Some things are timeless.

I recently ran across a once very familiar notebook. I carried it with me everywhere my junior year of high school. It was what I’d now call my creative outlet, but that was before I embraced any sort of creativity; I was slightly embarrassed by my writing tendencies.

The notebook housed my poetry. The words that overflowed from my heart. Prayers to God.

So the other day when I found this notebook, I read through each piece of writing, letting my heart remember the words. It was like reconnecting with an old friend. The words I remembered; the climate of life when they were written, I’d forgotten.

I was inspired by my 17-year-old self. As I read through the prayers, I thought of how my life was then, the young woman was becoming. Then I thought of how my life is now, remembering various experiences I’ve had, people I’ve met, places I’ve been, the woman I’m still becoming.

So much in my life has changed, yet my prayers are still the same. Here is one of my poems:

Direct Me, God

1-03-04

Direct me, God

This is new ground

But You’ve been here, Jesus

It’s to You I’m bound

This is what I’m asking

This is what I pray

Show me, Lord

Where to go today

What to say

Who to meet

In a store

Or on the street

Direct me, God

This is new ground

But You’ve been here, Jesus

It’s to You I’m bound

Every breath goes to You

Every step to You

Wherever you choose

Win or lose

We’re in this together

Through all kinds of weather

Lead me wherever

Guide me forever

Direct me, God

This is new ground

But You’ve been here, Jesus

It’s to You I’m bound

You know what I can take

You know when I break

You won’t leave me stranded

I’m Yours, branded

Yours forever

Take me wherever

Show me Your way

For me today

Direct me, God

This is new ground

But You’ve been here, Jesus

It’s to You I’m bound

Cautiously or Radically?

I believe I was a sophomore in high school when I made this life-changing decision. A decision that has, in fact, affected every major decision I've made thereafter.

No, it wasn't the decision to follow Jesus, exactly.

It was the decision to not just live for the Lord, but to live radically for the Lord. During musical worship at a conference, as I was praying, two pictures came into my mind. One picture was of a house on a hill with a fence and a dog in the front yard. The other was a straw hut on a mud road. In my heart I felt that the pictures represent two ways of life. (Note: Don't hear me saying I think having a house on a hill with a fence and a dog is bad or wrong or unspiritual. I don't. At all. And I may very well have one myself someday! If that's all you hear, you'll miss the point.)

To me, the first picture represented living cautiously, while the second represented living radically. Because God knows my heart's language, He used those pictures lead me to a Y in the road on my journey with Him. I decided that night to live each day radically, wanting to live life on the edge.

Right now, I'm trying to figure out what the "each day" part looks like. Moving to Champaign, Ill., to join a church plant team may sound radical, but not to me. It's getting down to the day-by-day details of living radically that has stumped me. My challenge has been to make sure each day is aligning with the larger purpose of living radically, loving radically, and risking radically. And I'm not sure I've been doing that well.

I have a feeling this isn't something I'm going to master anytime soon. It just might take a lifetime.

That I'm not alone

I found tears running down my cheeks this morning.

I'm not one to cry, really. There are typically two things that bring my internal emotions to my exterior: movies and music. Stop, play and pause buttons can be pushed during movies or songs. There's a clear end, either an hour and 58 minutes or 3 minutes and 28 seconds. I get to decide if I want whatever happens during the movie or song to affect me thereafter.

In real life, not so much (which is why I struggle with emotional connectivity).

But this morning, I had no control. It was as if my heart bypassed my brain.

We had communion at Confluence Church for the first time today. Confluence, a church plant in Champaign, Ill., started meeting in July. Church is held at the pastor's home, and we've been catching the vision, learning about the city, discussing practical ways engage the community, building relationships, listening to the Spirit, and worshiping God since then.

Before church, the kids of the pastor went over to the neighbors' houses to invite them. Two kids came, Niko and Tanea.

For communion, someone read 1 Corinthians 11: 23-34 from The Message version. A plate of bread was passed around to everyone one, and Kevin (the pastor) served everyone the juice saying some variation of "This is the blood of Jesus; He died for you." Even the kids were served.

After that, Kevin asked if anyone felt God tell them anything or if they had any images they wanted to share with the group. (This is very common at Confluence. Sometimes no one has anything; sometimes someone does.) A couple of people said very serious, genuine things that were on their hearts. And then there was some silence.

And now, here comes the reason for this post. This the reason there were tears streaming down my cheeks. After a few moments of silence, Niko, the 10-year-old 5th grader who doesn't really go to church, said with more sincerity than I can write

"I felt God say that I'm not alone."

Wow.

I am certain, so certain, something is going on in his heart. The Lord is moving and drawing him near. In a room of strangers, primarily adults, this little boy had the courage to share God told him he's not alone.

Oh, and Niko, who decided to not go to children's church but to stay with the adults, also volunteered to help in a service project next weekend.

All my heart could do was smile through tears.

10 Reasons I’m Not Selling Everything I Own and Traveling the World

My love for traveling has taken me many places in my short 24 years of life. I have amazing friends in Mexico I visit at least yearly. I’ve almost been arrested in Athens, Greece, for not validating my metro ticket (three words: bribe the cop). I’ve met Great Britain’s former Prime Minister Gordon Brown outside a hotel on the northern coast of Wales.

The city of Paris still inspires me when I close my eyes and remember walking out of Sacre Coeur and having my senses overcome with awe at the sight, sounds and smells as the chilled night wind blew my scarf into the empty sky behind me and the entire city sparkled just like in the movies. Flipping through a book I bought at the Vatican and remembering Michelangelo’s incredible art encourages me to persevere when a task seems daunting and the end isn’t in sight.

I spent four months living in a real castle nestled in England’s green countryside. Nearly ten years ago in Haiti I met a little boy, T-Jim, whose picture still sits on my desk in a frame that says, “Memories such as these are treasures of the heart.”

I can’t watch the travel channel because it makes me restless. I can’t flip through vacationing magazines because I want to visit everywhere. I can’t save any money because I spend it all on airfare or gasoline.

So you can imagine how hard it was for me to read Elizabeth Gilbert’s New York Times Bestseller “Eat Pray Love.” In fact, I haven’t read it completely. I had to stop after reading of her experiences in Italy. By that point, I’d created an eBay account, Kelly Blue Booked my vehicle’s worth, and searched one-way flights to various cities across Europe. I was ready to sell everything I owned and move to anywhere. It was then I knew I had to put the book down. My heart just couldn’t take it.

Side note for those of you who are out of touch with pop culture: Gilbert’s book is about her experiences spending a year traveling in search of herself and, some would say, spirituality. She spends time in Italy, where she focuses on food, India, where she visits an Ashram and focuses on prayer, and Indonesia, where she focuses on love. Last weekend a movie based on her book was released starring Julia Roberts. (End side note.)

When my best friend, who loves the book, asked me to see the movie with her, I could hardly say no, especially because it stars my favorite actress of all time. (“Pretty Woman” was my favorite movie as a child.) Going into the theater, I gave myself a pep talk, something not uncommon for me.

“Just enjoy it. You know you’re supposed to be in Champaign now. You just signed a 12-month lease. This is where the Lord wants you. Just enjoy the movie,” I told myself convincingly.

I did enjoy the movie. But, I’ll admit, there were times, while sitting in that surprisingly comfortable movie theater seat, I would have given all but my last breath to be sitting on the Spanish steps in Rome (something I’ve done before) or walking the beaches of Bali (something I long terribly to do).

That brings me to my main point, the title of this post: 10 Reasons I’m Not Selling Everything I Own and Traveling the World. Truly, I believe these reasons are from my heart. However, I must be more truthful in saying perhaps my heart is trying to convince my head these reasons are valid. Regardless, here are the 10 reasons I’m staying in good, ol’ Midwest and not becoming a globetrotter….right now anyway.

1. I’m not in a financial position to spend a year unemployed.
2. My family would hate me.
3. I just signed a 12-month lease that can’t be broken.
4. Honestly, I believe God has led me to Champaign, Ill.
5. Student loans, need I say more?
6. I plan on going back to school next year (for dental hygiene this time).
7. My camera isn’t good enough to take on that kind of trip.
8. I need to shed some pounds before I can fit in with the rest of the world.
9. I would need to take another self-defense course to brush up my moves, and I don’t have time for that now.
10. The final reason, and probably the one I cling to most, is that book has already been written. I won’t write it again; I’ll write my own.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

What is it about natural disasters that brings out the best in people? It seems almost odd that something tragic and terrible would bring unity and camaraderie among strangers and neighbors (and strange neighbors). Oh sure, there will always—on this side of Heaven, anyways—be people who are exceptions to the majority. But for the most part, people seem to band together in times of need. And it appears natural, second-nature.

I think about the earthquake in Haiti a few months ago. The world responded. I was proud not only to be an American, but simply to be living and breathing right now on this earth. To be part of a universal society that saw an earthquake completely and utterly destroy a nation and chose to act. The world leaders did not look away burying heads in their own problems (and Lord knows we've all got plenty of them), but rather they responded. They cared. They aided.

While there are many tragedies in which this type of behavior has occurred (Hurricane Katrina in 2005, 9/11, Indiana Ocean Tsunami in 2004, etc.), I choose to downscale to more local disasters.

Visiting Spring Hill, Tenn. this past weekend during the torrential downpours and flash flooding that happened in Middle Tennessee reminded me of the floods that hit my home county two years ago. It was the summer of 2008, and I was actually living in Spring Hill at the time. Back home in Southern Indiana, the northern part of my county was being hammered with rain. Daviess County is a very rural, farming community, and many farmers grow crops near the river. As the rain escalated, people began to prepare for flooding. People in the community helped sand-bag areas and evacuate homes, anticipating the levees breaking.

Being more than four hours away and feeling very helpless, I realized there was nothing I could do to other than solicit prayer, which in itself is far more productive than anything I could possibly do. I sent a message to one of my best friends, who, at the time, was doing an internship with Mercy Ships in Sierra Leone. (Ironically, he's there again right now working full-time for Mercy Ships.) I told Neil about the flooding going on in the community and asked him to pray for the people there.

A few days later, I received a call from my mom, whose natural enthusiasm was magnified. She told me while several people were out sand-bagging, a big truck showed up with a few men who looked slightly uncertain of what to do. They found a deputy (my uncle), and told him they were from Huntingburg, Neil's hometown about two hours away from mine.

It was the mayor of the city and a few other volunteers. Neil had told his mother about the flooding, who contacted someone, who contacted the mayor. And the mayor decided to find others, drive two hours, and help out some strangers.

So I revisit my first question: What is it about natural disasters that brings out the best in people?

I think natural disasters expose the reality that we are all mortal. There is no differentiation between the rich and the poor, the pretty and the ugly, the confident and the timid. Tornadoes don't avoid the biggest homes. Floods don't recede around homeless camps. In the midst of disasters, all people have is each other. And that, my friends, is beautiful. The acknowledgement that life is about people; that situations and circumstances cannot be controlled; that all you really need is love.

When will we grab hold of that beautiful picture of true unity outside of a disaster and live together in community caring for our brothers and sisters? I look forward to that day.

Dancing in Circles

I just wanted to pass along a new song that I think is phenomenal. At first listen, you—like me—might be repulsed by the sort of boy band vibe that comes from the perfect harmonies or by the pop-esque, Rascal Flatts (bleh!) feel. But hang tight and listen to the words. It's quite a lovely song.

It addresses many things going on in our world, and I especially like the references to God. AND it's true. (Sometimes when artists talk about God in their music, what they say isn't exactly true.)

It's called "Dancing in Circles" by Love and Theft. Please, check it out and let me know what you think.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69_XxCQYg1U

A near tragic breakup

Recently, I almost ended a long, deep, intimate relationship. It could have been the worst mistake of my life; though, I'm sure it could have been mended, but it probably never would have been the same. I was feeling very deceived. No longer was I sure what I'd relied on, believed in and hoped for was true. For years, I'd trusted. I'd found comfort. I'd found strength. I'd found part of myself. And then, I began to doubt.

I almost broke up with country music.

I know, I know. Perhaps I'm being melodramatic.... Or perhaps I'm not. Perhaps something such as music can have a larger impact than realized or recognized. I am a music freak. I may not be able to tell you who sings every song, what year it was released or on what album (the sports editor I work with can do all of those things; he's a music genius). But I sure can spout lyrics from nearly every genre. My heart opens when I'm listening to music. Sometimes, it's like every part of my being is the song. I am the melody, the harmony, the guitars, the drums, the lyrics. It's everything I want to say or wish I could say. It's what my heart feels.

I listen to lots of music, but I prefer acoustic, singer/songwriter type, modern jazz and country. Country music and I have a rich history. My grandpa listens to the country station The Bullet 106.5 all the time. He never turns his radio off. He has the radio in the kitchen and in the garage on 24/7. When I got my first alarm clock with a radio, he set it to that station. And I fell in love. Reba McEntire, Travis Tritt, Patty Loveless, Tim McGraw, Garth Brooks, Aaron Tippin, all of them.

With the exception of about three or four dark years when I would have rather listen to a chainsaw than to country music (I don't speak of those years often), I've been a fan all my life. It was my comfort and my hope. It seemed more like real life to me.

But then I began to wonder, are those lyrics true? Do people really think those things? Should I find encouragement and strength in this? Am I believing in the words of some far-fetched dream? The questions where there. The doubts. And with the doubts came other radio stations. I gave country music very little airtime. It went from being my primary tunes to being my last resort.

I started thinking about the songs. Hearing "Independence Day" by Martina McBride takes me back to a cab ride back to Harlaxton Manor on the last leg of our Paris trip. Alyse, Beth, Megan and me in Marty's cab with that song cranked up singing at the top of our lungs. Then there's Reba's "Fancy," which I remember watching her perform in a long, red sequency dress when I was in the third grade (a concert my mom surprised me with on a school night). Joey and Rory's "Cheater, Cheater" was a solace to me at one time in my life. And, honestly, I've yet to find a song that fits me, my personality and my desires like Terri Clark's "I Wanna Do It All."

I've lived through country music. There was no way I was going to stop living through it, stop remembering moments in life through it. Heck no.

So tonight, as I was driving home, I knew we'd crossed the valley when I bypassed Lady GaGa and Train for Reba McEntire. Two weeks ago, that never would have happened (I say ashamedly, as if my allegiance to Reba has been slightly tarnished).

All relationships have their ups and downs. It's just a matter of having wisdom and knowing when to trust your heart or your head. Had I ended things with country music, I believe there would be a void not only in my music sphere, but in my life. Country music connects me to my feelings. I guess you could say I'm a cowgirl at heart.