more than enough

Five minute Friday: Enough

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

I have said several times that I am convinced that mission trips are God's version of pesticide. We're only halfway through the summer and already I've reached the end of my rope time and time again. I got back from our annual mission trip to Detroit last night. It was hot and hard and I actually cried myself to sleep one night. Several nights, actually. I'm still struggling to put words to what God's been doing in the past couple months, but I think the heart of it is struggling to be content with how God made me and all the weirdness and worries and questions that brings up. But if I've learned one thing this week, our God actually adores us. Even when we fail to love him and love others the way we should. Even on nights like last night or the night before where I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling and loathe myself. Even when we hide in a corner expecting people to reach out to us and wondering why we feel so alone. The cool thing is we are SO far from being alone. On the last night we're at Military Ave, our seniors have time to share what God has been teaching them, and for each one, I kept thinking--you feel that way too? Here are these brothers and sisters in Christ that I have looked up to ever since middle school, and it turns out they are just as insecure and selfish and human as I am. This week has been an odd mixture of feeling my own weakness and learning to fall on Jesus and cry at weird times and soak it in , and then learning to reach out to other people both to help and be helped. I've learned the value of being brutally honest with those who ask, so that when I'm hurting, I don't have to explain why...because I already have. I've already entrusted a part of myself to them so when I'm at my weakest, I don't have to try to explain it all right there.
I've learned that God actually loves me. That he delights in who I am and am being made into. That wherever I go, he is there and he knows those strange things that others are still learning about me. That I'm the one pushing others away. That I can trust other people with whatever's on my heart and I'm learning to ask the questions that make people trust me. It's a struggle that hurts, but it's drawing me closer to God and those around me in a whole new way, and I'm relearning how good He is and that I am fearfully and wonderfully and beautifully made. That my God is big enough and strong enough and loving enough to trust and draw strength from and cry out to. 

dancing all the way

I got back from my mission trip to Haiti on Wednesday at midnight. The whole week was chockful of great conversations and I'm still kinda thinking everything over, so I guess this is just me thinking out loud, but God's been showing me that he's made me sufficient. That I'm not even close to junk and saying that I'm not __ enough is just a lie that I've believed ever since I can remember. That maybe the things I'm not proud of or I think are embarrassing or weird are what he's using to reach his world. Having cancer, needing extra help in school, having to process everything that much slower. I'm learning that maybe I don't give God enough credit. That he's made me a treasure and someone to be proud of. I'm not sure why that's hard for me to understand, but it is. I had some  great conversations with one of my mentors on that trip, and one of the many things that stuck was how gifts are less what we think we're good at and more of what we care about, what God has spent my whole life forming my heart around.  It still amazes me that God cares about my heart more than what I can do for him. His biggest work of art in my life is shaping me into his image and through me other people as well. And that's just crazy!

This week I also found out that my great grandma had died at five o'clock the night before we left to come back home. After a week of having my heart stretched and grown, I come home to have it broken. By the fact that I can't do anything to help those sweet faces I left behind. By my grandpa being left behind in a nursing home with an empty bed. By the fact that life has not stopped and I still have so much to process and think about. My mind feels like a hurricane these days, and no one emotion stands still long enough to show itself. I've found myself wishing I was back in Haiti. In this strangely beautiful country where little huts of wood and tarp are buried into some of the largest mountains I've ever seen and later taper into exquisite beaches and coastlines. Back with scrawny dogs and half naked children with the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen in my life. With animals running wild and toddlers with bare feet and everything else. With tiny hands twined tight around my own and hearts open wide for these clueless white people to walk right into. I only knew them for a few hours and now I can't get them out of my head, in the best way possible. I hope I can go back someday. It was awkward and painful and uncomfortable, but those kids were unforgettable. Though, maybe when I go back, I'll pick up more Creole before I leave. 

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