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I got to go to the ocean today. It has been so long since I’ve gotten to enjoy the waves that I had all but forgotten the way the sound of them crashing can wipe away worry in much the same way as they wash away footprints on the beach.

I love you, friends!

I watched the sunrise in Phoenix this morning. This is one of my favorite places to do that. It’s strange to think that it was almost four full years ago when I was here for the first time.

I love you!

Every year at the beginning of November, I am confronted with the passing of time, the reality of aging, and the importance of living with intention. Last year, I was also confronted by the shadows that still existed inside me. In a group of people I am so blessed to now call friends, I was faced with the choice to dive in or run away. Choosing to take the leap made the difference of a lifetime. 

I was up before the sun this morning to drive to work in a different town. Along the way, I read some (or had read to me, at least), I prayed a lot, I considered many things… and as I watched the sky lighten, the reality of how dark it can get just before dawn hit differently. 

There have been several days in the last month when darkness made a move to take over. The voice of shame spoke so loudly that I could not seem to quiet it… and the balance I have worked so hard to attain felt somewhat tenuous. Most recently, as I approached a meeting yesterday, I was struggling to breathe. Panic set in as I sat in the parking lot, deciding whether or not to run… 

I didn’t run… I do my best not to anymore. I went in scared. And God was there.

As I drove back and forth across the state today, I was grateful. Having spent the day connecting with God, with friends, with myself… I’m ready for another year. Not because it will be easy. More because the abundant blessings and sacred companions far outweigh the difficulties.

I’m thankful for you all. 
You bring the dawn.

I love you.
💜💜💜

I’ve been a bit blocked since getting home. For over a month, I have been working through issues surrounding shifts in the interpersonal relationships closest to my heart. The grief that comes with those changes has been complicated. I wish I could say it’s getting more straightforward, and that’s why I am writing again… But the reality is that I am writing with the aim of working out what it looks like to incorporate this grief into the continuation of life. I’m writing because not writing is letting the grief win.

It’s a complex thing to lose someone without losing them, an ambiguous loss that is difficult to assimilate. I can only pray that in time the fog will clear and hope that restoration might be possible. 

In the meantime, there has been much confirmation of God’s guidance since returning. I am thankful that he keeps opening doors and fostering conversations. 

Today held the opportunity to attend a workshop presented by the district. While there has been much going on in my life since the conference that I worked with this past spring, this was the first direct contact I have had with the topic of human sexuality. Stepping into this space again with the lens of the shame language that I’ve been processing since returning from Africa was like walking into a whole different world. 

There is so much shame that circles whenever we talk (or don’t talk) about sex in the church. It’s an often unconsciously automatic response… and it is heartbreaking to see how we have allowed this shame to put relationships and interactions into boxes, defining them as right or wrong based on a reactive response to the culture instead of allowing the nuanced conversations that it takes to be fully alive and truly loving to our fellow humans.

I’m tired tonight. Somehow the experience today, while educational, seems to have drained my reserves of self-compassion. Between the heightened awareness of my lack of community here and the weight of the subject today, I think I just ran out. And it feels like I’m not the only one aware of it. The battle is real.

Be kind to yourselves.
I love you, friends…
💜💜💜

Survived. I wasn’t sure there for a bit. But God knew. Waking up this morning to messages from friends who were believing and supporting me from afar. Knowing that my amazing husband was up in the middle of the night, that my mother had stayed up late… I may be on my own physically, but I have a fantastic network praying me through. And it is so appreciated.

Chapel is here if you wanted to hear it. I’m open to feedback, but maybe if it’s not great feedback wait until I’m back in the States… Thanks.💋

Chapel in the morning. Today, I’ve just been praying. Talking with a few students early this afternoon. Then meeting with the Christian Union group for a time of questions and conversation early evening. I’m not sure how I became the one people would ask questions to… that is just so strange.

Here are audio files of the chapel services from this last week. I noticed that one of the days on the Facebook stream had a chunk of audio that was dropped out, and wanted to make sure there were good audios available even if the video wasn’t good. If you haven’t listened, I can’t suggest it enough.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

I love you, friends.
💜💜💜

Another Sunday has come and gone, and the final week is here.

Cindy and I went to church yesterday, then had lunch with Mitchell. I love his heart. It is just so good to be with people who are loving and living and listening to what God is calling them to do and say. And Mitchell definitely seems to be one of those people.

I’m constantly praying. Believing. But still struggling. Those two things seem in conflict with each other, and then shame tries to jump in and tell me that because I’m struggling, I must not really believe.

Some part of me hopes that it never gets easier. The work of loving, I mean. Loving myself, loving others, loving God. I feel like if it doesn’t take effort, complacency is far more likely to set in. And I do not want that. I do not want to go back to what was comfortable. Because comfortable pain was never as soul-filling as uncomfortable progress.

On a ridiculous tangent, I am ready to get home to my scale because I think I have managed to gain weight being here. It’s ludicrous with how much more active I am, but I feel bigger than ever! Maybe that’s just shame, too.

Anyway. On to the rest of Monday. We have a gathering this afternoon for more conversation about shame and what it looks like for love to counter it.

Keep praying, friends!

I love you!
💜💜💜

*** I started writing this yesterday and didn’t get it finished and posted before the power went out. It was dark and still all night… the kind of stillness that only comes when the power is out. The last time I was in that kind of night was in the winter storms in Texas. There, I was terrified of what lay ahead. Struggling to stay warm. Pleading with God for safety. In Africa, even the power outage wasn’t that bad. It was strange, because I noticed that when I would stir, not even the dogs were barking. It was just quiet. Anyway, it is morning now. The power has returned. So, here is Saturday’s reflection. ***

Today was a completely different kind of day than I have had since being here. This morning, Cindy and I went to town to do some shopping. I was able to get some souvenirs that I hadn’t gotten yet. And then we came home and had lunch, had quiet, rested, read… Just the two of us. All day. After dinner we sat and talked for awhile.

It was nice and calm and felt very much like a retreat instead of whatever this trip has been.

I don’t know how to describe the difference between this trip and any other that I have ever been on. Aside from the obviously different country. I’ve been on work and witness trips. I’ve been in churches for revivals. I’ve been to camps and college campuses. I don’t think that any of those things prepared me for my time here. Somehow, this was all of those things at one time… with a fair dose of trauma work sprinkled on top.

Roland mentioned while he was here that it was a bit comical that God had to bring an Aussie and an American to Africa to meet. I am so thankful that he did, though. The journey out of shame and into holiness… into love, is a complex one. I knew this was what I needed to be working on, but it was so difficult to be sorting it out with no one I knew personally ahead of me.

As I’ve told a number of people since being here, it is absolutely necessary to trust in the slow work of God. It’s easy to say… but so difficult to do. We live in a time of convenience. Even when things might be difficult, they are at least available. But as I have looked around Kenya (the parts I have been blessed to experience, at least, I have seen deep beauty in the slowness. And there is God.

The journey to wholeness… to holiness isn’t a quick one. I thank God for the moments of blinding clarity, and for his timely reminders of grace and progress. But those come and go… flashes of brilliance. And I am learning, just now, to find the beauty in the slow walk between them. To look for his faithfulness in the mundane. To trust his truth in the everyday process of sloughing off shame and choosing to steep life in love.

Were it possible to freeze time on Friday, I would have. But there is so much life left to live… and love left to give.

I love you, friends.

💜💜💜

I want to write, but I am not feeling like I would be able to do it justice at all. My heart is too full. So, here are some pictures of what we did today, and I will write an update over the weekend with my final Holiness Week recap.

Thursday was heavier than the other days this week. I have been honored by the stories that have been shared and the vulnerability with which several of the students have approached conversations this week.

After chapel this morning, I walked a bit more slowly to lunch. There is this shady drive that leads to where I’m headed that always smells so sweet. I’m not sure what the flowers are that are putting off that smell, but these red ones along that route are quite striking in the Kenyan sunshine.

ANU has so quickly felt like home that I know a piece of my heart will remain here. The people are so gracious and welcoming that I hardly feel like it’s only been a week here, and I working hard to be present and not let the dread of tomorrow’s endings interfere with the living of the wonderful day ahead.

Tomorrow morning we will meet for the last service of Holiness Week. I fully expect that God will show even more than he has every other day. The responses after the service is over, and the continued exploration that has occurred beyond the tabernacle have been the most powerful I have ever experienced. In this revival-esque setting, that might not seem surprising. But it is the genuine wrestling with shame that has been shared in quiet moments that goes so far beyond the emotional response of revivals of which I have been part before.

In a not unsurprising revelation, I have become far more aware of the voices of shame in my own mind as I have listened each day. There is a pattern of grace developing in response that I pray sinks in deeply enough to fly home with me next week.