You're Seven, Piper Chen!

Piper Chen, happy birthday! I am so thankful for you. The Lord has poured his kindness on our family in the past six years through you. You have shaped and changed my life so completely that I hardly remember what life was like before you were a Waldemar.

Pi, you teach me. And you do it unwittingly, just by being you. Here are seven things that I have learned from being your sister:

1. You have a helpful heart. You are quick to serve people and show them kindness. Thank you for showing me how to be helpful.
2. You have a happy heart. You sing all the time. And I really do mean ALL the time. I can't help but delight in your cheerfulness. Thank you for showing me how to be happy.
3. You are organized and orderly. OCD, maybe. But you are aware of the world around you and how it works. Your mind and actions are not chaotic. Thank you for showing me how to be aware and orderly.
4. You are creative and full of imagination. You love making art, becoming a character, and you have your own spin on everything. Thank you for helping me to see the world with new eyes.
5. You are curious. You love learning new things and sharing them. And you are interested in so many things. Your mind and broad love of knowledge inspire me. You do math problems for fun, narrate and illustrate stories, quote poetry, sing songs, learn new words, and delight in the natural world. Thank you for showing me how to wonder.
6. You pay attention. You always know what's happening around you can repeat back the details with precision. If I need to know the forecast for the day, I ask you, because I know that you were paying attention when you watched the weather with Dad in the morning. Thank you for teaching me how to be tuned in to life.
7. You love me. I'm not always sure why you do, but your love is a constant. I fail you again and again, and you still look at me with sad eyes and cling to me whenever I leave. Your actions tell me over and over that I don't have to do anything to keep your affection. Thanks for showing me what unconditional love looks like.

The Lord knew I needed you, and he smiles on my life through you.
Happy birthday, baby girl!
I adore you.

Whit

Sometimes I'm at a loss
To express all my heart
Or any of it.
So I write about the moon.
He always makes sense.
He prophesied tonight,
Told me about beauty in pain.
My mind was convinced
And was there to catch my heart
When the sting surprised, piercing.
Tonight: mourning, veiling -
Giving credence to the problem of evil.
All is not well; it's broken and scarred.
But in the midst,
At the dead center,
Beauty overcomes.

Rest easy.

story time with grandfather moon

Pure and full of light
Even when he is not.
The teddy-bear type of jolly;
A soft, squishy rock.
See the speckles and dents?
They speak of trial and triumph,
Still making him whole.
Bumped and bruised, journeying along,
No longer swayed or phased.
Ever-changing, you say?
Maybe we are the wanderers.
"Like the moon it shall be established forever,
A faithful witness in the skies."
Telling a story of covenant;
The steadfast love, not once removed.
Monotonous month-keeping
Or illumining the path all the way to the feast?
I know you, Grandfather Moon,
Weathered and winsome,
Your eyes still sparkle.
Sit me on your lap and tell me the tale
How you've reflected faithfulness since Day Four.

thanksgiving at midnight

there's a secret feast in the deep of the wood tonight

i know, because the moon told me so.

he tried to keep it quiet, 

hiding behind the clouds.

but they were too wispy.

the moon, he's hanging

bobbing, as if tied to the end of a string.

swaying, as if held between the fingers of a child

living the scene.

he's not simply bright and glowing,

but buttery warm. 

the kind of warm that has smile crinkles at corners of it's eyes.

it's a party, i can tell. 

by the way he's hanging, and glowing, and hiding.

i know you, moon. 

go play.

give thanks.

The Coquette

Wandering, wet, melancholy pale
Lady Luna, you enchant me.
Unpredictable, ever-changing
You capture my attention
And I can't escape
Or maybe I'm the one
who can't let you go.
Winking, waning
Turning your face
But never blushing.
You're a tease of the most innocent variety.
What you do is pure and sparkly;
Full of wonder.
You distract me in the most delightful way.
Your magic runs deep
Because your magic is real.
A mystery that I cannot grasp,
And yet you cannot evade me.
I know you, Light Ruler of Night.
You do your Father's biding,
Watching as I do the same.

psalm 39

The Lord, wrecking my entitled heart. This overflowed.

Psalm 39

Words that prick, and punch;
hang, and land.
It happened again today -
the Psalmist and I agreed.
"I will guard my mouth with a muzzle,"
"I was mute and silent."
"As I mused, the fire burned;
then I spoke with my tongue:
O Lord, make me know my end
and what is the measure of my days;
let me know how fleeting I am!"
I asked: "But how can I love them?"
You answered: "Number your days,
O daughter of dust."
Words that prick, and punch;
hang, and land.
You have greater things for me
than harboring bitterness,
If only I would obey.
Your words devastate, but heal.
Heal me, O God.
Your will, not mine.
Your yoke is easy,
your burden is light.

two years later

My Cape Town story began two years ago today. 

Two years, and yet it feels like a lifetime ago. A lifetime - or five minutes. Both are true today. I had to be reminded that October 9th was the day. But now that I remember, it all floods back.

A good kind of flooding, though. My heart races a bit. But I'm not angry. I'm not afraid. 

Last year, these were my feelings about 10/9:

"I don't much like October 9. I wish it didn't have these memories associated with it. I wish I could enjoy autumn in Minneapolis and not return to feelings of fear, anxiety, pain, and hurt. But God is redeeming it. He is pouring out his kindness all over my life. Today, I can say, 'This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.'"

Today:

God is my healer. He turned my brokenness into beauty. He worked a whole lot of faith in my heart. October 9 is a redeemed day. 

The Lord is kind and he gives good gifts. My heart is full of gratitude.

More of Jesus is worth it.

Because Jesus is better. 

september morning word paint

Sunlight in the air

Pearly soft today.

As if, when I step outside

It would hug me, 

A gentle, breezy morning hug.

The birds sing

Each one, its own song

Telling a story

Speaking in chirps and trills

Floating, winging

Always busy, never anxious.

The golden oranges of sunrise

Stuck on the trees.

Tragically beautiful,

the pristine death of a thing.

The most romantic time to fall in love

The green, the warmth

Lovely, but leaving.

Love steps in

And warms when the sun does not.

that moon

the moon.
the Father's gentle eye,
watching me as I drive
home. and as I cry.
light reflects
as teardrops catch
then roll down my cheek.
the tender eye of a daddy
watching his baby weep.
the wispy clouds
they wrap around,
whispering lullabies.
engulfing light,
surrounding night.
that moon.
God's gentle eye.

Word Paint: Summer Storm

The wind whispers

Warning of a storm.

Not a secret whisper  

A wild one.

The gusts, the lightning - 

Angry tonight.

But I can’t be scared,

Even alone in the dark.

It’s too beautiful.

The thunder rumbles

I relax, then swell with awe.

My soul sings along 

To the song of the storm.

The lightning speaks,

I strain to hear.

I want to know its language.

I am deaf and dumb.

I want to talk to the lightning

And know its story.

But I can’t - I’m only human.

I speak with words, not electricity.

Raindrops on the glass

One of God’s prettiest pictures.

The window pane

A water wall.

Tonight’s storm is especially wet.

No more rain then usual.

But it’s silky tonight

The way it slides.

I love watching the people.

No pride when you’re drenched.

Torrential downpour - 

You remember that you’re little.

Word Paint: Why Peace?

You wake me with peace

I'm safe today.

I'm always safe, but I feel it now.

Why peace? How?

Hours ago - unsettled and sick;

This morning - quiet,

Green pastures, still waters.

My soul restored.

Your perfect love, there is no fear.

You stand guard over my heart,

No devils lies here.

They whisper and spit

partial truths, whole lies - 

poison and fire.

You raise up your shield, 

I rest in your shadow.

The promise stands - 

"I will answer you."

So again, I call out

"Save me, more grace!"

You come. You always come.

You're never far.

I leave, my eyes wander.

Cup my chin, direct my gaze, 

Back to you, your gentle face - 

Full of love, full of strength.

"My heart is yours,"

I open my hand.

"I trust you, I need you."

You are my shield.

My God, my Protector.

Why peace?

The cross: my gain.

your promise is well tried

"Your promise is well tried, and your servant loves it." Psalm 119:140

Tested, pulled, pushed, stretched, poked, squeezed... well-tried. Experiencing a promise with all five senses; trying it out, seeing if it's still real, still true, still being fulfilled. Falling into it over and over again, discovering that it will still hold you up.

There's a promise that I'm trying right now: it's called "God is really listening when I pray; he hears and he cares."* Although he knows my thoughts before I do, his desire is for me to tell him. When I'm talking to him, I'm recognizing my dependence. When I'm going to God with all my joys and sorrows, asking for his heart- and mind-guarding, understanding-surpassing peace, seeking his wisdom and understanding, the promise that he hears me and cares for me is proven once more. And I return more quickly the next time. Because he answers me.

The more you try a promise, the more you find God faithful. And the more you find God faithful, the more you love him and his promises. It's a beautiful cycle.

*"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7

&

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you." 1 Peter 5:6-7

beautiful birthday words

I love words. They are so powerful.

For my sixteenth birthday, I received this note from my Uncle Dave. These are some of the most precious words I have ever read.

Four years later, they still bring happy tears to my eyes.

I'm so thankful for this man and for the friendship we've had for the past twenty (!) years.

Anyway, take a little peek into my world!

------

Whitney,

Our family has many wonderful memories of watching you grow up.

Michelle recalls your graceful goodbye at the brick house, when neither vomit nor gravity could keep you from saying your farewell to us.

Carson has lovely memories of smelling feet with you, makes him laugh just reliving the moment.*

Kate's memories..."I love you."

Hootie does not really care, to be honest.

As for me, the memories are sweet and deep. You and I had a bond like no other, starting literally from your birth. I helped welcome your hair and you to this world. I watched you develop from a tiny baby into the cutest monkey I have ever seen. You were fun to listen to and harass. We watched the Lion King many times until you were finally brave enough to watch the "Ta die part." You would be my best friend until Grandma Judy came home and everything unraveled. You threw me to the dogs, telling Grandma, "De-de-da was really naughty and needed spanks." Thing was your ritual every day and it happened without fail. Nothing made you happier than Grandma yelling at me, which in turn made me happy, watching the joy you got out of it. As you got bigger and I babysat, I remember having to give you a spank, Big Mistake. You told everyone in the world that Dededa gave me a reaaallly big spank, but our relationship recovered. I was around you when you formally changed your name to "Suzy-galloozy-maggy-o-pig-butt-big-3-girl-pizzahead" - a little long, I must say, but you insisted. As time went on you became a real person. You began to read and think on your own. I, too, had to go to school in order to stay ahead of you. It was hard to be away from you. When I returned, you had grown up a lot but amazingly we were still pretty close. You loved your family, friends, and even your dogs. A super sweet and naive girl... yeah, naive like when you discovered gravity on your bike off Taylor's jump, and the importance of a helmet. It's funny how memory is just like an Etch-a-Sketch, a few good shakes and it's gone. The best part of all was watching you play with my kids. This told me that even after all the chances I had to screw up our relationship, you did not let me. Thank you for being such a big part of my life, for the awesome memories, and for turning out so incredible.

-------

*Yes, this really happened. Carson and I are ten years apart, but from day one we've been buddies. He just melts me. He can get me to do just about anything - "Whitney, wanna go hide and smell our feet?!" You bet I do, kid.

on your sixth birthday

For Piper

On your sixth birthday

Piper Chen, you are my joy. You cause me to delight in life more than I ever thought possible. I love your smile. I love your imaginative and inquisitive mind. I love your questions and your songs. I love your hugs and kisses. I love your witty comments and that you can always make me laugh. I love the way you make me slow down and enjoy the little things. I love thinking about your future. I love living life with you every day and I consider it a privilege to walk alongside you as you become the woman God has created you to be. I love November 29th because I love celebrating you.

Yet, there is something that brings tears to my eyes on this day.

November 29, 2005. On this morning, six years ago, your biological mother knew she could not keep you. There are so many details that I wish I knew about her and the decision she made to give you a different life, but I don’t. And so I choose to love her by bearing, believing, and hoping all things. I love your mother for valuing your life enough to endure nine months of pregnancy, knowing full well she would not be able to care for you afterward. I love her for caring enough about your life to place you on that sidewalk in the bustling town of Chenzhou where you would be found quickly and brought to an orphanage. I love her for loving you by giving you the best that she could.

And I mourn for her. Piper, I mourn because she missed out on you. Somewhere in China, your mama remembers you. What I wouldn’t give to meet her. And thank her. And reassure her that her daughter is happy and safe and loved. But I will settle for thanking God for orchestrating the events of her life, your life, and my life. The Lord is good in making you a Waldemar. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Piper, as you grow up and wonder if you have your mom’s eyes, or your dad’s imagination; as you ask questions about your life in China; as you ponder what it was to be without a family for your first year, I pray that you will see yourself first as a daughter of King Jesus. A daughter that was never lost, never orphaned, never alone. I pray that you will be characterized by your Father’s imagination and creativity, by your Father’s love and joy. I already see these things in you and long to see them grow and develop as you live out the beautiful story of redemption that God has written for your life.

Happy birthday, baby girl! I’m gonna keep you forever.

All my love,

Whitney

One Year Later

Has it really been a year?

I remember this day last year with such crisp clarity. I finished writing a paper. I finished some last minute packing. I shed a few tears as I said goodbye to my family. I climbed into the van with the team and embarked on the journey of a lifetime. This much, I understood. I knew that I would return a changed person. But I had no idea how much those days in South Africa would change my life forever.

The past few weeks, my mind has been racing, remembering. My senses have been stimulated, far more often than I would like. Sights, sounds, smells - they all take me back to some place in Cape Town and I relive the memory with vivid precision.

I'm fighting to remember the good, which is why I decided to publish the post that I wrote right after I returned, but kept in draft format until now.

There is so much hurt and pain in my heart associated with this time of the year. I spent October 2010 in Cape Town, South Africa. I expected this to be the best time of my life. I was serving at a ecumenical missions conference. I went with the most wonderful team of people. What could be better, right?

In a twisted way, I'm compelled to say that this was the time of my life. By that, I mean that because of this trip and everything that happened, every pain I felt, every hardship I endured, Jesus became sweeter and sweeter. I wouldn't trade that for the world.

Yet, it was unbearably painful. Everything was unknown. I was alone. Congress participants were rude. I felt the weight of tension within the team. My body was in intense pain much of the time. The Lord did a crushing work in my heart through a certain event, but for the sake of discretion, I cannot share that here. Just know that I was broken last October. Broken in a way I never would or could have expected.

I was afraid. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of being abandoned. Afraid of being worthless.

Every sight, sound, and smell brings back those feelings. They wash over me like pounding waves. My mind races. My heartbeat quickens. My breathing is stilted. I am paralyzed in the moment. I let the pain return. And I fight to cling to Jesus.

The Lord is doing a very healing work in my life. Yet the healing involves reopening and scrubbing out the wound, at times with a wire brush and other times with a gentle cotton swab. I want to be healed, to be cleansed. But more than anything, I want my heart to be soft. I don't want to be numb to pain (or joy). I don't want to be angry and bitter. I want to love Jesus and see his purposes (and vehicles for bringing about those purposes) as perfect.

There is a lot of pain in my heart associated with this day, but I can look back on it with a grateful heart. In South Africa, and since I've returned, my mantra has been a portion of Brooke Fraser's Faithful:

There's distance in the air and I cannot make it leave

I wave my arms round about me and blow with all my might

I cannot sense you close, though I know you're always here

But the comfort of you near is what I long for

When I can't feel you, I have learned to reach our just the same

When I can't hear you, I know you still hear every word I pray

And I want you more than I want to live another day

And as I wait for you maybe I'm made more faithful

That's how I've felt, in large measure, since last October. Yet the Lord has removed the distance. I can sense him close. I feel the comfort of his presence. And I have been made more faithful. I sobbed. I begged. I pleaded. The Lord honored that prayer. He has not wasted my suffering. I still don't understand it all, but I can trust him because he is worthy. Over and over again he has proved himself faithful.

He is always faithful. Can we just revel for a minute, please?

I don't much like October 9. I wish it didn't have these memories associated with it. I wish I could enjoy autumn in Minneapolis and not return to feelings of fear, anxiety, pain, and hurt. But God is redeeming it. He is pouring out his kindness all over my life. Today, I can say, "This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it."

Remembering the Kindness of the Lord

(I wrote this post shortly after returning from Cape Town, but never published it. I decided to today because I need to remember positive things about the trip. I need to remind myself how kind the Lord was in giving me a beautiful example of love in my South African friends.)

-November 2010-

My mind has been a tad scrambled lately. So much happened in those 19 days that has changed my life.

So, where to begin? Well, South Africa, I suppose. What a beautiful place! Seriously, I have been enchanted by the city of Cape Town and the wonderful South African friends I met there.

Although we went as a Bethlehem team, we didn't spend much time together during the day. I spent most of my day working alongside stewards for all over the world. When I first thought about the other stewards, I assumed I wouldn't spend much time with them and that they would not be a major part of my experience. How wrong I was... the people I served with became the richest part of the congress for me.

This may sound shallow in light of the weight of the congress, but hear me out. I didn't experience much of the actual congress because I was either serving during the plenary sessions, or I was so exhausted by the time my shift ended that I collapsed in the steward lounge. If I had experienced more of the sessions or interacted more with the participants, I'm sure that would have been my highlight:) But, since that was not the case, I got to know the other stewards quite well. I spent hours and hours serving beside them, exploring Cape Town with them, and staying at the fabulously sketch Train Lodge with them. The way that I was loved, especially by the South African stewards, was incredible. They were so intentional in getting to know me and making conversation was never awkward in the least. I was loved. I didn't have to prove anything or be lovable. I was a member of the body of Christ and I was loved. I have so much to learn from these beautiful people.

PTSD

The Lord chooses to reveal a little at a time.

This last revelation was a little mind-blowing.

I have PTSD.

Now, I'm not quick to self-diagnose. In fact, I'm leery of naming any disease, disorder, or odd happenstance without a professional opinion. I don't trust my own perceptions or knowledge base enough for that. All this to say, I have not been officially diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The other day, I was talking with a friend and asking her what PTSD looks like in her own life. She began explaining it and listed off characteristics that manifest themselves physically, emotionally, socially, etc. Nearly everything she mentioned were conditions I had previously identified in myself, not realizing how they all fit together.

PTSD is a type of anxiety disorder that lingers longer than one month. It is triggered by an overwhelming life experience which seems chaotic. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Capricious. Unstable. Ungovernable.

Yep, mhmm.

The symptoms have been organized into three main categories

1. Re-experiencing the traumatic event

• Intrusive, upsetting memories of the event
• Flashbacks
• Nightmares
• Feelings of intense distress when reminded of the trauma
• Intense physical reactions to reminders of the event (pounding heart, rapid breathing, nausea, muscle tension, sweating)

2. Avoidance and numbing

• Avoiding activities, places, thoughts, or feelings that remind you of the trauma
• Inability to remember important aspects of the trauma
• Loss of interest in activities and life in general
• Feeling detached from others and emotionally numb
• Sense of a limited future

3. Increased anxiety and emotional arousal

• Difficulty falling or staying asleep
• Irritability or outbursts of anger
• Difficulty concentrating
• Hypervigilance
• Feeling jumpy and easily startled

And a few others:

• Anger and irritability
• Feelings of mistrust and betrayal
• Feeling alienated and alone
• Depression and hopelessness

Yep, mhmm. I've experienced all of these. Granted, in various measure, but nonetheless, I've experienced them. Often, wondering if I was crazy. Like, legitimately crazy. None of it made sense or seemed to fit together. I felt like I should be over it, like I should've been able to kick this by now.

Grace upon grace. The Lord unfogged the window just a little more to give me a clearer glimpse into my heart.

Isolation & Transparency

Isolation. Simultaneously what I crave and what I fear most.

I want to be alone: life is overwhelming me and I don't have the energy to explain my issues to anyone.

I don't want to be alone: the burden is too much for me to handle. I can't bear it alone.

I crave isolation: I no longer have the energy to put on a happy face for everyone.

I fear isolation: my problems don't go away, I just become bitter.

Can I be straight with you? I'm really scared.

Picture this: You're sanding at the edge of a gorge. To your left is the drop-off. Darkness. You glimpse over the edge and jump back because the danger is tangible. To your right is a meadow filled with flowers, occupied by a group of friends who are laughing and altogether enjoying life. Yet, between where you stand and the perceived bliss lies a dark forest filled with traps and lurking creepy things. You venture in because the reality on the other side is so worth it. And so you fight; machete-chop branches, kick through the tall grass, swat the bugs away from your head, and try with all your might to avoid all the pitfalls. And then you hit it. That one thing that causes you to completely forget what lies just beyond the forest. You forget and you run back to that cliff as if it were the pearly gates of heaven.

You run because nothing can be as horrific as that forest. Fighting through the persistent trials - alone. It's too much for one person to handle. Meanwhile, you start to begrudge the bliss on the other side. You become cynical. You believe that they have not a care in the world. No one has problems as significant as your own. Resentment. Irritation. Discontentment. Bitterness. It's ugly. That field is no longer appealing in any way. The best thing you can think of is utter oblivion. And so you run.

Tie-in: I trod this back-and-forth journey about a million times last year. I caught a glimpse of how ugly that oblivion was and I turned around with new resolve and fought like hell not to let sin have it's way with me. With each step and every trial, truths are exchanged for lies. Bitterness doesn't seem like such a bad alternative. And it would send me staggering toward that oblivion with wild abandon.

This summer hasn't presented much hardship, and for that I thank God with my whole being. Yet, I have wasted this precious time. Rather than spending the free time I had in the Word and being changed and conformed into the image of Jesus, I filled my hours with various good and mediocre things. I feel weak. I feel defenseless. I feel utterly unprepared to fight. And I know that the bitterness, resentment, discontent, irritation, frustration, anger, and apathy will not disappear. And I'm scared.

Now, I've forgotten the most important detail in the gorge/forest/wildflower bliss sketch. Jesus. Did he ever stop loving me? Did he ever forget about me or stop caring? Was living in light of the gospel ever not worth it? Was it ever acceptable for me to stop fighting because it was hard? Absolutely not. But this is when I began to believe the lies and I didn't care.

But God. He looked upon my helpless state and led me back to the cross.

Before I could jump off that cliff, he would catch me and firmly plant me in himself. At that time, there was no place I would rather be. I dissolved into a puddle of tears and worshipped.

How do you explain this to someone? All last year I felt so handicapped that I couldn't think, let alone try to help anyone else understand or invite them into my pain. //Sidenote: thank you, Jesus, for my mama, who would sit and listen to me, comfort me, and spoon-feed me truth when I couldn't feed myself.// But here's the thing: moms love you no matter what. I was terrified of telling others because I felt like they wouldn't understand. That I would freak them out. That they would see the ugliness in my heart and not know what to do with me. And I definitely couldn't handle that. Guess what? More lies. As I began to tell a few friends and give a few more details, I was awestruck by the grace that was channeled through them. I won't say that I realized this once it was too late, but I wish I had realized sooner.

Right now, I'm scared. I know that all of the realities of last year will be ever present and I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to believe the lies. I will be surrounded by a beautiful community and I don't want to stiff-arm them again. I want to be real. I want to suffer well and I want to tenaciously cling to Jesus. Oh for grace to trust him more!

-------

1. Don't forget about Jesus. He loves you. He is for you. He is worthy of your life.

2. Please pray for me. I am weak, but in my weakness Christ's power is perfected. Pray that I would be weak, transparent, and moldable clay in the Father's gentle hands.

3. I want for you to experience something like this. Am I allowed to say that? But for real. Jesus works through trials to showcase his beauty. I want you to see him as the most beautiful, delightful, precious thing in the world. I want that beauty to dwarf the appeal of sin.

4. Isolation: why do we do it? I can't answer that, but I can beg you not to go there. Be transparent with the people around you and let them show you more of Jesus.

Imma let you in on a little secret...

God does not leave me to my own devices.

God pursues and woos me. He breathes life into my very being.

God sees Jesus when he looks at me.

God know me intimately. I belong to him.

God is for me. He desires my good. No plan of his may be thwarted.

God is not simply walking with me, he is enabling every heartbeat, every footstep.

God is the LORD. The Holy One of Israel. My Savior.

God is.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you, For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." Isaiah 43:1-2

Read that again. Let it soak in. Revel.

Love God. He is so worthy of your affections.

roadtrip: thoughts

one: I thought I would be bored out of my mind after a few hours driving solo. So not the case. I think I could've driven for days, not interacted with another human being, and been perfectly content.

two: There is something about wildflowers that makes me want to get my hippie on.

three: There is something about big sky and the smell of cow poop that makes me want to marry a cowboy and live on a ranch. In Texas.

four: I now have an awesome tan on my left arm.

five: I am now incapable of driving without thinking about and fighting for the 'inside track'. You did this to me, Brad Kresge!

six: I love country music, but is there anything worse than patriotic country songs? Ish.

seven: the only social interaction on the road: exchanging looks of mutual disgust. The other driver because my driving is messing up his or her groove; me because he or she is a jerk driver (probably Iowan).

eight: Car-dancing, with no one around to witness my sweet moves, is a real pity.

nine: clouds on the horizon always stir up my creativity. I imagine beautiful, South-African mountains them. Even while driving through Iowa.

ten: freshly-cut wheat, tasseled corn, layered clouds, farm houses, the horizon in every direction - from these I gain inspiration. I must put myself in country settings such as these more often, it's good for my soul.