The Scent of Life

“Wherever we are, this is our school of love.” 

I wrote these words just hours before stepping onto a plane and flying thousands of miles to Kilimanjaro, Tanzania. When it finally touched down on the dark, humid runway, my first immediate, frighteningly honest thought was, “I’m not ready.” 

I tried to talk myself out of it. I knew it really didn’t matter whether or not I was ready – I was here, and there was work to be done, people to care for – love to be learned, right? But the truth is, my brain and body knew the truth. I wasn’t ready. 

What would it mean to be ready? Even after three trips to Tanzania, I have no clue. Every trip confronts me in the exact same and yet entirely different way – with my dependence on comfort and pleasure, my physical weaknesses, and my social and spiritual ones. I am confronted by how little I have to offer, how much I must receive. I am confronted by my smallness. 

Every trip I try to seek out where God is alive and working in these communities. Like a spiritual easter egg hunt, I’m seeking the scent of life, the glimpse of hope and promise. On this trip, I waved the white flag for one entire week. “God is here, God is working,” I wrote. “But I feel like extra baggage.” 

It always takes me a while to remember that this feeling of smallness, of being inconsequential, is actually a good thing. In fact, it’s kind of the point. While my job with an international nonprofit is arguably an important one, the truth is that when I leave the community in two weeks, I did my job well if nobody notices the difference. The leaders I serve and support, they are the ones who are investing in these communities for the long road ahead of them. If, when I leave, they feel seen, heard, and empowered – if this equips them to do their job well in the year ahead – then I have succeeded at strategic smallness. Even better if I can work myself out of a job, help them support and encourage each other even more in the year ahead. 

I am here for two weeks, but they live this. That reality stares me in the face every time I visit. It’s not about building anything that lasts for myself. When I’m gone, they don’t have to miss me. When I accept this, then I am free to encourage and empower others without worrying about myself. Because the bigger point is: If Edward was gone, what would that mean for the community? If Sypora burned out, how would that affect teachers? 

Exactly one week after I arrived in Tanzania, I sat in a circle with eighteen young women pouring out their hearts about all their wrestlings with God. I looked into their eyes as they shared how they felt forgotten or overlooked by God, and struggled with doubts about unanswered prayers. I heard their pain as they told stories of how their trust was broken by others – so how could they truly trust that God is good? I held each story as a precious jewel in my hand. After a week of smallness, I could truly look in their eyes and tell them they were not alone, that sometimes glimpses of God’s goodness could be found most brightly in the eyes of one another. Together, we – the beloved family of God – carry each other and so fulfill the love of Christ. 

God is here. God is working. And maybe, after all, this was exactly the school of love I needed – a reminder that in the midst of my smallness and weakness, He will carry me. He will carry us all. 

The scent of life wafting through the open doors of all our eyes will never see.

 

img_8943

Part of It All

This is the time of year to be thinking – and writing – about gratitude. But instead, I find myself thinking about limits.

Every day, we run into them: limits of our physical body, our emotional reserves, and our time; limits on our perspective on the world based on the life we’ve lived; limits based on where we have been born in place and history. Limits imposed on us outwardly, or limits we keep trying to outrun that come from within. Whether we must accept limits that feel isolating and debilitating, or we simply get overwhelmed by the demands of a full life, all of us feel constrained by the limits of time, personality, or place. We long at once to be everywhere and here, experienced in all things yet an expert in a few, having more and having less.

Not until we realize that this hunger in us is a seed of eternity will we plant it deep into the soil of our finite limits, and let it grow. Continue reading

With Love from Thailand

Fourteen years ago, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. 

Fourteen years ago, I first learned about sex trafficking in Southeast Asia (and then, all over the world). This was where I first came in contact with a team headed over to do missions work in Thailand. When I first said that someday, somehow, that would be my life, too.

Over the next 8 years, I continued dreaming of making it there someday. I watched several friends visit and show me pictures of this beautiful country. I made actual plans to arrive there more than once. Looking back, I think this dream of “Thailand” was the only tangible thing I could grasp onto that represented my desire to see the world, do exciting things, make a difference, be involved in justice. But instead, my husband and I were given the opportunity to travel and study in Amsterdam for three months. This had never been in my “plan”–and yet it fit so much better into preparing and training me for actual work right here in my hometown. 

I love that God can redirect the desires of our hearts so gently and perfectly. Often our current dreams are only a seed of the bigger desires He has placed inside us. After our time in Amsterdam, I set the dream of Thailand aside. And yet, I still carried an incredibly tender spot for the country in my heart. 

I am where I am because of this dream. It was the dream of Thailand that led me to Amsterdam; it was the time in Amsterdam that led me to my work with Loom. I can’t think of any job I’d rather be a part of than working with local leaders in caring for the most vulnerable around the world. Which is why, when I had the opportunity to travel with Loom for a training in Thailand this October, I felt this incredible nudge in my soul. Things were coming full circle. I just had to show up and see what God was going to teach me next.

Part of me wondered – when I arrived, would I feel a renewed sense of passion to join anti-trafficking work in Thailand again? Would I hear a new call? Would I want to stay?

img_7731

I landed in Thailand with the sense that I was on a pilgrimage, with no idea what I was seeking. What I did know, is that I was there to learn, to connect, and to receive. As part of the global World Without Orphans Forum, Loom was hosting a two-day pre-summit intensive training called Next Steps: Critical Interventions for Working with Children at Risk. It was incredible to sit in the room with leaders from around the world who shared a passion for preventing the vulnerabilities that lead to trafficking, abuse, and exploitation. 

This was the first official launch of our new curriculum, which meant that all the preparation for each day of training kept me very busy. But on the last day, as we all transitioned to being a part of the full gathering, I loved getting to sit longer with leaders and hear their stories and struggles. 700 leaders from over 70 nations were here to discuss how we could partner together to protect children, and I felt so privileged to be a part of it. 

“Mostly we have been reactive and issues-based” when caring for vulnerable children, commented Rebecca Nhep, Senior Technical Advisor at Better Care Network, “Something needs to shift, [to] ground our decision-making in the needs of the systems.” Collaboration and interdependence understands that we all have a place in addressing a “gap” of the system – and that we don’t need to each reinvent the wheel and try to do everything. 

During my time there I met leaders running children’s homes, foster care programs, training programs, advocacy in law and justice, foundations, media advocacy, and much more. I sat in workshops led by a partner of ours in India, Anu Silas, and those using media and communications to tell stories of truth and dignity. It was encouraging to be there on behalf of Loom, and see how hungry leaders are for true partnership and collaboration. Out of this time, new and stronger partnerships are emerging between Loom and organizations around the world. We hope to see some of our new friends again in East Africa and beyond! 

74674433_2828114387220202_1610162756571365376_n (1)

Like I said, I went into this week of trainings, meetings, and connecting wondering if I would sense a new leading in my spirit from God. What really happened is that I did receive a “call” – but it was a recalling back to my first love, not to my first dream. He reminded me that my first calling is always following Him, and helping people understand their value as made in His image. Over and over again throughout the week, I found myself simply in awe of God’s beauty, love, and creativity in all He is doing in the world. Surrounded by leaders from so many nations reminded me of what a small part I play in a much larger tapestry. The Spirit is vibrantly present everywhere, and I can rejoice in my insignificance in simply getting to witness a piece of how He is working around the world. 

IMG_7776

It is stirring to arrive

And find you already here.

The sign of the dove encircling

Hill and endless hills

Sky and endless sky

And you, endless you:

There is no time you do not

Go before me;

There is nowhere you are not

Gently weaving grace into the world.

I came here with nothing

But what You had already given.

All the journeys I have taken

have been the map to here:

a pilgrimage with no relic,

a destination with no ending

a glimpse into the bountiful everness of You.

IMG_8026

After the Forum, I had the huge privilege of staying in Thailand for another four days, hiking in the national parks with my best friend Kimberly. We soaked in so much beauty, ate delicious street food, and wandered the old city. But my favorite moment by far was our last night there, visiting the Karen Leadership Development Program and worshiping with a circle of kind, talented emerging leaders. Once again, I was reminded of how little I was needed there, in Thailand – and how grateful I am to be part of the global church, this diversely stunning body of Christ. 

 

What was I seeking on this pilgrimage? I was seeking Him.

For everywhere I arrive, He is already present.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Embracing Weakness

A heart deadened to its own struggles can never be a refuge for the struggles of others.

– Shannon Evans

I hate my weakness.

Well, let me put it this way. Some human weaknesses – like mild fear, shyness, or the tendency to forget small details – may seem endearing. I don’t mind embracing the parts of me that are moving towards wholeness, even if slowly, or things that are just part of the way I was created. Some weaknesses I can live with.

But other flaws I really do hate. These are the parts of me that hurt other people, that can feel crippling, that make me wonder if I’ll ever slay the dragons that have become my demons. These are the places where I understand why people self-harm. To come face to face with your own deep brokenness can be a terrifying and even enraging experience. “Embrace” is the exact opposite of how we want to react.

And yet, if we do not learn how to engage these dark places of our hearts, we cut ourselves off from the fullness of connection, empathy, and healing we could experience.

Some of us have experience crippling weakness from our own bodies as well as our hearts. Some of us have had great wrongs done to us. It can feel as if life itself betrayed us, because we know this is not how it should be. And yet.

img_5546.jpg

“The power of the gospel is not that we no longer suffer or struggle, but that we no longer do so alone.” (Embracing Weakness)

While our pain and struggle is not what God intended on this earth, it can still yet be an invitation. In what seems like a dark hole, there can be a doorway. We are invited to allow our weakness to create new places of empathy and love in our hearts. We are given the opportunity to find new solidarity with the poor and the suffering in our midst. We learn that they have much to teach us, and we learn to listen.

How often we try to run from our greatest invitations.

img_5601

Recently I discovered this writing that I had jotted down during Lent:

Being human is to inhabit mystery, to live in weakness.

And in that weakness there is a beautiful dependence we often run from.

Because weakness is also painful – we cannot glamorize weakness, deprivation, dependence, despair.

We cannot gloss over the pain of God’s confounding silence,

the grief and confusion of loss,

the disappointment of withered hopes.

Weakness can be ugly, inconvenient.

Mystery is never comfortable.

But deep within, there is a voice:

Be obscured

Be prepared through the confounding silence of God.

A Letter to Myself

Note: I wrote this letter to myself in much earlier days of this blog, but never published it. I just came across it again today and felt it was time to share it with the world. Although it emerged in the midst of much personal wrestling and prayer, I hope it strikes a chord of resonance with you as well. 

Dear you –

The one who is tired,

the one who sits there staring out the bus window,

wondering if she’s the one who has it all wrong.

The one who recognizes in herself the same criticism

the same jumping to conclusions

the same line-in-the-sand mentality

that frustrates her in others

and wonders how we ever heal from it all. Continue reading

Who doesn’t want that?

I’ve never thought of myself as a powerful person. Or even a person who is tempted by power. Perhaps this is because I’ve never seen myself as much of a leader — I’d much rather be the support squad .

But what is power? Often we equate power with leadership or authority — a big presence, someone who can call the shots. But at its core, power is simply the capacity to affect reality. Who doesn’t want that?  Continue reading

I’m Not #Blessed

Lots of dear friends have been asking me what my biggest takeaways are from my time in Africa. In response, I feel lost for words, only able to come up with, “It just felt so..well…normal, and such an honor to be there.”

My fifteen year old self would have come away saying something like, “After seeing people with so little, I realized how blessed I truly am.” But this time, I thought back to the people I met who were rich in love, who knew how to laugh at themselves and stand tall with dignity, who were creative and kind and resourceful, and I just thought, “I wish you could meet them too.” Continue reading

Coming to terms with my number

I am a two.

To those who are familiar with the Enneagram, I basically just told you all my dirty secrets. Although the Enneagram is considered an ancient personality typing method (making a trendy comeback), I would consider it more of a rigorous soul assessment. It has forced me to confront everything lurking in my heart: hopes, dreams, fears–both what I would die for and what I would die to avoid.

And, as much as I’ve tried to run from it, I am a two.

So what does that mean?  Continue reading