Dead Men Have No Rights

Do you ever have days you wish you could do-over?

Days when you've been grumpy and tired and snapping at everyone around you? Days when most of what comes out of your mouth you know you'll regret later? Days when you perfectly embody everything wrong with 1 Corinthians 13: 1-3 because you "have not love"?

Recently I had an entire weekend filled with those days. 

I was tired, I was grumpy, and I wanted nothing to do with people (teenage boys, in particular).  My answers were abrupt, my words were harsh, and my silences were pointed.  But the worst part about it was that I thought I was hiding it;  I was patting myself on the back for being able to mask my lousy attitude. 

Until Saturday night came and I watched a harsh answer completely crumble all of the work I had put into building a relationship with one of my boys. 

And then again on Sunday, when another student hesitantly approached me to asked what he had done to make me mad.

And even though apologies were made and forgiveness extended, I can't help but wonder what kind of lasting damage I've made in my relationships with the other 18 boys. 

I'd like to blame my grouchiness on stress or lack of sleep or even the fact that it's November, but the truth is that the blame lies solely with me.  The root cause of my discontentment was selfishness. I was annoyed when the boys complained, when they didn't say 'thank you', when they expected extra privileges, when they ignored my hard work.  I was tired of being ignored and presumed upon and taken advantage of.  I wanted to shout, "Look how hard I'm working! Look at all the things I've done for you!"

The funny (or sad) part of this whole thing is that my small group is currently reading a book that talks about becoming a person who loves well and the previous week's chapter was all about Christ's selfless love for us.  The author reminded us of the example of Christ humbly washing his disciples feet, and she encouraged us to carry around a "towel"--to constantly be prepared to humbly serve others.  But instead of filling a basin with soap and water or wrapping a towel around my waist, I had my feet propped up on the table, looking for someone to come wash my feet.

During our small group discussion of the Last Supper, one of my fellow RAs reminded us that as people who profess the name of Christ, we become dead men-- people who have died to their selfishness--and "dead men have no rights."  I had no right to expect a "thank you" for the lunch I prepared or a hug for driving out of my way to drop someone off at a birthday party or a "Best RA Ever" sticker for making 2 trips into town just so someone could spend an extra hour with their friends.  I had no right to expect that nap that I never got on Sunday afternoon.  I had no right to expect to be recognized and appreciated.

Never one to learn my lesson the first time, the Lord continued to convict my selfish heart on Sunday night with a little bit of hot chocolate.  The boys were all off hiking through the woods when I offered to selflessly make hot chocolate (from scratch, no less!) to warm them when they returned.  Full of self-righteous pride for how humbly I was serving these boys, I turned on the stove only to have them return from their adventure just as I was melting the chocolate.  One after the other, 20 boys came into the kitchen to ask if the hot cocoa was finished and by about the third boy I was ready to throw the chocolate on the floor and say "forget it."   Didn't they know that I was serving them? Didn't they know that I was a college-educated adult who had given up my friends and family to move halfway across the world to minister to them?
As I stood there fuming and throwing a temper tantrum, I was reminded of I Corinthians 13: 3 (NIV)  "If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but have not love, I gain nothing." So without love, this huge sacrifice of my time and my energy to serve these boys was little more than a handful of cocoa powder and some hot milk.  

I wish I could say that my attitude immediately improved and I didn't sigh meaningfully when the next boy asked if the cocoa was finished or start grumbling when I was left with the huge pot of leftover chocolate to clean, but I can't.  I still have quite a long ways to go before I begin washing feet.
So as much as I would like to tie this post up into a nice little "look at what I learned" ending, if nothing else I hope it encouraged you to learn from my failings, to live a life of love, to carry around a towel, so that your hot chocolate is more than lukewarm milk.  (How's that for some mixed metaphors?)

Carrot Cake (HBR style)

*disclaimer:  if you are just joining us, do not be fooled, I am NOT a food blogger.  If you're looking for good food and beautiful pictures, go visit Autumn at The Beanstalk or Deb at Smitten Kitchen*

Living in HBR (a dorm filled with high school boys) means lots of baking and in large quantities.  On the plus side, my math skills are improving as I am constantly doubling or tripling recipes; and converting my American recipes to the metric system has also provided a lot of mental gymnastics.  So the next time you need to feed 19 high school boys or a small country, I will gladly share my recipe (that I shamelessly stole) for Carrot Cake Recipe (HBR style).  I've already done all the math for you.  If you want to make a reasonable amount of cake, you can find the original recipe (with much better pictures) at Visual Heart .

Carrot Cake
serves: about 19 high school boys or 30 regular sized humans
prep time: allow for about 4 hours of prep time as you will be distracted by requests to open the staff office, find band-aids, turn on the washing machine, or just talk. If you are a hermit this might only take an hour.

Zest 2 oranges.  Realize that you have no idea what it means to "zest an orange" because all of your previous experiences with orange zest have been in a bottle.  Google "how to zest an orange".  Search the kitchen for a grater to zest said oranges.  Discover there is no grater.  Go beg a cheese grater off of your fellow RAs.

Zest and juice 2 oranges.

Amuse the high school boys by pretending that the oranges are actually sea anemones.

Wash and peel 20 (at least) carrots--because Germany doesn't particularly care what its produce looks like as long as it's still edible, the number of carrots may vary depending on what size (or shape) you find in the bag.

Discover that you have no idea how to work the food processor (or if it even works) so proceed to grate 7 1/2 cups of carrots by hand.  (Subtract about an hour of prep time if you have a working food processor).

Crack an entire carton of eggs, because eggs come in cartons of 10 in Germany and not by the dozen. Notice there are brown spots floating in the yolks.  Google "weird brown spots in eggs" to make sure they are not dangerous.  Learn that these spots are normal in brown eggs. Remain skeptical. 

Try to calculate how many times 1 1/4 cups of butter goes into 250g.  Give up.  Decide that a little extra butter never hurt anyone. Mix the entire package of butter and a quarter of another with the eggs. 

Lug your 5 lb. bag of brown sugar from the attic and measure out 5 cups. 

Spend 15 minutes looking for vanilla extract before remembering that it comes in a large, orange bottle instead of a brown, glass bottle. (If you know where your vanilla extract is, subtract 15 minutes from prep time).  Add 5 teaspoons. 

Mix in 5 cups of flour.  Realize that the baking powder and baking soda are in identical containers. Worry that you are going to mix them up.  Discover that you need 5 teaspoons of each so it doesn't really matter. Proceed with caution. 

Add 1 1/4 tsp salt, 2 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1 1/4 tsp nutmeg.  Realize you forgot the nutmeg as you write a blog post about how to make carrot cake.  Come to the conclusion that the cake is now ruined.  Decide that cream cheese frosting covers a multitude of sins.  Add 2 1/2 tsp ginger (the original recipe says fresh ginger, but let's be honest, who actually grates their own ginger? not this kid).  Add 1/2ish tsp of clove (the ish is because you don't have time to find an 1/8 tsp). 

Stir in carrots, orange zest, and orange juice. Ignore the part of the recipe where it tells you to add nuts and raisins because  there are few things more disgusting to high school boys than walnuts and dried fruit.

Don't be alarmed if said high schools boys comment that the batter looks vomit.  It kind of does.  (Those of you with weak stomachs should probably not look at the next picture). 

Grease the large pan whose actually dimensions I am too lazy to measure.  (Adds up to about two 9x13 pans).  If you are working with a convection oven you can turn the oven to 155C.  If you don't have a convection oven, you probably should have preheated your oven to 350F before starting this recipe. Because of the power of the convection oven, cover cake with pan lid so the cake doesn't become a brick with squishy insides.  Bake 25 minutes. Remove lid. Bake 15 more minutes without lid. 

Make cream cheese frosting using 3 cartons of cream cheese (about 24 oz) because German cream cheese is much more watery than American cream cheese, 3 boxes (6 cups) of powdered sugar, 1/2ish cup of butter, 2 tsp vanilla extract.  Completely forget to take pictures of frosting-making process to erase the image of the puke batter. 

Here is the finished product.  And so despite it's vomitous beginning, the general consensus was that it was "okay". (If you're looking for rave reviews, you've come to the wrong blog.) 

My Home, My Heart, My Playground

Dear friends, 

I know it's been a while, but as per Kait's request, here's a small picture of a huge part of my life right now. 

This is the place where my heart lives. 

It's about to get kind of mushy all up in here; so if you're not a big fan of emotions, you should probably skip this post.

Well it's official.  I have fallen completely head over heels in love with 19 high school boys.  The guys who live in this dorm are sneaky rascals who have stolen my heart.  I'm usually pretty guarded with my heart, but within seconds of meeting these boys it was lost.  I still have trouble believing that I have the privilege of living with the smartest, handsome-est, most talented high school boys on the planet.   Don't believe me?  Let me tell you about them.

We have a boy who can read 5 languages. Most of which he taught himself.
Another student learned to speak English in one summer so that he could attend BFA.
We have guys who can play classical guitar and others who have taught themselves to play piano by ear. And guys who are fluent in sign language.  And they play soccer and bake cakes and woo women.

They're really quite impressive.

I wish I could bring you all here to meet them.  And we could bake cookies for their snacks, and fold their laundry, and pick them up from school, and listen to their daily adventures, and laugh at their jokes (whether or not they're funny), and share their secrets about girls, and fight with them to get to bed on time.  And it would all be a glorious adventure.

So it's true. I've given my heart away and I have no desire to ever get it back.

Have A Glorious Weekend

Well friends,
I'm off to Deutschland, so I won't be blogging for a few days.  Just in case you miss me, here are some beautiful photos by Jeff Luker. Auf Wiedersehen for now.

Ode to the Standard Vehicle

I'm not really a poet (I just pretended to be an English major), but my experience learning to drive a standard vehicle has caused me to turn to lyric verse.  So here is my rather sorry "Ode to the Standard Vehicle".


Oh, stick shift. How your terrify me,
With your various gears and pedals and noises.
"It's easy!" they say.
"Just practice." they say.
"Ha!" I laugh.
They overestimate my coordination
And underestimate my trepidation.
Every test drive is a work out.
My muscles tense, my hands clench, my stomach twists, my head spins.
Afterwards, I stretch to relieve the cramps.
Clutch, break, clutch, shift, gas. Repeat.
Jerk. Stall. Rumble. Screech.
I forgot to remove the hand brake.
Oh, standard car, you fill my dreams.
I toss and turn with visions of
Braking on a mountain
Stalling on the autobahn
Driving large white vans.
But one day, tiny white Mazda,
I will add you to my list of greatest accomplishments.
And there you will join the others:
Crossing the monkey-bars.
Tying my shoes.
Riding a bike.


Ladies and Gentlemen, the ferocious beast:

Have A Glorious Weekend

Strawberries, rhubarb, and a hike up a mountain. I'm in.

Happyolks | Camp Cobbler from Happyolks on Vimeo.

Surrounded by Beauty

Some days I am just overwhelmed with how God fills my life with beauty.

Like a beautiful sister who married a delightful man in a thoughtful, Christ-centered ceremony (followed by a happenin' party).

Or lovely friends who faithful pray for me and bless me with their encouragement and unwavering hope in Christ. 

Or the fresh produce that August continues to bring us.  The farmer's market this time of year is almost too good to be true and I have to be careful not to buy everything in sight. 

Or the majestic Niagara Falls that sits in my back yard.

Or a phone call from an old friend.  Or goofy lunch date with a favorite brother.  Or a garden full of flowers 

after a rain storm. 

Or the body of Christ as it has rallied around this ordinary girl who is incredibly humbled by their gifts, prayers, and encouragement.  Thank you, dear friends, for being the hands and feet of Jesus in my life.  

You are so beautiful. 

Practicing Joy

This past semester one of my favorite professors and one pretty cool RD gave a talk about the virtue of courage.  To end their discussion they read this poem by Wendell Berry.  (I've italicized my favorite line)

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise, the vacation with pay.

Want more of everything ready-made.

Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.

Not even your future will be a mystery any more.

Your mind will be punched in a card and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something they will call you.

When they want you to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something that won't compute.

Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing.

Take all that you have and be poor.

Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace the flag.

Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands. 

Give your approval to all you cannot understand.

Praise ignorance, for what man

has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.

Invest in the millennium.

Plant sequoias.

Say that your main crop is the forest you did not plant,

that you will not harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into mold.

Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees

every thousand years.

Listen to carrion--put your ear close,

and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come.

Expect the end of the world.

Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. 

Be joyful though you have considered all the facts. 

So long as women doe not go cheap

for power, please women more than men.

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child?

Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.

Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head in her lap.

Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos can predict the motions 

of your mind. Lose it.

Leave it as a sign to mark a false trail, the way you didn't go.

Be like a fox who makes more tracks than is necessary,

some in the wrong directions.

Practice resurrection.

Be joyful though you have considered all the facts. I'll be honest, it's been hard to be joyful when I consider the fact that I will not be leaving for Germany on my time.  However, despite what Merriam-Webster might say, joy is not just an emotion, it's a lifestyle.  It is a deep satisfaction in the Lord and like any of the other fruits of the Spirit, it needs to be practiced--it doesn't just happen.  If nothing else, this time of fundraising has pushed me to rely on Christ more than I ever have, and as David says, there is joy in the presence of God.

You make known to me the path of life;

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

at your right hand are your pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 16:11

Look Who's Gettin' Hitched

Well friends, in just 4 short days this little lady is getting married. 

Who would have thought that my ultra cool, ultra independent, semi-feminist, older sister would one day  subject herself to a lifetime of submission and subservience get married? 

I did. 

I mean who wouldn't want to marry a smart, sarcastic funny, talented redhead? Who wouldn't want a woman who can pull together a 3 course meal using the 5 ingredients she has in her empty fridge?  Who could resist the woman who knows more random historical facts than the History channel?  

Or the girl who volunteered her free time teach refugees to speak English?  Or the person who spent her summers caring for the elderly and is one kickin' Sunday School teacher?

Or the person who taught me the beauty of a well thought out prank?  And the importance of always locking your bedroom door.  And all the best hiding spots in hide-and-go-seek.  And how to turn a bunk bed into a covered wagon to traverse the Oregon trail.

I only hope that one day her kids are as awesome as we were. 

Now I have to go think of something nice to say in my Maid of Honor speech . . .

The Boogey-Man

As a child, I was afraid of everything: the dark, strangers, the imaginary man who lived under my bed and in the basement, getting lost, car alarms, Toy Story 2.  I spent every thunderstorm in my parents' bed. My imagination often ran away from me and the "what if" game was a dangerous thing.

Recently I've found myself falling into old habits. What if my support doesn't come in on time? What if I get lost in the airport and end up on a plane to Morocco?  What if I get to BFA and discover that I didn't pack something essential? What if I'm really bad at driving stick shift and end up stalling the dorm van and the emergency brake malfunctions from overuse causing us to careen backwards down a mountain until we inevitably end up going over a cliff?

In reality, none of these are legitimate fears.
I serve a God who provides in his time and according to his will.
I've always wanted to see Morocco.
I'm moving to Germany not the Gobi Dessert; I'm sure if it's that essential, I'll be able to buy it when I get there.
Millions of people drive stick shift without incident, I think the likelihood of me going off the side of the mountain is equivalent to me accidentally finding myself in northern Africa. (possible but not probable)

But the thing about fear is that it is rarely rational.  So instead of trying to calculate the amount of ex-pats in Germany who go bottoms-over-teacups off the side of the road, I should must step out in faith and obey Philippians 4: 5b-7:

The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

Have a Glorious Weekend

Here are some gorgeous pictures of the Canadian Rockies to get you through this awfully humid weekend.

(via: Julian Bialowas)

The Waiting Game

(source: unknown)

Patience is not one of my greatest strengths.  If you've ever seen the marshmallow test, you know that I would have been one of the kids stuffing the marshmallow in her mouth the minute the researcher left the room (even though I'm not particularly fond of raw marshmallows).
Once I have a goal in mind, I want to start working on it. I'm not good at waiting for the gun to go off or the green light or the okay. Which is why this season of fundraising for BFA has been so difficult.  I've sent out the letters, followed up on the emails, made the phone calls, organized the meetings, etc. And now I wait.
I can't write the checks. I can't make the financial decisions. I can't vote on the missions committees.  All I can do is wait and pray.
As August 9th approaches and my support level stays relatively stagnant, it's hard not to get antsy and stressed.  It's hard to wait on the Lord when I want to get things done.  But every time I try to take charge; every time I try to figure this out on my own or look for a Plan B, He reminds me that there is nothing I can do.
Even as I grow restless, He proves time and again that He is faithful through His Word, encouragement from friends, unexpected donors, and a hundred other undeserved blessings.
And so I'm trying to be patient.  I'm learning to pray big prayers and believe in an unexpected God.  And maybe soon I'll be able to say like the psalmist:

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,

and in his word I hope; 

my soul waits for the Lord

more than watchman for the morning,

more than watchman for the morning. 

Psalm 130: 5-6

(source: unknown)

Have A Glorious Weekend

I love these beach scenes taken by Maison Gray. It looks like I won't make it to the beach this summer, but I can dream . . .

Have A Glorious Weekend

I know it's a little early for the weekend, but today I'm heading down to Pennsylvania to celebrate the marriage of my dear friend Autumn (via The Beanstalk) and her man, Josh.

I'm sure this weekend will be filled with lots of moments like the ones found on Moment Junkie

Here's some music to go with the pictures:

Plan B

I hate unpacking.
I put it off as long as possible.  It drives my family crazy.  My friend Beth thinks it's hilarious the lengths I will go to avoid it.  It's been almost a month since graduation and I have suitcases and boxes that are still left to unpack.
As I begin to put things back at a glacial pace, I've run into the problem that I don't have room for everything, even after I've donated and thrown out most of it.
When I was going through things to be given away or tossed I began to wonder why I had so much junk in my drawers, shelves, and closets and I realized, I have a lot of "Plan B" stuff.
I have those old t-shirts and jeans that don't fit just in case I run out of laundry.  I have that third grade book report just in case I become a teacher one day and need an idea for a project assignment.  I have those old paints and bits of ribbons just in case I find an awesome craft that only needs a tiny bit of acrylic paint and sparkly wedding ribbon.
While I'm not at a hoarding level, I've been holding on to a lot of useless stuff just in case.

Someone (sorry, I can't remember who) once told me that the tighter we hold on to Plan B, the less we trust God. Just like I hold onto my 1st grade school spirit t-shirt for emergency situations, I hold on to my backup plans just in case God doesn't come through.
Last summer my friend Julie and I were talking about how little we (or at least I) trust God.  I believe that he CAN do what he says, but I don't always believe that he WILL.  I hide behind the excuse, "well, maybe it's just not his will" to explain why I've come up with alternate plans in the event that he doesn't fulfill his promises.

The thing about Black Forest Academy is there is no "Plan B".  There is no way that I can do this on my own.  There's no back up plan if the funds don't come in; there's no secret plan to raise the rest of my support in the next month.  This all has to be God and his timing.
It's hard to be in a situation where there's no easy, human fix.  Most days I vacillate between trusting that God will do what he's promised and scared that maybe the support won't come in.
But ultimately Plan B is not an option, and this is just another step in this terrifying, glorious adventure.

He who calls you is faithful.

I Thessalonians 5:24a

Working Girl

I have a summer job!
I'm so glad I have something interesting to share with you; it would have been a little difficult to write a whole post about eating an entire bag of chips by myself or getting in a fight with my mom over suitcases or any one of the other pathetic events that has characterized my life post-college.

In, the first sermon I heard after graduating, the pastor encouraged us to pray for opportunities rather than circumstances.  Not that circumstances aren't important or prayer-worth, but how often does my prayer life become a list of things that I want God to fix or heal or turn around?  Compare that to the number of times I ask God to give me an open door to share the gospel with someone.  It's not even close to being equal.

And so instead of just asking God for a job, I asked him give me a place where I can spread grace.

I don't know what that will look like or what will happen at the end of the summer, but I know where to start. In his commencement speech, Joel Richardson reminded our class that without love we are nothing.  Grace without love is just pity.  So I'm praying for love.  I want to love my coworkers, my boss, the regulars, the first-timers, the out-of-towners, the impatient, the slow, the indecisive, the loud-cellphone talkers.  

I'm not good at unconditional love, I'm good at loving the people who need it or the people I want to love me back.  This summer, I'm asking God to teach me to love the people who don't care, to whom I am nothing more than the face who makes their coffee.

Because, without love I am nothing more than a noisy gong or a clanging symbol telling them to have a nice day and not really caring if they do.

Have a Glorious Weekend

Alchemy from Henry Jun Wah Lee / Evosia on Vimeo.

I'm A Real Kid Now?

(source: Megan Church)

And just like that it's over.
Who would have thought that they would let me graduate?  You can tell from my obviously surprised face that I sure didn't.
Now typically a graduation post would have some recollections of the great times I had and the wonderful people that I'll miss, and all that is true, but I haven't really processed through all of that so I'll save that for another post.  Instead, I'll tell you about everything that comes after graduation.
While I was still in college, I would ask friends who had graduated, what's it like to be a real person?
For those of you wondering, it has been, without a doubt, one of my most uninspiring adventures yet.
Here's a little tidbit:

• While applying for summer jobs, I've begun to wish that I'd taken cosmetic or bartending classes because my college degree is pretty useless. (hire me, please?)
• To reinforce my status as an adult, my parents have graciously added me to the family "chore chart" (not that I mind helping out, but something about the word chore that brings me back to third grade).
• I am now the chief driver of our family's minivan (sexy, I know).
• In an effort to appear cooler than I actually am, I attempted to make dinner for the family using trendy ingredients like feta cheese, tilapia, and quinoa (which my mother just informed me I've been mispronouncing).  Everyone else dutiful ate it and complimented me, but I thought it was disgusting.
• I took pictures of this trendy dinner to try to be as cool as Autumn over at The Beanstalk, but they ended up looking like they were taken by a drunk five year old.
• As a result, I've given up on trying to be trendy or cool and have taken to eating mac and cheese from the box like a real grown-up.
• Like all the cool 21 year-olds out there, I spend my evenings at home with my parents doing exciting things like eating McDonald's milkshakes and watching Life of Pi (My dad's comment was: wow, they did an amazing job training that tiger).

So life after college has been all I hoped and dreamed it would be.
Really, life after college has been an exercise in gratitude.  I've never been good at thankfulness, but I'm  challenged to consider all that I do have to be thankful for. I have: a college education, a family, fresh (if not good) food, a working vehicle, and, most importantly, a God who provides graciously despite me thanklessness.

Answers to Prayer

I just sent out my first support letter. (let out breath I've been holding for weeks).
Hopefully if you're reading this you got one.  If not, you can always check out my Sich Beteiligen page.
I've also started to pray for my future residents and fellow staff members.  It's beginning to sink in that this is real.  This is not just a far, distant dream anymore. God has answered my prayers and in a few short months I'll be halfway around the world serving his church.  What?

It's frustrating how self-centered my view is.  I get so caught up in my little distractions and worries that I forget the HUGE ways God has been working in my life.  He has answered my prayers, he has provided a job, and he will provide the support.

Psalm 66

Come and hear, all who fear God, 

and I will tell what he has done for my soul.

I cried out to him with my mouth,

and high praise was on my tongue.

If I had cherished iniquity in my heart, 

the Lord would not have listened. 

But truly God has listened;

he has attended to the voice of my prayer.

Blessed be God,

because he has not rejected my prayer

or removed his steadfast love from me!

The Unexpected

I don't know why God continues to surprise me.  Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he does. But you would think that after 21 years of watching him show up in unexpected ways that I would begin to expect the unexpected.
Instead I'm like that five year old playing peek-a-boo.  Even though mom or dad has reappeared the 500 other times they've played, the child is still just as surprised as they were the first time.

I sit and I look at my brokenness and I say "It's not possible for God to use me, I'm too much of a mess" then he steps in and says

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness"

II Corinthians 12:9a

Or I remember that I'm leaving for Germany in 3 months and haven't begun to start fundraising and he reminds me that he is the one who 

" . . . is able to to far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us."

Ephesians 4: 20

I am so thankful that I serve a God who is unexpected.  I'm glad that he doesn't agree with me and he doesn't see the limitations that paralyze me with fear.  I'm relieved that I'm not as smart as I think I am.  

So I will continue to be surprised. I will revel in the unexpected.  I will play peek-a-boo. 

Have A Glorious Weekend.

 My new life goal is to find this cabin. Wanna join?

 (source unknown)

Whimsical Wednesdays

There are some days that I wish I were mini sized, so that I could wear these:

Paul and Paula make such fun clothing and their models are so stinking adorable. Oh to be five and carefree again!