I know it’s super hard to believe that we’d only arrived at my team’s very first day in Guatemala last we connected but I also know you can’t be surprised by my wordiness by now. #amiright?
I have an affinity for the word ‘redux’. Quite simply, it means revisited; however, it also is synonymous with restored. There are no two words more adequate to describe my second adventure to Guatemala. Revisited? Yes. Restored? Oh goodness. If restoration existed in a bottle and it was known as agua pura, then without a doubt I would know it came from the place that has officially taken residence in my heart. Continue reading
I remember that morning so vividly. I woke up to a phone call from my mom. She sounded shaken and shared the news about my dear friend Paul. Early that morning, the morning of April 5, 2013, he had been overcome when a fire broke out in his home. He was gone. And I sat on the floor and cried.
As a little girl, most of my interactions involved my immediate family (dad, mom and at the time, evil sister. she’s since come around.) and some of our extended family members. When I was in high school, though, I had the privilege of having a few close girlfriends with whom I entrusted all of my boy crush secrets (because really? that was the only real confidential info i had to share at that point). And then the boys. Ugh. I started to really like the boys and would often choose spending time with them over my treasured friends. I know.
This happens every time. Well, each time? I get back from Guatemala and I simmer like hamburger helper on the stove trying to reconcile what in the actual heck just happened.
I’ve found myself in a not-so-fun game of tug of war the past few weeks … except I am the the little ribbon in the middle and at one end, the Lord is pulling me towards His grace and undeniable freedom. At the other, the enemy is like, ‘whoa, no you don’t. this girl is mine. she knows she isn’t strong enough to do the hard things.’
I snuck a peek into his classroom this morning and felt my heart skip a beat as I caught his face across the room. As he looked up (his teacher suggested a sneak attack #foiled), I couldn’t help but run over and bear hug the breath right out of him.
Somewhere around the time I gave birth to my one and only perfect child, I began running late to literally everything. Now mind you, I did not say I was late to everything. I was/am always just dangerously close to it. Continue reading
I finished a workout early Saturday morning and laid my worn-out (and now older) self on the floor completely out of breath. I had unwillingly found extra time in the day due to an early wake-up call from a horrible (never to be shared aloud again) dream. As I slowly worked back to a normal rhythm of inhales and exhales, all I could do was appreciate that I could and recall that she couldn’t.
‘2017. We made it.’
This is exactly what I heard a young woman almost breathe with a voice of relief as we started our trek back to our car after Kalamazoo’s annual New Year’s Fest.