limónes

When you travel the world, you meet some amazing people. They make your heart glad. They make your stay pleasant. And they make leaving so difficult.

But what makes these people amazing are the lessons they teach you. Usually, they have no clue your world is being rocked by the little thing they're doing or saying. And more often than not, you yourself don't realize how much your world is rocked until you're back at home, closing your eyes tightly to remember their faces.

It started with limónes. And with a passage regarding love.

When I was in Camichines, Mexico, I learned a new facet of the diamond of love. You see, I had been reading an incredible book, "An Altar in the World" by Barbara Brown Taylor. This one particular chapter was on 'Encountering Others'. In it, the author talks about her desire to be loved in particular, not in general. She's convinced God intimately knows and loves His children. Even the quirky little things that make an individual different than every other person.

Thursday. March. 24.
There was a plastic crate full of limónes that needed to be cut in half and squeezed into a pitcher to make juice. Myself and another team member recruited some of the kids to help us by using the little metal squeezer as we cut the limónes in half.

Every kid loved the idea of helping until after about 5 minutes when they got bored or distracted. Every kid except one.
For the sake of this blog, I shall call him 'Pedro'.

Pedro is 10 years old and at the time I was there, he spoke very little English ('hello' and 'thank you'). Pedro sat next to me and squeezed a couple hundred limónes. Being able to speak some Spanish, I'd try to get him to talk, asking him about his favorite animal, favorite food, favorite game, etc, but I was lucky to get three words out of him. It was like there was a wall between us. I spent a lot of time encouraging him and his work (in Spanish) to which he would simply smile.

Finally, I decided to brush up on my Spanish by asking him "comó se dice en Español" while pointing to different things. He started to give me the Spanish word for that which I was pointing at. And after some time, I said to him "muy bien". He looked at me and said, "comó se dice en Ingles". So I said, "very good". 'Pedro' smiled a huge grin and said in English, "very good."

The wall between us was broken. The barrier, demolished. We continued the job, listing colors and numbers in English and Spanish. His beautiful smile never faded. And we finally reached the bottom of the crate of limónes, having squeezed all the juice into one, large pitcher.

The previous four days, I had been playing with 8 beautiful children at the Little Ranch with Hope, and though I knew their names, I referred to the 8 children as 'the little kids'. I had built up a wall of safety to make leaving easier, thus neglecting to really be part of the sacred in the time spent swinging and reading and playing. But in this moment with Pedro, I saw in his eyes the past of hurt, the hope of a future, and the love of God. I saw the child for who he was and I loved him in that moment...not for what he had done, or for what he would become. Just love for him.

And now, I spend many minutes staring at this picture...

I spend many minutes praying he has come to know what Love really is. I pray he encounters grace and restoration. And I pray he embraces his individuality, as I have: the awkward dancing, the crooked smile, the gentle hugs, the beautiful brown eyes, the protector-spirit, and the joyful laughter.

And during the minutes I'm not praying, I'm singing this song.

bittersweet

I remember the one time in jr. high I had a cavity. It was not pleasant. It hurt bad. And all I could think about was what I could've done differently.
I should have flossed before bed more regularly.
I shouldn't have drank that Mt.Dew.
I shouldn't have eaten that Snickers.
But it didn't end there... I had to return to the dentist's a few weeks later to get a filling. Many dollars and pain pills later, I had a little piece of gray stuck in the middle of my tooth.
I could no longer brag about my perfect teeth. My mouth was tainted. My pride was brought low.

I haven't had a cavity since that time in jr. high. Because I've learned how to prevent a cavity: electric toothbrush.

I hated the cavity and filling experience. I hated the physical pain. I hated the shame of imperfect teeth. I hated the dentist's office. So I have done everything to prevent that type of pain from ever happening again: electric toothbrush, floss, anti-cavity toothpaste, and limited amounts of pop and candy. I go to the dentist regularly and pray fervently the night before the appointment. Because I don't want another cavity.

The cavity and filling experience was not ideal. And though it's not that big of a deal, it points me to something deeper.

There's worse pain and struggle in life than a cavity. Unemployment, grief, betrayal, surgeries, moving away, bankruptcy...

When your world is shaken, you begin questioning everything you've ever believed in. When it's dark and you can't see the way, your safe room is very appealing. When you've fallen down, it's hard to stand back up. It's hard to move forward. When your heart is heavy, when your eyes are dry of tears, when your head is more confused than ever, what then? Can there be good in the bad?

One of my favorite authors, Shauna Neiquist, has a thing or two to say about this, in her book "Bittersweet."

"Bittersweet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a moment of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in every heartbreak, and that rejoicing is no less rich even when it contains a splinter of sadness.

It's the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul. Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands. Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity.

This is what I've come to believe about change: it's good, in the way that childbirth is good, and heartbreak is good, and failure is good. By that I mean that it's incredibly painful, exponentially more so if you fight it, and also that it has the potential to open you up, to open life up, to deliver you right into the palm of God's hand, which is where you wanted to be all long, except that you were too busy pushing and pulling your life into exactly what you thought it should be. I've learned the hard way that change is one of God's greatest gifts, and most useful tools. Change can push us, pull us, rebuke and remake us. It can show us who we've become, in the worst ways, and also in the best ways. I've learned that it's not something to run away from, as though we could, and that in many cases, change is a function of God's graciousness, not life's cruelty... when life is sweet, say thank you, and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you, and grow."

I don't want to fight the upcoming changes in my life. I want to grow and change and learn to adapt. I want to give thanks in all things. I want to grab life by the horns and face the challenges head on. I want to live utterly confident in a God who will not fail me. I want to give glory to the only God, who is Sovereign and able to take care of me.

The circumstances in my life may not be perfect. I may be uncertain of many things, but that's okay. Because what is happening in my life is not the same as my life. I am not defined by how many cavities I have, or my grades, or my job interviews (or lack thereof).
I celebrate the goodness of life and grow from the difficulties.

As I look at my favorite sweater, it is the snag on the sleeve that reminds me of a time in my life, where my character was developed and I was changed. I see the good in spite of the snag. I see past the gray filling and give thanks for the 32 pearly whites.

heart-smile day

Do you ever have a day that makes your heart smile?
A day where you take off your shoes, and step barefoot onto the cool, luscious grass?
A day where your taste buds come alive like you've never tasted a pineapple before?
A day where you feel alive and whole?

Today was that day.

Today was a heart-smile day.

I started reading a new book: Drops Like Stars by Rob Bell (nevermind the fact that I'm currently reading 4, yes 4, other books)
I discovered two amazing musicians that make your ears feel like jumping up and down for joy.
I played softball with some great people who have zest for life.
I took a long walk with a friend who has a beautiful soul and a wonderful sense of humor...who also happens to be my roommate for only a few more weeks.

Today I made decisions that would make my bestie proud.
I shopped the perimeter of the grocery store.
I ran 10 miles outside...and didn't die :)
I uploaded killer songs on my ipod.
I didn't eat the rest of the Twizzlers.

But the best part of today came in the mail yesterday. It was a letter from the brother of the little boy I sponsor. Who knew a one-page letter, with a tracing of a small, Indian hand could bless me so much...

Today was a heart-smile day.

No, I didn't get an interview or a job offer. No, I didn't cross everything off my to-do list. And no, I didn't find my movie, Up, or my apartment key.

Today was still a heart-smile day.

Because life is about the process, not the end result. Life is about questions and uncertainties. Life is about celebrating and mourning. Life is about becoming more like who we were created to be.

My heart smiles on days like today because I remember there is restoration, hope, and joy. Today, I see pieces of heaven on earth.
I love wearing my favorite sweater.

it's not fair...

I’m watching “Dear John” for the second time today. Pathetic? Probably. But I like it.

The music, the story line, the actors…it’s good. And even though I’ve seen it at least fifteen times, I still cry at the same parts. Yes, there’s the cheesy, Nicholas-Sparks-like love story, but despite that, there’s something deeper that resonates within me.

It’s the twist in the story line, when the good guy doesn’t get the girl. Despite all of his perfect qualities and the deep connection between the two, the girl chooses someone else. And it reminds me that life is like that sometimes. Life is not always fair.

I get it…because today, I lost my apartment key. Perhaps this is no surprise to those who know me well. (Refer to earlier blog) And maybe, this loss is nothing like losing a love.

But it made me sad…no actually it made me angry that this could happen. I had the key labeled and hooked on my key chain. I did everything to prevent this from happening. Yet, when I went to unlock my door, I realized the key was nowhere to be found.

I couldn’t help my mind from racing through all the “good” things I had done earlier in the day, the week, and the month, for that matter. I got on a roll listing off how great I am, rationalizing why something annoying & inconvenient like this should not have happened to me.

Then I checked my email…only to read another email of a job opportunity that I did not receive. I could have moved on to checking the rest of the mail in my inbox, but instead, I grabbed the mental list I made a few minutes earlier and continued right where I left off.

It wasn’t until my list was finished, that I sighed loudly and realized how ridiculous I am. How could I spend 8 days with beautiful, hardworking people, learning how they overcome difficulty only to push it to the back of my memory as I lamented over my difficulty? How could I meet people who walk miles to get clean water and then complain about a lost key? How could I hug the child who was abandoned by her parents and then call my mom just to complain to her? How could I serve a meal to homeless people with no job, and then cry because I didn’t get this one job? Who am I? Am I really that girl?

Since when did life start revolving around me? Did anybody ever say life would be fair?

But when I really think about life not being fair, I smile.

Yes, I lost a key. Yes, I got rejected. And no, life is not fair. The reason I know this is not because poor, pathetic inconveniences occur in my life. No, the reason I know life is not fair is because I am a sinner deserving separation from God, yet I have been redeemed by the blood of Jesus.

As said so eloquently by Relient K, “The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair.”

Instead of moping around because things aren’t happening the way I’d prefer, I can rejoice in the fact that life isn’t fair. I can celebrate the grace I’ve been given. I can acknowledge the tough times, the social injustices around the world, and the difficulties that come with trials. But then, I can smile. There is mercy for the undeserving. There are second chances for us who have messed up. There is healing and restoration because Someone died. It’s not fair that Someone, perfect and faultless, would pay the price for my sins.

Sometimes, it’s not fair.
And so I smile and sing.

two lists...

It's pathetic really, the way I've sat staring at this new blog screen. With great desire and many words, I've been unable to actually blog anything in the last week. Maybe it's because my 'to-do' list has exceeded two post-it notes. Or maybe, it's because I've been working night shifts at my directed study. Whatever the reason I can't seem to blog, I have been busy digesting and processing this recent trip to Camichines, Jalisco, Mexico. And from this, I've created 2 lists.

What I didn't know I missed:
1. Iron Chef America
2. Friends pulling pranks on me (just a little decoration on Galinda the Grand Prix)

3. The slightest breeze
4. Flushing toilet paper down the toilet
5. My eye-lash curler

Top 5 Favorites About Mexico:
1. Mazapan: delicious peanut-buttery candy

2. No bugs
3. Spanish, spanish, and more spanish!
4. Beans, chiles, and tortillas
5. The beautiful people

There are lots of things that were different in Mexico, but God was the same. His grace proved to be sufficient for my weaknesses.

His love transcended language barriers and physical exhaustion. His provision and sovereignty were matchless.