The World Race

I should be leaving for the World Race in two weeks. A year living out of a backpack. A year spent in 11 different counties.  A year surronded by my squad. A year full of nothing but whimsical adventure.

but I'm not leaving for the World Race in two weeks. Instead I will be in classes, I will be getting ready to take my first exams this semester. 

Am I bummed out at the fact that I could be leaving soon for an adventure of a lifetime, seriously? Yes. 

Do I know why I said 'no' to the World Race? Absolutely. 

I was searching for something. Something to make my life stand for something. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing with my life. Id been to Africa twice and I had friends who did mission work--- so I knew I had to do something & it had to be huge. What's bigger than putting everything that's comfortable to me aside and living out of a backpack for an entire year? ---- nothing. At least not for me. I did the phone interview and got accepted. I told my entire family I was going. I was already planning on how to pack. I decided to circle each country that I would be visting with a sharpie, which is permanent. I would sit on my couch to turn on the usual, New Girl, each night and would look up to see the map with 11 different circles, and my heart would leap, partially with excitement but more with fear. 

A fear of not knowing if it's really what im supposed to do. About a week after the phone interview I received an email from Visting Orphans, explaining that they were in search of a co-leader for the Uganda trip in June. This would usually bring nothing but excitement, but it lead to my brain going into overdrive. I wasn't sure what to do-- so I prayed this prayer "okay, Jesus, you know what I just applied for. You know that's what I want to do, but I also want to lead this trip. What do you want me to do?" This lead to me waiting for about 10 minutes in silence before going onto the next prayer "okay, okay, okay, how about this I'm going to fast somethings and can I just get an answer... quick?" ---still nothing. So my final prayer "Jesus, you know that my heart desires both of these trips and you can make both of them happen, but I know it's smarter to choose one. If you want me to go on the Race, let me get accepted. If you want me to go to Uganda, don't let me get accepted. 

A week passed, a phone call from The Race and I was accepted! This would usually lead to me jumping up and down in excitement. They actually have some of the phone calls on speaker so the office can hear the reactions, this reminds the workers why they do what they do. I was silent when we told me. I said "really? Are you sure!?" She replied with a giant "yes" and I held back the tears. Of course, I was excited on the phone. I was excited about getting accepted in general. I just didn't know what to do.

I had friends over when I took the phone call, I walked in and didn't tell them the news. I held it in, mainly because my brain was in overdrive. 'Jesus, I thought that the call would mean I was supposed to go and feel peace about it, why don't I feel peace?' 

Id set up my first big fundraiser and decided that I would do both. I would co-lead to Uganda in June, come home for two weeks, training camp and then the race in September. The first fundraiser was an awesome turn out, but left me feeling no peace. I remember after this beautiful fundraiser I got in my car and cried. I didn't know why, I didn't have the answer. I just cried and I remember telling Jesus that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that my friend was gone doing awesome things, it wasn't fair that my 'good' season had changed, it wasn't fair that I couldn't do both, it wasn't fair that I still didn't feel peace. 

For two weeks, I was in limbo. I sent emails to The Race and to VO explaining that I had not received an answer on either yet. They understood fully and prayed me through the process. I remember a guy who worked for The Race would call me just to check in and pray, prayers sent through emails, text messages. I was praying- they were praying. 

I had decided The World Race. 

I told my mentor and she put it pretty clear for me. She asked me what I wanted my life to look like-- I explained it to her and she said, "nobody can tell you what to do, only you can do that. But sometimes Jesus doesn't always give us an answer, He gives us the freedom to choose- not one is better than the other." With that being said, I told her I'd chosen the race, only for her to look me dead in the eyes and ask "why did you get Africa tattooed on your shoulder?"

That was all I needed to hear, clearly. I told her why it was on my shoulder through a cracked voice. I drove home and knew that it wasn't my time for The Race. I gave it a few days to simmer and I emailed both of the organizations to let one know I wouldn't be joining and let the other know that I would love more than anything to co-lead a trip. 

I've co-led that trip now, I learned so much from it. So. Much. I made friends. Incredible friends. I was a leader and it wasn't until this past week that I realized that my team members still see me as a leader, I got a phone call last week from someone seeking advice. I got baptized in the Nile River, only to turn around and have the opportunity to baptize some of my team mates. I was pushed and molded. When I got to the airport the first day of meeting my team, I saw that one member had on a bracelet that read #11n11-- I asked her if she had gone on The Race, and she explained that her boyfriend was on it currently. By looking at her red World Race bracelet and seeing the team all meet each other for the first time in the airport, I finally felt that peace I was searching for.  

Sure, I still think about what my life would look like right now if I were about to leave for a year. My room would probably be cleaner, my body would be in better shape, my attitude would be lighter, my bags would be packed, my words would mean more, my hugs would last longer, my quiet time would dig deeper and I probably would appreciate the nights my cat hogs the entire bed. But, just because I'm not leaving for The Race in two weeks doesn't mean that those things listed above shouldn't happen. I should be living my life like Jesus will call me to move any second. I am thankful for The Race. I'm thankful for Visting Orphans who let me co-lead and is now letting me lead in July. I'm thankful for a Jesus who gives me the freedom to choose. 

And I'm thankful that I can follow my peace. 

The day I fell in love all over again

I'm writing with a heart that is heavy. A heart that was reminded of why I was placed on this earth. A heart that longs to be sitting with Jesus, right now. A heart that is so confused as to what emotions to show that i sit quietly. A heart that is broken because my disobedience. because of the brokenness in this world. because of the pain I've put on myself. the pressure I've put on myself. Pressure that has kept me from allowing myself to be 'broken'-- 

The past month and a half, I've been running. Something happened in my life that wasn't easy. It's still not easy. But i dealt with it the best way possible. Apparently that was, be so busy that I push my thoughts out. That I have no time to sit at home in my thoughts. That I don't have time in His presence because I'm running.  

In the last month, I've gone through the motions- ive taught preschool out of routine, I've hidden behind a camera during worship sessions, I've led outreach meetings out of routine, I've smiled out of routine, I've greeted out of routine. I've literally not just sat still. I go to sleep looking at videos I took that day. I wake up to surround myself by noise. I make countless phone calls and have meetings scheduled for lunch, like I'm someone important. I've not allowed myself to enjoy certain moments. 

Today, I woke up just like any other day. I got dressed, grabbed my camera bag and headed to church. Knowing that I had things to shoot and I had to teach preschool. I had a plan. I unpacked the camera and got ready to shoot, I walked up to the stage and started recording. Then, I walked back to the sound booth and put my camera down. I laid it down and went to sit in a chair (this was preservice, best shots)-- the band started their next song and I started praying for the things Pastor asked us to pray for, my routined prayer. The worship leader hit a key and I knew where it was going, so I sat down. "How He Loves"-- I sat still. I was indian style in my chair with my head down and before the chorus hit I was weeping. a moment that longed to be remembered. I was alone in that room with Jesus. He told me more in that 3 minutes than I've heard in the past 3 months. A red dirty road, a group of youngins in tattered clothes smiling so bright, that their smiles lit up the picture as they ran towards me replayed over and over in my mind. With the next verse starting, I realized that I had been singing the chorus in kenyanrwandan. Which only made me weep harder. 

Since, I was little I've felt replaceable. Sure, most of it is me. Most of it stems from when I was 12-15. But it's part of me, at least I've made it part of me. I've created a thing in me that makes me do anything to keep people in my life. To please people, to impress people, to make it where I'm not so 'replaceable.' Throughout relationships in my life, friendships in my life and any of the other multiple things I've had, I've always felt that at the drop of the hat, I would be replaced. So I've forever had trust issues, I've forever asked one hundred questions, only to recieve a small reassurance. Today, while watching this image and wiping tears, I kept hearing "irreplaceableable" -- 

I left the sanctuary, walked into a stall and locked the door only to weep harder. Because I've been lying to myself. I've been running, sprinting towards something that's at the opposite end of Jesus. I've been running from 'my calling.' I've tried going through the routines to tell myself and show everyone around me that I am okay. But really I'm broken. 

This morning, I left my camera at the sound booth and I fell back in love with my kiddos. I found my calling all over again today. I listened to giggles. I pulled out the prayer mailbox (which we've placed request in for 3 years now) I pulled out old ones, just to reminisce. I had a small idea of what I would teach-- only for it to be completely changed into talking about how much Jesus loves us and to hear in response..... 

"He loves us bigger than a whale"  

"He loves THIS much" 

and Jesus softly told me today. "Take me in like a child" remember that. 

Tonight I was ready to get home, to be alone in my thoughts. To remember our moment today, where I was fully in His presence. I got my toes stepped on by Jesus today, He made me uncomfortable. And that's just what I needed. He did it in a way that only a daddy can. He reminded me in a song that I've sang a million times, just how much He really does love me. He loves every inch of me. He loves me when I fail. He loves me when I doubt. He loves me when I'm scared. He loves me when I run from Him. He loves me when I don't want to be a Christian anymore. He loves me when I'm a bad friend, which is often. He loves me when I'm rude. He loves me when I yell. He loves me when I cry out of anger. He loves me. And He tells me that I'm irreplaceable. He promises me things. He knows my language. He teaches me. He molds me. He inspires me. He dances with me. He looks at me through a child's eyes. He holds my hand. He laughs with me. 

&& in return I owe Him, me. 

welcome to my journal

I'm back. Full swing in classes. In church stuff. With trying to get a schedule down. I think I've finally got things all figured out, like im getting my ducks in a row and then I toss and turn at night while my mind goes so fast that nothing can seem to catch up with it.

Sometimes the thoughts are vague, sometimes the thoughts sound like I'm reading my ethics book, "what is real?" "Is this moment real? Can you prove it?" 

So tonight at 2am, I cannot sleep. I'm not really sure why. I guess, it's just the change of things. My body is either getting use to routine or denying it-- it can't seem to make up it's mind. 

Tonight, I find myself thinking about life. About my passions. About the roles that I'm playing in people's lives and in Jesus' storybook. Am I really living everything He wants me to do? Or am I doing things that I want to do? What will my life look like in 5 years? What does it mean to be "called" to do something? How will I know if and when I'm "called"?  Is there ever really a day when my life will make sense to me? What are my true, raw passions? 

That's the real one. The tough one. The one that makes me uncomfortable. Only because I have to dig so deep that I have to forget about everything that is comfortable to get to my answer. Or at least, that's how I think it works. We are told to leave everything behind and follow Christ. So for me, what does that look like? 

I place myself in different scenarios. I ask myself the hard questions. 

Hard questions:: 

Would I still go to Africa, if it went unnoticed? 

Would I say I'm passionate about children if I didn't go to Africa? 

Would I have a different degree choice if I knew I'd have a job in it? 

Do I really want to teach? Everyday for the rest of my life? 

When's the last time I laid on my floor and wept for hurting people? 

When's the last time I truly felt inspired? 

What does inspire me? 

What makes me what to do better? 

These are my thoughts in the quiet of the night. I use to be afraid of these thoughts because I never knew how I answer them. 

Here are some of my answers: 

Sure, I would still go to Africa. 

I'm not sure if i would be as passionate about children if I didn't go to Africa. That's where the passion seemed to be birthed.

I honestly would probably have a degree in 

Non Profit/Videography/photography/Writing 

I don't know. 

I think I shed a couple of tears while praying last week for Iraq. 

Tonight while talking in the outreach meeting. 

I get inspired when I watch other people get inspired. I get inspired by music or shooting images.

Jesus makes me want to do better. 

I just interviewed myself. That's how my thoughts work at this hour. But realistically. I don't have concrete answers for any of the above questions. But Jesus does, so I will find my rest in knowing that. 

August 16. A day in pictures

It's started with a cup if coffee on the front porch with my momma. nonna. my brother. my best friend. & two cousins. 

then it turned into starting loads of laundry. 

cleaning up/out my bathroom 

bathing my cat. 

which then lead to trying to shave Joey. wrestling my cat, Joey.

and vacuuming the bathroom of cat hair. 

only for it to look like Ray Charles did it.

doing more laundry. 

searching for my dad, only to find him hiding out in my 14 year old sisters room eating frozen pb&j- while she paints. 

stopping for Nonna's pasta. 

a haircut 

more laundry.

planting my cacti & pretty pink flowers. 

remembering I had this old thing. 

typing Fresh Prince of Bel Aire

more laundry. 

front porch swinging at sunset. 

visting with company.

lots of laughs. 

chinese take out.

more laundry.

and now bed. 

it's been a busy. random. perfect. day. 

we are all in the same world

With everything going on around us nothing seems easy. Absolutely nothing, seems to be peaceful. In my personal life, in my friends life, in the community, in the nation, and in the world. Nothing seems free. As much as I want to take off and dance through the field, it's like there are vines binding my feet down, only allowing me to look at the big open field in hopes of having the freedom to dance there one day.

There was a point in my life when I knew of Jesus, I just didn't know Him personally (big difference) -- I always heard He would come when we least expect it. There were nights I would be laying down and the thought of the world ending would come up. I would have a tiny panic attack at the very thought, so much so that I would call my dad on the phone to ask"daddy, is the world going to end tonight, I can't sleep from thinking about it?" And his response being "no, Callie, it's not"-- "promise me?" And in response he of course would promise. Looking back now on those phone calls from across the house, I sound so childish. So scared. I was scared, because I knew that I wasn't ready. When people talked about it-- I left the conversation. When a movie was on that was about the world ending-- I left. I ran from the conversation every chance I got. 

You see, I use to put my trust fully in people. I put my trust in my dads promises of the world not ending. I put my trust in boys promises. I put my trust in friends promises. I put my trust in my dreams and goals. I never put my trust in Jesus and that's when things change.

Today, I went to the church and as I started praying for my life and listing every issue I had. I silenced my thoughts for a minute-- and got an image, nobody in this world would ever want. He showed me Iraq. He showed me a child, I want to say it was a little boy. It was like he looked at me, right at me, and began to cry. I opened my eyes because I couldn't handle what the next vision could have been. But, I put myself over there for a few minutes and as I sat on the floor I imagined a family. I imagined what they must feel. How scared they must be. Mostly, how much trust they must have. 

Tonight as I prayed, I placed my family in that situation? What if I called my dad from my bedroom to ask if the world would end tonight-- how would my dad respond? I've thought about it so much all day, I've read articles. I've cried. I've lost hope. I've replayed what I would do if I were in their situation. Tonight I found Iraq on my globe, then I marched my fingers over to America and realized how close we are to them. 

It always seems like other countries are different worlds. I use to think that. I use to not worry about what was happening anywhere but in America. Then it got real for me. So, tonight with a heavy heart I am reminded that we all live on this earth together. We created the borders. We've created this mess. We've allowed things to happen and we've pushed them under the rug because other things seemed more important. 

I have learned over the years that I must put my trust in Jesus. No matter how hard it is sometimes. Do I know when the world will end? No. Do I still have panic attacks thinking about it's ending? No. Do I still call my dad to get a promise that it won't end? No. Did I blow my parents mind when I said "I'm ready for Jesus to come back" in casual conversation? Yes. But it's so true. I am ready for Him to come get me because then we can run through that field together. 

I don't know why the people in Iraq are being killed for loving their Creator, but I do know that they are getting to see Him seconds after. I do know that through this foggy mess that we created, I still TRUST HIM. Yes, it's scary. But it's all worth it. 

I'm going to sleep with a broken heart for our world && for our family who is on the other side of the world. Also, knowing that I can put my trust in Him. 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

The Circle of Life

Growing up I stayed at a home daycare that was referred to as Aunt Gwen & Uncle Emmitts. My parents took me for the first time when I was 5 months old, they have been a part of my life ever since.

Caroline, Camaryn and myself went to go have lunch with them this past week. We knew without having to ask that Aunt Gwen would make our favorite-- vegetable soup. We walked in their house to be greeted by Uncle Emmitt and his destinct, "well hey honey! Boy, you girls are so grown" and Aunt Gwen's soft sweet "hey, sugar." We got further into the house and the combination of the smell of the vegetable soup, the old westerns on TV as background sound over the sweet hugs- I was 4 again. We sat on the couch while Aunt Gwen finished in the kitchen and looked at scrapbooks of old daycare pictures. Then it time to eat, so we moved our memory fest to the table. 

We all grabbed hands and I was ready to recite "God is Great," but Uncle Emmitt took the lead. We started eating and ended up sitting at the table for over an hour exchanging stories about us growing up. Uncle Emmitt asked the infamous question, I'm sure he'd been holding in- "how many boyfriends you got now?" We all said our answer and then I asked Aunt Gwen if we could see pictures from when they got married. She explained that she didn't have a wedding picture, but she had pictures from when they dated. She told us how they started dating, how her cousin liked him but Aunt Gwen got him. He let her wear his Letterman sweater to school to show everyone that she was his. While she was telling this story, so bright eyed. He got up from the table and walked to the hall closet, only to pull out the sweater and put it on. Then, Aunt Gwen led us into the room with the old photo albums, we sat on the bed and held the delicate old photo albums. At this moment I stood back to look and see Caroline and Camaryn sitting on the edge of the bed, while Aunt Gwen and Uncle Emmitt lean over pointing and telling stories. Stories about their great move to San Diego for the Navy, 'this was our first car' & 'these are our boys when they were babies and now they are grandparents.' As I watched, I saw Aunt Gwen wrap her hand around Uncle Emmitts upper arm and keep it there as to show how much those precious moments held within those books meant to her. 

As we finished up the picture albums, we walked back into the room to sit on the couch and finish reminiscing. We talked about the things we did, the adventures we went on as children, the songs we sang, the life that was instilled in us. We even talked about the small moments-- ones like, the shoes went on the back of the couch the second we walked in, we watch Rockin Reindeer every Christmas, we would sit right outside the kitchen and watch her cook (if you stepped foot in the kitchen, time out). At 22, I still hesitate to walk in the kitchen at their home. It was winding down and as we went to leave Uncle Emmitt told us to open our hand and he gave each of us a tootsie roll. He said "not everything has to change" -- he would always carry tootsie rolls in his pocket and give them to us as we left. We were not the only children that attended their daycare, there was a whopping 12 kiddos at times. It was the best childhood I could have ever imagined. 

We got in the car and I opened my tootsie roll and looked at my two beautiful, grown up sisters and thought back to the times when things seemed more simple. I thought about the things that I do in my own life, that I was taught at such a young age by Aunt Gwen & Uncle Emmitt. They taught me to tie my shoes, they taught me my alphabet, they taught me not to put my shoes on the furniture, how to have manners, say the blessing before you eat, treat everyone the same. And a big one I'm starting to realize now as I get older: Uncle Emmitt use to load me and my daycare pal Bill into the van(we were about 4). We never really knew where we were going but we knew it would be the best trip. He would buckle us into our car seats and to break the silence in the car, he would turn on the Lion King cassette tape and scream along with Elton John to Circle of Life. Our day usually consisted of visiting the nursing home, Solomon Park & CiCis for lunch. 

Looking back now, I thank Uncle Emmitt for singing the Circle of Life and taking us to the nursing homes. Mostly, because I'd like to think that's where the Africa seed was planted. Secondly, for showing me at the age of 4, how important other people are and how important it is to listen to people no matter what age they are. When we went to visit this past week, I was reminded of those many visits Uncle Emmitt use to make and now we were having to visit them. It's a beautiful thing when Jesus places people in your life that aren't your family, but they become your family so quick. 

&& that's the circle of life. 

a baby alive doll, a trampoline & a baby sister

It was Christmas morning, I woke up knowing that Santa came to visit. I had asked for a trampoline and a baby alive. I saw a string leading from the Christmas tree to the trampoline outside. It was very cold that morning so my mom got me dressed and my dad took me outside to jump for a bit. It was covered in ice and I was sliding everywhere. I remember my mom wabbling out the door with her purse in hand saying "Chris, why are you letting her jump?! She is going to mess up her outfit, we don't have time to change- we have to go." We loaded into the car and headed to the hospital. I had my doll and her diaper bag, my Chritmas outfit, my big bow and I was waiting patiently for my next BIG present to be delivered. 

My baby sister. She was born Christmas Day. I was 6 years old and it was the best day ever. I had a trampoline, a doll that peed and a baby sister, who was real. While my momma was pregnant, I always loved sitting on the couch beside her so that I could talk to Caroline. I'd sing her little songs and before I left for school some mornings I would kiss my momma bye and then her belly, so Caroline would know for sure that I loved her. The second I saw her I knew that she would be my best friend. I was so excited about being a big sister. I would finally have someone to play with. 

We had the best childhood any kids could ask for. We lived in the trailer and  Saturday morning were always the best. We would wake up, play and then color ten coloring books full of pages for our parents. I remember her begin so sweet and sensitive. She had the softest spirit of any two year old I've ever been around, to this day. 

But as the story goes-- life changed a bit, we grew up. I met friends from school and instead of it being me and her, it turned into me pushing her away. I would ask her to leave the room so my friends and I could have out slumber parties. We started fighting like sisters do, we moved out of the trailer and into our house and welcomed another baby sister. This brought on a whole new dynamic. Caroline and I both grew up. We were complete opposites. She was in pageants, she danced, she cheered. We were never into the same things-- but we still supported each other so much and we knew how to love one another and the newest member Camaryn. 

It wasn't until I grew up that I realized the responsibility that comes along with being the big sister. It's not just a label or a birthing order. It's literally a duty. I have to be a role model. I have to set an example and honestly until I was 19 years old, I set a terrible one. I argued with them, of course there are still arguments but nowhere near what it was growing up. Sure, we are all still growing up and each still learning so much but I see now the beauty and joy in having sisters. 

I'm writing this blog right after I just got done expressing my emotions to my now 16 year old sister. Who is growing up and learning new things, experiencing new friends and is about to start her junior year of high school. I met some of the new friends the other night and as nicely as I could say it to my sister, I didn't want her to live the same mistakes I did. I want her to stand up for herself, to live strong, to be brave, and to live for Jesus. 

But then I'm reminded of my mother saying the exact things to me when I was 16 years old and it pushing me further and further away. I had to learn on my own. I had to 'be free', I had to experience life or so I thought. I wish with everything in me that I could have bypassed those moments in my life. but I didn't and now I'm here, 22 years old and I'm pretty sure I'm turning gray at the thought of my baby sister who I patiently waited to hold, grow up. 

And that's what she is doing, she is growing up. It is not easy watching them grow up- get boyfriends, have break ups, have friends who I want to scream at, have friends who are there one day and gone the next, have insecurities and cry because this person said this or that. It's hard not wanting to follow them to school just to protect them and watch after them. They were babies when I first met them and sometimes when Caroline holds my hand or Camaryn opens her eyes really wide and does this giggle that she does I'm taken back to the moment, that I fell in love with my baby sisters. 

We have beautiful moments together and I love each and every one of them. We each have our own personality and our own way of expressing our feelings. I've heard people all my life look at my dad and say 'I'm sorry man, you've got your hands full' and my dad jokingly say back 'you got that right'-- but really both my mom and dad have their hands full and they have done an incredible job at raising three girls. They are still doing it and they are awesome parents. I could not be more thankful for them. && just so we are clear when my children turn 15 I'm sending them to their grandparents house. 

the moment that changed it all

I always say August 3rd is the big day that changed my life, but that was the day of travel-- realistically it's August 4th, 2012. We had already made it to Rwanda and we were settling into our rooms. We were jetlag and wanted to sleep, but we put on our 'mission trip clothes' and hit the field. 

We went to our first orphanage, that housed about 150 kiddos, before I left I remembered telling a friend that I was nervous about not making a connection with a child. Little did I know what would actually happen when I got there. I walked up the hill to get to the home and a child snuck up behind me and grabbed my hand-- the fear was instantly gone. Later that day we had stations for crafts and things. I was in charge of making bracelets with the children. One thing I didn't put into the equation was the language barrier. None of these children spoke English but I knew that we had to make the bracelets, so I grabbed the bag of beads and the string and I walked to the classroom. I turned the corner and then 25 bright brown faces with big white smiles shouted with excitement, "teacher, teacher!" 

I have heard people talk about their first encounter with the Holy Spirit, I've heard about how they were at a retreat or at a revival, maybe even a Sunday morning service-- my first encounter with the Holy Spirit was in Kimasagra Orphange in Kigali, Rwanda. When those girls shouted 'teacher' I felt something physically hold me up, it was like I was being literally blown away. I almost fell, simply because I went into this trip  thinking that I was just going to play with kiddos and from that I would have stories to tell for years. 

I was already 'set' in my life, I had a boyfriend, I was a massage therapist, I was going to move to Chicago, but within those 45 seconds my entire life changed. It was like the wall I was hiding behind, the wall labeled "I can't be myself, I don't know who she is" was crushed before my eyes. I walked in and taught the class through a cracked voice. After, we were done making bracelets the girls wanted me to play this game with a bouncy ball. --Side note: I was always the one sitting on the sidelines, I was  always the one who sits quietly while everyone else cracks jokes and plays games. I never wanted to mess up or get made fun of, so I simply didn't do it. I really didn't know how to laugh at myself- - The girls handed me the bouncy ball and waited for me to try the trick, of course I couldn't do it. I was wearing a skirt but I tried and I had them all laughing, I laughed with them. I looked up to see 10 girls standing around me watching my every move and loving the fact that I could laugh at myself. This was the first time that I ever verbally said "thank you, Jesus" and it was for such a simple moment. 

So today two years ago is the day that changed my life, sure there were moments in this trip that wrecked me, but it all started there, in that very moment. I remember coming home from that trip and knowing that nothing would ever be the same. Nothing. And it hasn't. Because I haven't allowed myself to go back to the comforts that's only left me feeling empty. I have been changed, by Jesus. Not by a break up, not by a career change, not by changing churches or even beginning school.

I am changed because on August 4, 2012 I stepped into a huge part of my calling. I made a room full of little girls laugh while I laughed at myself. I heard Jesus through a room full of broken English shouting "teacher," I felt things in my being that I had not felt ever before. I felt loved in ways that I never knew. & while my heart was so full of such rich moments, it also broke at the very thought "Jesus, break my heart for what breaks yours" and he did just that. 

This trip means so much to me because this is when I found me, but most importantly this is where I found Jesus. As I left Africa, I remember looking out the window and feeling like I was forgetting something so important. That something was the old me, I was leaving her there because I was coming home as the one who He created, I was coming home a daughter who knew her worth in the kingdom. I was coming home in love. In love with my creator.