eight hours without even a wink in his direction. I get frustrated and tired and I keep thinking that there is some secret cure for my ADGD (Attention Deficit for God Disorder). I am not sure there is a secret cure but I discovered something this week.

   I finally downloaded a message from one of my favorite churches. The lady speaking talked about how she  found the habit of daily praise. She was at a conference and the speaker would stop randomly and say 'Praise the Lord,' or 'Alleluia." She thought it was pretty weird until the speaker explained that she had an invisible clock strapped to her waist that would vibrate and remind her to worship God every 10 minutes. 

Ingenious!

While I haven't gone out and purchased my little waist watch, I told Hank about it and we have started to remind eachother. He randomly said "God is Good" a few days ago and I looked at him funny. Well yes He is but what brought that up?? He told me he was trying to learn to worship. 

So I went outside today to eat lunch and watch the storm clouds gather over the city and He brought me all kinds of reminders of His presence. Birds flew up into the trees right near where I sat and they sang and perched proud of their beauty. 

And He brought rain- something that makes my heart glad. 

And in the midst of the sporadic worshiping (because I do still forget a lot), he is changing me. This job I struggled to have a good attitude in, he is giving me JOY. The impatience I tend to have with people, He is giving me Love. The dissatisfaction I sometimes feel with life, He is reminding me that He works all things together for GOOD. 

So Praise him. In canticles and car problems and hope and in heartbreak. 

Little Dreams Big

I used to want to be an actor. When I was nine. And I was so angry when my parents encouraged me to maybe find something a little less outlandish. So I decided to be a missionary. Or more- God gave me a deep-rooted desire sown in my heart under a starry sky in Mexico. And oh how that desire guided me for so long. It even became my identity.

In America we ask people what they do. It is one of the first questions of small talk and it creates a suddle pressure to have a good answer. What do you do? Oh I am just finding the cure for cancer while volunteering at the local food bank and teaching Sunday school and raising the next Bill Gates.

I was always so proud of my answer. It became a large part of my identity. So much so that I contemplated very seriously breaking up with Hank due to his 'lack of a calling.' It sounds horrible and it is, but my passion for missions had consumed me to an unhealthy degree. I didn't know who I was without it.

Last year I lived my dream. It was amazing. I got to teach ESL, live in a foreign country with some of the most beautiful people I have ever met and share the Love of the Lord with some of the coolest students-become-friends ever. And yet, part of my pined away for my sweetheart. I thought life would be perfect if we could one day get married and then live the dream overseas.

It is still a deep desire and I still think it would be pretty awesome.

But why is it that I am never quite content where I am? Why is it that I always want the next stage to come on and get here?

I have a job and a husband and a house and a garden. But I hate the job most days and neglect to clean the house or water the garden. I praise God for both in the morning light but when they start to need some TLC, I offer it only begrudgingly. Sometimes I do the same with my husband. He gets the dregs left over from a day of helping people who rarely say thanks.

And i think that maybe if we could just live overseas, I would find more fulfilment in my work and have energy to clean and love and more of a burn to worship and grow.

My goodness I must have a short memory. Because I never felt like cleaning last year and would regularly procrastinate on lesson plans and when there were over 200 students to love, I often felt discouraged and empty and frustrated. I often bemoaned all the aspects of the culture I didn't agree with or couldn't even begin to understand.

No, there is no perfect place. There is no perfect phase of life.

But there are gifts for the taking today. There was a beautiful woodpecker to watch at the park and several hours just to sip too-sweet coffee and work on lesson plans at the coffee shop. There were resources to use to teach refugees the alphabet and there was rest and energy. There was a long overdue visit with my best friend and her adorable family and hours to just talk and explore other-worldly parks lit with fireflies and legends.

There were conversations with beautiful grandmothers and a beautiful mom and there was time to burrow deep into the Word for rest and healing and hope. And there is God's never-failing and never-changing character and the compassion, mercy, love, and kindness he shows me daily.

And I am going to keep dreaming big but perhaps I will keep my small dreams bigger. I will rejoice over clean laundry and the tasks that get checked on the daily list. And I will rejoice over what I can't see yet and the promise that the future will be good, hard but good, and that I do not go alone.

Loads of Laundry...

           It has been a while since I had so much energy. I have new respect for career women. Goodness me, you work all day and then come home to a house that needs cleaning, plants that need watering, people that need feeding and maybe you can squeeze in some alone time to read, write, create etc. Maybe.

   Hank and I don't even have any kids yet and it still seems busy. This past week I was offered a position teaching another refugee ESL class. I admit I am nervous. These are people from across the world who likely have never learned to read or write. We are started with the basics- ABC's and numbers. How do I even begin a class like that?? "I am" (point to self) "Kelsey." "My name is" would even be too much.

    So, it is definitely going to be a stretching experience but I am excited. Also, this puts me back working two jobs but I have a gracious boss who is letting me leave work early to get to the class. Thankful!

    Today, in preparation for the crazy week ahead, I cleaned the house. It was dirty. Plain and simple.
Hank was gone flying most of the day, so I headed out to garage sales this morning and was triumphant. *Praise the Lord! We needed a weed eater and a 7' ladder. I got both for a steal!
 
    Once home, I attacked the laundry, swept the floors, cleaned the dishes and then read alot. It was one of those beautiful days that is not quite too hot but sunshiney and perfect. It was a day to be thankful for this moment, this stage in life, this house to clean and a class to pray and prepare for. It was much needed rest.

    Hank and I went on a walk to the nearby park and around the track of the elementary school around the corner. We talked about life and then made salads for dinner. We discussed our garden, our families, the upcoming week. It was just good.

     And now we are looking forward to a lovely Sunday. Hank has been really busy flying this week. I think that everyone is calling to make up for the slow first week of May. He even has a flight tomorrow! But again, I am thankful. He has a job that he enjoys. We are learning and becoming more dependant on our Lord for our strength. When he leaves,  I don't pine away for him(most of the time). I get busy or do a craft or (as will be the case tomorrow) I lesson plan!

It is for Freedom....

   Oh honey. Isn't it hard to break off the chains that somehow get tangled around our ankles as we walk through these life paths? Isn't it hard to shake the nippy dogs of sin that bite our ankles and bark away our peaceful pace?
    
 Oh yes, we know now it is hard. We know that what one does directly affects the other because we, dear, are oh so connected. Connected in an invisible, all consuming sort of way. And sometimes it is hard to feel the connection, to appreciate the union until its strained and torn and then there is only pain. Only pain to wade through as it threatens to choke out the hope and life and joy we have here.
   
 And it isn't a coincidence that we both read Love and War last year when I was in Asia. And it isn't a coincidence that we learned of the war raging against marriage. That the Eldridges spoke truth to us once again of fighting off the lies and breaking the agreements we so readily make with our enemy.
   
Of praying for one another when all we really want to do is give up, run, stay angry, hide inside our frustration and the pain that binds us.

    But we are learning. And it isn't one of those lessons that we can listen to and leave in the pew. Because we are finding out that our guard must always be up. That Satan is not interested in a one-time victory but in demoralizing us and turning us slowly against one another.

   And so we fight. We take up the armor you recite over yourself daily- the Ephesians 6 battle gear. And we make new choices and break off old habits and make new ones. Like the habit we have established of asking eachother what lies we believed that day. And as you ask I find that more sneak in than I could have imagined.

  And as I share the lies- that I am not as good as that person, not as pretty, not worthy of God's best etc. etc. etc., you speak truth and it flows into the broken places as healing salve. And you remind me that I am loved, that we are in this together, that we will have bad days but ultimately- God has our best in mind.

    Darling, it is an honor to fight for you, with you, to be your ezer kenegbo. Your partner, the one who was created out of your side because I am to stand by your side. We are a perfect match and the enemy is no match for our King.

The Lost Art

       I still remember that day my Oma smiled at me, winked and said, "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." We had just finished making lunch for my Opa and my Dad. It was our Wednesday tradition. I was homeschooled eighth grade and this allowed me the chance to take 'cooking lessons' from my Oma.

     I am not sure if she really understood what she was getting into when she agreed to take me on as her student. She soon found out when we tried to make homemade bread. In my German heritage, the test of a good woman is her bread. My dad's cousin once told me that I had to learn to slice bread straight and thin before I was ready for marriage.

   Anywho, the bread making experiment turned into a flour explosion and I think my Oma is still finding flour in the nooks and crannies of her kitchen to this day. Oh Heavens, it was messy. But the smell of that bread and the memory of laughing together with my Oma as we surveyed the catastrophe we had created were totally worth it (then again, it wasn't my kitchen that was dusted with flour).

    Bread wasn't our only project. We made dompf noodles, pickles, chili, stew, sweet rice, cooked cheese and so much more. And the best part of the meal was the process. It was learning how to turn a few simple ingredients into a hearty meal. It was the fun of cooking with my Oma, of sitting down to eat with my family and seeing their satisfaction. I still find a huge amount of joy in putting food on the table.

     Today was my boss's birthday. I agreed to bring a cake and when Hank and I went to the store last night, I caved. I love baking so much, but it was late and I couldn't imagine being up for hours slaving over a homemade creation.

 So I bought a box mix.

And I made tres leches cake from a box and it turned out Ok.

Apparently this is the age of buying instead of making. I get that. It is hard to find time to bake and besides, the bakery makes it better, or the grocery store sells it just as fresh, right? right???

My attempt at German cheese dumplings. I used the dumpling technique my colleages taught me in China :)

    Well, you would have thought I labored hours over this cake by the way my coworkers praised my cake. They all seemed genuinly surprised that I would make a cake. I admitted it was from a box but this didn't lessen their amazement.

    On one hand, it is rather nice to be praised. On the other, I am sad for what we are losing. If we always let someone else grow our food, bake our bread, hunt our meat- won't we become pretty needy people. We will need other people to do all these things for us and we ourselves will miss out on the beauty of the process.  On the pride that comes from getting  your hands dirty and surviving flour mushroom clouds. On failing at certain recipes to learn what works. On the the smell, oh the smell! of baking bread.

To me, it is worth every second I could spend doing something more "productive."