sloths and inventing yourself

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“Oh that we would have the courage to be unapologetically ourselves, because therein we worship God most truly.”

I penned this thought in my journal a year ago.  I had no idea then what the following 12 months would take me through yet the cry remains just as urgent in my heart as it did then.

Have you seen Zootopia yet?  I love it.  I love the message, the imagination behind it (Disney always nails it), and…the sloths.  If you’ve seen the film or even just the trailer you’ll know that the beloved creatures talk…at…a…pace……slower…than…a………turtle.

Sometimes I feel like one of them, slowly inventing myself one word at a time.  I think God is taking his time writing my story, although I have no idea why.  I guess good things come to those who wait.  As I once heard a wise man say, “Just do whatever God tells you to do next.”

But I’m so content right now.  I truly feel more content than I ever have before.  It’s taken a while to get to that place, though.  Up until a few months ago, I have felt the need to always be moving forward as fast and furious as possible.  I never wanted to settle or sell myself short or miss my calling, even though I had no idea what “my calling” was.

As some of you know, I wasn’t able to finish the midwifery program this spring because of some health issues that led me to come home early.  I hated myself for not being able to finish something that I started.  Even though the choice was made in the best interest of my health, I couldn’t bear the thought that I was actually vulnerable and human, not strong and invincible like I’ve always wanted to be.

As my health has gotten back on track thanks to rest, less stress, and weekly therapy, I have come to accept all that has happened in the past 6-8 months.  I’ve also come to several conclusions:

I don’t want to be busy anymore.

I’m done meeting myself coming and going, never having the energy to work with my whole heart and never having time to truly rest.  I’m prioritizing my health (physical, mental, and spiritual) because I’ve learned the hard way that you can’t give what you don’t have.

Everything worthwhile in life starts with passion.

While I was unemployed for a month, I gave myself permission to do things I love—polish up on my guitar and piano skills, watch shows and videos that inspire me, and generally take risks creatively.  One of the shows I got hooked on for a while was Fixer-Upper.  Something about seeing a sad, old house be transformed into a perfect home just hits me right in the feels.  What I didn’t realize is that it was setting me up to work with my friend at a real estate company where we do fix and flips all the time.  And thanks to Chip and Joanna, I was already familiar with a lot of the process and terms—and had also seen how non-glamorous flipping really is.  If I’d just forced myself to be serious and try to find the perfect job from ground zero, I would have missed an opportunity to do something I love.

Perhaps everything we’ve come to believe as infallible Christian truth is actually just wishful thinking.

Hear me out here—it’s just something I’ve been pondering a lot lately.  For example, the principle of “whatever you sow, you will reap” has become more of a mantra along the lines of “give a lot and God will give you even more.”  While that is not necessarily the case, though it may be true in some cases, either way, selfish ambition should never be our motivation for giving anything.  Whether it’s money or time or love or whatever, our goal should be simply to share “the milk of human kindness,” no strings attached.  Jesus hardly had any earthly possessions and he himself said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 5:3)  If you look closely at the definition of the Greek ptochos, translated into English as “poor in spirit,” you’ll see that it refers to the paupers, the beggars, the helpless, and those without formal intellectual schooling.  Theirs is the kingdom of heaven?  Then what do we think we’re doing, those of us who own cars and houses and more money than any other demographic in the world, going around and expecting to be blessed when the blessing is not ours to take?

I’m getting way out of my depth.  I’m no expert on theology or biblical studies, and I’m just as guilty as the next guy for believing that God simply desires that we “prosper and be in health, even as our souls prosper,” period.  (3 John 1:2)  But what if that’s actually the last thing on his list, along with the comfortable, pride-worthy lifestyle we somehow associate with Christianity?  What if what matters most to God is that we know him—really know him.  Everything else would follow if that were truly our goal.  (Matt. 6:33)  I would argue that the most dedicated believers are the ones who fight for their lives every single day as a result of walking with Jesus.  Their existence is anything but comfortable, yet to them, the sacrifice of their comfort and life security is nothing compared to the joy and peace they know in Yahweh.  Their faith in God is relentless despite their circumstances, while mine tends to waver at the slightest suggestion of things not going the way I think they should.

I hope we never stop growing, you and I.  No matter our age, we still have our entire life ahead of us, for we have eternity to find out who we really are.  But today, whoever we are, let’s embrace it and not try to hide even a little bit, for the Father is seeking true worshippers to worship in spirit and in truth.  (John 4:23) 

the light rail and a glove

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The other day, I was downtown getting ready to take the light rail back home.  They just opened up a new line that goes all the way out to the airport (YES.) and since I don’t go downtown very often, I didn’t realize that the new “A” line to the airport starts at a different station than the rest of the city’s lines.

There were lots of people standing around, including several security guards, presumably to help people navigate the details of the new line.  I glanced briefly at the directory but decided it was just easier to ask a human how to get to the old station.

I approached an older security guard and said, “Excuse me, sir.”

I don’t think he actually heard me, or if he did, he didn’t realize it was directed to him, but I continued anyway.  “How do I get to the line for the Southmoor station?”

Now maybe it was because of the coke bottle sunglasses I was wearing and he thought they looked comical, or maybe it was just because I was nowhere near the right place, but either way he broke into a smile/chuckle.  I sheepishly asked, “I’m not in the right place, am I?”

“No, that’s okay.  You made me smile—I needed to smile.”  He kindly led me to the escalators and said, “Go down the escalator and walk all the way to the end.   You’ll pass several more escalators but keep going until you get to the last one.  Go back up and you’ll see the station right there.  I believe Southmoor is the 'E' line.”

I thanked him and went on my way.  I felt like a million bucks.  I could have figured it out on my own by studying the directory more closely or by googling it.   But if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to make that guy smile and he wouldn't have been able to remind me that chivalry isn't dead.

I got my ticket and boarded the train and (after getting off at two different stations because I may have possibly gotten the wrong ticket and may or may not have gotten on the wrong line) I finally arrived at the Southmoor station.  It was nearing 5 p.m. so the station was swarming with people.  I had my earbuds in and sunglasses still on (classic public-transportation-personal-bubble-creator) but as I stepped down from the train car, I noticed a man in front of me drop his glove.

It all happened within a matter of seconds: I see the glove fall to the cement, I glance up to locate its owner whose hands are full and who doesn’t seem to notice that he dropped anything, and then all in one motion I swoop down to grab the glove while pulling at my earbuds and calling, “Sir! You dropped your glove!”  He doesn’t seem to hear me, so I say it again while running after him and then, to my utter amazement, a hand suddenly pops out of nowhere from behind a directory, stops the glove’s owner, and points to me.

“You dropped your glove,” I say to the man who dropped his glove, trying to catch my breath.  For the second time that day, I see a big smile break across a stranger’s face.

“Thank you so much,” he says.  It was so simple, but one of the most genuine thank you’s I’ve ever heard.

I never did see the face of guy who stopped the glove’s owner, but I felt like we had become truly human for a moment.  You know, teaming up to help a random stranger even though we were only strangers ourselves.  The glove probably cost less than $5, but the encounter was priceless.

That’s the end of my light rail story.

But I’ve been thinking.  We all know that technology is taking over, distracting us from reality, draining the life out of our relationships, blah, blah, blah.  We all know this.  We hear the anti-technology message (ironically) shouted from videos and Facebook and articles everywhere.  It’s nothing new, yet nobody has thrown away their iPhones or laptops—least of all myself.  The problem continues to grow and persist.

I had an interesting conversation the other day with someone in their 40’s about where society is headed.  Millennials are tech-savvy and tech–obsessed, and culture tries to cater to this.  But where can it go from here?  Perhaps only backwards, back to face-to-face interaction, we pondered.

I think that may prove to be the case.  What do we do with our free time?  We go hiking with our friends to escape the maddening chaos of the city.  We have dinner with family, go to painting parties, and attend concerts to share in the beauty of emotion expressed through melody.  These are the things that make us feel awake and alive, not the deadening monotony of scrolling through social media and finding more reasons to be envious of other people’s lives.  The moments when someone entrusts us with their deepest fears and secrets, when we laugh and laugh without any reserve, when a stranger makes a point of holding the door for us—without these timeless human interactions, life is dull and empty.

I guess that’s why I wasn’t even disappointed today when I discovered that the hundreds of voice memos I had saved on my phone didn’t transfer over to my new phone last week.  There were dozens of songs I had started writing but never finished, encouraging words from friends, and recordings of original songs by people who live thousands of miles away now—all erased, probably forever.  Yet it doesn’t bother me as much as it should.  Sure, I’m glad we have technology so we can relive sweet moments we’ll never be able to taste again, and so that I can even share my thoughts with you right now.  But I think more important is that we are present in each moment, regardless of whether we capture it in photos or videos or voice memos or not.

Before we know it, the credits of our lives will be rolling.  We’ll look back on the decades and wonder if we really, truly lived.  When I’m 100, I hope I can say I did.

springtime and side-hurting laughs

The evening sun is softly bringing to life all of the new, green growth springing up around here.  The rain that’s fallen in the past few days has coaxed the trees to let their limbs bud with pretty little pink and white blossoms.  The air is sweet and hopeful.

I’ve been trying for weeks now to write about all that I’ve experienced in the past few months, but I haven’t been able to put it into words yet.  Suffice it to say that things don’t always go as planned and that’s what makes life beautiful.

In the meantime, I hope your life is going well.  I hope that when you wake up in the morning you get to do what you love with people who care deeply about you.  I hope you’re dreaming big and remembering to have fun in the midst of the craziness.  I hope you’re learning more each day who you are and what you were created for.  I hope you’re watching great movies and listening to beautiful music.  I hope you’re taking walks and soaking in the beauty of nature, wherever you happen to find yourself living.  I hope you’re laughing a lot, the side-hurting kind that goes all the way to the depths of your heart.

And, most of all, I hope you feel loved…because you are.

xo,

Jess

expectations

We didn’t sign up for planet earth.

We’re here, whether by chance or by design, you choose what you believe.  But what our lives hold is up to us.

I’ve been thinking a lot about looking back.  About regret.  About reputation.  About right vs. wrong.  You know what I’ve concluded?  We cannot look back.  We don’t have time to dwell on the past unless it’s to learn from it and move on.  We cannot care what people think because the only One whose opinion matters is God.  And while I believe in absolute truth, I also believe that God leads us to different callings at different times in our lives.  What is right for one person now is wrong for another person.  What was right for you several years ago may be wrong for you now, since a natural part of being human should be growing and changing more fully into who we were created to be.

One finger at a time, I am learning to unfold my fists from around the past disappointments I’ve been holding onto.  My great expectations for many seasons of life were not met, leaving me reluctant to dream big again.  There have been so many things I’ve pursued, sure that they would lead to a certain destination, only to find that the road was a lot bumpier and windier than I had originally thought.  Many times the road didn’t even lead to where I thought it would at all—it only led me to find a new road, one where I would find myself starting over again, pursuing yet another part of my heart, and hoping that somewhere along the way I would find my home.

I guess I’m writing this for myself more than for anyone else.  I’ve spent too much time both looking back and fearing the future.  The Bible does say perfect love casts out fear, but that doesn’t happen automatically.  And failing at something does not make a person a failure—it simply makes a person stronger and wiser.  It is not foolish to keep dreaming and try again—it’s foolish to not.

some thoughts from the san fran airport

For years I dreamt of being a traveler.

Sophomore year of high school I sat in a graduation ceremony thinking, Man, I hope that all these graduates who say they want to travel someday actually do it.  And I thought the same thing for myself.

The good news is that even though I balked at the idea of not having a “normal” American post-high-school story, God set it up so that five months after graduation, I found myself on the streets of Albania, soaking in the shock of a culture worlds away from mine.  On our way home, I walked through a German castle, stopped by a centuries-old cathedral, and ate roasted chestnuts, all while unsuccessfully wrapping my mind around the wonder of it all.

Fast forward a couple years.  I embarked on a journey halfway across the globe that would once again ruin me for normal.  After many long flights happily shared by some of my closest friends, I realized that for the next two months, I would be waking up in Africa.  Africa!  I will always remember that trip—the people I met, the culture I experienced, and the mark that beautiful continent left on my heart.

But then, it stopped for a while.  Life was normal again.  Mediocre.  Not what I dreamed of.

Every single morning, I would merge into the rushing interstate highway, trying to catch a glimpse of the majestic sunrise to my left.  I knew that my day would be stressful yet rewarding, and would end with a sweaty, smelly version of me who would probably need some serious emotional recharge.  But during that morning commute as the sun rose hopefully over the horizon, I would almost always imagine that instead of going south towards work, I was instead going northeast towards the airport, getting ready to get on a plane and embark on an adventure.

It’s funny; I did just that this morning, and yet I almost didn’t get on that plane.

All yesterday afternoon as I flurried around my room throwing things in a suitcase (trying to be as economical with that precious space as possible), I just cried.  Ugly cried.  I already missed home, could already feel the isolation that is felt only by being on an island thousands of miles away from anything, and felt pretty scared about a couple different things.  Yep, and as I cried out to God to please stay with me and make good on promises I have yet to see fulfilled, I felt like he was right next to me, catching every tear, hearing (really hearing) every word.

See, this journey has been one of faith, and I have to say I failed rather horribly at it.  I walked by sight and not by faith when everything didn’t happen in my timing.  I had to learn humility to receive help where I always was strong.  But this morning, I was flooded by a true peace that passes understanding.

Whatever may come, God finishes what he starts.  Fear can paralyze you, but it can’t if you let go and fall into Him.  Whatever comes up is overcomeable, just not in my own strength.

What makes me a traveler?  Is it all the times I dreamt of going to new lands?  Is it the hours and hours I spent watching travel vlogs, trying to feel the plane take off, the sand under my feet, and the wind on my face?  Or is it because I decided to get on the plane?

Maybe it’s all those things.  Regardless, here’s to another year of trusting God more, learning to be more humble, dreaming bigger than ever before, and stepping back to let God do what he does best—the impossible.

let's talk story

Had I completely lost my mind?  I crawled into my new bed as the coqui frogs sang their shrill, exotic song just outside the screened in porch.  The humidity and warm, fragrant air filled my senses, stirring up the discombobulated thoughts and torrents of questions inside of me.  Two weeks prior, I hadn’t even considered the possibility of moving to Hawaii, and now here I was with nothing but two suitcases and a hunch that I had heard from God.  Just get through one day at a time, I told myself.  If it doesn’t work out, you can always hop on a plane, go home, and forget all of this craziness ever happened.

See, moving to Hawaii sounds like a lot of fun unless you don’t have any money or enough time to say goodbye to all your friends.  I felt foolish for taking such a leap of faith, even though every fiber in my being was rejoicing in the adrenaline rush.  In theory, I knew God was more than capable of providing for all of my needs—now my trust in Him would be put to the test.

The next week brought confirmation after confirmation that God had me right where He wanted me.  My heart resonated with the call of becoming a midwife, a title that carries a lot of mixed feelings for people, but which actually just means “with woman.”  My eyes were opened to the living hell that childbirth is for millions of women around the world.  It’s heartbreaking stuff to learn about, yet I finally felt like I could do something to help.

The fact is that developing nations have little to no healthcare for expecting mothers and newborn babies.  The number two killer of women worldwide, second only to HIV/AIDS, is childbirth.  What?  The very thing that God created to bring new life into the world is killing 287,000 women every year, and 99% of those deaths occur in developing nations.

But we’re not off the hook either.  Western cultures rely heavily on medical care to feel safe in childbirth.  Yet why are 32.8% of U.S. babies delivered by cesarean section when experts agree that anything over a 15% C-section rate does more harm than good?  And what of our induction rates?  I had never known that induced birth not only hurts eons more than natural labor, but it also sends fetal distress off the charts—no wonder we need so many epidurals and narcotics.

It’s all in your perspective, I suppose.  Mine has shifted drastically over the past three weeks.  So far, we've learned how to take blood pressure, heart rates and UA's.  We've learned how to be doulas--someone there to comfort and support mama during labor.  We're learning about nutrition and how it impacts not only mama and baby's well-being during pregnancy, but how it can also cut down on delivery complications.  We've learned how to teach classes on childbirth education (even though it might be a while until I'm ready for that).  We have all been assigned to expecting mamas who are sharing their bellies with us so we can learn how to perform prenatal appointments.  And most importantly, we are learning more and more every day who God is and how He designed birth to work.

It's been a wild journey so far.  In a lot of ways, I had put God in a box.  I believed He could do anything, yet I held tightly to the idea that I was in control of my future.  He has overwhelmed me with His provision.  Whenever I begin to panic, He just whispers, You may not have everything you need for the next six months, or year, or decade, but do you have what you need today?  He has blessed me with beautiful new friends who are wildly in love with the King.  He has given me the sweetest house to live in.  He has kept me safe even though I’m living on a rock in the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles away from civilization.

But most of all, He has reminded me that He loves me.  The dreams in my heart are in His as well.  He is an extravagant God...I need only trust Him.

A few of my lovely classmates.
(photo cred: Morgan)

(photo cred: Sara)

We have some talented budding midwives among us!

The first of many stunning sunsets.

Turns out you have to cut down the whole banana tree to get the bunch of bananas.
(photo cred: Christine)

At the marina.

love does not envy

Everything outside is soaked with green and rain.  The breeze is sifting through the window as I spend moments alone.  A friend is in labor with her first child.  So many I know are getting engaged, married, watching their perfect love story unfold.  Others are off to the farthest lands, exploring this planet we all call home.

I, on the other hand, stand in the corner watching, eyes wide, heart beating, wondering what I'm doing wrong.  I blame myself for where I am in life.  It's probably a failure on my part to seek God's heart deeply enough.  Or maybe I'm waiting for an answer when He's just telling me to take the plunge and go.  What do I do?  What don't I do?

In the meantime, I often wonder what it means to really walk in love.  I Corinthians 13 tells me I have miles and miles to go before I love even close to flawlessly...scratch that, I never will.

"Love is patient..." I snapped at a coworker today.

"Love is kind..." I made a thoughtless joke that could have hurt someone.

"Love does not envy..." Hold up.

Does that mean that by comparing my life to someone else's, I'm actually not loving them?  Or perhaps even hating them by default?  Or, worse, hating myself?  If I cannot love myself, I cannot love another...or God.

"The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." -Mark 12:31

 "We love because he first loved us. Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen." - I John 4:19-20

I don't know.  I got tired of Sunday school answers a long time ago.  Genuine love is hard to come by these days, and even harder to come by is religion that is pure and undefiled before God: "to visit the orphans and widows in distress [thus] keeping oneself unspotted by the world." - James 1:27

This place in my life is somehow where God wants me.  I'll look back and be thankful for this odd, dry wilderness, and also be thankful for the little oases he takes me to in the midst of it.