Learning to wait...

How do we wait...patiently?

It's a question we ask ourselves every day. About everything. As humans, patience just doesn't come naturally. Maybe it used to, but it certainly doesn't now. Not in a world where everything is instantaneously accessible. Right at your fingertips. Thanks to technology, we aren't trained to wait well anymore. We have iPhone apps that allow us to order our Chipotle burrito while we are driving to Chipotle. Because we can't wait in the two minute line, or take the five minutes it takes to order and let them make it once we get there. We have Netflix, which lets us rent a movie by clicking a button in order to avoid the five minute drive to the video store. Because we can video chat with our friends who live accross the country, or all the way around the world, we don't have to wait excitedly to see them after a long time apart. I could go on and on. But you know how advanced technology is. How it impacts your life. And how it allows you to avoid the ever dreaded task of waiting.

But we also live in a world, where we encounter waiting every day. I don't mean the type of waiting that consists of waiting in line at an overcrowded DMV, or waiting for a server at an understaffed restaurant to bring you the bill after dinner. Not those little moments in life when we lose our patience and get agitated about a few extra minutes that we interpret as inefficient. Wasteful. Unnecessary.

No...I mean waiting of the heart. The type of waiting we experience over long periods of time. The type that consumes our soul and every ounce of our being. The waiting that rocks our world. Or the waiting for something to rock our world.

We live in a world that emphasizes quick fixes. Easy access. Efficiency. And it doesn't prepare us for the big waits in our life. It tells us that we shouldn't have to wait. That we're too important to wait. Or that waiting is for people who have time for that. But that we are not one of those people.

As a result, we are unprepared when we encounter those situations that require our hearts to settle in uncertainty. To accept that now is not the time. That we don't know when exactly that time will come. Or how we will even know that time has arrived. We grow beyond uncomfortable when we enter these circumstances. We shake to our core. Wondering how we can avoid the waiting. What type of quick fixes we can use as a solution. How to fast forward the waiting period and get there just a little bit faster. Or we complain obsessively about the pain of waiting. So much that we make that period of life go by even slower than it naturally would.

Some of us wait for answers. What am I supposed to do in life? What career should I pursue? What employer will hire me? Where will I move?

Some of us wait for miracles. Those who have loved ones that have been diagnosed with cancer wait for it to be gone. Wondering how long they can continue to fight it. How long it will take to defeat it. Married couples who have tried to get pregnant over and over with no success wait to have their own children. Wondering if they will ever get to start a family. Or how much time they have left to try.

Some of us wait to start living the life we know we're meant to live. Many can't afford the career they really want, and so they stay in a job they hate until they have saved up the money they need to leave it. For the job that allows them to use their passions. For the job that allows them to make a difference in the world.

Some of us wait for those we care about to stop disappointing us. To stop hurting us. To finally follow through. To be there. To be the person we know they are capable of being. Maybe its overcoming an addiction. Returning to be present in our lives after abandoning us. Finally keeping promises that have forever been broken.  Loving us in the way we have always loved them...unconditionally. Accepting us for who we are. Or just showing an interest in coming to know our real hearts.

Tons of us wait for love. Wondering if we'll ever find that person we are meant to share the rest of our life with. Knowing that we were not meant to live it alone. Watching everyone around us seemingly find their soul mate, while we are left...alone.

There are so many things that cause our hearts to be left in a place of waiting. That force our souls to long for whatever it is we're waiting on. And there's a very simple reason: the world doesn't run on our time. It runs on God's. We may think we know when everything should happen. The right time for the right plans. When we're ready for that next step in life. As humans, we have this tendency to think we know it all. But...we don't. Only He does.

In those times of waiting...the ones that create intense longing for whatever it is we are waiting for...we grow more than any other time in life. God does tremendous work in our hearts while we wait. What we see as "waiting," God sees as something entirely different. We just can't see what He's doing until it's done. Maybe not even for years. Until we look back and make sense of it all. Because everything He's working on inside of us is beautifully planned out. Done on purpose. At the perfect time. In the perfect way.

You see, when we wait...we grow.

In strength.
In character.
In heart.
In faith.

We're completely blind to it most of the time. Because we're in the middle of it. And because our minds are too focused on that thing we think we need (which we might, but we might not) that we're waiting for. Our sights are on the future, which makes us think we're waiting. But if we would live more in the present, our eyes might be more open to seeing the amazing benefits of "waiting."

When you have to wait, you learn things about yourself. Your strengths and weaknesses. Your passions and heartcries. Your wounds. Why that thing you're waiting for means so much to you. And when you wait, you learn to rely on God. You start to realize that you can't fast forward through the waiting and have those desires handed to you. You have to push through the storm to get to the rainbow so to speak. And in that time, God is right there waiting with you. Working in you. Waiting reminds us that we are only human. Life is not in our hands. You learn to trust His way and His timing. You learn how to pray. How to cry out to Him in expression of your longings. How to go to Him for comfort when the waiting brings you to discouragement and pain.

We call it waiting...But I doubt God would call it that. Because, while we may see ourselves as sitting still in anticipation for something yet to come...God is busy at work inside us, bringing about enormous change. We may be resting during that period. But God certainly is not. He is moving. Doing more than we will ever know.

My Best Friend, Scovia

Her name is Scovia. She was the first child at Village of Hope to introduce herself to me. She said hello, and I asked her what her name was.

"Scovia," she said.

"What a beautiful name." I asked her how old she was, and she replied 14.

And then she said, "I would like to become your best friend."

At first, I couldn't understand what she was saying. So I asked her to repeat what she said.

"I want to be your best friend."

I told her I would love to be her best friend. She smiled, and I gave her a hug.

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Scovia?" I asked.

"I would like to be a social worker," she said.

"And why is that?"

"Because, I want to give hope to children in Uganda."

She said it just like that. Bold and profound. Very serious. Aware of her dream, and determined to make it reality.

She was a beautiful girl with a beautiful heart. And beautiful dreams. I had to leave to finish our tour of the village, but I promised her that we would get to know each other better soon. And I took her picture before I left.

This is the picture I took of Scovia right after I met her.

The next day I saw her again. I waved and smiled as we were leading an activity.

Then in the early evening, the children performed their welcome dances for us. There is NOTHING like African dancing. The children are all so good. So rhythmic. So talented. They dance beautifully. From the soul. With passion and life.

During one of the dances, a lot of the girls on our team got up to join the children. I stayed back to take pictures of them dancing with the kids. But my heart wanted to dance to the beat of the African drums. So, I went up to join. Scovia found me immediately. It was a partner dance, and she wanted to dance with me.

I asked her how to do the dance, and she tried her best to teach me. I kept telling her, "I'm not very good at this," which was obviously true. But she just said, "No, no, you are doing good!" Another girl came up to me and tied a piece of folded fabric around my waist. The girls fold the beautiful African fabric around their waists before their dancing to emphasize the way they shake their hips. And boy, can they shake their hips! My attempt was utterly embaressing.

Before we danced, Scovia said to me, "I have a letter for you." Again, I had to ask her to repeat what she said, but once she did I understood. She had written me a letter. I knew right then that we had a very special connection and that I would never forget her. I thanked her and told her I would get it from her later that day and write her a letter back. I gave her a big hug.

Then it was time for the two of us to go up in front of everyone and do our partner dance. The way it works is that two girls go up at a time, while everyone else waits in a line behind them. When the pair goes up, they stand by the boys who are drumming and face each other. They do one dance for about twenty seconds, maybe less, which basically requires shaking your booty (not that that's what they would call it!) And then a girl blows a whistle to tell them to switch directions and face the line of girls waiting for their turn. This time, they do another short dance, where they shake their hips side to side as if hoola hooping. And then the girl blows the whistle again, and the pair returns to the back of the line.

I was of course awful in my attempt at the dance, but it was so much fun. I shook my hips with all I had. The girls were absolutely cracking up at my shaking my very white butt. They loved my embaressing attempt at their cultural dance. And loved laughing at it even more.

I felt so alive when I was dancing with Scovia. I rejected all of those feelings of being scared, nervous, or not good enough. I was not embarrassed. I just danced. I danced with everything I had. I felt more alive than I can ever remember feeling before. I loved every second of it.

The next day, Scovia handed me the letter she wrote me. It was folded up into a small square. I opened it up, and saw a page of lined paper filled with red writing. This is what it said (there was no punctuation in the actual letter, but I added it to help it read easier):

Hello my best friend,

I am Scovia who would like to be your best friend, and I know that God will make us to be friends forever. And I know that if you go back to America we will be praying for each other. And I know that God have special plan for your feature (future) and God do to I too. And he love you so much and I love you too. I will never forget you in my heart, and I know that if you go back to America, you will still come back and see me again. And I request you to send my greeting to your family and say to them that I love them so much. May God bless you. Thank you.

With much love,

Scovia Akello

I don't know her whole story. I didn't pry her to find out. I do know that Scovia was one of the original fifty children who lived in a safehouse before coming to Village of Hope. This was at least a year ago, meaning that she was only 13 then. And even younger when she was a child soldier. And even younger when she was abducted. She has no family. The other children and the house mothers at Village of Hope are her family. God is her family.

I wrote Scovia a letter, too. I gave it to her our last evening at the village. That night she was very sad. So I asked her if she wanted to come talk with me in private, just the two of us. She wanted to, and so I found two chairs and we sat down to talk.

When I asked her how she was doing, she replied, "I am sad. I am very sad."

I asked her why.

"Because you are leaving tomorrow. I do not want you to leave. It makes me sad."

I spent the next twenty minutes or so telling Scovia that she should be happy, not sad. I told her that although I was sad to leave her, I was more joyful because I had come to Uganda, to Village of Hope, and met her. Because we were now best friends. I told her that was a reason to be happy, not sad. That we should be joyful and thank God that he brought us together to be friends.


I told her that she inspired me. That I would carry her with me in my heart wherever I go. That she gives me hope and strength. I told her I would never forget her. And that I would be praying for her. And praying that God would bring me back to Village of Hope Uganda so that I could see her again and spend more time with her. And that when that day comes, she will be older and taller. Smarter. In secondary school. Well on her way to becoming the greatest social worker in all of Uganda. Because she is such a strong girl. With such a big heart. And so much hope. I told her she was going to be a leader and a role model in her country. That she would bring hope to so many children in Uganda. I told her to read my letter whenever she gets sad or misses me, and that I would read her letter whenever I felt the same. I took her picture, and promised her I would hang it on my wall next to her letter. So that I could look at them every day. Remember her every day. Pray for her every day.

I promised her I would come back to Uganda, and back to Village of Hope. I generally hate making promises like that in Africa, because the truth is you never know. It's God's plan, not mine. But then, in that moment, I knew that God was going to bring me back to that orphanage to see Scovia again. To encourage her. To learn for her.

And then, I prayed for her. We held hands and I prayed out loud. I don't think I have ever prayed so hard. So strong. So pure. Straight from my heart, out of my mouth, to God. I will never forget that intimate time I spent with Scovia that night.

You see, children like Scovia have been through more than we in America can even imagine. Their strength is undefinable. They have suffered, and God has grown them through that suffering. They are desperate from that suffering, and thus turn to God with every ounce of their heart. They trust Him with their whole life. They don't have parents, and so they really look to God as their Father. They are grateful for everything. They praise Him all the time. In a more beautiful way than we know here. With so much passion and love.

Scovia is a beautiful, special girl. She is strong. She has hope. She is such a true leader and role model for others. She will be Uganda's greatest social worker. And she will bring hope to many children in Uganda. She has a beautiful future ahead of her.

And although she is only 14, she is teaching me what true faith looks like. What true resilience looks like. What true hopes and dreams look like. How to love. How to praise. How to be grateful. How to turn our heartaches into something beautiful. She is my teacher.

She is my new best friend.

And I look forward to the day that I am able to return to Village of Hope Uganda and greet her with a huge hug.

But until then, I will read her letter. Look at her picture. Pray for her. And learn from her.

Scovia and me right before we said goodbye during our last morning at Village of Hope

The Heartbeat of Africa

Children drumming at one of the displacement camps we visited in Gulu

There is nothing quite like an African welcome.Whether it's waking up in the morning to the loud noises of all the hustle and bustle that is an African city. Boda Bodas speeding down the road. Vans honking their horns at them to get out of their way. Music blasting from the shops along the street.

Children getting ready to drum and dance for us. One of the amazing boys drumming was blind. Incredible.

Or entering an African village full of children running up to greet you, while smaller babies hide behind their mothers' legs. Children shaking your hand with the utmost respect as they kneel slightly or take a sort of courtesy. Others laughing in the corner with their friends at their funny looking visitors.

Children at one of the displacement camps in Gulu

 Or even visiting a displacement camp full of war-affected orphans waiting in a line to perform for you. Who have set out a row of seats of honor to show their visitors respect--a hugely important value in this culture. When you are greeted immediately by singing and dancing to African drums by the children. Whose voices sound like angels. Whose dancing is contagious. Whose rhythm is so natural and strong. Children who sing welcome songs, recite memory versus, and dance to the drums. Their spirit is vibrant and alive.

Sweet little girl at the last displacement camp we visited.

No. There is nothing quite like an African welcome. To make you feel warm and at home. To bring a huge smile to your face. To remind you of the resilience, beauty, and kindness that is the spirit of Africa and its people. It is a continent of joy. Yes, many Africans have suffered. Yes, there is plenty of pain and heartache. Poverty and war. Disease and hunger. Yes, there is devastation nearly everywhere you look.

But that is not the spirit of Africa. No. Africa survives all of that and more. And it does not only survive. It is resilient beyond our ability to comprehend. It is joyful. It is vibrantly alive. And more overflowing with God's presence, love and grace than anywhere else in the world I have seen.

Why is Africa so resilient despite their suffering? I'm sure there are plenty of explanations. But what I see is hope--hope in a better future. Faith--faith in God. That he will not forsake them. That he will always provide for them. That He is with them always. Love--love for those who have harmed them. Love for life. Love for God. More love for Him than I have ever seen. Their hearts are full of love. Dreams--dreams of a peaceful and thriving Africa. Praise--praise for God in the midst of suffering. Praise for His faithfulness and His love. Life--they are alive. In a way that we Americans do not know how to be. In a way that is present and lives in the now rather than worrying about the future. Alive with such passion for life and for living it for one purpose: for God.

Children praying at one of the displacement camps in Gulu. They are wearing the Believe t-shirts we gave them.

When I am here, I hear Africa's heartbeat. Its sound mimics that of the African drums. It is bold in how it lives for Jesus. It is steady in how it pushes forward with resilience after pain. It is strong in that it never gives up. And it is powerful in its faith and hope in the Lord and its courage to trust everything in His hands.
Africa's heartbeat is the beat that God meant each of our hearts to have. It teaches me so much every time I am fortunate enough to hear it. It reminds me of the people we were all created to be. Of the community that we should be.

When many think of Africa, they think of devastation, corruption, and un-fixable problems like poverty, war, and disease. When I think of Africa, I think of my teacher. I think of a spirit entirely indestructible. A people so resilient and strong that nothing could possibly beat down their hope or joy. A people who know the Lord so deeply that they don't just say life will get better someday. They believe with every ounce of their hearts that God is there. He is working. And He will lead them through this with His love, grace, and mercy.

When I hear the true heartbeat of Africa, I pray that the rest of the world would hear it, too. That we would all mold our hearts to better fit that beautiful rhythm of the African drums. That we would somehow all come together and adopt Africa's spirit as our own. How much more powerful and alive would we be? How much more on fire for God would we be?

What would our world look like if all of humanity's hearts danced to the beat of the African drums? My guess is a lot more like heaven. And a lot more like the heart of all hearts. The heart of our Father.
The heartbeat of Africa gives me hope. And even though white girls can't dance--proven today by myself and my teammates who tried to join in dancing with the children in the displacement camp--this is a beat that we are all capable of dancing to. We simply have to open our hearts, trust completely in God, and slowly move one foot in front of the other until we pick up the rhythm.

Tonight I pray that all the world let Africa be its teacher. That we would all stand up, listen carefully, and start dancing to the beat of the African drums. Besides...white girls will never be able to dance if we don't try :)

The Start of an Unforgettable Summer

Three months have gone by since my last post. Which I wrote on my way to Nashville for spring break. I was heading to Nashville to interview for an internship with eXile international and check out the city I would hopefully be living in this summer....

Well, it's officially more than three months later, and I am living an adventure so incredible I couldn't have even imagined it. Let's see if I can break this down...

I'm living on my own for the first time in my 20 years of life. In a city I moved to without knowing a single soul. Away from all of my friends and family. I don't say this to sound dramatic. It was honestly a big step for me. Out of my comfort zone. Away from my safe little bubble. Living in Nashville on my own means I have to develop an independence I've never had to own before. A sense of comfort in being alone. An appreciation for enjoying the company of just myself.

You see, I'm a very dependent person. A huge people person. And my friends are my life. I constantly surround myself with close friends who I do everything with and talk about everything with. I don't make decisions without consulting all of them first. Asking everyone for their opinions and advice. I don't do life alone well. Not that I think we were meant to do life alone, because we definitely weren't. We were designed to live in relationship with each other for a very important reason. Relationships are what make life worth living. But, there comes a time when we all need to learn how to be in healthy relationship with ourselves.

This is exactly what I'm doing this summer. Learning how to love myself. Which is so important, given that we can never truly love another human being if we don't first understand and love ourselves. I'm learning how to be comfortable in an apartment with only the company of a book. Or a journal. Or God. I'm learning how to make important decisions on my own. How to give myself the distance I need from unhealthy relationships. How to step outside of what is known and comfortable and experiment with what is new, exciting, and a little scary.

I'm learning how to love uncertainty. And coming from someone who plans out every moment of every day in multiple to do lists, that is pretty huge. It's helping me to accept that God's timing is not my own, but so much better. So perfect. And so worth waiting for.

I'm learning that there is beauty in not knowing. Possibility in an undefined future. Strength in waiting.

Let's just say this is a summer of personal growth for me. Sounds cheesy, but I really think everyone should take times like these throughout their life. Times of rest and reflection. Times of just being in relationship with yourself. Think about it...if we don't give ourselves a healthy amount of attention and love, how can we expect others to? If we don't treat ourselves with respect and kindness, how can we expect those we are in relationship with to treat us well?

It all starts with us.

I for one am tired of being in selfish, manipulative, and destructive relationships. I'm done chasing after those who don't treat me well. But that in itself is not enough. I know, because I have said that a million times and then entered another messed up, unhealthy relationship. Rather than just telling myself that's not what I deserve and so I'm done with that, I have to instead show myself what I do deserve in a relationship. By taking some time to be in relationship with myself in a healthy way. To get a better understanding of who I am and what I need.


This summer is also an incredible adventure for me because I have been given the opportunity to intern for eXile international, a nonprofit organization with a beautiful heart for the traumatized children in war-torn Africa. eXile does expressive trauma therapy with former child soldiers and war-affected children in Uganda, Congo, and Southern Sudan. They bring hope, love, and healing to the most traumatized hearts in the world so that these children can grow up to be soldiers of peace rather than soldiers of war. So that they can become their nations' leaders.

It has truly been the perfect summer internship for me so far. I have a huge heart for Africa. And a passion for working with the broken and traumatized. And I love working with kids, because their hearts are so precious and they are truly the hope for our world. My heart and passion align almost perfectly with the work that eXile does. And as if that wasn't enough, their current needs happen to match my skills. As executive intern I get to do a lot of organizational work and writing. And if I had to pick two of my strongest skills, they would be organizing. And writing. It's also a really flexible internship, and I get to work from coffee shops all week. Which I love! Because coffee shops are such a peaceful, but busy and people-filled environment. There's something about the dual atmosphere of a coffeeshop that keeps me calm but focused. And as a result, I do some of my best thinking in coffee shops.


As if all of this isn't enough, I was also beyond blessed to travel with the eXile team to Uganda for two weeks. That's right, I got to go back to Africa. My favorite continent. Where I had already left my heart twice. For the third visit in two years. Blessed? I think so!

While we were there, we visited three displacement camps in Gulu and spent a week at Village of Hope Orphanage. We did art therapy, sports therapy, peace education, and EMDR with former child soldiers for the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA). We worked the most traumatized of hearts. Children who were abducted from their homes. Children who were forced to kill their parents, siblings, and friends. Children trained to fight. Children who were raped. Young girls who gave birth in the bush. Children who have lost their parents to the war. Children who have no homes to return to. Children who lost their childhoods to the true evil of Joseph Kony and the LRA.

Now, to write about this trip will take many blog posts. But don't worry, they are on their way! There are lots of stories of strong children with beautiful hearts that I must share with you. These stories show true resilience in the face of suffering. True faith in the Lord. They are stories that have to be shared. Because the voices of these children deserve to be heard. The LRA might have tried to silence them. But that will never happen. These children are not nameless. They are not faceless. They are not storyless. And so, I will share their names, show their pictures, and tell their stories. Again. And again. Until the world hears their heartcry. And does something about the war that has been going on for almost 25 years.

If you read my blog, I ask that you read the next few posts about Africa and these children with your hearts open. Imagine these children telling you their stories themselves. Imagine them standing in front of you asking for your help. Pray for them. Share their stories with your friends and family. They deserve to be heard by everyone. They deserve to be known by all. I also ask that you take a little bit of time to research the war in Northern Uganda, Congo, and Southern Sudan. Read a little bit about Joseph Kony and the LRA. Educate yourself on the destruction that has been going on in East Africa. We can't help if we don't know what is happening. And if we truly know the devastation, we can't ignore it any longer. Then, if you want to get involved, look up Invisible Children and Resolve Uganda, two organizations that have been working really hard to educate the public and advocate for action by our government.

These are real children. With real names. Real faces. And real stories.


See them.

               Hear them.

                                 Help them.

Dream Big or Go Home

Lately I have been thinking a lot about my future. I find myself spending hours sitting at my computer looking into graduate school programs, internship opportunities, and websites for organizations I'd love to work for someday. I catch myself taking notes in class about summer plans or future career paths instead of the lecture. It's been a ridiculously busy season for me at school, yet somehow I always end up spending the little amount of free time I have contemplating what I want to do with my life.

It's a rather intimidating subject to think about. I'm only a sophomore in college, but somehow I find it necessary to think about these things. My last post was all about my tendency to plan and overanalyze. But don't worry...even though this post sounds very similar, it is heading in a different direction. You see, there's something unique about this obsession with contemplating my future. It's not just a sit down, make some to do lists, and plan things out situation. It’s more than that.

It's about passion. Enthusiasm. Excitement. Zeal. Let me explain....

I've always been one of those people who could be classified as a nerd. I enjoy school. That's an understatement. I love school. Before college, I was always that kid who couldn't wait for summer to come to an end so I could go back to class. I would spend extra time on projects, because I'd get really into them and excited about them. Homework was fun for me. I know, weird. But somehow it was. I loved putting a huge amount of effort into an assignment and the feeling of accomplishment that came with turning it in and getting a good grade. Yeah, I know. That's literally the definition of a nerd. Which is what I was...or am.

In college, I've been that student that gets ridiculously excited at the end of every semester when courses for the next semester get posted online. Who then sits at her computer for hours reading the course descriptions, getting all excited about my potential professors and schedules. I still get excited about projects that relate to my particular interests, and there are some classes that I really enjoy. The ones that relate to the types of work I can see myself doing someday in the real world. But other than that, I don't find myself very enthused about school anymore. I'm sure that's normal. It's college after all. More reading, more homework, tougher exams, higher expectations on papers and projects. But I don't think that is what's responsible for my change of heart.

More than getting excited about school these days, I find I have a huge passion for the extra-curricular activities I'm involved with. The on-campus groups I volunteer my time with provide me with so much more joy than my classes do. In reality, I spend triple the amount of time and effort working on things for these groups. I get so enthusiastic when I'm working on projects and planning on-campus events for them. My involvement in these extra-curricular activities keeps me motivated. Makes me happy. Helps me feel like I'm accomplishing something useful for my future. Slowly paints a better picture of what I want to dedicate my life to. When I get frustrated with school, wish with all my heart that I could just be back in Africa doing real work to help those in need, these clubs remind me that I am doing something at college, too. That although my heart is not totally here, I have a purpose. That I'm making a difference in some small sort of way. That I'm learning and developing skills that will help prepare me for whatever work I end up doing someday. I think the source of excitement for my extra-curricular activities is the exact same source for my enthusiasm about my future.

I have these passions that keep me on fire for life. That's what passions do if you give them the authority to take over your life choices. They motivate you. Encourage you. Fuel and energize you. I have a passion for serving others in need, for helping the vulnerable, for being a voice for the voiceless, for using my abilities and skills to make a difference in the lives of others, to help bring more justice into the world, to help restore dignity to the poor, hope in the lost, faith in the discouraged. I don't know exactly what that looks like. Obviously I can't yet. But I do know that is what my heart begs me to live for. It's what encourages me to study certain things in school, to participate in certain clubs, to pursue certain opportunities. Its what motivates me to learn as much as I can at college, even though my heart longs to be in Africa. To drop out of school and do real work. Unrealistic and stupid as an idea like that would be, it inevitably enters my mind every time I get frustrated or discouraged. When I feel stuck in college. Like I'm not making the difference I know I'm capable of.

So, like I said...this obsession with contemplating my future thing is about passion. Enthusiasm. Excitement. Zeal. It's me trying to be happy with where I am by getting excited about where it might help me end up. It's my way of recreating that passion for school that keeps drifting farther and farther away.

It's not planning out details like I do everyday in my to do lists. It's dreaming. Dreaming of potential paths I can take. Creative brainstorming in essence. I find myself thinking up crazy ideas about a nonprofit organization I could start on my own. What it would do, how it would function, who it would benefit, what problems it would address, where it would be, how it would be funded, how it would be sustainable. I scribble it on a page in my notebook in class. I write it down at night when I'm journaling. I know...I'm 20. I'm a sophomore. I don't even have a college degree yet. But I can't help it. I allow my passions to consume me, because I know if I don't I won't be living life as big and full as is possible. I allow them to set me on fire for a cause, for a dream. I allow them to develop these crazy illusions in my mind about things I can accomplish someday. People I can work with someday. Places I can go someday. Someday, not today. But I dream today to get me to someday.

If we don't dream, we settle. Maybe there is something in between. But I see it as one or the other. We all have immense potential to do incredible things, but we have to believe in ourselves in order to reach that potential. Going for our dreams is what allows that to happen. And we can't go for them, unless we allow ourselves to create them in the first place. No fear of whether or not they will ever come true, whether or not we have it in us. Nope. Just faith. Faith that we are powerful in heart, mind, and spirit. That we are hard enough workers to make it happen. That we are smart enough people to pull it off. That we are passionate enough hearts to stay excited and energized. And most importantly, that we believe strongly enough in ourselves to never give up.

It sounds cheesy. Just like everything else I write about, because that's just how I'm wired. But think about all the great people in this world who have accomplished incredible things. Do you think they told themselves, no, it will never happen? It's too hard a fight. Too much time and energy to make it happen. I'm not strong enough, smart enough, motivated enough. No. They believed in themselves, and went for their dreams with every ounce of soul inside them.

Is there something you heart longs to do? Is there a passion within you that sets you on fire to make a change? If there is, listen to it as hard as you can. It was placed there for a very important reason. But unless you believe in yourself enough to fight for it with all of your strength, the world will never be lucky enough to find out.

So, let your passions fuel you. Inspire you. Move you. Keep the fire burning as long as it takes to make it happen. Don't let anyone around you try and blow it out. They can't unless you let them. It's yours. It's yours to believe in, work for, and make a reality. And I guarantee you, you will be more alive and the world will be a better place if you do.

Giving Risk a Chance

I'm pretty sure I mentioned this in my first blog post, but I'm a planner. I love my to-do lists. I love crossing things off of them even more. I plan out my day, my week, my month...and way farther into the future than anyone ever should. My planner has so many scribbles, it looks like I never stop to breath. But really, I just like to write everything down before it happens. I like the comfort that comes in knowing what is going to happen before it becomes reality. There's some sort of satisfaction in accomplishing something I've already planned out ahead of time. Mostly, though, I find comfort in not having to face the unknown. Not having to wonder. Not having to stare down the face of uncertainty.

I think that's why I enjoy baking cupcakes so much. Sure, they are cute, because everything is cute when it's smaller. Why else do we ooh and ahh at baby clothes, baby shoes, babies in and of themselves? Because small things are obviously adorable. But that's beside the point. I enjoy baking because of the control it gives me. Cooking is also therapeutic and calming, but cooking is all estimation. Mixing a little of this with a little of that. Adding some of this to bring out more flavor. Sprinkling in some of that to give it a little kick. It's not exact. So you never know what your dish will come out tasting like. Baking, however, is a science. Now, those of you who know me will wonder why that's appealing, since my brain does NOT work in terms of math and science. But it's really quite simple. When I measure out ingredients, a cup of this, a tablespoon of that, I know I am going to come out with something pretty close to what I planned. Being able to level out a cup of flour with knife assures me that my cupcakes will have the right consistency. Measuring out a teaspoon of vanilla means that my cupcakes will have just enough vanilla flavor, but not be overpowered by it. Sure there are some mishaps. On occasion I spill a little extra bit of an ingredient into the bowl. But in baking, I do what the recipe calls for. And I know that in the end I will get pretty close to what I planned on making.

Today I made red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I didn't put enough red food coloring in the batter, so they came out a little more like pink velvet cupcakes. But they tasted exactly like one would expect red velvet cupcakes to taste like. The frosting was a creamy, buttery consistency tasting like a sugary cream cheese. The cupcake was crunchy on the top, moist on the inside, and tasted of a rich chocolate flavor despite its fluffy texture. None of this was a surprise. As I bit into one, I heard myself think "yep, that's red velvet right there." I was comforted by its consistent turn out. By the fact that I had made exactly what I had planned to make.

As far as baking goes, this is an entirely healthy response. I think this mindset can cause us serious trouble in life, though. For me, all of this comfort in knowing what's going to happen in the future, in planning things out so life doesn't surprise me, in following those plans perfectly, often keeps me from taking risks. Planning obsessively and looking ahead leads me to miss the opportunity to be present in what is currently happening in and around me. By playing it safe, I take the chance of missing out on opportunities that could change my life.

Maybe it's a guy who unexpectedly walks into my life when I had planned to spend some time focusing on me. When a relationship wasn't exactly what I had in mind for a little while. When I had told myself I would take a break from trying to find the right guy because each attempt in my past had utterly failed and left me broken inside. When I wasn't ready to open my heart again. When I didn't know if there was even any chance of it working out.

Or, maybe it's a job opportunity in a place I had never planned on moving to. A city where I don't know a single soul. An internship that won't provide me with any income to live off of for the summer. That would require me to live truly alone for the first time in my life. That would probably teach me a million things about myself and the field I want to work in someday. That could allow me to meet new people who might bring something unique into my life. That could probably help me grow stronger in ways I never thought I could.

Or, maybe it's offering someone a second chance who I previously shut out of my life. When I had never planned on letting them knock down the wall I built up so well. When I had justified a thousand times keeping them out of my life and not allowing them to truly know who I am. When I spent years figuring out how to make sense of the pain they caused me. When it would probably allow me to grow in my ability to forgive, accept, and love others. When it would really give me the opportunity to change a past I had always regretted.

It could be anything really. But if I'm too busy making detailed plans for my future and following those plans as precisely as possible, I'll miss those opportunities. Opportunities to pause. To ignore my plans. To take a risk. To live in the moment. To experience life for all that it is. To say yes to the things the universe places in front of me. To live in a way that allows me to never regret a single choice I've made or path I've taken.

So why do I fear taking risks, when there are so many incredible possibilities within them? Why do I choose comfort and safety over possibility and opportunity? Why am I so afraid of taking my homework one task at a time instead of writing down everything in the order in which I plan to accomplish it? Why do I get so scared when a guy seems like he might be interested in me? Sure there is a possibility of getting hurt again, reopening old wounds, but why do I have to focus on that instead of seeing the potential of being happy and enjoying someone else's company? And why am I afraid of forgiving someone close to me for hurting me, letting them back into my life, allowing them to get to know the real me, giving them the opportunity to show me they really have changed and want to be better? Why do I tread so slowly along the icy walkways on campus fearing I will slip, fall, and embarrass myself? People fall on the ice all the time. You get up, laugh it off, brush yourself off, and move on.

That's life. We fall, we mess up, we get hurt. But if we spend it hiding in the corner too afraid to take risks because of the potential harm that could come from them, we'll never know and experience all of the good and growth that is also a potential outcome of those risks. So let's stop planning and start living in the moment. Let's stare uncertainty and ambiguity in the face instead of backing down and settling for comfort. Let's push ourselves to take the risks we never could. Let's fall down and get a little bruised along the way. Because if we don't, we'll never know what could have been. And nothing is worse than being left wondering, "what if?" With risk taking, comes fear, questions, hesitation, and bruises. But it also comes with growth, experience, and infinite potential and possibility.

I'm attaching a youtube video as the end of this blog post. It's a song written and recorded by an amazingly talented friend of mine, Ashley Hames. She's a brilliant writer and a beautiful singer, and I think this song captures the heart of this post really well. Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to check out her youtube page for more of her original music!

Beautifully Strong. Wholeheartedly Faithful.

Tonight I find myself thinking of Africa. Of Congo. The people I met there. The strongest people I've ever come across. Women who were brutally raped as a tool of war used to devastate the communities of Congo. Women who experience serious health problems and had or are still waiting for reparative surgery as a result. Who suffer from the HIV/AIDS their rapists left them with. Who live ostracized from their communities and even separated from their families due to the stigma rape carries in their culture. I felt utterly weak in their presence as I listened to their unimaginable stories. They had suffered so much trauma, experienced horrors I can't even imagine. And continued to live every day of their life with the haunting memories of it all. Even the thought was devastating.

Yet, they were vibrantly alive. Full of hope for a better future for their country, their children, themselves. Only loving towards those who brutally raped them and forever changed their lives. Wholeheartedly trusting in God to bring peace to their community. Faithful in his ability to bring justice and redemption. Strong in every sense of the word. Carrying on, looking forward, finding purpose in their past, sharing their experience with other women to show solidarity. Despite the tragic violence they lived, they believed with all their heart that there was a God who loved them, and that he would never abandon them.

These women give me strength and taught me more than I can ever express. In the worst imaginable circumstances, they didn't worry about their future. And they didn't question their suffering.

We all worry about the future. We freak out. We wonder if things will go the way we have planned. We get anxious. We want control. We want to know what will happen before it does. We feel like we need to be prepared. Like our future is in our hands and so we need to make the right decisions. We ask how we will get through suffering. How we will heal a broken heart. How we will live after the loss of a loved one. Fear that we will never find our soul mate. Worry we'll always be alone. We won't be able to pay our debts. We won't measure up to another person's standards of success. We'll disappoint someone. We'll fail. We won't be all that we were meant to be.

Whether or not you believe in God or any sort of higher being, deep down we know that our future is not totally in our hands. There's only so much we can control in life. You might believe in fate, or destiny, or you might believe that God already has a plan for your life. Either way, its all the same. We are only human, and life throws us things we aren't expecting all the time. Our lives are brief in the span of the world as a whole. Even if you're not buying this, and you think everything that happens to us happens based on decisions we have made...we are frail. Because at any moment our lives could end. We could get in a deadly car crash or some other sort of accident. Our lives are not our own. Our future is not in our control.

So why do we worry? If you believe in God, then you know he would never throw something at us that he didn't know we are fully capable of handling with his help. He wouldn't leave us out to dry. He knows how much we can take. And like those women believed with all their hearts, he would never abandon us. If you don't believe in God, my argument still stands. There's no reason to worry in life. Look at how strong these Congolese women are. It's not a competition of whose suffering measures out to be worse. But I guarantee you, you're not going to even come close if you try. They lived through a horribly violent war. They were brutally raped. They continue to live with the physical pain and haunting memories. They are now infected with HIV/AIDS. Many were shunned from their communities. Meaning they don't even get to see their own children. They continue to live in poverty. Their entire world was taken from them. But they are NOT worried about their future. They have faith in a happy ending. They know deep down that they are capable of fighting whatever the evil in our world brings next. But they have faith that peace will come instead.

If they can have hope that after all they have experienced, all will be okay, how can we not?

These amazingly strong women didn't worry about their future. And rather than questioning their suffering, they knew redemption was coming for them. They trusted more of life was on its way. That this wasn't it. That the rest of their life would not be full of suffering. They had so much faith in that that in the mist of trauma, violence, and suffering...they praised God for his goodness and love. That's right. After all of the horrors they lived, they THANKED God. Crazy, right?

Or is it? Ever notice how we get angry at God (or the world if we don't believe in God) for sending us pain? For making life hard? What good does that do for us? I recently read a book called Bittersweet, about the beauty of a life that is both bitter and sweet. With only sweetness, we don't appreciate life. Without bitterness, we can't grow in life. Ever notice how in the worst times of suffering, we come out a stronger person? We grow in suffering. We learn who we are, what we're capable of, who we can count on, how to heal, at what point we break, what matters in life. In every difficult time, we learn something valuable that we can use to live a better life.

Even more importantly, we grow in strength. Without suffering, we would be weak. Half alive. Sweet but not bitter. Unaware of all that we are capable of being.

So why not be thankful for pain sometimes? Without the pain you've experienced you would not be the person you are. You wouldn't be this strong. You wouldn't be this deep. The bitter and how we deal with it is what makes us beautiful. Its what makes us become all we were designed to be. Strong. Always growing. Always learning more about ourselves. Intricately beautiful.

The Congolese women I met two summers ago have been an inspiration to me ever since. But too often, I forget what they taught me. I worry about the silly things life brings my way. I worry about my future not going the way I planned. I get frustrated when life isn't easy. I get angry when I encounter pain and suffering. Those beautifully strong women in Congo did not. If they can have faith in a better future, if they can thank God for his goodness in the midst of their suffering...

How can I not?

How can we not?