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
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
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.
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.
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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.
Monday, March 25, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, March 22, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
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
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
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, March 4, 2013
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
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
Sunday, March 3, 2013
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
Friday, March 1, 2013
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
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
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