The Widow Ruth; A Radiating Light.

Ruth.

            In Hebrew the name Ruth means companion, or friend, or a vision of beauty.

Ruth.

A name that’s been floating around in my head a lot lately, a lot more than usual, and I just can’t seem to shake this name, to shake her face from the images in my mind. And I’m wondering where she is right now? What she is doing? Is she gardening with the other widows? Is she taking care of her many children? Is she picking mangos and placing them into hands of complete strangers, the way she did with me? Is she even still alive? Or is she up in heaven, dancing on golden streets with Jesus? These question plague me, because deep down I know I may never know the answers.

In these moments and small memories, I’m seeing how much this little old widow impacted my life. In the very limited time I spent with her, she allowed me to see myself in a different light, in a loving light. She looked at me like I was wanted, like I was needed. Me, a complete stranger. She made me feel at home in the palm of her hands. Her rough hands holding tightly to mine, dragging me along a path to a garden and to houses and to mango trees. All the while chatting away in a language I yearned to understand. And I remember her uttering a singe phrase and clinging tightly to my hand. I smiled at her and nodded pretending like I understood. And the pastor we were with, turned and said “Cami, do you understand what she just told you?”  I laughed and said “No.”

And the pastor looked between me and Ruth and smiled and said “She said ‘in you daughter, I see the radiance of Christ.”

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. In no way did I ever feel like I was radiating Christ, I constantly felt dirty and grimy, like I was constantly in the way. And yet even in those dirty, disgusting, selfish moments, God broke through and shed his light onto the face of a widow.

 And I just hope I’m still radiating.

           I hope that this bright light hasn’t burnt out in the whirlwind of this world and of this life. That even if it has dulled, it’s still burning and shining through in all my moments. That Christ is being radiated from my life.

Why am I sharing this story?

Because my heart hurts, it aches to know where Ruth is, how her health is, how her children are, how her garden is? It yearns to ask these question, to hold the worn hands of my companion, my friend, this vision of beauty in an otherwise dim hard ugly moment of my life.

But not only that. It’s because I think we often forget how much we can impact the lives around us. It’s been two years and I still remember the words Ruth spoke into my life. I still remember the feel of her overworked hands in my delicate ones. I remember her laughter and her brown eyes, and the way her hair was wrapped up in her conga. I can’t forget her.

Recently in small groups we were talking about the Healing at Bethesda. And this got me thinking a lot about how graceful Jesus is. Jesus sought out this crippled man and asked him if he wanted to be healed and then healed him. He spoke words into his life that caused this man to pick up his mat and walk. Was this man worthy of healing, no not really. He turned around and betrayed Jesus, like Judas, to the Jewish leaders. And yet look at HIS grace. He heals him anyway, evening knowing that this once crippled man will use this gift, this healing of his legs to walk right to the leaders and tell them it was Jesus!

Jesus seriously blows my mind!

You see I started comparing this story to my own life. I was, am, and sometimes I know will continue to be this invalid man by the pool, waiting for someone to pick me up and take me where I need to go. That I am unworthy of the healing being offered, because in my heart I know, just like the crippled man, that I will betray Jesus again. And it hurts.

But I’ve seen this story in John take root in my life. With Ruth. At the time of meeting Ruth I was battling, I was sick of everything I was. And then words were spoken into my life that caused healing in my heart and continue to heal me every day since then. And I believe that Jesus reached through Ruth to me. And How do you tell a woman 8000 miles away that Jesus has used her, continues to use her. That in her I see the radiance of Christ. Every single day of my life.

You see like in John, the man couldn’t find anyone to lift him into the pool, and I couldn’t find anyone to fulfill the emptiness I kept seeing in my worthlessness. But Jesus, met the man where he was at, and Ruth grabbed my hand and pulled me back to Christ all the way in Tanzania.

Because even though the man had no way to get to Jesus. Jesus could get to him. And in that time in my life and even now, there are days I just can’t seem to get there. Can’t seem to reach Him. But even thought I can’t get to Jesus, He can always, always get to me. He never fails, never gives up.

And lately I’ve been feeling like I just don’t belong in this place. I feel lonesome, not alone, just lonesome. And Jesus keeps reaching out and tugging me along, reminding me what I’m here for, what my life is for.

I was not made to live a luxurious life, to have the fancy cars and clothes and money. I was made to walk barefoot on unknown roads, to meet people where they are, just like Him. I was made to follow in His footsteps, to live a life set apart.

And it’s so not easy. The desires of this world often overtake me. I stress, I panic, I anguish. And yet He is here walking with me. And I hear the words in Sakuma in my head and then translated into English. “In you daughter I see the radiance of Christ.”

I just hope that I can continue to live out the words that Ruth saw. That I can continue to meet people where they are and speak words of love, encouragement, and Jesus into their lives. That regardless of how bad I think things are, Jesus makes it better.

            That I continue to stretch the limits of my faith, knowing that Jesus is pulling me along, that I’m going to be just fine and wherever He decides to take me and whoever He places in front of me, I will reach out in love no matter what. I will be slow to anger and abounding in love.

            My hope is that this radiance that Ruth saw, seeps into every motion and ever fiber of my being. That wherever Ruth is, she will see this radiance in herself and others will see it to. We never know how we impact the people around us, and we never know how the people around impacts us.

            But isn’t it such a beautiful story when Jesus reaches down and meet us where we’re at.

            Sitting in Awe of the Wonders of His Love,

HIS and yours,

 Cami

Writing From The In-between

      The leaves are shifting colors, from green to yellow and orange to red. And I feel a shift inside me too. A sort of falling, like the leaves do. Like finally my limbs are shaking loose the heaviness and are stretching outward and upward reaching for something else, reaching for something new, reaching for something that has been there all along.

     Sometimes I feel like I hold too much inside of me, that all these stories are just crying out to be bound into pages, but I don’t have the time, and time, it seems, is never on my side. Perhaps it’s my fear, that in the silence between stories, in my moments of falling, there’s a fear that I will never find that one story, that good story. And sometimes words seem so empty when ones heart is so full. But I think I have to scribble across the page, type upon the keys, and spill these words anyways, because who knows, someone, somewhere, just might need a story.

Life is such a strange thing. Some days it is good and some days it is bad. Lately thought I’m finding the most dangerous moments is all the ‘OK’ in-between. I’ve seen that I have strength inside myself to persevere and survive through some truly awful days. But it’s the unremarkable everyday that will continue to break me if I allow them to gather in numbers.

       It’s the mundane task, the continued routine, the loneliness, the feeling inferior, and the hearing the same old words out of different mouths and nothing changes. It’s hoping for something more in a world that is always taking and never giving. It is the frustrations with feeling like I’m not doing enough, that I will never do enough, to reach out and grasp ahold of what I need to. And so I’m falling again.

       And I’m greedy in my nature, I want Jesus and I want so many other things. I know though, if I can’t have both, now or ever, I will always choose Jesus. But even knowing that deep in my heart doesn’t make the want disappear. It’s there and it’s strong.

       Recently though it feels like I always write when I’m either miserable or every thing is going right. And I’ve realized that if I always write when my misery is overwhelming or my happiness exudes me, well than I wouldn’t be true to what life is really like. Because I’m not always happy, and I’m not always miserable. Some days, like today, I just am.

        But this world is so much more than me. And I think sometimes I’d like to believe that the world revolves around the things I do and the people I am with. But, I’m not in high school anymore, and as nice as it would be, the world does not revolve and survive on the things I do. The world is so much more than me… This life is so much more than me. And I think I’ve been missing the whole point.

       I’ve been letting misery and mopey moments get the best of what my life is made for. That I find myself in the midst of situations, frustrated or angry or crying out, and yet there’s something bigger going on behind the scenes, something that I can’t always see.

       That in the end all that I am doing is not for the world, it’s not for me, it is for Jesus, it is for the beautiful people I fell in love with 8000 miles across the sea. In the end, all the happy days, sad days, the frustrating moments, the pain, the sufferings, the exams, the days spent in laughter, and the days spent on my knees, face down on the floor. They will all be worth it, when in a place where medicine is not accessible, it will be there and so will I. That I will acquire the skills, by the grace of God, to take medicine to heal the sick, who might have otherwise died. But it’s not just for the medicine, it is for the Gospel, where people who may have never heard or experiences this real, tangible love, they will get to hear and feel, and experience Jesus. That is the point to all of this. My life poured out. My life as a living, breathing gospel. My life for Jesus.

       My hope and my goal in this short life is that in everything I do, Jesus is known, and I need to continue to learn to step out of the way. To let my selfish inhibition go and let Him shine through. Because honestly I don’t need the money, I don’t need a title, I just need Him. He’s all I get to take with me.

And there are times I get homesick for a place I’m not sure even exists. One where my heart is full, where I am loved deeply, and my soul is understood. But home is not where we come from. I think it’s a place we find, like it’s scattered and we pick pieces of it up along the way. So I continue to gather up pieces and tuck them away in my heart, until I find my way home.

There will be moments that are difficult, but I have something many people do not, I have a burning desire, a unrelenting love, an all pursuing passion for those beautiful faces across the ocean, and I stare at pictures, in moments I get discouraged and it pushes me to study, it pushes me to ask questions, to learn everything I can. To be as knowledgeable as I can be, to be the best I can be, because it’s all for them and it’s all for Jesus.

And so I continue to look to Jesus and I see the brightest flashes of hope. That even in the ‘OK’ in-between, He is extraordinary, that I do not do things in vain, that there is purpose. I will continue to look to Him, to follow Him, with child-like faith. Constantly reaching out, sometimes falling. Reaching out my limbs for something, for Someone who has always been there and who always will be.

In that I have hope. In that I have courage. He has overcome the world. And I just hope that we never lose our wonder, wide-eyed and mystified. May we be just like a child, staring in marvel at the magnificence of our King.

    Writing from the in-between,

HIS and yours,

   Cami  

Undefined Sadness.

In the silent moments

Is when I hear the most noise 

And in the lonely moments

I feel so crowded out.

Where do you go

When everything seems lost?

Where do you go

When lost seems

Where you’re found?

And if there’s a light at

The end of this tunnel

I haven’t seen it yet.

But my weary eyes

Are heavy

And my bones

Are aching for some

Rest.

And it’s happening again. I can feel it, but can’t control it. My eyes are brimming with overwhelming tears and my heart feels like a semi has just reversed and parked right over my chest. And the tension is at the base of my neck, stretching upward into my brain, I can’t catch my breath and everything seems too big and too small all at once. I’m sobbing into my bowl of Captain Crunch, at first the tears ebb and flow like a gentle tide, but now the waves are crashing in like tsunami tides.

And I’m underwater this month. I’m deep and dark, so everything that reaches me comes sopping and soaked with water itself. Everything seems twice as heavy because it comes with this weight of sadness, this weight of anxiety that is already all around me. Sometimes words just don’t get you there… don’t let you say the stuff from deep in your heart, stuff that no dictionary has a name for.

      Living alone is hard.

      No, it’s not hard. It’s painful.

      It reveals my insecurities. Reveals that as much as I’d like to believe I am independent. Being on my own scares the crap out of me. That there is this joy that comes from being surrounded by people who love you, a joy that comes with coming home and being able to sit down with someone and just talk, about anything, about nothing.

      And right now I don’t have that. I wake up at six am alone. Get ready, alone. Go to class then to work and then come home, alone. Everything I do lately feels like it’s alone.

      I mean there are people around me, in my classes and at work, and people who love me and care for me, but even then there are times when a person can feel completely alone in the crowds. And how do you explain to people this undefined sadness that seems to be hovering over you like an impending thunderstorm. How do you explain to them all the feelings you can’t even understand yourself, without them getting swept away in the high tide?

      Making sense of things has never been my strong suit. I tend to overlook things or just be oblivious to the obvious. And I know that God is at work in this. I know, because what other hope do I have, but Him. And people keep telling me that everything will be okay and that I’m strong and that I’ll make it through. But honestly I feel anything but strong, and my floaties feel like they might have a hole in them, and my legs are tired from treading all this water.

      And I think that I will inevitably drown in my sadness if all I do is wade in it. Jesus is with me. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I have to keep reminding myself that He is the breath in my lungs, He is the release in my chest, the peace in my mind. That He is the constant lifeboat, always anchored near me, when my floaties fail. And I’m not saying I’m happy, I’m saying that this undefined sadness is easier to swim out of, knowing that my life boat is always there with me.

      I mean life is not simple when we have Jesus, but there is hope. And just because circumstance are ugly, doesn’t mean that there is no beauty in the midst. I mean He has blessed me beyond measure with a job, with education, with a group of kids I get to hang out with and love on. With wonderful friends who let me sob through my problems with them and eat their food and sleep on their couch and borrow their sweatshirts when I’m cold. God is teaching me lessons on being patient, on finding joy, on loving, on making mistakes, on being human.

      And they’re hard.

      And the waves aren’t easy to walk on.

      I’ve failed repeatedly.

      I’ve mis-stepped

      Hurt people.

      Done stupid things.

      Misunderstood.

      This journey is a hard one. And sometimes when I go back to an empty house, with nothing but clothes and an air mattress, I’m tempted to just let my head dip under the water and let go. But I hear His voice, reminding me that I am not alone, that I will never be alone. And sometimes I can feel it. That overwhelming sense of the world and its waves crashing down on me. And sometimes I just have to cry in the middle of work, or into my bowl of captain crunch. Sometimes life is sopping wet.

      But I’m swimming toward the boat, and I can see Jesus holding up a big fluffy towel. And once I get there, I’m going to climb into that boat, wrap myself in that arms that hold that towel and continue on in this pilgrimage.

      Because I must travel on, I must keep going. HE keeps me going.

       So I will continue to try and cast all my anxiety on Him, because He cares for me… but for now, on this pilgrimage, I am  traveling light with a heavy heart.

HIS and yours,

Cami

Wandering to Follow.

  The weather outside seems to reflect the depths of my heart. Cloudy skies and storms raging, with winds coming in from the north. blowing me over. The rains been falling and if I'm honest it doesn't feel like these dark clouds are going to be lifting anytime soon. And I can feel my feet sink into the ground, like quicksand; I feel it pulling me down. The weights around my ankles too heavy to walk with, the knots too tight to untie. They're dragging, my toes cracking under the pressure, my knees buckling as I try to pick my feet up to run, to chase, to pursue, to follow.

     The words sounded easier than the action. And I feel like I deserve to know that there will be days where I can barely get out of bed because I will be sad, or sick, or just not ready to face the outside world. That there will be days my feet drag in the sand, and I won't be able to stand because of the weight. That I deserve to know that moments of weakness do not make me fundamentally weak, only fundamentally human, and that sometimes I'm not going to be elusively happy, and that's okay.  But "Follow Me," they are just two simple words. Words so simple, words so light, weren't meant to be this heavy.
   Because there are times where I feel like I'm not really following. that I'm just kind of wandering around in the dark, bumping into rocks and trees on this not so widened path. Because really I just want God in my weakness, in my pain, in my joy, in my strength, in my complacency, in my love, and in my life. I want God so completely; that everything I do is covered in Him. But sometimes I feel like I am just failing when it comes to these two simple words. That I'm too busy trying to make sure that my life fits into these neat little puzzle pieces.
  And yes, I know, I know I overanalyze everything, yes I think about things way beyond the point of thinking about them. I sit here in this little coffee shop, wondering if my wandering is getting me anywhere. Have I really dropped my fishing net and followed after Him, or am I keeping my anchor down at the shore afraid to swim out to sea.
   I keep reading in the gospels, how the disciples just dropped what they were doing and who they were to follow after Jesus. To chase, to run, to pursue this magnificent man, and I'm wondering in my heart if I have what it takes to be a disciple. Because I think I'm too selfish and too prideful. I think that these storms raging inside of me are too wild to control, too wild to contain and I'm not sure what to do with all these emotions. And I find myself all too often on my knees or face down on the floor, sobbing in exhaustion for direction, for guidance, for love.
    "And oddly enough, it's the storms that whisper His name, the storms that make His presence most known. So prepare, when the seas of life begin to grow restless, because we might be getting ready to encounter God; what a heartbreakingly beautiful thing it is to behold." (-T.B. LaBerge). 
  God has His hand in all of this, in my life, in the storms, in the chaos. Yes, I still worry, I think it's built into my hard-drive. He creates this beautiful chaos within my soul and I'm not sure what to do with it. And maybe that is the wildness that I'm trying to contain. A wild, untamable thing, that shouldn't be contained. I'm continuing to tread this path, even in with clouds and the darkness, because His breath fills all things with a living breathing light-- a light that thrives in the depths of darkness.
    And I think that even through our struggle and our heartbreak Christ finds His way through the cracks.  Is it not just beautiful, how we tend to find God when we lose ourselves. Isn't He beautiful, the Creator of the starts and of you and I. Isn't it amazing that even though I feel underwater, I'm not drowning, because He is there swimming with me. He is there guiding me to the surface, through these storm-ridden murky waters.
     So I'll just continue to gather these spilled thoughts into messy paragraphs and write through these storms because I'm seeing there are small slight breaks in the clouds. And that's enough to let the sun in. Sometimes things have to crack for the light to filter through.
  And His light is filtering through in bright shades that are too wild to contain.


     Basking in His glorious light,



  HIS and yours,



 Cami

Just Another Beautiful Mess.

 

This is just another invitation. I write to invite people in. In to my heart, in to my mind, in to the thoughts I can never seem to easily express outside of pen scratches and journals, and the constant tap tap across my laptop keys. It's just another invitation for complete strangers to join me, just for a moment in my beautiful mess; between the breaths, between the heartbeats, between the words spoken and not.
And I keep feeling like there is this stigma, this dream, this real crap definition that seems to revolve around life and what it's suppose to be, what it's suppose to look like, what it's suppose to mean. That life should be this beautiful picturesque scene from a movie. That it should be clean and neat and perfect, without any mess. That when the credits roll and the curtains close, it is all just a happily ever after.
   But that's just crap.
  Even if we clean up our lives and manage to never struggle ever again, but we never get Jesus, we've totally lost. We've actually attained a whole lot of nothing. In the end if our lives look "perfect" if we look great and act great but we don't know Jesus, than who cares?
This "perfect," this happily ever after is a fantasy and life is not a fairytale, it is a battle. Life is a complicated mess, and I think faith in Jesus is often misunderstood to be this all encompassing "get out of jail free card." but it's not, it's so much more than that.
    That even with faith in the driver seat, even with Jesus right beside us, living in us, life is going to be difficult, even more so than before. That life will always have storm clouds and lightening strikes. It's just with Jesus, when the boat starts to rock, we have the courage to step out and walk on the water, instead of cowering in fear and allowing life to toss us overboard.
  Faith is meant to be lived moment by moment, it isn't some broad general outline, it's a long walk with a real person. And I'm seeing through my long walk that life though messy, is still beautiful.
   And so here I sit a worthless sinner, trying to find answers to questions I don't even have. Wondering why He calls me, why He asks me. I'm underestimated, I'm unworthy, I'm too young, not smart enough, not joyful enough. There are so many other people who could do this much better than I ever could. With one glance around me I can see behind the eyes of those who look at me, I can feel the doubt pouring over. More so from the face peering back at me in the mirror. Over and over again I ask God why, Why this? Why here? Why now? Why me?
   And I don't want to get in the way of things but I keep finding myself way off the beaten path. I constantly lose my grip on HIS hand and opt for clawing through darkness. I'm longing for light again, searching and seeking it out. Longing to lace my fingers with His, to calm the restlessness inside my heart, answer the questions and follow Him home.
   But this is not where I thought I would be at twenty-three. Sitting in a little coffee shop, typing up my inmost thoughts, struggling to breath, struggling to find purpose, struggling to know what my life is for. If I'm honest, which I have no reason not to be. I figured at twenty-three I would be working my dream job, sharing my life with a man I deeply love... that i would have it all together, all figured out, all neat and clean in a picture frame. but that's not the case. and that's not the path i've chosen.
  And I know that, I do, but in the moments when things get messy, it's easy for me to think that if I'd never discovered this faith, if i still lived in the darkness, would life be easier? would decision not carry the weight they do now? Maybe, maybe not. But then again the woman I am now would not exist without the Jesus that so beautifully pieced her life back together, and knowing that, is worth the  burden I carry like weights on my shoulders.
    I wouldn't know love, I wouldn't know joy, I wouldn't know grace. I wouldn't know pain, I wouldn't know the need that this world has for Him. I'd been in the dark, and maybe choices would be easier to make, and I would give no cares, but I think I would be a miserable woman, a worthless woman, a woman who's life is being wasted on herself, instead of on others.
  You see things lately haven't been working out the way I intended or planned. But I find that, that seems to be the case when I try to keep to my own accord and my own plans for things. I didn't expect to be back in a place i thought I was leaving behind for good. And maybe there is a reason for this, maybe I'm just not completely finished here. Maybe God has something planned. and maybe, there are just a lot of maybes in the works and sometimes it feels like the maybes are what kills us. but honestly maybe, may be not such a bad thing.
 
  Lately I've been pushing God back and away from me because things just haven't been the easy I 'd like them to be. I've been upset and depressed and frustrated with the way things have or haven't been working out. And I've filled that with an endless amount of Netflix watching and crappy book reading, trying to ignore the void that I have dug into the middle of my heart. But that void is there for a reason, and I can try all I want to fill it with the unsatisfying things, like Netflix and cookies, but it just can't be filled by the world. No matter how much I leave Him or put Him on hold, He is always there for me, patiently waiting for me to turn back to Him.
   And I want to get more comfortable being uncomfortable. I want to get more confident being uncertain. I don't want to shrink back just because something isn't working out, because something isn't easy. I want to push back, and make more room in my heart, more room in the area between I can't and I can. because with Him, I know I can. and honestly I don't last long without Him. This beautiful mess is the life He has given me. And the more I depend on Him the more dependable I find He is.
  And through this long walk and my journey of discovery I have found that i don't want this perfect life. I want beauty in the mess. That I am dirty and broken and He still carries me.
  So cover me in mud, cover me in filth, paint me in the shades of reckless love, take all that I have if need be as long as I am still loving while dirty, as long as i'm still living while dirty, as long as i am still chasing after him, mud flinging in every direction as i run headlong into His arms.
    Following God isn't glamorous, but it is so beautiful. Our hands will get dirty and our hearts will get wrecked, but love, unfailing love makes it worth it.
 Because this beauty doesn't live in a life perfectly mapped out, it doesn't live in a dream job or the arms of a man, it doesn't live in our skin, it lives in the love that we give away. It lives in the mess, in the dirt and grime of the hard knocks of life. It lives in the the arms of Jesus.
  and that's where you'll find me.




Just another Beautiful Mess,




  HIS and yours,




   Cami

Fear is Overwhelming, Strength is Overrated.

How should I begin. Should I write a list of rules and guidelines, of do's and dont's? Should I pick a nice number that adds up all the ways to get through this. Should I give advice that I certainly would never take myself? Should I smile through clenched teeth and say everything is alright if we just do this number of things.  Giving an answer to all these questions, to aching hearts and wandering eyes. A list. would that do it?

Not even.

And I'm tired of list, and numbers and bullet points of advice for my life. I'm tired of the 23 things i should do before i'm 24 and i'm tired of the 7 things i should do while I'm single and the 5 things i can do to be more joyful.

Life is not a list. Life is not bullet points. Life is not so easily mapped out. And I have to write these things out. Write them down, because that is what I do with the things that unravel me. I drag it across the page in hopes of it all making sense one day. But I'm seeing that sometimes it's best to stop trying to make sense of things, because life isn't always clear cut, black and white, there are always gray areas.

Lately it's felt like I've been wandering in the wilderness, with a broken heart, lost in every direction with no map to guide me and no footsteps to follow and I'm finding no trail of bread crumbs. There is dry rivers winding through the trees and me.

And the tears I've shed the past two weeks could fill these dry riverbeds. and in all my sorrow, I know Jesus is better, I need to make my heart believe.

But strength is overrated. And maybe I'm just saying that because I have no strength. Maybe I'm saying it because I feel so weak, too weak to pull myself out of bed, to eat, to shower, to make conversation, to go a day without swollen eyes and crying until I can't breathe. There is no list for these feelings. There is no boxes to check on how to get over this.  Life keeps hitting me hard in the face, waiting for me to get back up again just to kick me in the stomach. The wind is knocked out of me, I have to keep reminding myself how to breathe.

I think one of the most dangerous wars is the one we have within ourselves. I am so easily defeated by the one who knows me so well. Me.

"The weakness of God is stronger than man's strength." 1 Corinthians 1:25. But I want to know if His strength is greater than my weakness. greater than the ache of missing in my heart. Because lately this weakness has never felt so strong and I'm leaning in close to Him and He's giving me breath and He's drying my eyes and He's reminding me that it is okay to be sad. it's okay to miss the ones I so fiercely love. That there is nothing wrong with that. That "His grace is sufficient for me, His power is made perfect in weakness." But this weakness hurts more than it ever has before, my heart feels like paper, stained with tears, being torn in two. And it's hard to not want to pull away and hide in my darkness.

I am afraid. And the crazy thing is I made this decision. I chose to move across country, away from the people I've fallen in love with. But knowing I prayed through this decision and feel it's right doesn't make it any easier and doesn't make it hurt any less and doesn't mean i'm not scared out of my mind. It's a big life changing moment when I don't know what the next ten seconds will bring, but I know in my heart nothing is ever going to be the same.

And right now in my weakest moment, I want what was before this moment, I don't want the now. I don't want the fear of the unknown. I'm in uncharted territory, deep waters, in no-man's land. And I'm not really sure what to do next, but to be honest and say I'm sad. deeply sad. and I'm afraid. deeply afraid. And that that's okay.

A dear friend of mine constantly tells me to find my joy in Christ. To delight in Him and depend on Him, that Christ is where my true joy lies. and so I'm trying to lean more into His arms, more into His grace and His love. but I'm still afraid.

and i'm not saying with God we will no longer fear, that we will no longer be afraid. No I think that there will always be fearful moments in our lives. But it is with God that those moments become bearable. It's with Him that we can conquer them. It is going to take time and patience, something that I don't seem to have a lot of. And for me it's taken a lot of sobbing into my pillow and in the shower. lots of looking at pictures and listening to old voicemails. of trying to remember to not be afraid of the unknown but to embrace it with God right beside me.

That is where the Word comes in. Through the scriptures New and Old Testament are stories of people just like us. It may seem like an old boring book, but I bet if we open it up and we really look at it we'll find ourselves in it. Moses who kept silent out of fear he might stutter, Jonah ran scared of the place God was calling Him to. Martha busied herself, David full of jealously, Peter denied Jesus three times for fear he would be identified as a disciple. There are our stories in there, things that we struggle with, things that we go through, that we fear.

And throughout the Word it shows us that God is the one who conquers it. It shows us that no matter how worthless or inadequate or how scared we may be He is calling us, He is using us. Even if we don't know it, Even if it frightens us. He's taking care of us, carrying us through and giving us hope when all seems dim.

I'm not telling you to not be afraid. I'm afraid. I'm saying be afraid but do it anyway. at some point we just have to let go of what we thought should happen and live in what is happening.

I've constantly been telling myself stop being sad, don't be afraid and I'm realizing how stupid that is. saying don't be afraid is like saying don't move out of the way when someone tries to punch you, or don't blink or breathe, or don't be human.

I'm afraid and you're afraid and we're all going to be afraid that's the point, in this life it's bound to happen. What we should be telling ourselves is be afraid but do it anyway, love anyway, live anyway and know that God is there with us, guiding us and keeping those things that so easily frighten us at bay, even when it doesn't feel like it.

And I wish I could live my life always being happy and always be fearless. I wish I could live unafraid without making any wrong turns. But that's impossible. A path like that doesn't exist. We fail, we trip, we get lost, we make mistakes and little by little one step at a time by faith we push forward.

It's all we can do.

I've been waiting for God to give me some big purpose or waiting for Him to tell me that I haven't done enough yet. But I think He just wants me to understand that He is with me and for me no matter how sad, and dark and scared I may be right now.

...and when I become brave, I will let you know, but until than I'm going to try to do a lot of awesome things scared out of my mind, with faith that God's got me in His hands.

I am learning that I am not a train, and it's okay if I fall off the tracks. That "life is not about the outcome we settle into, but instead about the story we write along the way." And I'm enjoying the story so far, I wouldn't trade it for anything, and even the pain I'm feeling right now is worth it.

And I'm still scared and I'm still sad, but I'm also settling into this wild place, this uncharted wilderness, this no-man's land. Because it is even here that God is with me, and He loves to make a way when it seems like there isn't one.

He is singing over me "hey unfaithful, i will teach you to be stronger. hey ungraceful, i will teach you to love. hey unloving, i will always love you."

Leaning into Him through the sadness,



HIS and yours



Cami