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!

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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.

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*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!

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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.