Enough

It's been almost a year since my last days of my job in Michigan. And it has been a crazy year. A friend and I were joking that I decided to try everything I have been talking about for a decade in the last 365 days. 

It has been a stretching time. It turns out that talking about risky things is easier than doing them. But it has been good, and I'm learning to jump and face a new wave of fear that surfaced when I stepped out of my comfortable life. 

I have been reading the story of when God gives the Israelites manna in the wilderness (exodus 16 and deut. 8). When you step back and think about it, it is so strange that they were collecting bread from the ground. But what is fascinating is that they always had enough. If they didn't collect quite enough for that day or if they were greedy and grabbed more than they needed, it came out the same. And that was enough to sustain them. 

In this period of the unknown and the uncertain, what I can say is that there has been enough. Some dark and unknown days it felt like there wasn't a bit extra. But I am finding that there is always enough grace and mercy to sustain me for the present day, and new mercy for every day that comes next.  

Over and over, God has provided for me in unexpected ways; the kindness of friends, new opportunities to try. I'm learning to be  thankful, to live in today without always having a plan for the future. Although plans are good, I often lived so much in the future that I forgot about today, forgot about savoring the moment I am in, forgot about seeing things to be thankful for right now.    

And as I look back on the year, I've realized that most days have felt like more than enough. It's easy to forget these days, the gloriously happy days, discovering a beautiful hike and the perfect wild blueberry pancakes in maine with my brother. Or the laughing, sun-kissed swinging days in uganda, and four of us squeezed onto a tiny motorcycle on an adventure. It's easy to forget about meeting new little friends in liberia, the wide open spaces of the safari lands, and the grand canyon stop with a kindred friend. 

 

One of the reasons I love photographs is because they remind me of all the ways God has cared for me, all the ways I have been given more than I deserve, all the ways I have enough. 

thoughts on editing

Throughout the last few months I've been working on a few new writing projects. It's something I've talked about doing for a long time, and for the first time have had the mental space and time to pursue. There have been some high points and some low points, but things have fallen into place rather well for the amount of time and effort I have put into it.  

And I've learned a lot about letting my work be edited. I went to a writer's conference and pre-submitted a few chapters for a book project. It was slightly terrifying to let a professional read my words, my stories. As we stood in line to get back our manuscripts, I suddenly felt like I was a student again, waiting for a huge exam score - a little sweaty and hyper. 

One response was not-so great but the other was beyond encouraging. I found someone who understood what I was trying to accomplish. In less than thirty minutes, she gave me a new title and much needed clarity and direction. I knew I needed editing, but I didn't know how helpful it would be. 

I'm beginning to see how editing makes writing better - especially a good editor, one who understands you and is committed to seeing the project succeed. Not all opinions or edits are helpful, but some are incredibly valuable. The more I've let people interact with my words and my ideas, the more clear they have become. Even the critical opinions have helped me clarify my message and understand my weaknesses. It's been humbling to begin the process, and I know if my project continues, this initial editing will seem tiny in comparison to the major editing to come. 

I also think it is this way in relationships. We need to let people step in and "edit" our lives - to show us when we are wrong and to listen when they speak truth. It isn't easy to be on either end of these hard conversations. And not everyone's opinion is helpful, often people are mistaken. But when it is someone who knows us, believes in us and wants our good, we do well to listen to their feedback, to ask their opinions. They can see what we cannot. We are often too close to our own lives to see what is true. I'm learning - slowly by slowly, to let people into my writing and my life, to be part of the process. 

It Is the Road

 A few weeks ago, in the heart of colorado, i found myself climbing the hike in the photo below in the early hours one morning. It became a pilgrimage of sorts, because I definitely wasn't in good enough shape to be doing it without feeling like I had to drag myself up the mountain. Somehow, I made it to the top. Fortunately, it was well worth the effort. 

As I was journeying up, this quote kept going through my head and pushing me forward. 

“This life therefore, is not righteousness, 

but growth in righteousness, 

not health, but healing, 

not being, but becoming, 

not rest, but exercise. 

We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it, the process is not yet finished, but it is going on, this is not the end, but it is the road. All does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified.” - martin luther 

Along the road, (the literal road west), I had so many conversations with people who are dealing with the reality of this broken world, many tears shed for the confusion and harshness and sin and shame encountered while trudging through this life. And I so badly want to snap my fingers and make it okay, to erase the need for a process of pain and suffering and growing. 

But I know life doesn't work like this, and we will not be what we shall be until we are in a different world. And then, we will get to dwell with God and be free to live as we were created to. But for now, I'm trying to be thankful for the road, for the process, for the healing and becoming, for the glimmers of hope when my heart loves God more than myself. This is not the end, but it is the road.  

 

 

Perhaps my favorite road of all time, even if it isn't surrounded by world-renown spectacular scenery. But it's the road where almost everyone knows your name. 

 

 

 

t

Life in Uganda: Update Seven

It’s been a long time coming, but I am finally reading Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life by Henri Nouwen. My brother and sister have highly recommended this book to help me think about community development, poverty and life in general. And since they are both doing amazing work along these lines, I figured I should listen to them.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much further than the first pages without needing to pause and think. He talks about the definition of compassion; to suffer with.

Often it feels like the entire point of life in America is to avoid suffering. This is particularly evident in the SkyMall catalog, which I usually end up spending a lot of time looking at on flights. (It's strangely addicting, and I am obsessed with the wall-size map!) But overall, it's full of completely unnecessary things. For a mere $400, you can buy a window cleaning robot. $160 will get you a touchless sensor toilet seat. We love gadgets and anything that will make life more convenient. But what we don't like is when life is hard, when it turns out that all of the appliances in the world don't erase the difficulties. 

Nouwen talks about how we often take this anti-suffering mentality into relationships.  “We want to forge our identities by carving out for ourselves niches in life where we can maintain a safe distance from others. We do not aspire to suffer with others. On the contrary, we develop methods and techniques that allow us to stay away from the pain.”

I have never liked suffering or pain. By nature, I am the girl who wants everyone to be happy, hates conflict, and refuses to go to the Holocaust museum or watch Hotel Rwanda. I have always wished life was a continuous party filled with glitter and balloons.

One of the hardest lessons of the last decade has been to come to grips that I live in a broken world. Although there shall be a time where there are no more tears or suffering or pain, we do not live in that time. God has walked gently with me, pulling me down the path of suffering, sometimes my own, and sometimes entering the pain of others through counseling and relationships. It hasn’t been an easy road, but I am now much less afraid of suffering and much less shocked when problems appear.

Being in a tiny village here has awakened me to an entirely new kind of suffering than I was used to seeing at home. The general living conditions here are different than anything I've ever seen, and this isn't nearly the worst of Africa. I’m learning that confronting poverty in a community, corruption in a country, and endless amounts of seriously messed up situations in an entire continent is another way I need deal with suffering, instead of avoiding it and pretending it isn’t here. 

I have found I have more questions than answers and I’m not sure how to really suffer with people when I will get on an airplane in a few months and fly away. I promised some of my friends that I would not be the person that would move to a third-world country and lay on the guilt trips about how much we have and how little these people have, etc... So I maintain that promise, this is not a guilt trip.

But I see how it is easy to want to have quick answers to make me feel like I am fixing problems. I also see the temptation to want to throw money at the situation in order to temporarily relieve pain.

Although quick action might make me feel like I am really doing something, I know it isn't sustainable or helpful in the long term. For now, I’m hoping to keep thinking about what it is to be truly compassionate, to sit with some questions, and to be thankful I have had this chance to live here and learn to love these incredible people. 

I would love to hear your thoughts. 

love, jackie 

Love Is Not Efficient

At a conference last fall, I heard Paul Miller quoted from his book Loved Walked Among Us. It was a simple, short statement; "love is not efficient."  But it stayed with me, one of those thoughts you can't quite seem to get out of your head. 

Reading the rest of the book about learning to love like Jesus, it is so evident that Christ was not primarily concerned about his schedule, time, or comfort as he reached out and touched a dying world. He also was ridiculously patient with his disciples, who, like us, were often self-involved and needed things explained again and again. 

It's so easy to want to move people or a system through a program quickly and easily, to "love" people for six minutes, days, or months and then be done if they haven't changed. As I have worked with college students for the last years, this has been especially tempting for me. I want the students to be completely mature at the end of college, having learned everything perfectly by graduation. And then I think of myself at 21 and a recent grad, and see now how little I knew about life then. It's much clearer now how much I have changed in those ten years, and how patient people have been with me. There was nothing quite like moving across the country by myself to teach me how little I actually knew about the world. 

Although this may seem like a very basic lesson, I've been reminded again and again that loving people well does not make my life easier. It actually messes up my plans quite extensively much of the time. And the more I try to be efficient in loving others, the more I hurt them. Some days I respond much better to this than others. A few weeks ago, a few friends and I canceled a camping trip to be with our kindreds that were going through a difficult time. This time wasn't as hard as some times to give up what I wanted to do, but other days, the absolutely last thing I want to do is serve others above myself. And there are many times when I am selfish and choose myself over others. 

This doesn't mean that it isn't worth it, and that sometimes it is wise to say no. But it does mean that if you want a calm, predictable, uninterrupted life, do not get involved deeply with people. Keep your distance and perhaps write a check every now and then to a good cause to keep the guilty thoughts from invading your mind. But don't seek to actually care about people, and by all means, do not become the person they call in a crisis. Nothing ruins a nice dinner like an emergency room run. 

Dose of sarcasm aside, it has been evident that following Jesus down the path of loving people is worth it. Although there are times that are absolutely heart-breaking, and even when I see all of my control issues surfacing when someone doesn't do what I think they should, there is more joy than I thought possible investing in people. And this joy is much more evident when I am remembering that it is God who works through me to love, that it isn't my strength or will that I can lay down my life, and that God has been infinitely patient with me to try and teach me the same lesson again and again. 

For Better Or For Worse

On the Monday morning after their wedding, these two should be waking up to an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet, and making the tough decision between snorkeling or laying on the beach. Instead, they are sitting in the hospital, dining on pain meds and water, and making decisions about chemotherapy. They got married last week, soon after they heard this news. The wedding was an amazing display of love and community, as over three hundred people showed up on a Thursday to celebrate with them.   

Although there were many heart-wrenching moments during the ceremony, the part that impacted me more than usual was the vows. "I, Christina, take you Elliott...in sickness and in health, to have and to hold from this day forward. I, Elliott, take you Christina...for better and for worse, as long as we both shall live." During most weddings, the sickness and the worse is far away, and the couple seems momentarily protected from the evils of the world, surrounded by the haze of young love and first dances. 

In the past few weeks, I haven't heard any wavering from them about if they should get married. In a stark contrast to our commitment-phobic generation, they have demonstrated an unwavering loyalty to each other and to their God. There was no hesitation as they vowed these sacred promises to each other, even though they know the cost much more profoundly than most couples their age ever will. They have shown what real love is, what real sacrifice takes, and what it is to lay down your life for the sake of another person. They have so visibly demonstrated how "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:8). 

Please pray for them as their honeymoon is, quite literally, over. They spent the first few days of their married life celebrating at another friend's wedding, and being amazingly focused on others. In all of it, they have been refreshingly themselves. Sobered and quiet at times, yet still silly and giddy newlyweds. Pray that they would see the hand of God protecting and guiding them, that they would spend their days together well, and that they would have grace and strength to walk through each moment. 

Each Day is a Gift

Life is such a crazy mixture of joy and sadness. As so evident in these photos, my dear friends Christina and Elliott are particularly gifted with joy. Few people would have a paint fight in the snow as part of their engagement pictures. These two have been together for six years, since they were teenagers. They are one of the quirkiest, most hilariously compatible couples I have ever met. Elliott owns his dorkiness so much that he is actually cool. (Let's just say that he read the dictionary for fun as a jr higher.) Christina is has the energy, optimism, and messiness of a six year old. They are the kind of people that always make a party better.  

 They are supposed to be getting married at the end of August, right before Elliott starts his next semester of pre-med classes and Christina finishes her internship. But this week, their world was turned upside down, as Elliott found out that the bone cancer that he fought so hard to beat already is back with a vengeance. And it doesn't look good. So the grieving begins, the brokenness of the world real and tangible today. 

And yet, through the tears, I hear the wisdom well beyond their 20 something years. We must enjoy today, they say, we don't know how long we will have, we want to love each other as fiercely as we can while we have the chance. We want to fight to trust in a Creator who is sustaining us and giving us grace for this moment. We want to grieve, but we want to laugh too. 

It's amazing how quickly no one cares what colors the candles for the wedding are, and how it's reminding all of us about what really matters. The important things are so simple and yet get lost so easily in our normal day-to-day living. We forget quickly to be thankful, it's much easier to complain. We struggle to see the good, it's much faster to find the bad. We grumble about going to work, or cleaning the house, or sitting in traffic, instead of stopping to realize each day is a gift. A simple, but profound gift, to live today. 

Thank you friends, for showing me this agonizingly beautiful gift.