snow, reflection, and a Nicaraguan new year.

I’m not a big New Year’s celebrator, per say, but I appreciate the “new” part of it.  It’s been a built in part of my yearly rhythm to end the year in some reflection.  “What happened this year?” “Where did I grow?”  Where did I struggle?”  “What did I accomplish?”  “What do I need to focus or refocus on?”

I’m a firm believer that only when experience is combined with honest reflection, is it the best teacher.  We can experience much without learning much if the time and space to reflect and learn is forsaken.

I missed that this year.  I was in Nicaragua for the last day of 2014 and celebrated “Año Nuevo” in a whole different culture.  The celebration included lots of fireworks and the burning of 2014 scarecrow dolls that marked the passing of the old year.  However, because the trip went well into 2015, shortly followed by the start of the spring semester, and some work travel mixed in, I only recently realized that I missed my new year reflection and refocus.

I’ve loved being back in Minnesota this winter.  Sometimes the cold literally makes me cry, but the snow is so entrancing and magical.  I walk to work each morning and the journey takes me across a small park.  My adventurous side likes off-roading a little bit through the deeper snow, where a path hasn’t been cleared and tracks have not yet tattled on the recent passers through.

The second day after a good snow, I started out in my walk to work, thinking about my overlooked new year.  I was once again captured by the snow, but this time it wasn’t the sparkle or the purity that grabbed me.  It was the tracks; my footprints from the day before.  The snowy tracks taught me that morning about how a life of health and growth demands reflection.

We can walk the same path day after day, year after year, with little mind to where, why, and how we walk.  We can bid the past “good riddance” and burn last year’s scarecrow, but without intention, how can we be sure that this year’s scarecrow won’t be a carbon copy of the last?  As I walked that morning, seeing yesterday’s steps, I remembered the places where my boot sank a bit too deep and my sock was surprised by a puff of wet flakes.  To my amusement, I observed that my steps didn’t go in the most direct path, but wandered a few feet this way and that.  In the snow, yesterday’s journey was recorded and it presented me with a choice.  “Will you go the same way and simply follow the tracks in front of you?  Or will you read the tracks, learn, and do something different?”

That’s the richness of the new year, new month, new week, or new day to me.  This is the value of reflection and the health of being intentional with the time we’ve been given.  Will I step in deep again?  Will I forge a completely new path?  If I simply keep doing the same things, I cannot expect something different to occur.  If I don’t make intentional changes in my spiritual practices, growth will not be seen.  If I don’t challenge myself relationally and emotionally, 2015 will end up looking regrettably familiar.

This year, for me, it’s about walking generally the same path, but doing so with intention; more than just "getting to work each day."  This year it's continuing to include the best parts of the walk, but cutting out steps that lack purpose, trying a couple of variations in the route, and learning from danger spots.  Life is too short to walk unquestioningly in the tracks of yesterday.  I observe the prints of others and they inspire me to sojourn better.  One different step can begin to alter the whole journey.  It doesn’t take a new year to take a new step.  It does take honesty, courage, and grace, though, to ask “are my steps being transformed as my mind is renewed?”

Today, I wrestle with the fear of failure.  “What if the new steps I take this year are worse than the last?” Oh, well.  At least I tried something and will inevitably learn something new from that experience.  And then I say back to my cautious, skeptical self: “But what if it’s way better?”  Life is too short not to be better if it can be.

So I put on my boots and take a deep breath through the scarf around my face.  And with goals in my hand and heart, I take a new step into the snow.

stay and make disciples.

Wait.

You know, maybe it's just because you see things you're eyes are turned toward.  Whatever it is, waiting is the theme that just won't go away. 

If you've read posts in the past several months, you know that I've had the experience of cheering on some of my dearest friends to new cities, adventures, and journeys.  It's been incredibly difficult, but quite awesome to see how God is using them, teaching them, and providing for them.
Maybe it's just been envy of change or feeling left behind, but I thought I would also be on to other things within the next year.  Possibly a new job or a new city, maybe even a new country!  My imagination has been filled with possibility for the last few months.  It's been overwhelming and exciting, but I've never felt settled about anything.  After all, I'm an adventurer!  I'm born to see things, do things, live in strange places and eat odd things!  I shall never be tamed!  After all, Scripture says "GO and make disciples," not "stay and make disciples!"

Yeah...except for in the past few weeks, God has granted me great peace in the prospect of staying.

Most people wouldn't be disappointed about this.  Consistency is often a welcomed friend.  I, on the other hand, almost began hyperventilating at the thought of "long term commitment" to a job, home, or otherwise.  Since I work at the university I graduated from, this is the literally the longest I've lived in one place.  I'm used to turn over and I embrace newness.  To stay is actually pushing me outside of my comfort zone.  It's not that anything is wrong with my current situation.  I love my job, adore where I live, and still get so excited about the Twin Cities.  I just thought I was one of those that God was telling to "go."

Huh.

Then there's this progression of peace.  Could I stay?  What if I stayed?  I think I could stay.  I could see myself staying.  I want to stay.  I'd love to stay.  I'm EXCITED about staying!


Weird, right?  For the first time in a long time, I'm excited about this direction of my life.  I know where I need to be and I have a huge heart to be there.  It's exciting.

So what's the issue?  So many people in my world are still continuing to move.  They're moving geographically, vocationally, personally.  And here I am.  Staying.  It's okay.  I'm learning to be confident in God's provision and goodness.  That doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye to my friends who are in motion.  I find fewer and fewer where I am and that's tough.  Staying is almost the harder thing to do--to commit and stick it out through the rough places.  After all, most things that are worth it in the long run, are just that: a long run.

I was telling God about this last night.  One of those chats where I pointed out what He was doing and how hard it was going to be for me.  He's familiar with these chats.  The simple beauty of the words from Gungor's "Beautiful Things" resonated in my head.

You make beautiful things.  You make beautiful things out of the dust.  You make beautiful things.  You makes beautiful things out of us. ....You make me new.  You are making me new.

Okay, Lord.  I might be feeling kinda dusty at the moment.  But, okay.  I'll trust.  I'll be obedient and stay.  I won't quit.  I won't run if You're asking me to stay and make disciples; especially if that's what's best for Your Kingdom.  As long as You're here staying with me, I'll stay.

I have to wonder, is this true for many of us?  We so want to be "go" people in this area or that area of our life that we miss what God is doing while we're staying there for awhile.  Who or what is in your story for the time being for a reason?  I've been pushed in that as I become more at peace with staying and just loving the people that God has called me to instead of trying to wish myself away.

So that's where I'm at.  Staying.  Waiting.  Wondering if it'll ever be my turn to be a "go" person.  But trusting God and His promise to make beauty from my ashes and redeem difficulty and hardship in my story.  I want to stay to see that.

be gracious with yourself: lists, rock climbing, & being 25.

Well friends, here I am.  My 24th year has come and gone.  Tomorrow is pretty much the official ending to my summer as students return for training week.  Another summer here and gone.  It made me think about time and our expectations.

So for those of you who have looked at this thing a time or two, maybe you saw my summer adventure list.  Today I'm realizing, as reflect on this list I made for myself, how very ambitious I naturally am.  So much so, in fact, that I'm still not convinced I can't finish a few more of these things within the next few weeks.  Ambitious, I tell you!

I'm just over half for my list.  The Stonearch bridge was walked, I started the harmonica, did some water activities, hit up the farmer's market and outdoor concert fun, took a road trip, got red in my hair, tried a new food at Seasalt (that's a 2 for 1).  A few I didn't exactly accomplish, but close variations that I may choose to claim.  A few I still hold out hope for.

One thing that wasn't on my list was rock climbing.  A few friends and I went rock climbing last week.  We had fun.  I thought myself to be fairly experienced with climbing walls after a summer of it at my camp.  After 2 consecutive days of hard workouts previously to climbing, my body was very sore.  I was a little worried about that, but still pretty confident because I wasn't new to this activity.  Boy, did I stink.  I was not good.  I only made it to the top maybe 3 times.  I couldn't grip the holds.  My muscles were shaking and I gave up after awhile.  My friend who was new to climbing had little trouble scaling the walls.  Usually I'd spend a day or two moping about this or being bitter toward my friend for doing better than me.  Especially when it comes to physical challenges, I want to excel!  This failure was awesome.  I fought the bad feelings, stopped making excuses, accepted my limitations, and embraced the day as fun.  I didn't meet my expectations, but I tried, I learned, and had a good time with friends.

So I'm a person of reflection.  Maybe that's because a professor I had in college couldn't get enough of it, but I appreciate the opportunity to take life beyond just experiencing, but actually gleaning something.  So I spent some time reflecting on my summer.  And year 24 of my life.

There were beautiful times and difficult times found in each--some experiences being both beautiful and difficult simultaneously.  Each had its own set of expectations.

--I always want to make a year the best year ever.  I want to make an age worthwhile.  I feel pretty good about doing that with 24.  I've challenged myself personally and relationally.  I've taken huge strides in walking in community and exploring what it means to surrender independence.  I've worked through wounds (and still continue to do so).  I've experienced the joy and hardship of my first year of professional ministry.  I've taken journeys. :-)  Co-leading my first abroad trip and getting to experience the Holy Land, something that 24 will always be remembered by.

--This summer, I've processed through many difficult good-byes, learned how to rest on my own, began to learn how to embrace community with generosity and love, and learned that some of the best adventures or experience are ones you didn't plan on or even know you wanted.  Those rock.

Even so, with all of that, I felt a tug yesterday.  As birthday wishes rolled in, I heard lots of jokes about being closer to 30 and being asked what it feels like to be on the brink of a quarter-life crisis.  I take it all pretty lightly, but for a moment I wondered, "I'm 25.  What do I have to show for it?"  I laughed to myself.  Well...not really much of any possessions, which I'm pretty okay with,...not a diversified portfolio or kids or a boyfriend or a cool car or a master's degree or an album or even a pet.  I've been trying to climb this wall called life for 25 years and sometimes it feels like I haven't grabbed too many big holds.  It's easy to get discouraged by expectation.  Most of the time, I would argue, that they're not even our own expectations, but an expectation of comparison--an oh-so-dangerous measuring stick to live by.

Obviously, there's lots that an ambitious girl didn't get done with her summer.  It's a fact.  I've embraced my ambition.  I understand that some things have to be let go.  Lists and goals are beautiful things.  It keeps us intentional and focused.  We need some prize to keep our eye on.  However, I constantly must remind myself that the points on my goals and lists aren't always on God's list of goals and plans for my life.  Our agendas don't always line up.  I think I'm going to end up in Minnesota with another snowy spring break and He gives me the gift of a 10 days in Israel.  The path that we plan to take is not always the one God leads us down or if it is, it's usually not what we think it'll be.

We don't know the plans.  When we get so set on our own plans for our story and find out that they don't come to pass, it can be easy to get discouraged and disappointed.  The purpose for lists is to keep us going, not stop us with guilt and regret.

I refuse to be disappointed with the amount of checks on my summer adventure list (even though it'd be fun to get a couple more).  I refuse to be upset or bitter about things I haven't yet accomplished in my life.  God gave us freedom and grace.  It's not just for us to give away to others, but also to receive ourselves.  Be gracious in your reflection.  Embrace your journey.  Realize that wherever you are in that journey that God has filled your life with stories.  They may not have been the stories I would've chosen, but it'd be lame if they all were.  Every once in awhile you watch a movie knowing how it ends, but generally it's not desired to know the outcome. Life leaves an element of surprise that teaches us to trust and lean on one another.  I want adventure and that's unpredictable.

Even with boxes unchecked, there is always one thing on my list I can accomplish.  That's to bring joy.  To choose joy in the waiting.  In the adventure.  In the mishaps of adventure.  In the boring.  In the devastating.  In the seemingly hopeless and the utterly disappointing.  Choosing joy.  Bringing joy to others.  No matter the things to come or what has been, God is faithful.  God is providing.  God is unfolding.  He is untouchable and unchanged.  As long as the tomb is still empty, we have reason to be overflowing with joy.  If you are disappointed about failing to accomplish any goal, may it be that one.

So here's to 25--a year of joy and adventures both planned and unexpected, and to the grace I will rest in for the things that don't get accomplished.  Here's to lessons, stories, relationships, and choosing joy.

Grace and peace, friends.