Beauty from Ashes

Little girl, broken hearted
Will you dare to love again?
You fear to risk it all and find
You're not equal to the pain

You close your eyes and try to block
The blinding light of day
And plug your ears so you can't hear
The fallen dreams of yesterday

Fear has locked you in its grasp
And whispers all night long
Words of torment, hate, and shame
That tell you, you were wrong

Dirt encrusted on your feet
From travelling this rough road
Shoulders slumped from the weight
Of a heavy load

You feel so lost and hopeless
That you could still be loved
Your heart does not believe that
You are so beloved

With every breath you're falling back
And hate has stolen your heart
How long will it be before
You finally fall apart?

God's love for you is genuine
If only you could see
The beauty that can come from ashes
And truth that sets you free

"...and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow upon them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor."

Isaiah 61:3

Good-Bye

I will miss my dog, Jack, as well. :(

I have always been the kind of person to push away unwelcome feelings such as nervousness, sadness, or worry until the last possible moments when suddenly it hits me: I'm moving out tomorrow. I like to keep a cool head - and worrying about something is no fun at all. I tend to go through normal life as if nothing new or different is coming my way sooner than I may realize until the moment of change is right upon me. Another tendency I have is not to like long good-byes. Short and sweet to get it over with is my policy. If I'm going to see someone again, I like to look forward to seeing you, rather than dwell in the sadness of saying good-bye. So I had not really thought a lot about what it would be like living away from my family and on my own for good - until very recently. Leaving my sister had an especially heavy impact on me.

Growing up, me and my sister shared the same room for many years (until recently - in the last two years we'd had our separate rooms). We are four years apart in age. I remember the stages of our relationship like this: as little kids we fought a lot but we also played together a lot. I thought she was a brat and she thought I was meany - at least, for 60% of the time. (I'm trying to be positive, here). Then we got a little older. When we spent our year in the states going to two different public schools, we did not spend as much time together. We still hung out a little, however, and did manage to squeeze in an occasional fight now and again. These past few years, though, our relationship has taken a different turn, as I finished up high school and began college and she ended her middle school years and is now a sophomore. We talk a lot more than we used to. We hang out, we laugh, we tease each other, and we still get on each other's nerves, but blow-ups are really sparse. In fact, most of our fights have turned into little spats that we have now and then - but nothing major. My sister asked me about a month ago if she was my best friend and I said yes. We're great friends and I love her so much. I'm proud of her - what she's accomplished and who she's growing up as and I love her confident, bold and compassionate personality. And I know she loves me too. Because I'm leaving for college tomorrow while she and our brother are in school, I reminded her to wake me up before she leaves to say good-bye. She nodded her assent and I turned so she would not see the sudden and unexpected moisture in my eyes.

In the last 6 years, I have lived in four different countries and have, thus, had to contend with saying quite a few good-bye's and see-ya-later's. Each time, however, God taught me a little bit more about trusting him to lead us to a place where we meet new people, find more friends, and make a new home. I am often comforted by the fact that God's love can be found in any part of the world and I'll never be lost with Him in the lead. I am looking forward to this new season in my life and am extremely excited for the plans that God has for me. I also remind myself that I'll see my family and home in Mexico again - it's not a last good-bye. (I've even got a return ticket to think about if I start to get homesick sometime this coming semester :)

I've written a lot of poems in the last few years and I like some of my older ones better than those I'd written more recently. I'd like to share one with you that I wrote a few years ago about good-bye's, titled Home Again.

Let the memories bring you home
Back to the place where you belong
Never forget, regret the past
Everything changes, nothing earthly lasts
Though far from home, from all that's known
What you love your heart won't leave
Don't disbelieve what you cannot see
Never abandon, forget the truth
Never fear where life takes you
Don't ask questions, wonder why
You'll be home again, never say good-bye

My Arms

Remember to give your all everyday
Enter the throne on your knees and pray
Follow your dreams, hold on and stand firm
Love with your heart and be loved in return

Near is the day when you'll see me again
Forgotten in laughter any semblance of pain
Leave the storms and the winter outside 
Enter my embrace and with me reside

You promised me once you'd never forget
You'd join me in paradise; your heart was set
So don't be discouraged that the way is hard
Or afraid to come with a heart that is scarred

Instead run to me with your questions and fears
Never hide from me your doubts or your tears
When you are lonely or this life brings you harm
You will find refuge in the warmth of my arms

Questions and Answers

Some photos from a friend's garden in Connecticut :) 

Life as an MK is full of different foods, cultures, and languages. It also involves much travel. Since I was thirteen, I have been on at least two plane trips a year. I've found that the flying experience can vary from being completely horrible to mildly pleasant and is usually coupled with different levels of fatigue, cramped muscles, and stress. The last flight that I took back to Mexico, however, made for one of my favorites. My first departure had been from Indiana and the second from Georgia. By the time my second flight came along, I was tired and ready to be finally home. I had planned to be spending the next couple of hours either sleeping, watching a movie, or getting lost in the pages of a Ted Dekker book. As it is, I was not often social on long flying days. However, as fate would have it, my neighbor on the plane struck up a conversation with me before we had left the ground and that would last for the majority of the flight. Had I known I would be speaking and listening in Spanish for some hours that day, I would have reviewed my notes and brought a dictionary. However, for the first hour I got along fairly without either, to my great surprise and relief. After a few minutes speaking, he remarked that my Spanish was pretty good. I smiled, shrugged sheepishly, and thanked him; the next moment I was looking out the window and silently berating myself. Had I actually just giggled? But the moment passed and the conversation continued. We spent time on topics such as where we were going and where we came from, where I went to school and where he worked, and other subjects like interests, family, and religion. Nearing the end of a few hours, however, my Spanish grew worse as my head became foggier. I tripped and stumbled all over myself as I attempted to answer his questions about Christianity and what I believed. I stuttered along, getting frustrated, as I forgot the words I would have liked to use and confused my tenses and grammar. However, he was a patient listener and his curiosity encouraged and emboldened me to press on.

After we landed my head felt brainwashed from all the thinking and concentrating that it takes me when speaking Spanish. I strode up to the custom’s counter and was told to fill in a part of my form that I had accidentally neglected. Of course, the only thing I could find in my purse to write with was a sparkly blue gel pen. I smiled apologetically and scribbled out my information. By the end of it all, I felt ridiculous and thought I looked as though I had never been in an airport before. 

The sight of my dad waiting outside the gate made me smile with relief and the ride home provided me with enough time to think over the conversation I had had on the plane which had given me a thrill inside. How cool is it to witness to someone who was really curious about God and the truth? As I thought this, I realized something. The questions he had asked me are the same ones that everyone who does not know God is asking, whether they speak them out loud or not. Everyone ponders the purpose of life. Even people who don't believe in purpose have to have thought about it to come to that conclusion. 


C. S. Lewis once said, "If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning." 


Whether people choose to believe it or not, we are made with purpose, and thus, that is a knowable and undeniable element of our existence. Everyone is searching for answers. Why are we alive? Why do we suffer? What happens when we die? What can satisfy us? Not everyone may be as open in their questions as the stranger on my plane, but they're there. There's a hole in their hearts where there should be God. There's despair where there should be hope and loneliness where there should be prayer. We have the answer to their questions: God. The Lost are all around us, looking for answers. When will you tell them?