On Journey....

If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there'd be a shortage of fishing poles. --Doug Larson

One very vivid fall day in Grenoble, I found myself needing some time to quiet my heart, to collect my ever-stratified thoughts, to be with the Lord.  I remember heading to a place that had become a secret treasure: the University arboretum, where billowing plant branches at waist height hugged the trunks of hundreds of different types of trees from all over the world.  Each one unique in it's own right and each one on a race toward the clouds, it was so that upon entering, the sky was only glimpsed through a lens of lush green.  In the fall especially, when the area was lit with color, this place became such a privilege to retreat into.

On such fall day, though a bit gray and overcast, I found myself headed toward a specific place in this natural wilderness.  Blessed with long legs and always taking good use of them, I was "walking with purpose" and traveling at a pace that was average for me but (as I've been informed) quite quick for anyone else.

I was about half-way to my spot when I passed a student on my left, engaged in being still and enjoying the surroundings.  Seeing another person there at that moment brought a sudden sense of shame and stopped me in my tracks.  He didn't even look my way or say anything to acknowledge my passing, but for some reason his presence gave me the sudden ability to observe my behavior at that specific moment in that specific place, and the reality was this: in my concentrated efforts to get to where I wanted to go and do what I wanted to do, I was blazing through a beautiful place.  And I hated that.

So I slowed down my gait (a difficult thing to do for me, I'll admit) and I allowed my eyes to shift from the dusty dirt path in front of me to the organic glory surrounding me.  I breathed in deeply and I took my time.  I still had a great time with God that morning in my personal special place, but I think the lesson had already been taught before I got there.

Though it's a small anecdote, this one specific memory launched me into many deeper reflections on life, and on what I call 'the journey.'  It was as if the Lord had finally gotten through to me and now He could uncover the thousand and one ways in which I was living life hurriedly, selfishly, and in a manner that was blazing through beautiful arboretums in pursuit of where I wanted to get to.

Recognizing this tendency to be a person who has big dreams and goals and only wants to get there fast--this allowed me to see my entire experience with new vision.  The entire first month, I wanted to hurry adjustment and culture shock and friend-making and comfort-building....I wanted to get to that point in the future where I would love France every day and never want to go home.  The first few Sundays at church, I wanted only to get to that point where I could show up and know some faces and have non-awkward conversations.  In french class, I just wanted to speak like a native--I just wanted to stop making silly mistakes-- I just wanted to not have to think at all.  I just wanted to get there.

So life was frustrating.  Because life was unwilling to be hurried.   Natural daily processes were still filled with ups and downs.  Some days felt like means to ends, and I was struggling with not enjoying and savoring where I was at that moment.  I didn't understand what the Lord was trying to accomplish, and I couldn't discern what I was supposed to change.

Turns out, it was in changing this idea of 'my perspective' (to which all the previous posts tie in) that I learned the greatest lesson in France. In my journal, I unpacked it like this:

Be still.

I've gotten the opportunity to do that often here.  It's amazing how much richer life is when it goes at a pace I can savor.   God, You are doing so much in my heart.  And the first thing I admit, that I'm learning to admit, is that I do not understand Your ways and I cannot discern what You are accomplishing.  In some things, You've given me vision, or direction....but in so much I'm experiencing here, well, it's just beyond knowing what You're up to.

Constantly I get these reminders to savor the moment, savor the day, REALIZE the incredible, unique, never-coming-again opportunities before me, and TAKE them.  Father, I long to NOT wish away this time, and to not let fear or timidity limit what I do or experience, so help me.  (8 november 2009)

And so by further thought and much prayer, I began to feel free to live life in the moment.  I realized that every detail of my journey was there for a reason, even if some were not all pretty.  I learned that in life, where I was headed was important and setting goals to get there helped.  But life is not a race to the finish!  In the end, life is made up of the small, stumbling steps toward those goals-- the hours, the minutes-- spent breathing and learning and enjoying and savoring and failing.

Sometimes, I realized, it is ok to head out for one goal and allow myself to be steered differently, as guided by the Spirit's direction and my God-ordained circumstances.  Sometimes, in fact, it is necessary to allow that, because it demonstrates--to others but much more often to myself--a belief that the Lord has a much better handle on the trajectory of my life than even I do. 

As a Christian, my 'destination' will ultimately be a place where the Lord is fully known to me and I get to live in community forever, heaven.  In the meantime, God has given me this beautiful thing called life on earth to treasure and walk through....slowly.  It's those beautiful things I pass along the way that keep me going.  I want to live life fully alive.  And ultimately, being able to do that is a grace.

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.  Psalm 90:12 

Life is sweet, and it pleases the eye to see the sun.  However, many years a man may live, let him enjoy them all.  Ecclesiastes 11:7-8

May you live all the days of your life.  --Jonathan Swift

On Family...

 Though I have seen the oceans and mountains, though I have read great books and seen great works of art...there is nothing greater or more beautiful than those people I love. --Christopher de Vinch

Truman life is in full swing; I have not acquired additional time to write because of that (just lost some).  It's alright though.  More than alright, it's great: great to be back.

It's ironic and fitting that this post be on 'family,' because while I could have drafted it at home while enjoying the sweet reunion with my immediate mom, dad, and two brothers, I really couldn't give an honest picture of what 'family reunion' looks like until I got back to Truman.  Reality is, I have a family here, too, a really precious one.  The believing people who also go to school in Kirksville happen to be my best friends, people who are irreplaceable and incredibly deep and challenging.

They left a hole in my life where encouragement, accountability, prayer support, godly example, and good teaching usually are when I live life at Truman.  In France, I had good friends, friends that are very dear to me as well....but I never quite found the community I was looking for, that one we all desperately need as people walking this narrow, joyous road called following Jesus.  I know the 'walk' was meant to be taken together; I am sure of it and I find it in Christ's example.  But I never anticipated that my friends from home would be able to draw alongside me, to some figurative extent, even as I separated myself by thousands of miles.

The short of what I learned in France concerning family is this: I need family.  They are irreplaceable because of who God made them to be as unique individuals (and uniquely capable of ministering to me).  When I speak of family, I certainly mean Mom, Dad, Austin, and Spencer: I missed them more than I anticipated and I hope to not go that long again without seeing them.  I love being able to call my parents whenever I want now and text my brothers more than I should now.  And when I speak of family, I also mean my community in Kirksville.

Thinking back to my bedroom in Rabot, I think most fondly of one specific area: what I knew as my 'wall of love.'  It was comprised of mere loose-leaf paper, cards, drawings, and photos, but those mementos held me up throughout this semester.  My wall displayed all the many ways that individuals supported me from such a far distance.  It was amazing to slowly see that the treasured people in my life from home weren't going anywhere; THEY were the ones that were going to provide me with a sense of belonging and a fountain of encouragement, even from such a distance.

It was the Body of Christ is action, the Body that conquers distance and draws hearts together because of the One we love and adore!

For all who wrote to me, you just have to know how much I learned through you-- and for that, I appreciate you so much more than ever.  This morning in church was a sweet time to add my voice to a group of people who were singing--and I know had been singing even while I was gone--a song of praise to the Lord.  

Distance has made the heart grow fonder. :-)

Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother (and sisters), have refreshed the hearts of the saints.  Philemon 1:7

On Trusting...

All that I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for 
all I have not seen. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson

I love this quote by Emerson.  It reminds me of another quote I jotted down from Brennan Manning's Ruthless Trust, a book I mentioned reading right before I left for France.  He says: Like faith and hope, trust cannot be self-generated.  What does lie within my power is paying attention to the faithfulness of Jesus.  Like the growth of a budding flower after spending enough time in the sun and rain, trust seems to be the natural response to a heart that recognizes the Lord's greatness and diligently seeks to find His hand in all circumstances.   How influential this thought was in encouraging me--and teaching me exactly how--to trust the Lord with this step into the unknown: going to France!

There's not much I have to say about trusting the Lord because it's a firmly-rooted reality in my life--  not something to which I give a lot of conscious thought, but a part of who I am and how I work.  I learned very quickly this semester that God can be trusted with every detail, always.  Consistently throughout this semester, I willed myself to trust God with everything, big and small: be it my need to adapt to my new living situation or my need for friendships or my need for directional assistance (left or right?).  When I felt homesick, I trusted; when I felt uncomfortable in a situation, I trusted; when I became frustrated or confused, I trusted.  In this way, the Lord became my best friend in an intimate way.  Some days I really had to make an effort to trust and not worry, for sure.  I was vulnerable and helpless at the beginning of this experience (and I would say not much changed); but trusting the Lord was my first fall back-- and my only fall back.  May it always be our only fall back, even when times seem certain and comfortable!

Trusting God is a way I think we can honor Him and demonstrate to Him--and moreover, to ourselves-- that we fear Him and exalt His character and greatness.   I've learned that it's not just that God can be trusted with every detail of our lives-- but that He deserves to be trusted with every detail of our lives.  In fact, as I grew more into 'myself' in Grenoble, I realized that when it came to figuring out my needs or the next step to take, God was absolutely the only one to lean on.  I saw Him taking care of my needs, yes; but in the process, I saw His workings around me as I witnessed an incredibly wise God at work in my friend's lives as well. 

Every step of trust inclined me to take another; it was the compound effect of realizing that God was capable of being trusted with every detail and realizing that God's character was enough to merit my full trust, regardless of circumstances at all.

Recounting my semester to others seems to resemble a hymn to the faithfulness of the Lord more than to a journey I made in independence and autonomy.  And that's exactly the reality of what it was.  O Lord Almighty, blessed is the woman who trusts in You (Psalm 84).

It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man.     Psalm 118:8

You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you.  Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD, is the Rock eternal. Isaiah 26:3-4

On Listening...

Life is what we are alive to.  It is not length but breadth...Be alive to...goodness, kindness, purity, love, history, poetry, music, flowers, stars, God, and eternal hope. (Maltbie D. Babcock)

Listening is the most important thing you can do in your life.

(wow, I really just wrote that).

Even as I commit that thought to writing and, in this context, to cyberspace, I don't often live like I believe it.  In fact, I'm very bad at listening sometimes.  Listening to my mom's directions, listening to a friend's advice or exhortation, listening to God....I am talking about all types of listening.  Honestly, it's been a subject of teaching ever since going to college, and it's one thing I'm sure I'll be learning about until the day I can't humanly do it any longer.  In France, I seem to have learned more about it than I first realized.  Probably because I actually listened.

My life in France was not one grand vacation, much to the contrary of one's assumptions when I consistently updated this blog with tales of travel and hiking and nothing of the sort about studying or stressing.  Yet I did find that it's pace gave me much more opportunity to practice the art of listening.  And honestly, as I actually did it, it's importance evolved...to the point where I come home and make grand statements like "listening is the most important thing you can do in your life."  It was interesting how listening could aid in so many life contexts in France.  In a revelation that didn't occur all at once, but rather unfolded slowly over the course of many different conversations and frustrating days of french speaking (attempts), I learned that listening was the best way to learn this language.  What a marvelous realization.  It gave me the chance to stop running up to the measuring tape every other day to see how much I'd grown in my french ability (which was definitely measured at first in inches and not feet).  Instead, I sort of told my mind to shut down when I was surrounded by french speakers, to stop thinking of the next thing I was going to say or how that one verb was conjugated in the subjunctive.  I told it to listen.  To pick up on the nuances.  To hear the accent, to really hear it.  To learn the language using a philosophy that was altogether secondary, slowly becoming altogether essential.  And it worked.  I learned more when I listened.  I borrowed the phone books--the effortless accent and (equally effortless) grammatically perfect phrases-- and I dragged them to the measuring tape and I stood on them.  My stature linguistically suddenly grew, but it wasn't because I had stretched further or pounded more vitamins.  I was simply standing on the french spoken by the french.

Listening helped me grow in the language, and it was (and is) essential to growth in my faith.  Truth is, listening often appears the most unneeded or unnatural of things.  It seems unneeded--I don't think I give it a chance because I just don't do it...otherwise I'd probably see that it is most essential for living well, for living in joy, for living in peace.  Listening also seems unnatural, mostly because I come to God so often with my meager knowledge and my deep desires and I think it better to tell Him how I want Him to work...because in many ways, I'm scared to hear how He wants to work or who He wants me to love.  I never give Him a chance to tell me; instead, I flood His ears with my requests and then walk away.

I had more 'still' times this semester, when I slowed down intentionally and listened.  It was during those times that I was profoundly encouraged, I was redirected to better goals, and I was led by the Shepherd...not in a figurative way, an 'oh that's nice to think of God guiding us' way, but in a real, concrete way.  Conversations happened because I listened.  Habits were changed because I listened.  My heart was directed back towards the character of God because I listened.  And thank goodness I directed my heart towards that listening....I would have missed so much.  

God has divine secrets to whisper to us.  Life is about perfecting the art and patience of listening.  I don't think I'll ever get there completely, but I do want to internalize it's importance and live in it's goodness.

Life is what we are alive to.  For me, I am most alive when I am listening.

What I am trying to do is get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so that you can respond to God's giving. Matthew 6:32

On Expectations....

You'll learn more about a road by traveling it than by consulting all the maps in the world.

My mom always harks on me about expectations.  At first I found it frustrating, but that was only because I knew she was right.  So often I go into a new situation with a billion great expectations, things I want to see happen, things I think will happen.  We all do it, right?  But so often I also set myself up for disappointment.  I think I know exactly what bends the road will take, but truth is, I have no idea until I'm on the road and in "real time."  and so I wonder: as an optimistic person, how do I live with a healthy, hopeful anticipation for the future while still remaining flexible and joyful with the outcome?

I began my semester in France without many concrete expectations.  At least, that's what I thought.  It's not really until the experience seems to be "lacking" something that you are faced with your expectations full-on.  For me, that moment happened, and I realized that I expected a lot more than I had owned up to.  I expected a full immersion experience, one where you never speak English and make only french friends.  I expected to become really involved with Le Feu, which is the student group of Christians that meets on the University campus, a group that I had heard rave reviews about and one into which I assumed I would assimilate easily.  I expected to get really connected with people at my church.  I expected to grow leaps and bounds in French, to end up the girl who soared above the others.  I expected to love France so much that I never missed home, let alone gave it much thought.  I expected so many things.

Reality is, these things never came to fruition...or much more often, they just played out differently than I thought they would.  It's hard to admit that, still.  I found it was really especially difficult to break into Le Feu and find community to the same extent that I had found it at Truman.  And that makes complete sense, looking back: community at Truman (and how amazing it is now that it's established!) took years to form.  In France, I felt like no one knew me, even as I tried to express myself and get past "small talk."  The language barrier was hard and deeply frustrating at times. I persevered with pursuing community at Le Feu by going to random events, a few Bible studies, a prayer session.... and each time I left encouraged. But for some reason it was a struggle to drag myself to the next event, maybe because of my inhibitions, maybe because it was uncomfortable (and aren't we all people of comfort?!), maybe because it was just plain hard and it wasn't working out the way I wanted.

But God is faithful, and I found community in other ways.  In many ways, I leaned on the community I had all along (but those thoughts are for another day....).

The only expectation worthy to carry long-term is the expectation that God will be who He says He is, and stay true to the promises He has spoken.  "Expect great things," my friend Amanda always says.  She can do that, and I can do that, and we all can do that, only based on the reality that God is a great God who does great things.  I don't think it's wrong to have expectations about life, and I'm still figuring out a good balance with all of that. 

I just know that the road we travel is one with surprises and failure, and one that we entirely didn't expect.

Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen. 

Hebrews 11:1 

On Traveling...

Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about?  It just makes me feel glad to be alive-- it's such an interesting world.

--Lucy Maud Montgomery

The splendid corner of the globe that I was fortunate enough to travel around is really a marvelous place.  From the moment I left my family at  the departure security gates, I was venturing into territory that I had never trekked, let alone alone.  It was a semester of 'growing up' in that respect; I made my first journey across the Atlantic alone, I planned and budgeted trips in France and even to other countries alone, and I exclusively 'chose my own adventure' for this semester.  Even after all my adventures, I still find travel an immense privilege. 

Travel is first of all the sights, for me, but surely it engages all five senses and each one adds a piece to the complex puzzle presented when you step into a new place.  I'd say after that, I pick up on the sounds: in a city, it's the dialects enveloping me, the tone of voice used with a mother, or a comrade, or a dog, the efficiency of car mufflers on the road, the new variation on an ambulance's whine.  In a more remote place, it's the wind in the trees, or the lapping waterfront hush, the music from a church or the methodical tapping of a hammer hard at work.  When you travel, you get off a train and immediately enter a scene where lives whirl around in daily routine.  What's foreign suddenly becomes strikingly wonderful, and, if you give it enough time, normal.  This is what I love about traveling.
 
Traveling is never a solo experience, unless of course you lock yourself into your hotel room and see as much from your window as possible (and even then you would have had to talk to the hotelier...?).  Traveling is about intersecting my life with people I would never otherwise meet.  These people can teach you more about where you are visiting than looking at all the Eiffel Towers and Colosseums in the vicinity.  During this semester, it was the Italian men I met over dinner in Florence that taught me about Italian hospitality; the crepe stand owner in Paris that gave me hope that some people still do love what they do; the robust women in the jewish bakery in Rome that allowed me a glimpse into a unique community that is alive and well; the frizzy-haired scholar in Aix-Les-Bains who taught me how the past and present can mix in wonderful ways; the ladies in Lyon that I talked to after dinner that taught me how interconnected France really is.

So you always do what the locals do, whether than means sitting at a cafe in Paris for hours (even when you could be touring Notre Dame, and climbing the Eiffel Tower, and....!).  It means waiting in line (and then shoving your way to the front of this line like all the others) for the chance to eat at the best restaurant in Florence.  For me, traveling is not all tourism.  Traveling is seeing and experiencing a few things well.

No doubt, it's better shared with someone else, even if you don't think so at first.  If anything, you bring along someone else for safety, for more split bills, and for someone to confirm that you really were there and you really did see that and he really did say that to you. :)  Not to mention, other people have a way of pointing out things you never would have noticed.  I'm a firm believer that good things are even better when they can be shared, not the opposite!

And of course, in reflecting on traveling, I'd be a failure if I failed to mention this one thing: adventure is found in not knowing what is going to happen next.  In traveling, you can look up all the addresses, know all the hours, memorize all the maps, and you still won't be prepared for where you're going.  Leave room for adventure.  Know things won't go accordingly to plan most times, but that's where the true adventure lies, and that is what you are signing up for, like it or not!  Not to mention, when you overcome an inconvenience in another place, you gain 100 points in healthy self-confidence.

Finally, and most importantly, traveling truly does allow us to know God better.  It's true-- we live in an interesting world, filled with interesting people.  And any traveling, whether across town or across borders or across seas, is an unrivaled opportunity to know a God who is altogether diverse, complex, creative, sovereign, and present.    It's always worth it.

He protected us on our entire journey and among all the nations through which we traveled. 

Joshua 24:17

And the fruit of verbal processing is.....

Bonjour!  The most recent time I updated this blog was LAST YEAR!

My life has become a grand balancing act, edging back towards normality.  Can anyone tell that all I've been doing for the duration of this week is sleeping off jet lag?   Thus, not much interesting to write about.  :)  I did have a really special Christmas with my mom, dad, and brothers, and delightful extended family gatherings at our house over that weekend.  It really is great to be home.

I've started to reconnect with friends from high school as well (plus a fortunate visit from a very loved college friend and her family who were on their way to O'Hare!).  With that joy comes a lot of picture sharing and what I like to call 'verbal processing.'  A whole semester abroad, and it's not an exaggeration to claim that I've undergone some growing up, some changing.  But I'm still uncovering and pinpointing those changes.  In many ways I sense that my life and my heart have become a bit more refined and elaborate, but I'm still discovering exactly what areas the Lord was transforming.  Needing to be specific with someone else helps me discover.  In recounting the story of my semester to others, I begin to recount the story to myself in a way that ties in the pieces of many different experiences and revelations.  I begin to verbalize a perspective altogether new and intricate, but suddenly my own.  It's a perspective I hadn't even given much focused thought to until the words left my mouth.  In recounting my semester to others, I begin to realize all that I did learn.  And I begin to remember all the ways the Lord was abundantly faithful.

And so I keep writing... not from France anymore, and that is really sad sometimes.  Many people ask me if I miss it, especially my family (who ironically enough are the ones who are most glad to have me back).  I do miss Grenoble.  Sometimes it's harder to be clear about exactly what I miss, but most days I know it : I miss living in the mountains....I miss the fresh air and the daily walks around the city, up to Rabot.... I miss hearing, reading, and speaking french like it was second nature....I miss the fresh food...I miss the beautiful buildings and the accessibility of city life....I miss my friends.

That tricky reality called 'reverse culture shock' has definitely taken its toll.  I'm really thankful that my mom (who has lived in Europe as well and remembers clearly the adjustment back) will listen to my comments, as biased or harsh as they may be, about America, American culture, American hobbies, etc, etc.  I tell most people that apart from my family and dearly loved friends in the States, there was not much I missed about the U.S. while living in France.  On the contrary, I left a whole lot in Grenoble that just cannot be replaced or replicated here, though one tries....

My parents and I drove down to Missouri on Tuesday to settle me into the house I will live in next semester with two of my favorite people from college....excitement about that certainly helps me look past the slight dread I feel about resuming the pace of life at Truman.  And of course, I am still holding on to the anticipation I have surrounding the moments next weekend when I will finally reconnect with the beautiful people I love in Kirksville, people who supported me in incredible ways throughout my semester.

I'm doing my best to reclaim and resume my life here, all while learning how to incorporate the new perspective I've gained over four months, one that touches many facets of who I am and what I experienced.  One would ask about the 'lessons I've learned,' but rather than be so predictable and formatted, I'd rather frame my reflections within this ever-sharpening way of seeing things.

These next few posts over the last few days of break will (hopefully) reveal several perspectives that have been transformed by France, by french people, by living abroad, and by the Lord who holds my heart.

*A New Perspective on Travel
*A New Perspective on Expectations
*A New Perspective on Listening
*A New Perspective on Trusting
*A New Perspective on Family
*A New Perspective on Journey