7 things in (almost) 7 days

Ever look back at your week and feel like nothing really significant happened, and yet so much happened? That's me, if not on a regular basis, then for sure this past week. It's easy in our fast paced world to see only the busyness before us or the craziness behind us, not recognizing the significance of the moments past or ahead. So often I am baffled by how much I feel I've been through and how much I've grown, yet not being able to verbalize all the things I have learned.

Initially when I looked back at the past week I thought, "eh, nothing really happened." And then all of the sudden my mind drug up, one by one, all the significant and insignificant moments that made my week into one worth remembering. One day I'll probably look back at the week and think only of one or two significant things, but right now when I think of this past week it feels like a perfect snapshot of life at its current stage.

And with that, here are seven things that happened in (almost) the last seven days and the thoughts that came with them. Not that I think they are all great or that you (whoever you may or may not be) care, but to me these things felt worth writing, even if just for myself as I process through them.

Thing 1: I drove to Barstow (yes, Barstow) and went to the drive-in for the first time. 

In all my years, travels and adventures, somehow I never made it as far as the drive-in. After 2 weeks of being held up hostage in my apartment with a cold, and an insane 2 weeks of back-to-back camps for my roommate/friend/travel buddy, we were both itching for adventure. With little money to spare and only a few hours to fill, we came across 2 things, one right after the other, that turned out to be one of the highlights of my summer. First we went to Elmer's Bottle Tree Ranch where we explored the eclectic mind of a sentimental artist who turned out to be just the sweetest, friendliest old man (worthy of a post in itself). Then, after a trip to the local grocery store where we purchased the fixings of a picnic dinner, we ventured to the Barstow Drive-In where we sat, ate m&m's, propped our feet out the windows while laughing, chatting and occasionally letting the outdoor air, twinkling stars and bolts of lightening catch our wandering eyes. As I sat, feet propped out the window I asked my roommate/friend/travel buddy, "do you ever end up somewhere and wonder how the heck you got there?" Well, that was me and this was exactly one of those days. And it was perfect.

Thing 2: I ate macaroons from the frozen section of Trader Joe's. 

It may not sound all that thrilling, but when you have the itch to travel, even the smallest things and slightest flavors have a way of transporting you to another land, and for a heck of a lot cheaper than a plane ticket. I've had this crazy urge to travel lately (more than normal anyways, which is already significant). With a tight budget and plenty of unexpected bills lately I can't imagine how to pull of a trip in the near future, but until that day does come, I will eat macaroons, watch movies about France, read books about Berlin and ask friends, "if you could be anywhere in the worlds right now, where would you be and what would you be doing?" (all of which I have done recently). I may be practical, but I can still be a dreamer.

Thing 3: I danced in the living room, by myself, twice. And I liked it. 

Sometimes you just need to let loose, be silly, and laugh at yourself. This is the perfect way to do just that, and if you can find a few minutes with the house to yourself, I strongly encourage you to try this.

Thing 4: I turned down the opportunity to go to Kenya. 

*Gasp!* I know I know. Why would I turn down the opportunity to go to Kenya when I've already admitted having the travel bug? Well, the truth is, I don't really know why. It was definitely not an easy decision, but one I put a lot of thought and prayer into. My rational reasons include finances and, well, mostly finances. The other part of me just had a gut feeling it wasn't the right timing. As in, YES--go, BUT not right now. I'm choosing to be OK with this answer, trusting there is a reason why and at some point it will make sense. I can't say I am totally happy with my answer, although I am confident I made the right decision. I also can't say I'm not struggling with a bout of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). Insert sad face.

Thing 5: I spent a LOT of money on my car. 

This summer alone I've probably spent at least $1500 on my car. As you can imagine, I don't exactly have that kind of money lying around in the form of spare change around my house, nor do I have a secret sugar daddy to spot the bill. As the expenses first began to arise I was feeling OK. I was being responsible to take care of my car and would make the necessary payments to pay off the debt it took to make the repairs. And then something else came up. And then something else. And then something else. SERIOUSLY?? At this point I've dropped two month's worth of rent on my car and have almost another month's rent left to go. Sorry...I'm venting apparently. Point being, I've spent a lot of money that I don't have and it's actually made me start questioning why I am in ministry and making absolutely no money.  I realize now this is probably exactly what Satan wants me to think, so I have good reason to keep fighting the good fight, trusting God will somehow provide. I'm scared. I am worried I won't ever be able to pay it off nor get "ahead." But in this moment I am choosing to trust. Eventually the truth with sink in...right?

Thing 6: I went to a conference. 

I went to a conference for work and it made me think and question a lot of things in my life. What do I need to let go of in life? How should I be structuring my life in order to have a healthy and balanced life? What new things am I being called to? What is God trying to show me right now? Sure, these are always questions I have, but some of them started to sink in a little more deeply. Like, maybe I should actually pursue the answers to these questions. This one is definitely a TBD...

Thing 7: I forgot to bring a promised dish to a potluck. 

I went to a potluck this morning and previously replied to a group Evite that I would bring dessert. As I picked up a friend and she hopped in the car she asked, "aren't you bringing something to the party?" to which I immediately replied with curse words and burying my head in my hands out of shame and frustration. Then I had two options of what to do. The old me would have freaked out, stopped at the grocery store or closest place to get a semi-nice/presentable dessert, buy a platter to put it on, and spend money I don't have to cover my failure. Instead, the new me texted the hostess, kindly apologized and let her know I forgot the dessert, and asked if it was worth me stopping to pick something up on the way. Thankfully she replied graciously and said not to worry about picking anything up on the way, that we would have enough food without my addition, or lack thereof. CRISIS AVERTED. See? Look how far I have come in 26 and a half years. *Pats self on back* "Way to go, Allison. Way to go."

There you have it. 7 things in almost 7 days. So much from an otherwise uneventful week in my life.

What happened in the last seven days of YOUR life?

About My 20's

I could spend days writing about life in my 20's and still not be able to explain these years adequately nor understand them to begin with. As a 20-something each day begins with a pregnant pause of anticipation-What's to come? What does this day hold? Who will cross my path? Moments pass by at a snail's pace, and then before you know it you're living an entirely different life than you were just 6 months ago. It's impossible to keep up with the days, each one abandoning me before I have the chance to get even the slightest grip on it. I know I am being shaped and formed into the person I will one day say I am, but there is no way now for me to tell you who that will be. You actually probably have a better idea of who I am than I even do.

20's are about so many things. They are about forging relationships and breaking the bad ones off. They are about being broken and rebuilt. They are about late nights with best friends driving down PCH with music blasting out the windows and about gaining and losing weight as if your life depends on it. 20's are about spur of the moment adventures with no one to answer to and road trips to destinations off the beaten path. In your 20's you scrimp by to make ends meet, and sometimes choose to forget you're broke and spend the money anyways. In your 20's there are a tears and college debt and more cartons of ice cream that I'd like to admit. From 20-29 a lot happens and a lot changes. Despite being one decade, both ends couldn't look more different.

Tonight, being a 20-something meant dancing in my living room to music blaring from my iPhone simply because that sounded like a heck of a lot more fun than a run, walk, or popping in some boot camp-kick-your-ass DVD. As you may have read, I went through a really difficult season not too long ago, although it's starting to feel further and further away from my present. I struggled and fought and cried in the shower until I could get myself together just enough to play normal.

But now I'm on the other side and I'm ready to have fun. I'm choosing to believe the rest of my 20's will be marked by joy. In these next few years I will laugh with friends and more importantly, laugh at myself. I will travel. I will sing as I drive at the top of my lungs knowing full well the car next to me bears witness to my insanity. I will dance in my living room on a Thursday night, music as loud as my little phone can manage, leaving a sink full of dishes and 4-day old pile of laundry to fend for themselves. I will do all these things in the name of joy, for the sake of my sanity and enjoying the life I've been given.

I dream and yet I wait

I'm sad for not having written more this summer-to save the memories in my personal time capsule. But on the other side, it's been a memorable summer, one where I'm not sure ill need documentation in order to remember the bits and pieces that have filled my days. It's a wonderous thing, what time will do for you.

Just last summer I was going through the motions awaiting something. What? I did not know and still don't fully grasp. But I see God at work. I see what he has done and what he is doing. Not long ago I was very seriously considering some major life changes. Moving, quitting, starting over. But something inside me, the Holy Spirit I suppose, kept me from making those life altering decisions. Something in me said, "not rigt now, I have something else for you." I did not understand and honestly wanted nothing more than to ignore those words and do what I wanted to do.  But I knew better. And besides, I'm fortunately/unfortunately one of those people who always does the right thing, no matter how much I wish I could let that go sometimes.  Anyways, I chose to follow that voice telling me to stay with one stipulation-if I'm gonna stay, I need a reason to stay.

Somehow through a series of events, opportunities, and changes I took the bold step to knock on some doors. More specifically, I put myself out there, feeling vulnerable and unguarded, for a new job opportunity. Well, that job didnt work out for me, but that did open the door for something I never saw coming a year go. The position I know hold (a promotion) was a job that just a few months prior I told friends I would never be interested. The position seemed awful and a drag-something that would tie me down to a career path I wasn't sold out to.

But then I started to see the job through new eyes. What once seemed miserable left, simplifying the job before me to it's bare bones, ready to be fattened up again in a new and fresh way. And apparently I was the one to do the fattening. I can't say I feel fully equipped for this job. I was well prepared for it in many ways, but honestly feel like I am beig taught more than I'm teaching. I can't say yet that I'm a benefit to others. Each day I walk into work I play boss. I am playing my new role and figuring it out as I go along. I'm in a learning curve that I know God has called me to. My time is not finished in ministry. Whatever step he has for me ahead he is preparing me for now. The things I'm learning now are different than the last 5 years, and feel very specifically designed for me to learn. As if God has a check off list of things he wants me to learn. I went through phase one and now I'm moving to phase two. I have a feeling these phases may never end.

I wonder what's in store. I wonder what lies ahead for me. But I know I've been called to this time and the season will be short. Ill never get these days back nor will I experience life the way I am today. Tomorrow will be a new day and I will lose the opportunity to experience today first hand. All I can do is live today being fully present, taking with me what God is teachig from the moments he has given me. I dream and yet I wait, savoring the moments before me and stowing them away in my pocket like a treasured coin or favorite toy.

Filling in the Pieces

It's been too long since I last wrote. I know this because there is an ache inside of me craving to put pen to paper, words to screen. 

I'm in a season of life, like everyone on the planet, where time passes by and it feels as though nothing has changed and yet everything has changed. After meeting up with friends I haven't seen in a while they tend to ask, "so what's new?" and I have nothing to say. While that's partly true, it's never entirely true. Where my life may sometimes lack visible, tangible or countable changes, There is always something going on inside of me. In the depths of my soul God is working things out, slowly bringing me into new chapters of life. As an introvert I am always thinking. I've been told that people are either past or  future minded, always living in one or the other state. I know for a FACT I am of the future minded thinkers, always dreaming of the future and what's to come. What will my life be like in 5 years? When will I have a family? When and where will I move? What will I do for work? Where will I travel? WHAT IS GOD'S PLAN FOR MY LIFE?

That last question. That one is the one ever present question that just never seems to get answered or go away. I'm realizing  however that I am IN God's plan. I am living it right now. If only I could be more present in that reality. Always a work in progress...

I'm truly enjoying life though. For once in a long while I can say I am genuinely happy. Things are not perfect, but overall I am in a good, healthy place. I feel normal! I'm choosing to believe that I am healed of depression. Healed of anxiety. Healed of my sleep issues. The first two I see the results, the last one I believe even though I don't see it. God is at work and not finished. The kinks are being worked out...the food, the sleep, the schedule. I'm figuring out what makes me happiest and how to have more of that in my life. My goal for 2013 was to just be happy. At the start if this year all I wanted wasting be filled with joy and live a happy life. Well, it's only July and I've succeeded this far! Who needs weight loss goals and bucket list items to cross off when you can just be happy!? After all, is t that the whole point of New Year's Resolutions? To do things that will make you happy? Well I say just cut to the chase then...just be happy! I know, easier said than done, but like my mom says, sometimes you just have to just have to decide on something and let God fill in the pieces! 

Speaking of which, I decided to contact someone at my church about being interested in the Kenya trip for November. So many things brought me to that point, enough that the reasons alone are worth another post entirely. As of now, I don't know if I am approved or able to go, but I feel as though I've taken the first step and now it's time for God to fill in the pieces if that is his desire for my life. Only time will tell, but at least the clock is ticking. 

Allison Elizabeth 

Jealousy and Joy

Part of growing up, particularly in your 20's, means discovering the best and worst parts of yourself. As I get older I become more and more secure about who I am as a person, what my gifts are and what I'm good at. At the same time, it's also a season where I am beginning to recognize the severity of my faults. I may be young and still have a lifetime of learning ahead of me, but after 26 years I've managed to spend a lot of time with myself and figure out a few things in the process. 

 

This week I've discovered both sides of the coin, seeing faults in myself that I've always known were there to some extent, while also seeing some of the unique gifting God has blessed me with. 

Growing up with very little I have always found it far too easy to compare myself to others, using their life to gauge how much or little I had. Not only that, but I use others to gauge my weight, my beauty, success, intelligence, gifts...you name it, I've compared it. In comparing myself I not only judge others but myself. Somehow I am always better or worse than someone else. 

This I hate about myself. 

So, after 26 years and a whole lot of comparisons, I've realize that I am a jealous person. I envy the lives of others, being ungrateful for what I have been given. "The grass is always greener on the other side" but it's true if you were in my shoes. At least that's what motto I've become victim to. It's like I have this perfect life in my head of what I have and who I am perceived to b and I'm fighting for all of it to be true. Instead of living the life I have and embracing all of it's parts, I see others and wish I had what they had. The job. The schedule. The boyfriend-fiance-husband. The kids. They home. The adventures. The life. In the process of wanting all those things I have become completely ungrateful for the life I have. It's an ugly thing and an ugly place to be. 

On the other side of the coin, I have moments watching other people "succeed" in life where I could not be happier for them. I literally have so much joy for them I cannot contain it, nor do I know what to do with it. In those moments---a new job, marriage, child---nothing about my life matters. All I can think about is how exciting this is for them, what a blessing it is to be a part of it, and how I cannot wait to see what God will do in the lives of these friends, near and dear to my heart. 

The joy I feel in these moments is totally selfless. 

Reflecting back on both emotions, it's easy to choose which way I'd rather feel. Jealousy or joy? It's not even a hard question. No person on earth would choose to feel jealous. But the thing is, although joy is the obvious answer, choosing joy doesn't give you all of your heart's desires. Choosing jealousy totally eradicates the possibility of joy. Choosing joy means giving up all sense of desire replacing it with a love that is selfless. When jealousy is present there is no joy, when true joy is present there is no jealousy. 

If joy is the obvious answer, why do I so often fall back on jealousy? Like I said, it's an ugly emotion no person wants or wants to be around. Honestly, when jealousy is present I don't even want to be around myself. 

I think it's time to choose joy. It may not be easy -- if it were I would have done it already. I don't honestly even know how to do this fully. But if the first step is acknowledging and accepting where my heart is at, then I can at least say I've done that. First step: check. Second check: Lord help me. 

A Toast

For Becky and Francis on their wedding day...

It's a little bit baffling to me that I have the privilege of standing next to Becky and Francis on their Big Day. In the grand scheme of things I've only really known Becky for three years, and Francis only the last year. But if in a year Becky and Francis can meet, fall in love, and marry, then I guess it's possible for me to end up next to them as they cinch the deal. 

Through my friendship with Becky I've learned that it doesn't take a lot of time to become part of someone's "home team" but it does take a lot of laughter, tears, and a few trips to El Ranchito. What I mean by the "home team" is the people in your life who know your best and worst and love you anyways, the people you call when your car breaks down or meet you for yogurt just days before your wedding for your last "single-girls'-hurrah." The people on your home team let you interrupt study sessions when you're having a meltdown and they come alongside you for moral support as you rummage through one sample sale after the other. 

In the case of Becky and Francis their home team got to be there at what became the start of Becky and Francis. We got to watch as Becky ran to the kitchen to hide behind the fridge as Francis showed up at the front door for the first time-braces on and backpack ready to go. We were there to wish them off on their first date and to convince Becky to give Francis a shot when just five minutes out the door we got texts saying that Francis was "too skinny" and that it "wasn't gonna happen." Well, as we can all see, it did happen, and on behalf of your home team we couldn't be happier to celebrate this day with you. So on this memorable day, we pray for bountiful blessings, an abundance of chubby babies, and most importantly, for a marriage that gives us all something to aspire to.  

To Becky & Francis!

(Inspired by "The Home Team" in Shauna Niequist's Bittersweet) 

The 2nd Greatest Commandment

One of the greatest, most memorable and eye-opening thing I learned in college also happens to be the hardest thing for me to live out. It's a great piece of knowledge, something everyone should know. To know it is wise, to live it even better. It comes from the passage in Scripture about the greatest commandment...

"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" 

Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." 

Matthew 22:36-40 

It's a passage many of us have heard, practiced, memorized or had drilled into us..."love your neighbor as yourself"..."love the Lord your God with all your heart..." but many of us miss something vital in those words. Most people see that we should 1) Love God and 2) Love your neighbor. The thing most people miss, though, is that in order to love our neighbor as ourselves, we must first, love ourselves. So the order really goes...

1) Love God
2) Love yourself
3) Love your neighbor

The first time someone pointed this out to me, actually, the ONLY time someone pointed this out to me, I was dumbfounded. As a self-proclaimed church kid I was completely sold on the concept of loving God and putting everyone else first. Seems accurate, right? I mean, after all, God did send his Son to the earth to die for everyone else....Jesus was the ultimate example of humility.

The way God worked it out though, is that to love others I must love myself. If I can't love myself, how can I be an example of love to others? Personally I find it difficult to love others when I don't love myself because when I loathe myself the way I often do, I get so wrapped up in my own pity party that I don't even have time to think about others (unless of course I'm comparing myself to them, which only elicits more hatred).

Like most people, I go through phases. This last week I was in a "I hate my life and every part of myself" phase. I had every reason and no reason to feel the way I've felt. I've spent most of my days insecure about how I look and what I have, feeling totally inadequate as a woman, a christian, a friend and human. I've cried. I've worn workout clothes to avoid my closet and the inches hidden around my waist. I've complained and been irritated and vented to friends, my mom, my sister.... I've been in one heck of an ugly phase, but I think I'm moving on. It's time I start loving myself for more than what I look like, and at the same time...it's time to learn to love how I look no matter what I'm wearing, if I've worked out enough this week, no matter what the number on my scale says (which I actually don't even know because I refuse to step on it).

I want to love me because God loves me. Because he has grace on me and loves me despite my flaws. He loves unconditionally and it's time I start doing the same.

Love Just.

Every.Single.Day

I have more adrenaline than I know what to do with right now. I guess that's what happens when you spend the majority of the day in bed, on your way to bed, or talking yourself into why being in bed is what you should be doing at a given moment. But that's what Sundays are for though, right? 

In other news, I did something really bold and uncomfortable today. I went out of my comfort zone and took a leap of faith. 

I don't know if I've mentioned it here, I don't think I have actually, but I have this sort of weird eat-sleeping disorder thing. It doesn't have a name, I don't know it's source or why I do it. No one has yet to figure it out nor have they found a solution for it. I've seen doctors, a nutritionist, and a therapist. I've changed my diet, my sleeping habits, taken supplements and tried to get more vitamin D. I exercise, I eat healthy foods, and I'm gluten free. I've tried to talk it out, talk to myself, and ignore it all the same. But nothing seems to work. Absolutely nothing.  

So here it is (it's simple really): I wake up, every-single-night after I've fallen asleep to eat. I go straight for the kitchen, have what is sometimes a small snack, sometimes something more hearty. Sometimes I wake up 2-3 times for the same purpose, usually an hour or two after falling asleep. I am aware of what I am doing. I know that I am eating and I generally remember the experience the next morning. However, I am most definitely NOT in control of myself as I do it. What I eat varies each night, having nothing to do really with what or how much I ate prior in the day. 

As you can see, this is kind of a weird thing. It's actually really uncomfortable and even embarrassing to talk about. I must admit there is quite a bit of shame involved in the whole thing. It's an area of my life I cannot control. It's weird. It's not normal. And it's very disruptive. Sometimes it ruins my day, starting off on such a negative foot. It used to ALWAYS ruin my day...I'd say the night eating got to it's worst when I was at my worst. I don't know if my depression caused the night eating, or if the night eating caused (in some way) the depression. Either way, they felt one and the same. Thankfully I am no longer struggling with depression. Anxiety on occasion and insecurities more often than I would like to admit. But depression is, in my opinion, a thing of the past. 

Which brings me back to today. I've had this feeling in my gut for the last few weeks that I should seek prayer for this issue. I've asked for prayer at various times from various people about it, but never from someone right in front of me who would take time in that very moment to lay hands on me and pray for actual spiritual and physical healing. Today was the day I decided to seek such a thing out.  

My church offers every single weekend for people to be prayed over by our church elders for physical and spiritual healing. I've always thought this was great, but never felt I had a reason to go. Until now. I was prayed over by a pastor a few years ago over something in my life, and I remember that time as a very memorable turning point. If it worked then, why wouldn't it work now? I know prayer doesn't work like that necessarily...it's not a "do this then that" kind of thing, but when you get to your wits end with no answer no solution and nowhere to go, it becomes your one and only hope. I know, however, that prayer should be my FIRST go-to, but that's unfortunately not my nature...or anyone's really. It's something I'm working on... 

Today, after church, I slowly sauntered over to the space I assumed was reserved for prayer. I wasn't sure how the whole process worked, but I walked in knowing I would soon find out. Immediately I recognized the woman who checked me in--a receptionist at the church. And then before I knew it I saw a good friend and her family walk in. I acted as "normal" as possible, inside feeling more uncomfortable than I have in a while. I swear, it was like buying tampons from the cute check-out boy or running into your mom's friend at the gynecologist's office. I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, but there it was...shame...popping up at a key time. 

The prayer time itself was brief and purposeful. The elder, who also happened to be my boss' husband *awkward* anointed me with oil and prayed over me. I walked out feeling much the same as when I walked in, this time with a greasy forehead and a tiny, minuscule glimmer of hope. Not much...I wish that glimmer was more like a ray, but it's a start. I know my God is more powerful than I could ever possibly imagine and I am choosing to trust that he can and WILL heal me when he so pleases. I am useless. Nothing I do or say will make me more worthy of healing. I am on my hands and knees, giving it all over to him. And I will continue to do so every.single.day. 

Just Write

Sometimes I get the impulse to write, even though I don't necessarily have anything to write about. I love writing, but tend to pressure myself into always writing with purpose, write well, and write what makes sense. But sometimes, when you're a writer, you can't always make all three happen. If you're one of those awesome published people, then sure, you probably can, but I am not one of those people. I would one day like to be one of those people, but until that day comes, I will continue to just write.

I've had at least three four different blog titles I've written under in the last five years, each one with a slightly different theme matching the season of life I was in. At the same time, each one has become less and less specific, but with basically the same undertones (20's, growing up, faith, job, friends, travel, life, learnings). After all, I am only one person with only so many different perspectives on life. There was "Gluten FreeDumb", there was "Scribbles",  then there was "Anthropology of a Girl" and now "Love Just Write". For one OCD reason or another I always want what I am writing about to match the blog title. I didn't want to talk about my feelings about being in my 20's under the title of what was supposed to be a food blog. And when I didn't want to talk about crafts or shopping anymore, I switched over to Love Just Write.

At a certain point under each title I always seemed to hit a wall with nothing to say, so I stopped writing. Then to fix that, I would write some version of a "rambling" post just to get me in the motion of writing. It was my way of telling myself, "you don't have to be perfect, it doesn't have to make sense. Just write!" I'm a  perfectionist at the core, which can be really great, or really debilitating. I'm trying to work through the debilitating part...be ok with imperfection because the imperfect things are the things I love most in life. Art. People. Flowers. Nature. Questions. Writing. I love the personality, wisdom, and learnings that comes with imperfection...be it in a person, situation, or writing. It's freeing. It makes me feel normal. It gives me a sense of peace and a little bit of hope. It tells me, you're ok.

As you can see, my journey to Love Just Write has taken some time. Do I have followers? No. Do I even have a fancy layout for my blog? No. I don't really have any of that. But I do have a safe place to write whatever I want. To talk about all the things and people I love. To talk about what it means to love justly and a place to just write.

Even as I started this post, I had only jumbled thoughts and feelings to account for. I could have let that scare me away from writing, but I didn't. I love writing. I love what it does for my soul and I hope one day it can bring that same pleasure and peace to someone else's. In the meantime, I will continue to just write.

Week 1 -- "My Mom's Blueberry Crisp"

1. In "My Moms' Blueberry Crisp," Shauna tells us about her food memories and the foods served around her family's table when she was growing up. What are some of your memories from your family's table during your childhood? [Shauna Niequist, Bread and Wine] 

Mixed with Love 

I guess you could say I've been a lifetime foodie. Growing up I often used the phrase "born on the second pew" to explain to people my relationship with the church. As the youngest of four kids I made it to church for the first time just weeks after my arrival and I haven't looked back since. Sure, there were those few years in college where sleeping in and a late breakfast in the caf became my Sunday routine, but as a church employee who now runs three weekend services every single weekend, I like to think I've made up for that time-and then some.

My relationship with food started just the same. In fact, one of my very first memories as a pre-schooler involves food. I vividly remember waking up in the middle of the night, hungry, and went straight to my mom's room for help. As a shy little girl I must have been more than hungry to actually wake my mom up in at such an un-ideal time. I didn't and still don't like to inconvenience people with my needs, so I must have been pretty desperate. With my stomach growling, my mom's hair up in one of those messy, mid-sleep buns and her cream quilted silk robe that zippered up the front, we walked down the stairs to our dark, wall-papered kitchen for a mid-night snack. Early as it was, my mom eager to get both her and I back to bed, my mom threw together the first and easiest thing that would satiate my appetite. White bread smothered in creamy unsalted butter. From that moment on, I was in love.

It's hard to choose a favorite recipe, meal, or food memory from my childhood. I am a firm believer that anything made by my mother's hands is better than anything by my own. Meatloaf. Spinach Casserole. Tostadas. Cranberry Bread. Peanute Butter and Jelly. You name it, it's better when mom makes it. I think it must have something to do with love. There really is nothing more comforting than a homemade meal and the love and conversation that comes with it.

If there was one food that my childhood centered around, it would have to be Texas Sheet Cake. I have more memories around that than any other and the legacy continues on year after year. With my grandpa from the south and my grandma from Louisiana, we ended up with a handful of southern recipes in our repertoire...and I couldn't be more thankful for every one of them.

One of the beauties of a large family is the plethora of birthdays that gathered us around the table on what felt like a monthly basis. With minimal finances to spread around much less splurge on a birthday, my mom made it a priority to celebrate each of our birthdays with our meal and dessert of choice. Corrina always chose Texas Sheet Cake. Daniel always homemade Lemon Merengue Pie. Missy usually Carrot Cake. And myself-I liked to switch it up, but with my birthday so near (and occasionally on) Thanksgiving, pie was a frequent dessert of choice. While TSC was the showcase on Corrina's birthday, somehow we found an excuse for it at least a solid half-dozen times a year. Grampse's birthday? Texas Sheet Cake. Memorial Day? Texas Sheet Cake. Sunday afternoon? Texas Sheet Cake. Potluck? Texas Sheet Cake.  Saturday Morning? Texas Sheet Cake. As you can see, TSC was a frequent bystander at family "events".

With it's moist interior and lumpy glazed frosting melted into every crevice and corner, no one can deny the beauty of TSC. Everyone has their favorite slice-most of us kids fighting over a corner (for the additional frosting) or the middle (for the additional moisture). It's always better the next day, but who can promise it will even be there? In the warmth of our San Diego climate, most things ended up in the fridge for us--hiding from heat and the ants that came with it. TSC was no different, other than the communal fork that laid hidden in the crumbs under the protection of plastic wrap that was hardly necessary. Bite after bite TSC lasted little more than a day in our house and for good reason. I'm sure this had much to do with the additional adolescent pudge that found it's way to my mid-section. But who cares? I had my good friend, TSC to thank for it.

With the discovery of gluten sensitivities in a handful of us as adults, TSC makes a few less appearances throughout the year. But when it does, even I, gluten allergies and all, are willing to splurge and sacrifice the potential threat it imposes for just a few luscious and memorable bites of heavenly goodness. Slowly we've spread the recipe amongst a few close friends that appreciate it's goodness as much as we do. But even in the hands of others, it's still not as good as when mom makes it. My brother is convinced mom does something different to it when she makes the recipe. I'm convinced too, but I'm pretty sure it has more to do with love and prayers she stirs into it than a pinch of this or spoonful of that. Food is pretty great, but so much better mixed with love.

Allison Elizabeth 

Reminiscing

Sleep has yet to take hold of me tonight. Every so often I close my eyes or press my head in the fluff of my pillow, hoping the night will steal me away, but over and over my mind becomes stimulated with thoughts of life...who I am, who I was, who I want to be, and how I got to where I am today.

Such thoughts got me to thinking about what's to come, which is one of me very best friend's wedding in just a few weeks. As the maid of honor (with a matron on my side), I am therefore responsible for giving a speech. While these types of things aren't my favorite, they doesn't worry me.

Thinking of this speech led me to digging through some old pictures. And, well, you know how that goes. One thing leads to another, leads to another, and to another. For a girl without Facebook, I did some quality stalking tonight. Looking at photo after photo from the last 5 years felt like I was snooping on someone else's life. The difference here, however, is that I actually remember the moments that made these photos. I remember how I felt and what we did and the season of life I was in.

As I get older I realize that in time all things soften. The details of such memorable moments begin to fade and the emotions attached feel like they belonged to someone else.

Like I said before, looking at each photo reminds me of so much. The joy and the laughter. The places I've been and the moments that defined friendships. I also remember some of the fears and pains that plagued me during specific seasons. While it felt as thought life were inching by at a snail's pace, I look back and see how much I have done, how much I've accomplished, who I have met, the relationships that have changed, and the woman I've become through it all. Despite the hard things, many of which I would have traded in for table scraps, I like to think I've become a better person through it all. I am not the same as I was 5 years ago. I have seen the world and learned a lot about who I am, faults and all. I have also gained strength and character, which I deemed undesired and unnecessary long ago.

I am happy to take with me the lessons I've learned, experiences I've had, and the people I've met along the way. But I'm also happy to leave behind the pain that tortured me on so many days. It's so easy for me to remember the hard stuff (even though it softens in time) forgetting all the great memories of things past. I look back and realize how much I had to celebrate in those seasons, even the difficult ones. Even in the midst of pain I was able to laugh with friends and laugh at myself. I often take things too seriously. I get caught up in the moment and overwhelmed by my thoughts. Now I look back and think, "what was I so worried about?" In many of the pictures I saw tonight I remembered how I felt taking or looking at each photo:

• fat
• alone
• unsuccessful
• exhausted
• useless
• ugly
• unloveable 

These words are so harsh. It pains me to think I spoke those words to myself, especially when I look back and think how ridiculous I was to feel that way! But you know what? I still use those words. I still fight myself, putting down every part of my being. I've learned, but I still struggle to love and embrace myself for who I am. Perhaps if I starting loving myself then I would stop believing the lies. Actually I know that's true. But what comes first? Not hating myself or actually loving myself? Perhaps both. 

I think it's time I start living in the truth of who I am and was created to be. No more lies. 

Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist

I've become a little obsessed with author Shauna Niequist in the last few years. She was first introduced to me by my dear friend Brooke who was and still is convinced her second book, Bittersweet was the perfect book to read in the midst of any kind of transition. Graduations, your 20's, getting married, motherhood, etc. I happened to be (and still am) in my 20's "transition". After reading Bittersweet for the first time, I fell in love and eagerly attempted to convince everyone I knew to read her book. And if they didn't jump on the bandwagon right away I made it a priority and personal challenge to buy the book for them as a gift whether it was their birthday or perhaps just a rough day.

Since then I've bought and given away numerous copies of her first two books (Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet). Ironically, I don't even own a copy of Bittersweet anymore...I've happily left two personal copies in the hands of my sister (and the abyss that is her home where it was seemingly lost) and those of a dear friend who needed to read it just as much as I did.

Somehow I have still managed to read Bittersweet 2-3 times, and Cold Tangerines at least twice. Both have brought such insight, wisdom, and value to my life. Some of my fondest memories from the last few years involve sipping cups of coffee while soaking in every word of whichever of Shauna's books I happen to be in, while lounging about in my most comfy gray sweats and a sweater large enough to fit two of me. The only thing missing from such glorious days are Shauna herself, who I would one day like to thank for all she has done for me and the women I love most dearly. I did get a chance to hear her speak and take a photo with her recently. But perhaps one day we will grab coffee while overlooking the vast blue sea smothered in sunlight and I will get to properly thank her.

Until that day comes, however, I will continue reading her books and supporting her work. I most recently finished her third book, Bread and Wine, that came out just weeks ago. With a different angle but equal insight, this book also speaks to my soul. In attempt to set aside some "self-care" time in my life, I've decided to work through the four-week book club/cooking club discussion guide that's included at the end of Bread and Wine. Down the road I'd love to go through this with some of the people I love and hold dear to my heart, as Shauna intended, but until then I need to love on myself in the brief moments I have between workouts and working, meals and meetings, get-togethers and pre-wedding craft nights. After all, there is nothing wrong and absolutely everything right with a little self-care.

I've learned a lot lately...

Everyone (I use this term loosely) always (again, a loose term) says how much they've learned through a given season. I believe them, and sometimes I catch myself saying the same thing. While I fully believe other people saying it, any time I say it I think to my self, "well, ya, but like what?" In my minds it's always just been another way of saying, "I've been through a lot lately." I know that through trials wisdom is gained purely from an experience standpoint, but if someone were to ask me of a specific thing I've learned recently I'd probably say something like, "well, I've learned that depression sucks."

However, I actually feel like I have learned things lately. Tangible life lessons that are worth remembering and continuing to put into practice. I believe there is power in speaking something and putting it into words, so instead of letting those learnings get lost in my spaghetti brain, I'll write them here. More for me than for you (who I'm pretty sure doesn't exist), but if ever my thoughts become useful to someone else, then glory be. At least then I know my pains and struggles and learnings are worthwhile to more than just me.

#1 Don't procrastinate
Sounds simple right? Probably something you've been told since you were a kid and put off your science project or math homework until the very last minute. Apparently things turn out better when you aren't rushed doing them or stressing at the last minute to figure something out. I've learned recently not to procrastinate for a very different reason. I tend to worry about things that bring fear, that turn into anxiety, that make me avoid said things, hoping the issue will deal with itself. I know now that the issue will NOT deal with itself, and if you simply handle said issue early on, then surprise! No more anxiety.

#2 Just breath
It may sound silly, but sometimes I forget to breath. It usually happens when I am worried about something and thinking too hard. All of the sudden I catch myself taking a breath and think to myself, "have I been breathing this whole time?" I'm pretty sure I haven't been, which can really do a number on the body. It's on days when I stop breathing that I end up with all kids of stomach cramps and bloating. And we all know that does wonders for the already present stress at hand. So all day, every day, just breath. It can solve a myriad of problems.

#3 Nothing good or bad lasts forever
This is my mom's saying. She has a few, but this is one is my favorite. It's most helpful in the hard seasons for obvious reasons, but also forces you to appreciate the good times. Knowing a hard season will eventually end is more helpful than I could possibly describe. It truly is like the light at the end of the tunnel. Looking back, after the year I've had, and recognizing how far I've come and how much healthier I am shows that this statement is true. Even when you're at your worst, thinking life itself is over, it's really not. Eventually you will start to take baby steps towards a healthier place.

#4 You're harder on yourself than anyone will ever be
That's all.

#5 If you just start moving...
eventually you will get out of the funk you are in
eventually you will enjoy what you're doing
eventually life won't seem so heavy
eventually the end of the day will come, and tomorrow is a new day

#6 Good friends will fight to stay friends
Even through the most difficult seasons, if you're willing to fight through it, then it's probably worth it to stay friends. Sometimes friends disagree. Sometime friends aren't very friendly at all. But if you're willing to stay in the game, even when it's hard, then chances are it's worth the fight.

#7 You can't be friends with everyone.
It's just that true. You can be friendly with everyone, but there just isn't always (usually) enough room in life to maintain a deep level of friendship with all those who cross your path. At a certain point there just isn't enough time in the day, week, or month to keep up with everyone to the extent you might want to. I meet new people, great people, all the time. I see how great they are and want to be their friend, but it's just not always possible. And that's ok. This doesn't mean you can't make new friends or add people to your life, but doing so does force you to prioritize the people and time in your life very carefully. It's important to be open to new, meaningful relationships, but don't kick yourself if you can't grab coffee with everyone who says you should.

#8 If you lay down on a Sunday, you will fall asleep. And it will prevent you from going to bed at a normal hour later that day.

#9 Caffeine makes me happy

Love Just

A lot can change in a year. When I think back of this time last year, I was a mess and an absolute disaster. My mind was suppressed by the weight of the world and I could cry at the drop of a hat. Nothing was good. Everything was overwhelming. And in every moment of every day it felt like there was no way out.

People said, "this will change," or "it won't be like this forever." I wanted to believe them but when your pillow is wet with tears and your heart feels like it's been shredded into a million pieces, it's hard to imagine a life any different.

But here I am, a year later, and it is different. The things I never thought would change have. And some of the things I've dreamt of for years have finally come to fruition.

I told God a long time ago that I was done building character. After a lifetime of "character building" I felt like I had enough. Already it felt like I had more character than anyone in my immediate life. I figured if everyone else can get through life with minimal character building, then I could too.

God had different plans though. He still has a different plan for my life. I am through one of the most painful seasons of my life and finally on the other side, but I know there will be more. I know God still wants to teach and train and make me more like him. In my human nature and surplus of sin the only way to make that happen is by going through situations that build character and bring wisdom.

As the saying goes, "what goes around, comes around," life has a way of working itself out. Like I said, the things I never imagined actually happening have started happening, and it gives me hope for what's to come and the great plan God has for me.

I can't help but want to share this with others. I want to walk through life with people and give them hope when they are hopeless, cry when they cry, listen when they complain, and point it all back to Jesus. Not all just in my words, but in my actions and ability to love without reserve or judgement.

Like the title of this blog, I want to love just. Not in the ways I think are right or what the world tells me is normal. My God is just. He loves just. And I want to love just like him. I am learning how to do that. It's a learning curve, and one I will always be on, but in time I pray that I would love the way he loves my imperfect, cold, dark heart.

Here's to the story of Easter, the day when Jesus showed the ultimate action of love. No action I ever take will ever compare to what he did that day. Today I am thankful for the love, patience, and plan he has for me.

Thank you. 

Allison Elizabeth

Thank You

It's days like today when I have to thank God for his timing. For his provision and plan for my life. I do not know all the pieces, only the next step, and for now, that's enough. God is enough. His plan is more than I can imagine. I often doubt he is doing anything with me. That I was created and left aside to dry up like old clay, not worth the kiln, cracking all over from the drought that comes from within.

But I am his. I am useful and being used. I am loved despite my flaws. I am forgiven in my sin. I am imperfect and yet perfectly useful.

Thank you Lord, for using me. I am yours and yours alone. Thank you for this joy. Protect me from the evil one. May Satan flee every time I walk in a room, because of your magnificent power that lives in me. I am nothing without you. 

Finding My Voice

One thing I am realizing more and more is how much easier it is to learn from life in retrospect. The further away I get from a given situation, the better my perspective is on it, and the more likely I am to glean from what I went through. It's hard to put your finger on exactly what you're learning in the midst of it, but give it a few months or maybe even years, and chances are you can pinpoint at least one thing you walked away from the situation learning.

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Depression gave me a voice. For someone like myself who holds everything in, buries things in the deepest, most closed off parts of my soul, it's not always easy to vocalize things. I tend to be a stuffer. In my independence I think I should be able to do anything on my own, or at least figure out how to do things I don't already know how to do. In my pride I'm too poised to ask for help. In my shame I'm embarrassed I don't already know how to do the things laid before me.

But through depression all of those things came to a breaking point. Out of pure emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion I no longer had the ability nor the will to hold it together. In all honesty, I cried a lot. I cried in the shower, I cried in my bed. I cried in the closet and the kitchen at work. No place was immune to my tears, no person unsafe to let my emotions flow.

There is something very, very humanizing about tears. Although there are few out there in the world who might be able to cry on command, few humans actually delight in tears enough to share them unless totally, absolutely, utterly necessary. The beauty (and pain) of tears is that you can't control them. They are one of those things that just seem to happen. They are an outward manifestation of the inner state of your soul and intentionally invite others to join in your story, whether you intended for that or not.

In all my fear, shame, guilt, pride, and independence, depression broke down every one of those walls allowing rivers of tears to fall. In those tears I very unintentionally but necessarily invited others into my story. As you well know, when the tears fall, it's hard to hold back. Before you have a chance to wipe those first tears, you're spilling your soul and every honest emotion in it.

I'm so mad at God
Why is life so difficult 
I can't live like this anymore
I need help 
This isn't fair 
I am so scared 
My anxiety is overwhelming 
Why do I have to do this alone 
Why doesn't anyone notice me 
How can I fix my problems
Will life always be like this

I don't like to complain. We all do it sometimes, but I try not to overdo it or make small things out to be much bigger than they are. I hate to be the boy who cries wolf and I definitely don't want to be that annoying girl avoided by many and ignored by most because she always seems to be griping about something. However, by default of these things I often don't say or do anything. I don't ask for help. I don't invite others in or vocalize what I'm experiencing. While this may seem valiant to some, it also paralyzes me in a state of total anxiety and segregates me into a helpless world of my own where I drown in fear of life itself.

Depression has begun to change all that. Through depression I cried. Through tears I invited others in. Through the honesty of my tears and emotions I asked for help. I am no longer a prisoner of my independence. My soul has a voice. I may still be learning when and how to use it, but I know it's there, and like a young infant oohing and awing, I will one day have more words than you can count and they'll be my very best advocate.

The Other Side

It's amazing how quickly life can steal your joy. It can bring great pleasures you can't help but revel in, and then it can steal it away in the blink of an eye. As the old saying goes, "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade," but what happens when life goes ahead and spoils the lemonade with a gallon of gasoline?

I also find it fascinating how quickly things can turn. One minute you're celebrating and engagement or a new job, the next you're mourning the loss of all joy and putting all the energy you have towards just getting out of bed in the morning.

The thing is, there is often no good answer as to why things change so quickly. Or why they change at all. Sure there are the obvious answers...losing someone you love, getting let go from a job that's your only source of income, balancing a delicate friendship or breaking up with the person you thought was "the one." But more often than not, the tough seasons of life come out of nowhere with no real good reason and no great way of getting out of it.

Life takes time. As I get older I see this more and more. Even though time flies, somehow the days still manage to feel like weeks and the weeks like years. There is nothing longer than a bad day, and when those days start piling up, all of the sudden you feel stuck. Totally, utterly, stuck. With no end in sight, and the weight of the world on your shoulders.

I hate that it takes so long to get through these seasons. I hate that the "good" seasons fly by quicker than you can savor the moments.

I've been so plagued by bad days in the last few year's that I can't help but feel like the good days are fleeting...on the verge of being guillotined faster than King Henry VIII could find a new wife. It's a terrible way to live life and a mentality I'm trying to change.

It's a weird thing being on the other side...the good side I mean. Now that my good days finally outnumber the bad, I see myself in the place I once saw everyone else. Is it sad that it feels genuinely weird to be happy? Yes, probably a little sad, but a good thing nonetheless and a part of life everyone probably experiences at one point or another, but doesn't necessarily talk about.

One thing I can appreciate (I use this term loosely) about going through difficult seasons is that they prepare me for going through similar seasons with others around me. On my most difficult days I mostly just wanted someone to hear me out, let me cry, and validate my frustrations as best as possible. Sure, encouragement is a great thing and holds high value, but that's honestly the last thing I want to hear when I am plain ol' pissed at life. So, now, as I see others through difficult seasons, the least I can do is listen to a friend when she just needs to vent, console her when she cries, and be at least a little pissed at life if it makes her feel better. Because this is true friendship...meeting others exactly where they are at, engaging in their story, and doing life together.

Yes and No

Lazy mornings around this part are few and far between. I can't remember the last time I had an empty day, one where there was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and sips of coffee to fill every moment of it.

I often wish I was one of those people that thrived on busyness. It seems like most people in my life have full schedules and lives and they're eager to get to every minute of it. These people I envy, because I fall into the other category. My life is full, for which I am grateful because of what that represents (friends, a job, family, a home, etc.) but instead of craving just one more lunch date or a few more minutes talking with this person or that, I crave home. I crave time in my pajamas unwinding from hectic days. I crave moments in the kitchen making my own meal and minutes before bed where I can open a book forcing my eyes to close as the sun finds it's home beneath the ocean floor.

It's in those moments where I begin to feel human again. Sometimes all I want is nothing more than to turn my cell phone off, close my laptop, shut down the T.V., and just be. I don't do that very well. There is usually a list to be crossed off one monotonous task at a time, not to mention the daily tasks that don't quite make a list and are equally as unlikely to get done. In all honestly, I'm lucky if I even get to the list.

I'm not sure when all of this happened. Is it part of growing up? Is this how my parents felt when they were my age? Is this how everyone feels?

I don't want to be someone so absorbed in life that I miss out on the small things in life. I don't want to miss so many small things that I start missing out on moments that turn into days, that build into weeks that somehow turn into years where I don't know what I've done and can't remember where I've been.

I want to savor life. I want to enjoy the small things and the big things. I want to soak up the sun and taste every morsel of food that enters my mouth. I want to truly engage in conversation, prodding for more instead of being short with my words, hoping every last line closes the conversation allowing me to finally drive home in a fury of desperation to shut down my mind and become one with Netflix.

It recently came to my attention that I am pretty tightly wound. High strung. Overstimulated. All of the above if you will. Not only am I overstimulated, but I'm overwhelmed by all that life requires of me. It's time I start practicing my "no" so I can embrace my "yeses". Saying "no" to what drains me allows me to say "yes" to the things that energize and recharge me. Saying no means I can embrace the moments of my day and the people in it. Saying no means I let go of what society expects of me and do what brings me joy. After all, allowing joy to permeate my life is much more valuable to society than whatever task I might cross off the perpetual list that lives in my mind. I promise you.

Happiness vs. Joy

This morning I sat in a pseudo-staff meeting. I say "pseudo" because when working at a church your staff meetings tend to be a lethal combination of information, conversation, church service and spiritual boot camp all rolled into a nice little package that usually leaves you with more questions than you have answers.

One of the first things brought up in the meeting was "what's the difference between happiness and joy?". Numerous people offered their best answers, some taking a shot in the dark at what the real answer might be. I'm not sure if we landed on an official answer (this happens a lot in such meetings also), but the different answers I heard did get me thinking.

Happiness is circumstantial, joy is permanent.
Happiness is short-term, joy is long-term.
Happiness comes from outside circumstances, joy come from within.
Happiness is in the moment, joy is eternal.

These were some of the key responses that stood out to me. The running theme being that happiness is good, but joy is better.

My goal in 2013, my New Year's Resolution so to speak, was and still is to be happy this year. That's it. Simple enough in my mind. In year's past I've chosen a word or verse to live by, or even challenged myself with the typical watch-more-news, read-more, lose-weight type of resolutions that usually only stick for a few weeks at best. After a few crappy years where none of that seemed to work, I decided it was best to put aside the change-me, fix-me, grow-me, strengthen-me, build-more-character mottos of my former self aside. I decided it was time to just be happy.

I honestly don't know exactly what I've done to embrace this mentality, but we're 3 months in and I can actually see growth. For once in a long while my good days outnumber the bad and when friends text to ask how I am doing I can finally respond honestly with "good!" instead of fighting myself not to list off every complaint, frustration, and anxiety I feel.

What I am learning is that time heals. My mom always says that "nothing good or bad lasts forever" and it couldn't be more true. Some things take longer than others, but through both seasons there is potential for growth.

So while some may see happiness as the short-changed version of joy, I see it as a step towards joy. For someone who is wildly depressed, a happy day is no more realistic than unicorns dancing on the moon. I've been there. But after more tears than I can measure and enough hurt to fill the ocean, I see change. Eventually the happy days, spread too far apart, begin to inch closer and closer together until they merge and become one. Eventually those happy days bring light into the darkness and turn into joy. Happy days are like a flashlight in a dark room. They may not light up the whole room, but at least you can find the light switch.

My happy days are finally starting to merge and I am thankful. So very thankful.

Allison Elizabeth

My View

I've been going on a lot of walks lately. Sometimes I circle my neighborhood round and round, other times I venture to the hillsides of Orange County, the one gently wedged between the freeway and the Ocean. It's a beautiful thing really...seeing the freeway disappear into the distance as the hilly landscape consumes my view, eventually birthing an ocean that feels so close, and yet so far.

Walking has been the only form of exercise that has sounded even remotely appealing lately. My exercising seems to rotate in patterns, and right now I can't help but crave fresh air and the white noise that comes from both city life and nature's cry. Sometimes I bask in the silence, other times I drown out my thoughts with music. On occasion I am even joined by a friend to keep conversation afloat as my feet hit the pavement step after step. All experiences are welcome, and sometimes craved.

I guess you could say walking creates a fantastic opportunity for self-reflection as well. In the stillness of life as I leaves steps behind me, my brain has the chance to think (or not think) about whatever it wants. It's good to let the mind run free sometimes...it's good for the soul.

One of the key things I've noticed actually has to do with how I walk. I don't know if you've ever paid attention to how you walk, but it's worth considering. As I take each step I realize I am constantly looking at the step before me, head hung low, eyes on the ground. If it's pavement I'm hitting then cracks and splotches of gum are what catch my eye. And if their is earth beneath me, then you can be sure I'm looking for sticks and stones, cracks, grooves, and puddles of water. Like a child following the, "step on a crack, break your mama's back" motto, I avoid cracks like the plague and puddles as if I were the wicked witch of the south. I can't say for sure, but I'm guessing I have some sub-concious concern about tripping to my own death.

So why does this matter? It matters because it means that as I carefully watch each step occur and pass me by, I am missing out on the incredible view before me. If only I lift my head just a few inches, my view is filled with beauty and a greater perspective on all that lies before me. Each step I focus on, I miss out on the big picture.

I spend a lot of my life living this way. Today is all I have and all I am called to do anything with. Matthew 6:34 says, " Therefore do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Somehow I manage to worry about both today AND the future.  I question the future as much as I stress about the present, literally causing myself physical pain in some instances. In all my worry and stress, I forget to lift my head. I miss out on the beauty that surrounds me and the vastness of life. I forget what brought me here and why I have a life worth living.

Life is so much bigger than the steps before or behind me. It's bigger than the questions I have or the worries I face. Now is the time to lift my head and remember why I was put on this earth. I was created for so much more than worry.

Here I Am, Send Me

I promise I won't always only talk about Haiti. But as I continue to fall back into old routines, I find myself trying desperately to hold on to what I experienced, not wanting to turn into the person I was before I left or allow my vision to be blurred by the normalcy of work and living a tired life. In attempt to make what I learned a part of who I am, I write. I write to secure these truths as my own. I write to expose reality. If I share it, if I write it, if I make sense of what I saw, then it must be true.

With that behind us, let's talk about Haiti.

I mentioned in my last post that I struggled with connecting during the trip. However that wasn't the only thing I struggled with. During our 4 days of medical/dental clinics we saw 600+ patients. Teeth were pulled and patients were seen, diagnosis being made left and right. We saw a plethora of illnesses, from colds to scabies, infections of all sorts and enough acid reflux to melt a small city. We gave out medication to all patients in need, to the point where we literally ran out of meds.

Some patients would need only a short supply of medication to clear up their illness while others clearly needed more than we could supply. Depression. Anxiety. Acid Reflux Disease. High Blood Pressure. So many diseases we could not help for more than a few days at most. Depression and anxiety fell in the "prayer only" category, meaning we had nothing to help them besides encouraging words and prayer. As the hours drug on our "pharmacy" slowly informed the doctors each time we ran out of a med, and quickly I became frustrated. Already we could only help some patients for only a day or two at most, but now we struggled to even do that.

What are we here for? I asked myself. Are we really helping these people? They don't just need a pill or a bandaid, they need real, long term care. They need monthly prescriptions. They need education on what to eat and how to take care of themselves. All we have are a few pills! Then, I would remember that we are bringing them hope and at least some relief. The doctors are doing their best, teaching as they are able. They are reassuring moms of their child's health. They are teaching patients simple things to help relieve some of their  lifelong aches and pains.

I felt caught between these two trains of thought the majority of each day. I wasn't sure how useful we really were, or how to really fix these people's problems, but I chose to trust God's purpose in our being there. I chose to focus on the fact that we were a listening ear to each patient, at the least reminding them they are not alone. I find that in pain, whether emotional, spiritual or physical, most people just want to be heard and know that they are not alone in their pain. We could at least do that much, and that much I know we did. We also prayed for people. We laid hands. We brought people to the Lord. We even prayed over homes and families for protection from evil.

Even still, not all of me was satisfied by our efforts. I tried to focus on the good we were doing, remembering that our clinic was an outreach opportunity and means to meet the people's needs in a tangible way, even if just for a short time. But I struggled.

Then, nearly a week after my arrival back home, with most of these thoughts faint in the distance, I came across the perfect words I needed to hear to put my concerns at rest.

"As I read my Bible last night after falling into bed, the Lord continued to take me to the miracles of Jesus. And something I never noticed before really stood out. The Bible tells us of Jesus magnificently raising Lazarus from the dead, healing numerous deathly ill people, and feeding thousands. 

What the Bible does not mention, but what must be true is that, years later, Lazarus still died. The people Jesus healed were inevitably sick again at some point in their lives. The people Jesus fed miraculously were hungry again a few days later. More important than the very obvious might and power shown by Jesus' miracles is His love. He loved these people enough to do everything in His power to 'make it better.' He entered into their suffering and loved them right there. 

We aren't really called to save the world, not even to save one person; Jesus does that. We are just called to love with abandon. We are called to enter into our neighbors' sufferings and love them right there." -- Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie 

There it is. We are not called to save the world or even a single soul. We are called to love others as God loves us. We are called to bring the hope of Jesus to others through our words, actions, and the small miracles God chooses to do through us on a daily basis. All of the sudden the weight I felt, the burden I had put on my shoulders, was lifted. It's not about me or how much I can do or how much I can help, fix, solve or plan for. It's about what God wants to do and how it will glorify him. My only job is to be willing.

Allison Elizabeth

The Clincher

When people ask me, "how was your trip?" it's hard to find the words to share, not knowing if they want a mouth full or just a few words in passing to confirm my safe return. With each person I try to navigate the difference, usually dependent on the context in which I am asked. The thing is, I know that people do genuinely want to know about my experience, but unless I schedule a coffee date with each friend, volunteer, family member, parent, student, and church-goer alike, it's probably not realistic. I do wish this were a possibility, but since it's not  I use it as a challenge to be very strategic with my words in the few, or many, minutes (or even seconds) I have to respond. 

In the 8 days I've been home, I've developed a few key responses I have with people to the "how was your trip?" question. These responses help me introduce the trip without going into crazy detail, but open the door for greater, deeper conversation if the patron is willing. Even still, sometimes I'm afraid I go into greater detail than the other person was prepared to hear, but that's what you get for asking! 

One of my many responses is, "it was a different trip for me." And it's true. This trip felt different. I've done missions work for years. I know I am only 26, but already I've been doing missions since for nearly 14 years. More than half my life. 

Quickly into the trip I had a hard time connecting. This was true of both my team, the patients at our medical clinics, and the local team of translators, pastors, and student leaders we worked with. Being my second time in Haiti, I thought I would connect better, quicker, and deeper than during my first trip. I knew half my team, I knew many of the locals we worked with, and was excited about the student leaders who seemed so fun and eager to serve. I kept pushing, thinking things would mesh soon enough, but each day ended in my disappointment. One day less and no more progress. I wanted to connect and feel like I was a part of things, like I was a valuable part of my team, but it just wasn't happening. I knew I was useful, I knew I was loved, I knew God wanted me on this trip, but I didn't know why, and nothing and no one seemed to be revealing the answer to me. Finally I settled into the idea that, "I'm ok, I just need to let God do what he is going to do. This trip isn't JUST about me, it's for every person on this trip." 

Sit back, observe, let people experience what I have for them, and let me do in you as I please.

On the way home after our last day of clinics we had the privilege of visiting the orphans housed and cared for by Church of God by Faith. In the few moments we had, 26 kids looked to us with hope in their eyes and joy in their heart. We brought little more with us than simple gifts of crayons, notebooks, and a soccer ball or two, but more than anything desperately wanted to affirm in them that they are children, chosen by God, created in His image with purpose. This 3 room home, shared 2 to a bed, 4 to a bunk, would not be the end for them. Not only does God have a great purpose for them, but in a matter of months we hope to bring them into a new home where they are wanted. We desire for them to grow in a home where their environment represents the truth of who they are. They are wanted by God, made with a purpose, a hope, and a future. It's hard to share this all in a matter of minutes, with 26 kids who speak another language, most under the age of 10, many under the age of 5, but I trust that God spoke through our actions and the few words we shared. 

Leaving the kids that day I was on an emotional and spiritual high. This is what I had been missing all along! Kids! These faces! Playing! Why didn't we have a day scheduled with these kiddos? Couldn't we have done something fun with them or simply spent time playing with them in during our stay in Port Salut? Why was this missed? Why were we just now, on our last ministry day at the end of the day nonetheless, spending time with these kids? Isn't the livelihood of these kids the existence for our ministry in Haiti...to build them a home and to give them a future? Ahh! 

Late that night after all our meds had been given out, our bags were partly packed, and our bellies full with our last meal of beans, rice, and chicken, we had our final debrief. Each of us on the team had been prompted earlier in the week to consider what things God might be calling us to leave behind in Haiti or the things God wanted us to take home. Each team member began to share their personal journey throughout the week and what it meant to them. I was eager to hear my team members bare their soul in a way that wouldn't normally happen back at home, less eager to admit the things in my life God had been revealing. Suddenly I began to speak, the words flowing from my soul. As I spoke, the words that had been jumping around in my head all week finally began to form real sentences, real prayers answered by God, and it sounded something like this... 

"This trip has felt different for me than past trips. I have loved so much of what we have been doing and the people we've done it with, but I have been feeling somewhat disconnected. I couldn't really figure out what it was until today when we stopped to visit the orphans. All week I have been watching the doctors do what they do so well, loving being a part of helping people in such a tangible way, but feeling like I couldn't quite connect with anyone. Then today, visiting the kids, I was reminded of how much I love kids. What I've been missing all along was kids! Each of us is gifted so differently and while I've been helping this week, I've not been using my gifts. I love kids and God has given me the desire and passion to love on kids and do ministry with them. While the doctors connect with their patients in what they do, I connect best working with, playing with, and loving on kids. We are all different parts of the same body, each gifted uniquely do different things for the Kingdom. Even going home I've been struggling with what to do with my life and where God wants me, but realizing my love for kids really confirms my calling to be exactly where I am at working at the church." 

That last line was the clincher, the kicker, the "Eek! Did I just say that??". Then, as if God knew I just put my heart on the line and needed some confirmation, our dentist  reminded me that it was on our last trip that I was seriously, openly questions God's call on my life and if I should continue working at the church. He celebrated with me how awesome it is to see my life and questions come so full circle in the course of a year...to see God answer my prayers. I honestly did not remember I'd shared those concerns on our last trip, nor recognize that my prayer had been answered. I guess God really does know how to orchestrate things and put the right people in your path at just the right time. 

So that's why my trip was "different". It was not a bad trip, although downright confusing at times and not what I expected. I felt disconnected to the point of practically having an out of body experience.  But then, at exactly the right moment, God brought me back, reconnected my heart and mind in an instant, and confirmed in me exactly where He has and wants me. It may not be forever, but it's the answer to, "Lord, where do you want me?"...a question I've been asking for years. 

I guess God does answer prayers. 

Allison Elizabeth 

Eager to Please

I've been back almost a week now and already I find myself fighting to hold on to the truths that I experienced during my time in Haiti. What's not difficult to hold on to are the images burned in my mind of the faces we met and the children we call our own who deserve more than anyone to have a place to call home.

Walking off the plane I was hit with a wall of cool air, abruptly reminding me that I am home. Not only that I am home, but that I am entering back into a reality I sometimes wish was not my own. It's not that I don't love home. After a week of eating everything dried, packaged, and sealed while at the same time bloating to the size of a submerged bean bag chair, it's easy to look forward to the comforts of home. While I washed away 7 hours of plane rides and a weeks worth of sweat I am convinced were sealed in my pores, I couldn't help but think about all the things I wanted to hold on to. The kids. The faces. The love of God. The passion of the people. The joy I experinced. The learnings I gained and so much more the most descriptive words could not explain. A shower might be nice, but hearing 25 little voices raised in worship with their hands raised and their hearts glad is far more desirable.

It's amazing what God will reveal to you when you finally turn off the T.V., stop drowning your sorrows in bitterness and complaints and actually do something worthy of our creation. While I recognize the power of what we did for the people of Haiti in both a tangible and spiritual sense, I can't help but recognize the benefits of such a trip for my soul. Coming from a world of plenty, not experiencing much "want" in the true sense of the word, going to Haiti, or any third world country, is an incredible pallet cleanser. Like sniffing coffee beans after smelling too many perfumes, sipping wine after each cheese, or tasting sorbet after a savory meal, leaving home to do something not for yourself is a perfect release from the world that binds us. If sniffing too many perfumes dulls the senses and numbs our ability to truly appreciate the scent in our nose, then obsessing about the stresses of life, stopping by Trader Joe's "just one more time" or coming home to complain about work after a long day are just as likely to dull our senses and numb our minds. We go through the motions, appreciating nothing, yet experiencing so much beauty.

Before leaving on my trip I was struggling with the desire to spend time with God. As in, I wanted to want him more than I did. I gave myself grace, trusting it was just a season, but also didn't do a whole lot to change the way I felt. I prayed. I didn't read my Bible much, and the few times I've sat in church the last few months felt dry and monotonous. But in my prayers I was honest with God about how I felt. I figure, tis better to be angry with someone than to now care at all. Not caring shows complacency, and if I could at least be honest with God, then I knew I still cared and the feelings wouldn't last forever. It's amazing what 7 days, 14 teams members, devotional time together, and lots of time to think and focus on one thing (God) can do. However, what really fired me up and actually prompted me to feel passion again was the time we spent with young leaders, eager to serve God and desperately eager to worship him. It took nothing more for them to raise their voices in worship than a bus ride home after a long, service filled day. And I can't even bring myself to lift my hands when I'm surrounded by 3,000 people who've come together to purposely serve God! Pathetic. Truly pathetic.

I am thankful for those young leaders. I am thankful for the lives they have lived and where God has brought them. I am thankful he used their lives and their hearts to show me what more I am missing out on. It's hard not to love when you see people in love. Like new lovebirds eager to please and sing praises of each other, these leaders were passionately in love with their maker. I want to be in love too! I want that relationship! All of the sudden I realize how lonely being lonely is. We were not made to be alone. We were made to be one with our God who loves us more than we could possibly imagine. My God is a great BIG God and I am eager to please him.

Allison Elizabeth