Singleness Series // Part One // Made for More than Typical

Last week, a friend asked for my thoughts on being single- specifically, what should she be doing with the extra time she has. It's a heavy question that all single young women ask, and if you're like me, you probably receive a multitude of answers in a very wide range of beliefs.

It makes the uncomplicated...complicated. 

Some say get a job. Other say date around. The ultra conservative ones say you should stay home and bake all day, and you should never look at or speak to a guy. The fence-sitters say get a local job and just put your toes in both worlds to feel out your beliefs.

If we're honest, everyone's advice (along with their mother's) is just not helpful. 

So when my friend asks this question, so many things run through my mind. There's so many different answers I could give, politically correct ones and those that are not, but truly the only one I want to give is the one I speak from my heart.

I get her- because I'm right where she is, too. 

I hear everyone's advice and input as they clamor to be right. I know what it's like to be the last one left at home, without little siblings to look after. I know what it's like to be an age far older than you thought you'd be while still unmarried. I've felt the shame people place on my shoulders along with- the worst of all- pity.

I have no reason to be pitied- and neither do you. 

Your life doesn't start once you say "I do"- it started the day you were born, the day God wove within your soul grand adventures and plans for you to fulfill. It pulses with the talents and gifts He's given you, just waiting to be tapped into to color your world and bless those around you.

If we're honest, we all wonder why He has us still here as single women. We wonder why it's taken so long, why our well-laid out plans lie crumpled on the floor. It seems He's testing the strength of our starch- whether or not we'll still stand tall. Unfortunately, some don't- they lose hope and succumb to being numb, living a typical American life, void of passion.

You were not made to succumb to typical. 

Let me tell you- the reason you are single is not because God is "still working on your husband".

(Can I pause here and say how much I can't stand that phrase?! Like, really- is my husband some caveman heathen? Because it shouldn't take this long, and that's just a really dismal thought!)

(okay, thank you for that release of steam- now back to original train of thought)

You are not single because of circumstances outside your control or because you are not refined enough. You are not single because your husband hasn't showed up on the scene or- God forbid- he truly is a heathen.

The reason is because you are more effective for the Kingdom in this season as a single woman. 

The reason is because God wants to bless you for your good in this season.

He is not withholding better things down the road- He truly has blessing for you. 

I want to tell you how to seize these moments, to embrace these blessings, to savor these opportunities. I want to tell you how I've found joy and purpose and passion where God has me- and how you can have the same, too.

There are so many things I want to share, so many things on my heart. I hope you stick around for a little series as I share my thoughts over the next few weeks- and I pray it sheds more light on your path, giving you great ideas and honing your vision. Stay tuned!

Free and Full // Finding Intentional Moments

Math was never my subject.

There's no scope for the imagination, as Anne Shirley would say, in the realm of mathematics. Everything exact, precise, no room for error. You can't just throw numbers in and out and expect the same result. It's structured, ordered, and refuses to bend the rules.

So, it gets slightly depressing and rather overwhelming when you try to nail down how many hours you have in a lifetime. It may be upwards over 657,000 hours, yet time never stands still. It's always draining, always fleeting, always growing shorter.

You can calculate the math all you want- but you still have a life to live, and each moment is one you'll never get back.

I want to live it extravagantly. Not to waste a single moment, to do it big and with a bang of praise to Him. To live it free and full- free of fear, full of His glory.

Yet, in order to do so, I have to take control of the ticking clock before it takes hold of me. Before just checking my email turns into checking blogs, before searching for one recipe turns into researching something entirely different. Before one quick text to ask a question becomes one long conversation that keeps me from the task I'm in the middle of.

Before I waste my moments doing everything, or doing nothing.

I need to make my moments intentional.

And yet, in the middle of taking time for everyone else, I need to take time for myself. To feed my soul so that I can in turn pour it out.

Last week we had an unofficial family gathering, all piled into my aunt's living room sharing old memories with a long-lost relative. My cousin got up and left the room while we were all settling in, and returned moments later with a medium-sized zippered pouch. I leaned over the arm of my end of the couch to watch as she pulled out an embroidery project, and the creative in me became memorized in utter delight. I watched her open a small box of brilliantly colored floss, carefully choosing the shades she wanted. Her zippered pouch contained additional scraps of fabric, bold and beautiful, just waiting to be crafted into whatever her soul desired. My fingers itched to trace each pattern as she showed me different pieces she was working on, and as she did so I realized how much I needed to do this, too- and I'm on a hunt for that perfect zippered pouch to call my own. 

In the middle of sharing stories and listening to each other, she busied her hands to take care of herself, too. To do what she loved, to share what she loved.

She took hold of her moments.

It was only a scattered few- we all had to pile into cars but ten minutes later in order to make it to the restaurant on time- but she didn't let them go to waste. She took care of herself even while taking care of others. Doing what she loved, it opened her heart to give more love.

While I so often am pouring myself out, serving in whatever capacity I can, it can feel so selfish at times to just make time for myself. Yet Yeshua- He left and spent His morning hours alone with the Father. He poured into His own soul before He poured into others. 

It's not selfish if taking a moment for yourself means giving someone a better hour of service later.

So in those few moments that are "mine"- my mornings and evenings- I become intentional in pouring into my own soul in order to be overflowing in service to those around me. In the mornings I pray, praise, and read Scripture. I take the time to read that book, blog post, or magazine article that has been sitting on my desk or browser for the past week, those words that I know will speak life to my heart and encourage me to be all who God has called me to be. In the evenings, I make the time to paint, to draw, to scribble ink on pages and let my heart bleed out. I stitch and weave stories and scraps of fabric alike. I take the time to reflect on all God has done that day, all the ways I must thank Him for His goodness shining through. I take time to develop these giftings He's graciously given to me, to improve them and use them for His glory and to bless those around me.

I take time to breathe. 

It's space my soul needs. 

It's exhaling into the grace of God.

When God Moves // Fear Cannot Hold You Back

The majority of the time, God surprises me. 

It's very rarely I ever sit back and say, "Oh yeah, totally knew He was going to do that." I wish I did. I wish my zealous soul wouldn't consult reality, or that fear would stalk behind faith. 

It didn't used to be that way. Betrayal, death, cancer, and the death of dreams tend to shake the child-like faith upside down and violently wring it out. 

They say time heals all things, but I know better- He does. 

My trip overseas last year left me changed in ways I never want to forget. I saw Him renew my hope, breathe into my soul that He still gives good things. And for this girl who's lived in the cold of winter too long, to see everything as blossoming and beautiful took my breath away. 

It still does. 

He answers prayers of improbability, and it still takes my breath away. 

--

I was convinced the door was closed. I prayed, I fasted, and after hearing nothing I just dusted off my hands and walked away. I wasn't going to keep pounding- no use breaking down a door if He wasn't going to be there. 

Turns out, it was open all along. Instead of pounding on a closed door, I just had to turn the knob. 

Within 24 hours everything just fell into place, in ways that left me utterly speechless. There was no way to hide when the Hand of God worked in front of you in such bold ways, laying it all in place. 

Yet, I wished I could hide. 

The thought of doing this utterly terrifies me. 

I find myself quaking, fearful, terrified of loneliness and sickness and being so removed from my life for such a long time. I'm terrified of the unknown. Terrified of what I've never done before.

Fear and faith cannot coexist. 

Of course, it's the Year of Emuna. The Year of Faith. 

Of course. 

To say yes to the Year of Emuna is to say yes to the Year of No Fear, too. Hand in hand. One cannot come without the other. 

This is the biggest leap of faith I've ever been asked to take. And to be honest, it feels like I'm just going to fall off the edge. I have no idea what to expect. I have nothing to compare what I'm about to do to. 

I just have to keep following His signs. His promises. His working and moving and His fingerprints in it all. 

I have no other choice. Wherever He leads, I have to follow. A covenant doesn't hold only for the sweet comfortable and familiar- it holds fast even if the fire grows hot and uncomfortable. Even if it's lonely or it's scary or it's difficult. Even if it requires unbelievable work and sweat and blood and tears. Even if it costs all I have and it takes every last drop. 

As Danessa Foo says, "Fear is placing your faith in What Ifs rather than God Is"

Never once have I ever walked alone. 

He's not going to leave me now. 

Back to Blogging // The Groove of Thriving

It's been a while.

When you're moving, planning a bridal shower, helping with a wedding, hosting a new houseguest with an endless list of food allergies, having a garage sale, working every odd day and hour possible, and packing up what my life has always been...all within 3 months?

Blogging gets pushed to the back burner.

Truly, there have been so many thoughts and ideas running through my mind. So many words fighting to be freed, and yet whenever I sit down before that stark white screen of a new post, my fingers freeze and somehow my heart can't make the connection to my brain. It's the feeling of being trapped within my own soul, unable to soar because you're chained by...yourself, unknowing how to set your own words free. 

But no more. 

There's only so many well-meaning hints from your grandmother you can take before you start stumbling through typing again. When your Bestie starts outdoing you in posting, you know it's high time you start kicking into gear and just. start. writing. Scattered, unedited, absolutely unpolished, but get the words flowing. 

Eventually, my fingers will remember. Eventually, the words will become fluid again. 

I decided I'd take my friend Amelia's advice- sometimes you just need to get a change of scenery, a place that fosters creativity and serenity and just start. 

I find myself in a coffee shop after work, and I take a deep breath in. The nutty aroma of fresh-ground beans calm me, the deep rich leather chairs and dark rough wood floors speak of stories and stains, people who have come and gone. I find myself the only chair available- the one where I can't sit back and still have my feet touch the floor- squirming slightly self-conscious because I feel the eyes of others on me. But I begin to type...and the voices fade, the clanging of metal measuring cups dim, the footsteps and music disappear. 

I will find my groove again. 

And yet, it's in the pause that I find the inspiration. As Amelia shared from her heart, I feel it resonate with mine- sometimes you just have to stop, take a pause, soak it all in. 

The creative mind can't always be overstimulated. As an artist, I crave the colors, the ideas, the stories and the character. I can't help but search for the beauty in the broken like a wild treasure hunt, splashing paint and words and folds of fabric. 

Sometimes, it's the over-stimulation that stops an artist from continuing on. An artist needs white-space, too. A place of calm, no chaos, a place of peace where one can digest all the explosions of brilliant ideas. 

This unannounced blogging break I took, it's been my white-space. 

It's from this break that I'm learning to totter across a delicate balance of stop-and-go. Between soaking up these last few weeks before my brother's married, and yet exploring this new life and carving out community in a city so different from my hometown. Between taking the time each night to journal again (so many thanks, Tia, for the reminder and push I needed) and dabble with my watercolors, and yet still be intentional with my time to be there for friends and family in special ways. 

It's in the balance that I'm feeling the thrive again. Feeling alive again. 

I'm not just back to blogging, I'm back to living life in extravagant and wildly free worship in every little detail. I'm back to adventuring out of my comfort zone and grabbing the moments of creative grace that I can spill into the lives of those around me. 

Here's to a fresh start of blogging...and a fresh start of life. 

Fear and Fatih

2014 was an amazing year.

It was my year of redemption, to stand on the mountaintops and to see that the past two years of pain were not for nothing. That ever step I took- even in the dark- was on one sure path to the destination He had intended for me.

It was my year of E'chad, my year to be one with God- to be so focused on doing all for His glory and for Him alone that I wasn't concerned on pleasing the crowds and dancing for the approval of others. I won't pretend it was easy- but it was so, so worth it.

It was restoration. To see Him open His hand with good things as I sought who He is, as I pursued a deeper relationship far more intimate than it had ever been before. It was beautiful, and I didn't want it to end.

2015 came, and I determined I would continue on my one-word journey with Emuna- faith- knowing that everything that comes into my life is for a purpose and a reason. It's a year of hope, believing that He has good things in store and that He works all things for my good. Trusting that everything He allows is to shape my character and to grow me into the woman He wants me to be.

I was ready for another year of great things- but in order to get great things, it takes great work, too. Only real risk tests the reality of a belief.

Faith...it seems so simple. Believing like a child. No fear, no anxiety...serenity. Not knowing all the details, and that being okay.

I didn't realize that to say yes to the Year of Emuna was also to say yes to the Year of No Fear.

And that's terrifying.

It's terrifying to jump out of the boat. Terrifying to do the hard things. To do the uncomfortable, the uncommon, the overlooked. Terrifying to take the initiative, to put your heart out there and stake it all on what God has called you to do.

It's terrifying to take that leap of faith. 

Faith isn't defined by comfort or complacency. It's defined by forgoing all logic and statistics, by taking both feet off of solid ground and knowing God is going to meet you there.

Fear and faith cannot coexist. 

I can't trust God and not act upon it. If I say I want increased faith, I have to know that the ground I stand on is going to shift from underneath my feet. I have to know that when the walls crack and the rain pours and the storm swells, that it is well because He's got it all in His Hands. Faith means I can't sit idle. I have to be out there, getting my hands dirty and my brow sweaty, doing hard things in completely faith that He is going to take my tiny measure and make it into something more.

I can't fear failure. I can only trust His faithfulness.

From E'chad to Emuna, I stand at the edge of the cliff and my knees shake. My heart races.

But this is living fully alive. 

Throw fear to the wind- because faith demands the leap.

You may feel like you're falling, but this is how He will teach you to fly. 

The Girl with Blonde Hair

I had never been so broken before.

My heart thundered, then stopped, then thundered a million more rolls again.

I couldn't leave. I couldn't. 

This place where my heart was planted deep in the rocky terrain, where I bled and I cried, where I laughed and my heart was opened to joy again. To letting people into my brokenness. To being raw and vulnerable without fear.

Where my hand was opened again to receive His good gifts. 

Where I physically saw Him answer prayer in ways I could have never imagined.

Where I fell in love with Him all over again. 

Where He romanced my heart, danced with me through the storms and showed me just a glimpse of the breathtaking vistas He has in store.

I'm not a very emotional person. I could probably count on one hand how many times I've cried in public my entire life. Next to the time when we found out my brother's cancer had returned, I had never sobbed so hard in my life. Wracking sobs that shook my soul.

I felt like I was being emptied. I felt my heart leave my chest, heard mom calling my name, pulling my hands to get onto the van, but my eyes couldn't leave this place. They roamed and scanned wildly and tried to lock in every detail through blurry vision, eyelids blinking to clear.

Now thousands of miles away, months later, it's still a moment I relive a hundred times a day. The burning ache where my heart used to be, my soul yearning to be reunited again.

Some people don't get it. They try, but they just can't. They haven't seen what I've seen, felt what I've felt. They haven't had the dirt run through their fingers and the vision seep into their veins until it wraps and engulfs their very core.

And yet, others do. 

I may relive that moment a hundred times a day, but there's more than just feeling my heart being torn, falling onto the sand. I see more than just blurry images through the tears.

I see a girl with blonde hair. 

She followed me all that day. Hugged me. Wiped tears from her own eyes as she saw mine. She stood by me for hours as we waited for the bus. She whispered words of hope into my ear, then was brave enough to stand there in silence to give room for both our thoughts. She was real- beautifully real- giving of her soul not because it was the "right thing" to do, but because she simple did it without any pretenses or reservations. I may have been seven years her senior, yet she so faithfully ministered to my needs without even a clue. She didn't make it her "ministry". She didn't do it for praise. She just did it- because that's what love does.

And after 3 weeks of pouring into everyone around me, her action wrapped around me like a warm blanket that assured me I wouldn't be alone in this.

She didn't say it would be okay. She didn't say I'd get over it. She didn't tell me to stop crying, that the tears wouldn't stop the inevitable. She didn't say that I had a purpose elsewhere and that's why I had to leave.

She reminded me that He still loves me. 

She reassured me over and over that this was not the end- that He would bring me back. This was not a once in a lifetime experience- it was the beginning of a lifetime of purpose I had never known before.

That this look was not the last. 

There were others who had come by my side that day. They spoke as well, gave hugs and even prayed. But somehow, the girl with blonde hair vividly stands out from the rest.

She silently lived with me through that moment. Didn't speak the profound, just told me what my heart needed to hear. She cried, but she didn't leave. She stood with me as the minutes dragged tortuously onward as I waited for the van. She ran with me. She saw the unglamorous and jagged and didn't shy away.

I want to be like the girl with blonde hair. 

Want to live with people in the moment, in the broken, and be fully there to pour into their souls. Not because I have to, not because it's right- but because I'm right there with them. Not to be the hero- but to be the whisper in their ear that He still loves you. I don't want to shy away from the ugly, from the painful, but to embrace it with the arms of Christ.

It's not a duty, not a job to fix the world, never a place of glamor. It's a position of deepest humility, knowing you can't make it better, knowing your words are nothing.

It's standing there, even in the awkward and uncomfortable, to let Him live through you.

Even in silence and not saying a word. Through just being near. To say "You're not alone, because I'm choosing to walk this hard path with you"

And in that memory, I choose to live like that a hundred times a day.

Dear Me // Letter to Myself

Dear Me,

One day you'll read this and laugh, because you'll see all those dramas and embarrassments that made you want to sink into the floor as what they really are- such small, little things in comparison to what truly matters. Whether you smile with spinach in your teeth or walk with a twisted skirt, it really is not going to make-or-break your dreams. You may feel like they do- may feel like you've ruined your only shot at this- but I promise you, nothing will make-or-break the dreams God has placed within your soul. 

Don't sweat the small stuff. Even in a world that screams perfection, you were never made to meet that standard. Seeking after it will only leave you dry, empty, and drained of all the talents God wants to reveal through you. Give yourself grace and room to breathe. Give yourself time to take in the beauty, and time to heal from the wounds inflicted by others... and by yourself. Give yourself the freedom to be you- whimsical, lioness, freckle-faced and red-headed you- regardless of what other people say.

You'll look back on the biggest heartbreaks and see them as the greatest launching pads towards God's purpose for your life. Like the summer you had heat stroke and your military aspirations drained away with the IV in your arm, the year you traveled South and experienced culture shock but somehow your heart got tied there too, the winter where you went from joy to heartbreak in 6.3 weeks and your soul grew cold like the thick ice on the windowpane, the year you went to Israel and your world turned upside down and was shaken out.

Like the embarrassment, this pain will fade, too- so don't let it stop you from living life with gusto and whimsy, with joy and dancing and taking big risks. The only regret you will have in later years is from not spreading your wings to fly because you clipped them with fear. Don't spend life avoiding the "thud" of falling, because I promise you every "thud" is worth the 30 seconds of glorious flight living fully alive in the calling God has placed on your life. 

Through it all, you were made to worship with abandon, with every fiber of your being. Every meal you bake, every piece of art you make, is all a glorious song of worship to the King. Don't let others dictate what genre that song is supposed to be, what lyrics are to be spoken, or how fluent your Hebrew should be. God just wants you to show up- in the midst of all your passionate soul, in the midst of your imperfections, in the way that only you can worship Him.   

So dear Me, live with reckless abandon, with joy unspeakable, treasuring the raw blessings, wrestling in prayer, and counting the cost. Do life big, and in years to come you will be able to see this glorious unfolding. 

I guarantee, it'll leave you speechless.

Sincerely,
Me

Made for the Mountain

You and I- we were made for the mountain. 

We weren't made to wallow in the valleys, to camp out on the flat grasslands, to sit in the shade of complacency. 

We were made to climb higher, dig deeper, stretch further. 

That seems all well and good- but what about feeling like we're in the trenches of life? Like the mountain peak vista is so far away- so unobtainable? 

Can we get even a taste of that pure adrenaline glory-water that comes from standing on high places, in the midst of our mediocre mundane? 

You and I, we're made for the mountain- but what if we've got our eyes on Mount Everest instead of the mountains we need to scale today? 

The momma with her mountains of dishes, laundry, and children toppling on top of each other. The girl with her mountains of schoolwork, job complications, doubts and fears. The son with his mountains of bills, temptations, and workload. 

We pass over these mountains and look to the Mount Everests of amazing accomplishments instead- forgetting that we were made for these mountains too. 

Made to scale the mundane with grace. To overcome these obstacles with peace. Made to tackle each climb with gusto knowing that He is with us every step of the way- that these mountains are holy ground because He's with us.

Mountain climbers are made victorious in the overcoming. 

So take heart, friend- He's already overcome the world. 

Glorious Unfolding

The water pools in the streets, droplets dancing across the surface. The clouds rumble grey, dimming the lights before the wind carries them away. I watch from the window as the evergreens sway in dance and a mist rises from the ground. The curtains billow, and I edge closer, closer, until my forehead touches the screen.

My heart resonates with this.


I can't help but close my eyes and smile, water spray misting my face. My finger traces the damp windowsill, and I wonder if I should shut this glassy pane- but no. 


In the storm, I smell the fragrance of spring.

In the tempest and storm, life springs forth. In the waiting, He is still creating. And even when I feel the rain beat hard upon my back, I know it is yet for my good- purifying me, causing my roots to sink deeper into Him, into His grace, His love.

I trust in a glorious unfolding.

Because the rain is worth the majesty of the sun bursting forth in glorious array after the storm. Worth the vibrant green of the grass soaking it all up. Worth the brilliant bow of color bent across the sky, a reminder of His enduring promise.

Without the rain, the flowers cannot unfold.

This is life- the storms, the seasons of change, the new and the old and the yet-to-be. And I realize as I pray the Amidah in the jet-black morning, as I bang the pots and pans and the smell of breakfast brings the family together before the dawn- this is glorious. To watch as His glory unfolds- in this world, in the ones you love, in yourself. 

If we knew the end from the beginning, where would the anticipation of the unfolding be? 

I look back, and I am in awe- in awe of the constant refining and the outpouring of His grace to create new things within my soul. I'm speechless, unable to convey all that has been going on in my life and in my heart these past few months, the pruning being done in my life and the anticipation of being on the verge of something new. I am eager to see the unfolding- the gloriously unfolding- of what this new season holds. More refinement. More challenges. More beauty and clearer vision. More opportunity. New chapters, new stories penned by Him. After a year of betrayal and heartache and chemo and cancer, I've only been strengthened. My heart throbs with joy-

And this is just the beginning. 

So let the rain fall, dear one. Soak it up, drink it into your soul, let it seep into all the cracks and wounds. Don't shy away from the storm- life spring up from it. Don't run from the storm, hide in your room, build up fortified walls of protection.

Without the storm, the flowers will not unfold.

(oh, this- an anthem that has been on repeat for the past week. perhaps you'll do the same? make it your candle of hope in the midst of whatever storm you're in?)