Shadowfeet

Normally, I'm not really into when people post song lyrics for their Facebook statuses and on their blogs. But tonight one my of favorite songs, which I have not listened to in quite a while, came on Shuffle. And tonight my desire to share the truth found in this song outweighed my own little peeve.

Shadowfeet by Brooke Fraser

Walking, stumbling on these shadowfeet

towards home, a land that I've never seen

I am changing; less and less asleep

made of different stuff than when I began

And I've sensed it all along

fast approaching is the day

When the world has fallen out from under me

I'll be found in you, still standing

When the sky rolls up and the mountains fall on their knees

when time and space are through

I'll be found in you

There's distraction buzzing in my head

saying in the shadows it's easier to stay

but I've heard rumours of true reality

whispers of a well-lit way

You make all things new

When the world has fallen out from under me

I'll be found in you, still standing

Every fear and accusation under my feet

when time and space are through

I'll be found in you

Someone was pounding at our door. The three of us exchanged looks from over the laptops we were all on in our living room. Who would be knocking at our door at this time of night? We wondered. And why were they so urgently rapping against our door? What was the matter?
We set aside the laptops and wandered over to the front door opening it cautiously. I was relieved but concerned when I recognized our visitor to be one of the women who is a part of the Project. She stood at our front step with a perplexed look on her face while she held the hand of her four year old son. She tried to explain to us in her broken English that she needed us, that she needed our help, that she need our pr.s. She said she had just moved to a new home just down the block from us and wanted us to come ask for a blessing over her home. We of course said we would and slipped on our shoes to join her on a walk through the dark alleyways and narrow streets to her door. We entered her one room apartment. There was double bed that her and her son shared, a desk, and a cupboard. She again bravely charged ahead with her English and effectively explained that some of her former co-workers from the bar she used to work in lived next door and just down the street. Her eyes were filled with worry and she wrung her hands as she told us that she did not know what to do or say. Seeing the former co-workers again obviously brings up a lot of pain and stress for her regarding her past. I could tell she was worried about what this would mean for her. We stood together in a circle in her little apartment and held hands and closed our eyes. We asked for peace to settle on this home and her life. She took a deep breath and her posture became more relaxed by the end of our lifting her up. She then asked us to lift up the women she knew from her previous line of work. We closed our eyes and begged the Father to open their hearts to His love and His truth, to give her the wisdom to know how to reach out to them, and for Him to flood their lives with His presence. She then asked us to lift up her son Joseph, that he might know the love of a father. Myself and two of my housemates spoke blessing and favor over him and asked that might know the Father’s love deep down.
We opened our eyes and wiped away the tears – tears of emotion, tears of joy, tears of desperation, tears of peace.
And then she spoke to the Father about us. In her own language she lifted us up. It didn’t even matter that we didn’t understand. He knew what she was asking and I could feel the power in her words.
I was humbled that this woman would speak to the Father for me. Her love and desperation against pain and toward Hope cut right to my very core.
I was humbled that I would be asked to speak to Him for her. Out of all the people she could have turned to, Father thought us to be the right people to help her. He trusted us and said “You are good enough, go love My child.” I was baffled and humbled by what He thought of me. I was touched by the reality of us holding hands in her little apartment talking to the Creator of the Universe on each other’s behalf.

May He continue to pour out His peace and love over her and her son.

Abandon

-noun 
 1. a complete surrender to natural impulses without restraint or moderation; freedom from inhibition or conventionality: to dance with reckless abandon. 

 Its black letters stare starkly at me from the white page. Its combination, the meaning of its wholeness strikes a chord deep within me. Over the past few months that word has loomed above me, following me everywhere with its heaviness and truth. Yet every time I hear it, every time I listen, it frees me a little more.
I like insurance and reassurance. I do not naturally follow “natural impulses”. That would be completely ridiculous. Utterly insane. And totally irresponsible. Moderation I always viewed as a must.
 But I remember the first time when He leaned in close with a light in His eyes and whispered intently, “Abandon, Emily. Follow me with abandon.” I stared back at Him, deep into His eyes as if to say I had no comeback this time. His gaze never let go of me. His eyes held an inexpressible joy as He urged me to let go.
I wasn’t surprise at His words. I had known all along that He meant what He said and that He said He wanted it all, that total surrender was a requirement, that I could not look back. But I was deeply challenged by His call. I was made frightened and uneasy by His word choice. Abandon, the word echoed in my head. Although it was a scary thought to leave moderation to the wind and join the wind, abandonment I found suddenly strangely tempting. No more holding back. No more covering all my bases. No more being tied down by my own restraints. Just running free. Totally free. With all that I was, with all that I am toward all that I will be, toward all of Him. Leaving everything in the dust and sprinting with every muscle straining my body to reach what I love the most, who loves me the most.
 Even with all my fears, all my worries, and all my ideas, I didn’t want to arrive at the end and find I only had half a heart to give Him. Now wouldn’t that be irresponsible? To give Him half a heart when my job was to give Him a whole one? I pictured myself arriving at the end and suddenly realizing that I had suitcases of moderation with me while He had told me over and over again that He would provide everything I needed. How’s that for ridiculous?
I wanted Him to have it all. I knew He deserved nothing less.
So, when He leaned in and searched out my eyes asked me to follow Him with complete surrender and let go of everything that was not Him and give into the urge to find Him out, I knew I had to do it now. I know I must obey. I want to obey. He deserves nothing less than all of me, all my time, and all of my life. I will chase after Him with all that I am. I will not give Him half a heart. Whether it means leaving my belongings and family behind to follow Him across the globe or trusting Him fully when His leading does not make sense to me, I will not look back.
I want to live with abandon. I want to give it my all. He was not kidding when He said He wanted surrender, and I don’t want to be kidding when I said I would give it to Him.

Afternoon Outing

I faced a big decision yesterday. Hang out at the Summer Palace? Or hang out at Olympic Park? Oh, the choices I am faced with living in BJ! We went with Olympic Park! It was closer.

It is amazing to me that no matter how advanced we get in technology or what kind of political tensions we have with each other, we will lay it all aside for the Olympic Games. It still all comes down to who can run faster and who can throw a ball a farther.

Cottonwood Trees, Eggplants, and Smiles

A soft smile rises on my cheeks. I take a deep breath. I’m carrying a large jug of water and a plastic bag containing three potatoes, a clove of garlic, a carrot, an eggplant, three tomatoes, and pepper. I’m still not sure what I’m making for dinner but it will be something with vegetables. As I make my way back from the little produce stand to my house, my senses take in the life that makes up my neighborhood. Children are laughing in the park. A gentle wind plays with my hair. A teenage boy walks his dog. Two old men converse in loud and passionate tones. I side step a puddle (here you never quite know if it’s water or something else…). I make my way from the open part of the small street and park area into the narrow streets and pathways that weave together to create a maze of homes. Two little kids dart at me from around the corner of a house quickly followed by a third who runs after them excitedly down the alleyway. They laugh and scream as they play tag up and down the rows of houses. It’s warm outside. Fluff from cottonwood trees floats through the air like snow; dancing on the slight breeze the cotton rises and falls. I hear crackling oil in a pan as I pass an open kitchen window. I side step another puddle. This one is definitely not water. The sound of dinging bike bells and honking horns is also heard as the riders and drivers navigate their way through the narrow streets. I duck beneath the clean underwear and t-shirts that hang out to dry on the powerlines that are strung across the row of houses. Hammers pound and drills drill not too far off as workers work away on the outside wall of someone’s home. A little boy howls in delighted laughter as his father chases him down the path and scoops him up for a hug and a tickle. The grandfather looks on approvingly. The aroma of garlic and fried dumplings escapes another kitchen window. My mouth waters. I’m tempted to find the owner of this kitchen and invite myself to dinner. Walking arm in arm two teenage girls wearing brightly colored sweaters stroll past me giggling and chatting away. A young man sits on his front step intently focused on voice on the other end of the cell phone. Red Chinese lanterns hang from doorways and windows. I cross an intersection of two narrow streets and happen upon an older lady who collects the bags of garbage piled in the corners. She heaps them in the back of the little wagon attached to her bicycle. Looking up she smiles at me. I smile back. I continue to make my way down my row until I reach my door. I balance the jug of water on my hip as I scrummage around in my bag for my keys. I find my single house key which is attached to a jingling bell keychain with monkeys on it and insert in into the lock. I turn the key and unlock the door. I step up into my house and close the door behind me. I lean back against the door. Tears fill my eyes and my heart is overwhelmed. Life is so beautiful. I smile as I breathe it in deep.

Thoughts... (Yes, sometimes I think and then have the nerve to write it down!)

Let's face it. I'm not a blogger. I am just not disciplined enough. (Or maybe I'm too disciplined to let myself post any thing that hasn't been rewritten 20 times and rethought 100 times.)
In any case, since I'm so poor at posting regular current thoughts and experiences I thought I'd type up something I found today in my notebook that I had written down several months ago...

January 2012

I can't get her out of my mind. There was something about her that struck me. For some reason this time she wasn't just another kid on the streets.
Last week when we visiting another city, we were walking back to the hostel one night. A girl, probably 8 or 9 years of age, was begging on the street corner. She didn't look destitute, but her clothes were worn and her face was dirty. She came up to us with her empty plastic cup asking for money.
We smiled, but ignored her pleas, and continued to walk down the street like we've been told to do. They say you're only feeding the begging system if you give them money. They say especially be wary of giving money to children because an adult probably put them up to it.
And I think there is some truth in what "they" say. And sometimes I heed their warnings.

But I couldn't this time.

I've seen dozens and dozens of begging children. I've seen hundreds of people with an empty cup on a cold street corner. But for some reason this girl struck me in a way no one else had. There wasn't anything noticeably different about her from all the other begging kids that have tugged at my sleeve.

I saw her this time.

Of course I've always found these children heartbreaking, but this time I looked at her, I saw her eyes and I felt my heartbreak. I heard it crack.

We walked by her, trying to politely ignore her somewhat annoying pleas. But she persisted. she kept up with our quick pace. She walked by our side, almost in front of us as if to block our path, as if to us her cold little body as a barrier though she be ignored and pushed aside. But it was her eyes that made me stop in my tracks.
Her eyes stared blankly ahead, never making contact with mine. They were dark and glazed over. As if she did not expect to be treated like a human person. She stared dully at nothing and continued to tap her cup at us in mechanical, emotionless rhythms of movement. It was if her mind was far removed from that dark street and her arm knew how to make a begging gesture on its own from far too much practice. "What must that do to her soul?" I wondered. What must begging do to her view of herself? Having to feel so degraded, being walked past without so much as a glance, being ignored, having to release her right to respect, having to act like merely a pestering, begging arm - what was that doing to her heart? How was that damaging her mentally and emotionally? How did this affect what she thought about herself?
It was so much more than merely humbling yourself to have to become embarrassed by begging. She was seen as a beggar, and somewhere along the line she became merely another beggar on a street corner instead of a child in need of protection. I stopped and put ten kuai in her cup. I wish I could have put Hope in her cup. She glanced up at me quickly, murmured half of a thank you and then ran down the street to chase some other foreigners. She probably thought I was just paying her off. Putting money in her cup so she'd leave us alone. But I just wanted to acknowledge her. I wanted her to feel seen.

I should have gotten on my knees and given her a hug. I should have taken her to the store and bought her a proper coat.

Maybe she doesn't even need the money. Maybe she is not poor at all, one might say. Maybe she's fed fine and just works for some grown-up. But does that make it any less horrific? Does that damage her precious soul any less? She is still on that street corner when she should have been in a warm bed having someone read a bedtime story to her. She was still being ignored. Her eyes were still lifeless and hopeless.

I've seen a hundred of these kids, but for some reason I cannot get her face out of my mind. For some reason I cannot help but cry for her. Specifically for this one.

God be with her. You know her name.

Bye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.


My heart wrung in between beats as if gasping for blood as lungs gasp for air when the physical struggles to keep up with the surging emotional. I held my breath afraid for what would escape if I let it out. My eyes pinched shut wishing, hoping, praying that the reality beyond my lids would melt away. Quivering my lips did all they could to contain the sobs that were building in my chest. My mind was a blank though a thousand thoughts rushed at me and blurred my vision. Thoughts of meeting, thoughts of parting, thoughts of the known, thoughts of the unknown, thoughts of love. I held on tight as did they. We embraced with committed arms and abandon reservations. Reluctantly we pulled back. Eye to eye, heart to heart, they spoke. Their words reached down inside of me and made another chip at the heart that is being carved. I felt another onslaught of tears building. Not even half did I let escape though it seemed as if I had joined in on the tropical storm’s display. The moment ended and we released one another. Our eyes shone and our faces wore a slight smile. We said, “Goodbye.”

It’s just the beginning, isn’t it? I feel like my short nineteen years of life has been mainly composed of goodbyes. And I have a creeping suspicion that many more, much more goodbye saying awaits me. I am terrible at goodbyes. I avoid them with great intention, which also means I at times avoid attachment. If you never fully let your hand hold, then you won’t have to reverse the motion to let it go. A loose grasp is my farewell insurance.

But my insurance plan didn’t work this time. I had become attached. I had loved, fully loved, and I had been loved, fully loved. I had felt safe. I felt at home. I felt welcomed. I felt celebrated. My grip, yes, had grown tighter and stronger, but more than anything the love itself grew to fit my purposefully open grasp. It enlarged to fill the space I had left in avoidance, in anticipation. The object within my hold had grown stronger, thicker, and with greater form. Actually it had surpassed the extent of my hold and escaped my hand and ran down my arm.

I so dislike goodbyes.

But we weren’t made for goodbyes, were we? We were intended to invest and be invest in. We were made for home. We were created for completion. We were not made for parting, for trailing offs, or for slipping aways. Change is necessary. Growth: imperative. But goodbyes, goodbyes go against everything within us. I’m not talking about the transition cycle necessary for seasons. I’m talking about when you look someone in the eye, say that single heart wrenching word, and you walk away leaving a part of your heart with them. We are relational beings. We are intimate beings. And saying goodbye means parting with an avenue to be both.

I am so bad at goodbyes.

Opened-ended goodbyes are the worst in my opinion. They provide no closure along with not enough hope to be satisfied. Not knowing if it will be a month, ten years, or never until you see them again rings my heart with sorrow.

This is a life of goodbyes. I thank God the next is one of everlasting hellos.

Adventures in the Land of Smiles: Round 1

Thailand is called the "Land of Smiles". For good reason too. The people are friendly and always seem to have a smile on their face. And I just can't seem but help but smile either!.There's just so much to smile about here!

I've been in Thailand for a week now. And I've fallen in love with the place. I've traveled up north, in the middle, and now down south. I've only gotten to see a bit of the country so far but it has been great. I've seen the big cities, small villages, and now the coastline. It is a color land filled with beautiful people.

Chiang Rai (northern Thailand)

Northern Thailand




Currently I am about 4 hours south of Bangkok along the coast (RIGHT along the coast. Like 100 yards from the beach). Needless to say, I am thoroughly enjoying the warm weather. It is hot and humid and I am loving it. So nice to see the ocean again!
I am SUPER busy with work this week, but I'm finding time to have fun too. Tonight some friends and I went night swimming in the sea. It was so fun! It was very dark and you could see tons of stars glittering in the sky. The water was full of glow-in-the-dark algae. The sky above us twinkled with heavenly lights and the water around us glowed with earthly sparkles. It was stunning. Then we sat one the beach and sang songs together to our Father.


I had my "Aha!" moment of realization today. It tends to take me awhile to process things. And then suddenly it all comes together in a moment and I get it. My realization of me moving to China took place about 3 week after I had been there. I was standing in a park surrounded by old Chinese people flying kites, and suddenly looked around and saw it and shouted "Oh my gosh! I'm in China!!!!"
It only took me a week this time for me to grasp the reality that I am in Thailand. I was on the back of a motorbike riding through a little fishing village and then all of a sudden a burst out laughing and realized "OH MY GOODNESS! I AM IN THAILAND!". There is just something about those moments that triggers my understanding of the reality of my surroundings and the reality of where I am, what's happened, and what is happening.

I just LOVE Thailand :-)

THAILAND! OH MY GOLLY!

I am in Thailand right now.

*Excuse me as I have a moment of freaking out and trying to comprehend that I am actually here*

I have wanted to come to Thailand for as long as I can remember. It is the biggest dream I have ever had. It's been the one thing I have wanted the most. Coming to Thailand is literally a dream come true for me - a dream that at many times I was afraid to dream, a dream that was on the other side of the world for me, a dream that I thought maybe was just not realistic. But my dream as become reality. And I am so happy to be here. It doesn't feel like a dream. It feels so real. Almost inevitably true.

The plane from Kunming, China started to descend. As we broke through the clouds I got my first sight of Thailand. My eyes filled with tears and my face wore one of the fullest smiles it had ever held. I couldn't believe it. After so many years, I was here! I got off the plane and had to try extremely hard not to skip the whole way through the airport to Thai immigration.
All those books I read, all the money I saved from that job in high school, all those photos on my bedroom wall, it all came together and took solid form. Thailand was under my feet. It felt strangely familiar. Though it is a completely foreign place to me, I felt like I have always been here. I felt like I had come home.

Two weeks ago I was nervous to come. "What if it's not like I have imagined? What if I don't like it? What if it doesn't like me? What if? What if? What if?" Suddenly my dream was coming true and I was overwhelmed. Maybe it's safer, maybe it's better in dream form, I wondered. Maybe I should keep it as a wish in a box in the back of my closet. But no. I knew that would never do. I couldn't live without coming here. Without smelling the air, and feeling the red soil beneath my toes. I had to see the kids' faces with my own eyes. I had to hear them laugh. I had to come. I don't know what pulls me to Thailand. I'm not sure how a string got tied from my heart to this country, but here I am!

I can't remember what I imagined it would be like. I can't remember what I thought it would be, because all I can see is what it is really. All I can do is smell the wet air and thank our Father for making my dream, the dream He put in me, come true.

Living your dream is quite demanding though, so I'm going to go grab some insanely delicious Thai food to fill my hungry stomach.

And I will post soon again on what I have seen and experienced to so far! I have only been here 2 days but already have seen things that have made laugh so hard, and things that have made me weep brokenheartedly.

It is such a beautiful place.

I see why the call it the "Land of Smiles" :)



P.S. Big Plus: It's no where near as cold as where I have been living these past few months! First thing I did when we landed: pulled out my flipflops from my suitcase :) It's so nice to not have to wear more than one pair of pants.

Photos from Home #1 for this year

Flying in...

Just chilling in the park playing music...

Central Square

Phase 1: Complete

Tonight is my last night in this city.

When I first arrived here I felt like I had landed on another planet or traveled to another world. I began to understand what it really means to be a waiguoren (foreigner). Nothing looked familiar. Nothing felt familiar. Nothing was familiar. Living here was my first introduction to this country. At first I wasn't quite sure if I liked this city. It definitely took some readjusting and a bit of time to sort through culture shock. But I have come to love this place. With all its quirks and unique little things. I love the parks everywhere. I love the old men who carry around their bird cages. I love the hilarious attempts at translating signs into English (The sign outside one store I shop at reads "Uno Meal Feed Line". I still haven't figured out what it's supposed to say.) I love how all the trees in the city light up at night. I love how the whole city lights up at night! I love that my bathroom makes me laugh every time I go in to it. There's a hole in the floor for the pipes to come up. You have to put your hand down the tank of the toilet to flush it. If you lean on the sink it will fall over. The shower head is duct-taped to the wall. And there a piece of paper taped over a big hole in the middle of the door. (but most important, there is hot water! which I am grateful for every day) I seriously chuckle almost every time I enter the bathroom. I love the diversity of the city. I love all the different demographics. I love mian pian (a type of noodles that this region is known for).
There are many things I did not enjoy - like being constantly stared and pointed at, yak meat, and the freezing cold. But even those things fade in comparison to all the great things about this place and these people. Sometimes I just tell myself that they are staring and pointing because they think I'm so beautiful and that it's not really because they think I'm a weird white foreigner (which is indeed the real reason). The cold has taken the most getting used to. It is about 12 degrees Fahrenheit outside right now (-11), and tonight is a "warm" night. Let's just say I will be one happy girl when I arrive in Thailand on Thursday. I greatly look forward to not having to wear multiple pairs of pants and socks.
I have thoroughly enjoyed living here. It's been an adventure. I will miss it.
Now on to the next adventure: Thailand!

Dying to Live

You think I would have known better than to ask "Father, help me to surrender more of myself to You. Show me what I am holding back." In truth, I did know what it would mean if He granted my request. Although I honestly had no idea what I was asking. But I had to ask. I was compelled to want this, even though I knew I was basically asking Him to make things harder, to take control over some of my favorite things to control, and to put me in a very uncomfortable, painful, and difficult process. I'd been down this "surrendering" road before, and I knew I was not asking Him to join me on a stroll through the park. But like I said, I had to ask. Once you've tasted the finer things of life, it's hard to go back to what you knew before even if there is a higher price to be paid for those fine things. And that's why I asked. Because I had tasted, and I had seen, and I had known that He is good. I had known that He is best. I was dying to live more of the Life He gives. "What am I holding back?" I repeated.
He wasted no time in answering my question.
I won't go into details. I'm not brave enough for that yet. But let's just say that He showed me something I never placed under the "Learn to Surrender At Some Point" category. In fact, I had probably placed it under the "No Need to Surrender, You're Allowed to Keep This One" title. It never occurred to me that He might ask me to give up this thing. I saw it as my right to have it. In fact, it is my right. But that's exactly what He was asking, "Give up your rights, Emily. The rights you deserve. The rights you have the right to." Now, of course, you are probably thinking. Of course to follow Him you have to give up your rights. You know that. I knew that. Anyone who's ever been to Sunday school knows that. But it's a whole different ball game when He looks at you, points to it, and says "OK, hand it over." I looked back at Him flabbergasted. "But..but, that one is mine..." I stammered. I couldn't bring myself to look Him in the eye but I could feel His penetrating gaze upon me no matter where I looked or what I tried to change the subject to.
Ever since I was little it was obvious that fairness and justice are some of my key values. As a kid I dreamed of winning a Noble Peace Prize because of the outstanding contributions I made to fighting for human rights for people and women around the world. I used to practice my acceptance speech in the bathroom mirror. I currently dream of fighting human trafficking. Here I was, a human rights activist down to my very core, and He was asking me to give up my human rights. My right to want and to seek a reasonable life. My rights to feel emotions and respond in ways that are warranted according to the situation. But He doesn't operate in our kind of reasonableness, does He? He is not really concerned about what we sanction to be warranted, is He? My right to a reasonable life, to a life that makes sense, was what I was holding back. "My sense isn't your sense." He said. Indeed this was no stroll through the park. I felt like He was asking me to join Him on hike up Mt. Everest's big brother when I was aiming for something a little more down to earth. But there was no going back. Once I got over my shock, once I got over being offended, I said "OK." I was still unable to look Him in the eye, but I stammered, "OK, You can have it." I knew I had to die to myself, release my ideals, and let go of my "rights" in order to make it up that mountain. You see, I got into this whole thing in the first place because I was dying to live, but He taught me that I had to die so that I may live. Literally dying to live. But to live indeed! Life on top of the mountain really is the best, even if you had to dump your favorite things out of your backpack along the way to lighten your load.
Tonight I was talking to a friend of mine who has been at this whole living life thing some years longer than I. She said if she were to sum up her whole life in one word it would be "Give-up". After all these years, she said giving-up, letting go, surrendering is the lesson she keeps taking away from her journey towards Life.
The American, the 21st century woman, and the human rights activist within me is appalled. But I can't be a good citizen if I don't follow what is truly Good, can I? I can't be a powerful, thriving woman if I don't tap into who I was really created to be, can I? And I can't effectively stand up and fight to protect the rights we have as humans until I first understand what it means to follow the One who gave us the right to be called children of God.
I'm still not even half way up the mountain's slope, but there's just no going back now. I must have more of Him. I must give Him more of me. I am dying to live, to truly LIVE.

Twenty Kuai.

A few weeks ago I accompanied a friend down to the red-light district. She is a native Californian as well and has been living in this city for several years. She has befriended many of the women who work in the brothels and recently partnered with the Project to help some of the women find a way out of prostitution. As I walked down those streets and allies with her to visit the women, I looked up from the dirty pavement and looked up into their eyes. My heart broke in a new place that it had never broken in before. Most of them were migrants from the countryside who came to the city seeking better job opportunities, but ended up in the allies of brothels instead. My friend told me that the average price for what they do is about 20 kuai. My heart sunk. Twenty kuai? Twenty kuai is about $3 USD. Selling someone for the equivalent of a few measly dollars. I tried to wrap my head around the idea. But it wasn’t just an idea, was it? It was their reality. It isn’t just a figure or a statistic, is it? It is a body, a heart, a mind, a soul – a person. A real live, breathing, feeling person. For twenty kuai. For three bucks. I swallowed the surge of emotion that rose up in me. These women weren’t just a face on a poster anymore. These people were no longer merely a sad statement made from a stage. These girls were no more just a global cause. They are the people whose eyes I looked into. She is the woman who I smiled at as I walked down the street. They are our Father’s daughters too. And they are hurting and enslaved by a broken world. Please join me in lifting them up and asking our Father to heal them in the way only His love can. Thanks be to our father that He is faithful to restore.

Longjohns, bus-stops, and snowflakes.

Needless to say, longjohns and sweaters have become my constant companions these days. The cold has definitely taken some getting used to. On average it is at least a few degrees below freezing here, even in the day. My southern Californian blood feels frozen in my veins sometimes. The other night, very late, I was waiting and waiting at the bus stop for my bus to come so I could go home and burry myself in my covers. But the bus just wouldn’t come and it was below freezing. My eyes started to water and my cheeks were burning. I had lost feeling in my toes and my legs were going numb too. I was getting quite impatient and miserable, and began to slip into a rather grumpy mood. But then something magical happened! It began to snow! (which is rare here since it’s so dry!) The white little specks danced through the air and swirled and landed on the ground all around me. The neon lights of the buildings (China is a sight to see at night! EVERYTHING lights up in neon colors!) and the lights in the trees twinkled and sparkled in the snowy moonlight. And then my eyes began to water for a different reason. I was suddenly breathless, not because of the cold, but because of the beauty of the night, the snow, the lights, and the people standing with me in the dark at that bus stop. My heart was filled with gratitude. I still couldn’t feel my toes, but I was so happy to be standing there in the snow. I was so happy to enjoy the little things. I was so happy that our Dad is forever good, beautiful, and loving. And I was happy my bus finally came too.

A Happy Birthday.

Written on October 30th, 2011.

Today is my nineteenth birthday. This is the first birthday in many, many years that I am not sad.

As a kid I always cried on my birthday. Turning another year older was so sad to me. I didn’t like growing up. Growing up means change. Change is hard. Hard things hurt. I don’t like to hurt. I didn’t like growing up. I did not like the idea of familiar and beloved things having to pass away and having to face the new and foreign future. If it were not for the ice-cream and presents I probably would have boycotted my birthday altogether. Birthdays, even as an eight year old, were a solemn and gloomy day for me.

But it was different this year. This year I am in China for my birthday. This year I am not sad. This year I am not afraid to grow up.

Three weeks ago I got on an airplane. I stumbled down the aisles of seats in a daze. I found my way to seat A16 and sat down. I stared blankly at the back of seat in front of me. Suffering from a severe lack of sleep, my eyelids grew heavy. The engine started and the plane began to make its way down the runway. The airplane picked up speed and the sound of the engines grew louder. My eyelids suddenly flew open. My heartbeat quickly caught up with the speed of the plane I was apparently sitting on. My breathing came in short and sudden gasps for air. What am I doing?! I thought in a moment of panic. I turned and looked out the window as the ground slipped out from beneath us. Los Angeles City quickly grew to be but a small pile of concrete. My heart skipped a beat. Maybe two beats. “What am I doing?” I asked aloud. My cheeks became flushed and my hands gripped the armrests. I forced myself to take a deep breath. Suddenly the reality of what had happened, what was happening, and what was going to happen hit me like a bag of bricks. I was stunned. My mind was reeling and my lungs just couldn’t seem to get a hold of any oxygen. I was on a plane headed for China. I was moving to China. My eyes blurred as I tried to clear my head. A mixture of panic, excitement, fear, exhaustion, happiness, confusion, and disbelief gripped my heart. “What am I doing?!” I asked again. Obeying. He answered.

I have been here for almost three weeks now. And I know this is where I belong. There is not a doubt in my mind that I am supposed to be here right now. I am getting to know a new culture, a new language, new people, and a new way of life. But most of all, I am getting to know myself, and the One who put me together.

I’m not afraid of growing up this time. Yeah, sure, change is uncomfortable. Yes, change is still hard. But I see the richness that awaits me. I yearn for fullness. I long to be made whole. I want to be who I was made to be. I want to experience more of Him. I want to be who He intended me to be. I am not sad this year. I am happy for the new things He has for me. I am grateful for my present blessings, and even for my present trials. I am excited for this next year. And I am excited for the ones that will follow. I am excited to grow up. I am happy.

Today I truly had a happy birthday