Anger is all I know how to express at this moment.

I've been mad at God before.  I've been very mad at God before, but this is one of the two times that I can remember wanting to physically hurt God.  If He were standing right in front of me I'd give him one good punch.

I'm getting really pissed about the fact that God keeps taking the young, the strong, the faithful, and the good.

Today, one of the strongest people I've ever known was called home.

I don't understand God's timing.  I don't understand this senseless pain, and I certainly don't understand why it's always, always, always the people that give the most light to this horrible world that get taken so soon.

I know that one day, just as I did when Josh passed, I'll find the beauty in this situation.  Right now, however, the anger is consuming me and I'm going to let it.  Not even God should be able to get away with something so cruel and not face consequences.

"God understands our prayers even when we can't find the words to say them." Romans 8:26

I apologize for not posting in over a month.  I realized that I had typed out a draft, but never posted it.  As I read over the draft it felt wrong to post now.  I feel as though blogs should have something to say about the present.  Those feelings and words don't accurately reflect how I feel about my journey right now.

How do I feel about my journey right now?

That's a really good question.  And I think I have a really crummy answer: I don't know.

I feel like God is leading me through a maze that's confusing and slightly painful.  The problem with being in this maze is that I am trying to rely on my own senses and ignoring where God is trying to take me.  I'm really bad about that, as I'm sure most of us are.  We know best, right?

Well, that's my mindset.  With this mindset I've come across plenty of frustration and found myself deeper and deeper inside the maze.  I can't get out.  I'm completely stuck.

Ignoring God and relying on myself, my emotions, and my logic has left me in disaster before.  We are stubborn creatures.  I know I am.  If I have my mind set on something I'll do anything in order to get it.

Why, if we've learned time after time that our own strengths will ultimately fail us, do we not rely on God?

 "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11.

I remember this sometimes and laugh to myself.  I laugh because I have my own plans.  I have grand plans of what I want for myself.  Looking back, I've had plans like this my entire life.  Plans for my future that have, thankfully, fallen through.  I've been happier without these things than I ever could have been with them.  I try to imagine my life if my plans had worked and I'm miserable.  I'm missing something. 

Why is it that I still try and make my own plans? 

I have no answer to that question, nor do I expect any of you to have an answer.  

I do have a question to pose.  Something to think about and reflect on.

First, I'll tell you how it came about.  

The other day I got upset at work and began to cry.  My friend, Ibrahim, was worried that it was something he had said or done. When I composed myself enough to explain to him what had happened he told me something along these lines, "it's okay.  You have a heart from God, and that means that it's weak and easily hurt.  God wants us to be hurt by the things that hurt him, so He gives us hearts that are easily broken." 

This made me think.  Why would God want us to be weak? Why is this a good thing? And, as Christians, can we believe in a God that would intentionally make us feel pain in a stronger way? 

I believe that God gave me a vulnerable heart, but I also really reject that idea.  Why would God make me in a way that sets me up for so much pain? Why would God make any of us in a way that would set us up for this kind of pain? 

This is open for discussion, because I really am interested in all of the ideas that can be brought to the table.

I appreciate your continued support and time.  

xoxo

When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors. Took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer. Everybody here was someone else before.

One of the most common things that YAVs experience during their year is a crippling feeling of loneliness.  We're surrounded by people going through the exact same thing at our sites and all over the world, but we feel so alone.  Like there isn't anyone else going through the exact same thing.

I've found, through actually taking the time to reach out to other YAVs, that my loneliness, my homesickness, and the confusion I'm feeling are not new.  I'm not going through them alone at all.

The YAV program does a fantastic job of getting us connected to others in the program before we even meet the people that we'll be living with during the year.  This has proven to be one of the most amazing gifts that I've gotten from this program.

When I'm having a bad day and I feel like I can't talk to my roommates for whatever reason, I have such an amazing group of people that I can reach out to.  There have been several times in the past few weeks when I've felt so lost and like I'm doing everything so wrong, and all I have to do is pick up the phone and simply reach out to a few of the friends I made and I realize that I'm not the only one that's lost.  I'm not the only one that feels like they're doing something wrong.  I'm surrounded by other young adults that tell me I'm normal.  I'm not failing miserably.  I'm one of many.

The YAV program has given me such a strong network of people that I can turn to, and I haven't even told you about my roommates!

My roommates are the most supportive, loving people I've found since I joined my sorority, but even Alpha Xi Delta can't compare.

Before I am accused of blasphemy, let me explain.  When I went through recruitment I was looking for like-minded women.  I wanted people that were like me, or at least people that were like who I wanted to be.  I found that.  I found a group of amazing women that helped me grow up.  They helped me through heartbreaks.  They helped me find myself (at least all of myself that I have at this moment).  Those were an amazing four years.

Sorry for getting sidetracked. Today is Alpha Xi Delta's initiation and it's made me really think about relationships, which is partly where this blog came from.

My roommates and I were put in to a situation with people from all over the country, with vastly different backgrounds, and, often, conflicting opinions about how day to day things should go.

They are not people that would normally walk up to me and strike up friendship (I'm basing this off of the social psychology class I took last spring).  We have little in common most of the time, but that's the beauty.  I'm learning more and more to see things from the perspective of others.  I'm learning to take advice from an almost completely logical stand point (lookin' at you, Caroline).  I'm learning so much more about myself than I thought possible because of the people that I live with.

I never thought I'd form significant relationships with anyone here.  I know, I'm super positive.  I never thought I'd be able to turn to and lean on these people, but I really have.  Going through these difficult weeks (largely self inflicted), would have been impossible had it not been for the love and support of my roommates.

I haven't felt love like this from (practically) strangers in a long time.  These aren't strangers anymore.  I have found a family in San Antonio.  I belong here.  I belong with these people.


I don't know how I could ever than the YAV program for the gift of all of these other young adults.  I don't know how to thank my church for making this possible. I don't know how to thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers. And I definitely don't know how to thank the people that have made me belong in this strange city.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

I have no living grandparents.  This is something that's never really bothered me.  I didn't know my Dad's parents very well when they were living, because we lived away and the sad reality is that people drift apart.  My mom's parents had both died before I was born.  Living far away from my family meant that I found family in other places. 

I grew up in a small, Methodist church outside of Atlanta. I remember, in high school, my youth minister asked me to get up and say something about what the church meant to me, and I can remember one thing that I said.  I stood in front of people that I had mostly known my entire life and was able to tell them that I had been raised with more than just two sets of grandparents.  I was one of the lucky ones that had at least five sets of people that I loved and turned to as if they were my own.

One of the men that I considered my own passed away today.  Looking back on my childhood and thinking about my church, very few of those memories don't involve him. He, and the few others, were the people that showed me how much love can be found in the church.  I looked to these people and found the ways in which God calls us to treat others, how God wants us to spend our time, and how Christ's love is found within the people closest to us. They let us into their families and made me feel as though I belonged to something so much bigger than what my genetics gave me. 

In Doug's case, I have learned how a strength and faith in God can get you through the toughest and darkest times.  He has faced trials with a grace that is unrivaled.  

The world lost an amazing, funny, and loving man today. I know that tomorrow the sun is going to shine a little brighter with him looking down on the earth he left behind.  

My thoughts and prayers are with the Strickland family.  

I have wanted to write this entry for nearly two weeks.  I'm sorry it's been so long since my last post, but there has been nothing else that I've wanted to write.  This has been all that came to mind.


One day a group of men came in to Catholic Charities about ten minutes before it was time for us to close up shop and leave.  I was kind of annoyed because it was almost time for me to go and the day had gone by at a snail's pace.  The men were clients of mine and I asked them how I could help them and did my best to answer their questions while our entire office shut down.  They thanked me for my help and left.  I walked out behind them and made my way to the bus stop.

I was alone for the first time all day and was finally able to unwind a little bit before I had to go to my house and be in a group setting once again.  The introverted side of me loves every second of my afternoon bus ride because I am under no obligation to speak to anyone.

My worst fear was realized right as I looked up.  The four clients that I had just been talking to in the office were making their way to the bus stop.  MY bus stop.  My quiet time was about to be ruined.  Dread was building up inside of me.  They were going to ask me questions.  Questions that I didn't know the answer to.  Ask me to try and help them in ways that I couldn't within my job description.  I did what any socially awkward person would do: put my headphones in.  I know I shouldn't have.  It's a sign of disrespect to the people around you.  What kind of high horse was I on anyways? These were men that had served our country when they were under no obligation to do so.  They were men that had risked their lives and well-being to work against the Taliban in anyway possible.

I jumped ahead of myself. Let me get back to the point. . .

I had my headphones in and was doing my best to not make eye contact when one of them tapped me on the shoulder.

"Victoria, are you a volunteer like Marie was?"

Marie, my predecessor, is still very much held in the hearts of all my clients.  I hear a lot about her.  So much about her that I added her on Facebook because I felt like I had known her for years.  She was an amazing volunteer and went above and beyond for everyone she worked with and I'm just trying to make it through the day without offending someone and fill out food stamp applications without screwing things up.

Again, I've gotten off topic, but, Marie, if you're reading this just know that you are missed and you are AWESOME.  Your year in Texas absolutely made an impact on so many people.

Back to the story. . .

I told him that I was a volunteer, but Marie and I came from different programs, but the goal of the program seems, to me, very similar.

Guys, this is where the story actually starts to see a purpose. . .

He looked at me and said, "So why are you doing this? Is it so you'll get something good or do you feel like you have to? Why are you here?"

Wow, why am I here? Good question, (name removed for confidentiality purposes and because I don't have a cool nickname for him).  I looked at him, in that moment where I was taken so off guard and said that there was a bible verse (Matthew 25:40) that I felt like I was called to live out.  I could tell he thought that this answer meant, to him, that I was obviously working towards some greater goal in my own life.  Which, I guess, is true.

You would think that this story is about me and how I was finally asked questions about what I was doing, but it's not at all.  I had been asked a few times why I was doing this work, but I had yet to sit and talk to other people about what brought them here.  I hadn't felt like I could.  I had asked the three guys that I work closely with about their lives, but until this moment it hadn't realized that people had any interest in sharing their stories with me.

So I took the leap.

"What made you come to the US?"

(Name Removed): We worked for the US military in Afghanistan.

"But why would you want to leave your home?" I have asked this question plenty of times since then, and have never gotten an answer that would make me want to move thousands of miles away from my family.

Most of the time they say that the opportunity was there, they liked what the States had to offer and were hoping to continue their education here and make their lives all over again.

"What did you guys study in school?" At this point it was only my two clients that had any interest in talking to me.  The other two men weren't concerned and, quite frankly, have much more reserved personalities than the other men.

(Name removed): I didn't finish university, but I hope to start on an IT degree when I'm allowed to go to school here.

Jack (you'll see why I call him this shortly): I studied politics in Afghanistan, and I want to study that here as well.

The bus came, and I was asking him some silly questions about politics.  Probably the stupidest question was, "Oh, do you like American politics?" Uh, duh he does, Tori.

Jack ended up sitting next to me and I got to hear him talk more about himself.  I don't think I'm going to do his story justice by any means, but I'll attempt to make it as amazing as it was.

Jack was born in Afghanistan in the eighties.  When he was six months old Russia invaded the nation, and his parents were both shot and killed, leaving him and his two brothers orphaned.  Luckily, his grandparents were able to take him and his brothers in and they raised them.

I've heard a lot of people talk about people that they admire, but the look in Jack's eyes when he talked about his grandmother was one of complete adoration.  He looked as if he had been raised by a saint which, I'm sure, is how he looks at this woman that devoted her life to raising there more children after hers were grown and had been murdered.

I asked him about his politics classes and how they were explained in his middle eastern society and he told me that the world was split up into two major sections.  The section that was under the influence of the United States and the section that was under the influence of Russia.  Which sounded a lot like the Americanism vs. Communism class that both of my parents took in place of Civics in high school.

I keep getting off track slightly. . .

The most amazing thing about this man was the time he had spent working for the military.

Jack first went to the American army looking for work when he was sixteen.  A man looked at him and said, "Son, you're going to have to change your birthday if you want to work for us.  You have to be at least eighteen."  So he did just that.  He made himself two years older, which was fairly easy for him.  He's at least 6'3'' and looks like he's been growing a beard since he was five years old.


With documents changed he began work for the US government that lasted nearly a decade, and, to this day, his papers make him two years older than he is.

During his time working for our military he earned the nickname "Jack" because they told him that he was, in many ways, like Jack Bauer from 24.  He earned the reputation because of his bravery and his willingness to put himself in incredibly dangerous situations if it meant that he would be able to help someone else.

Jack was blown up.  Literally.  He was in the hospital for a year and in a coma for 100 days.  Today, he lives with shrapnel in his legs that can't be taken out because if it's removed he could lose the ability to walk and feel where it was.  He lives without feeling in his feet.  Insides that were pretty much torn to shreds and a soft spot on his head where he's missing part of his skull.

All because he was attempting to save the life of a friend.  Because he volunteered for a mission that he wasn't even supposed to go on.

I asked him how his grandmother handled him being in so much danger and hurt for so long.  "I never told her.  She died not knowing that I almost died, because she wouldn't have been able to handle it."

Jack's story is an extraordinary one.  He could honestly write a book that's turned in to a hit action movie one day, but it proves a point that I don't think that I could have made on my own.  Many men that I have the privilege of working with are here because it's not safe for them in their home countries anymore.  It's not safe because they made a choice to join our army.

When you question the type of people that I work for, if you think that they're not worthy of coming to our nation and getting all of the rights and privileges that being an American entails, ask yourself if you'd be willing to make the sacrifices that many of them have made, because, unless you were in our military, the answer is most likely no.

It’s in the loving we find love. It’s in the giving we receive. It’s in the dying we are found.

Make of me, Your hands and feet.  I want to be, to the people around me what You want to be, to the people around me.

If you had asked me a year ago where I would be today I would probably tell you that I was hoping to land a job teaching Social Studies at my cousin's school until I was able to take the classes I needed to get into an Occupational Therapy program.

That would mean several things.  I'd probably be living at home with my parents or in someone's garage apartment not too far from my parent's house.  I'd be making at least ten times as much money as I am today.  Seriously.  I would definitely only have my family to hang out with.  There aren't many twenty-three year olds roaming around the streets of Quincy.  

I'd be living a very lonely and pretty unfulfilling life.   I'd be searching for something with no idea where to begin.  I'd have no sense of being on the right path. 

Somewhere along the road I realized I was no longer sure of the path I had laid out for myself when I was sixteen.  Sure, I had changed my major a few times.  I had gone back and forth about how I would land myself in an OT program, but that had always been the plan.  

I like plans, but I also really like flexibility. Like, a lot of flexibility.  I think the truth is that I had felt trapped for a long time in my own plans and wasn't quite sure where I was being called to do.  

I'm no closer to discerning God's call, so I'm sorry if you thought that's where this was headed.  It's really not.

This post is more about how our plans fall through (thanks be to God), and how wonderfully messy, scary, and amazing all of it is.  

So, you know where my plans were taking me, but where are God's plans leading me? 

I guess it's a good question, and I don't know that there's an answer known to any one person yet. Not even my mom and she has some crazy instincts where I'm concerned. 

Here's what I've gathered so far:

God really doesn't want me to be comfortable.  In fact He wants me to be almost completely uncomfortable.  

I've spent the past three days on the San Antonio bus system.  A wonderful lady that I work with brought me home yesterday, so that deducts an hour travel time from the week.  With that one hour off, I've spent a total of five and a half hours at bus stops, on buses, or walking because the bus didn't show up in a timely manner.  

It frustrates me to no end.  I've decided though that God is using this time to help me catch up on my people watching and some really solid time spent within my own mind.  Living in a house with six other people I don't think I've had very much alone time in the past week and a half.  It hasn't been bad, in fact I hadn't even realized it until I wrote this.  I think it may be because my roommate and I have very little problem with sitting in the same room, doing totally different things, and not talking.  I've gotten away from my point. . .

The bus has been horrible and frustrating, but, my God, it has been a beautiful lesson. 

There are some that I see every day on the bus.  They take their children to school, alone, and are having to keep up with (in the one case that stands out) her three daughters and her infant son.  I'm amazed at how well behaved all of them are.  They help their mother out in amazing ways.  The older two keep up with the younger two and their mother handles most of their stuff.  

I ride the bus with another man in the morning and at night.  He appears to be really quiet, but there's something in his eyes that fascinates me.  I want to talk to him, but I feel as though he may not speak English and I'm realizing just how bad I am at Spanish. 

The most important lesson I think I've learned so far has to be in thankfulness.  

I take so little time to appreciate what I have.  I've never woken up and feared for my life or the life of someone I loved because of violence outside.  I've never lost my parents and walked to a bordering country in hopes of finding other relatives or some sort of help.  I've never had to care for younger siblings after my parents have disappeared or been killed.  I've never looked at Jared and Eliza and feared for their lives at the hands of a cartel hoping to use them to smuggle drugs.  

I've never had to wait two decades to reach a land where I have more than a tent to live in.  I've never had to leave my family behind to go somewhere safer.  I've never gone to a strange country and had to rely on the help of strangers and unknown organizations, putting my whole life and well-being in to someone else's hands.  

I am incredibly blessed.  I've always known this.  I've always known that there are people in the world with next to nothing.  People dealing with violence, pain, hunger, and so many other horrible things. 

I've always known I couldn't sit back knowing this was happening and be okay with it.  I've had a pit in my stomach.  An uncomfortable feeling because I was so comfortable.  A feeling of being drawn to be God's hands and feet.  

God has pulled me here.  I'm in this uncomfortable place.  I'm surrounded by people I don't know.  I am working 8-5 in an office.  

But I'm happy.  I'm surrounded by people that, even though they're strangers, I feel that we have the same heart.  The same uncomfortable feeling.  Uncontrollable and often painful empathy. 

We're following God's call and it's led us here.  

I think many of us had wonderful plans.  I feel certain that few of us planned to be where we're at right now.  I can feel God's presence.  At home, at work, at the church we attend, everywhere in this community.  I look around and, even though I'm uncomfortable, I know I'm where I'm meant to be at this moment.  I don't know that I've ever felt this way about where I'm at or what I'm doing.  

God's plan is pulling me on a beautiful journey.  I'm scared and excited, but I can feel it becoming more clear in my heart.  

I just hope my mind can catch up.  

I want to share this amazing version of the Prayer of St. Francis by Trinity Vineyard.  

My roommate, Abby Evans, did a cover of it at the YAV talent show and the song, the prayer, and the band have been on my mind since then.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTrBRTDlwvo

We want more than this world's got to offer. We want more than the wars of our fathers.

Well, y'all are in for a treat.  Two blogs in one week? Wow! You're lucky.


On Tuesday I got to meet with my boss.  It was pretty exciting and helped to ease my nerves.  I'm sure it's really surprising that, right out of college, I have never worked an 8-5 in an office.  WOAH. Mind blown.

A quick note about my work:

I am working with refugees that have been granted asylum in the United States.  I'll be working to help them apply for state benefits, apply for jobs,  etc.  I'm incredibly blessed to be working with people from all over this beautiful, imperfect, and often times painful world.  I'm excited to hear their stories, to learn from them, and to show them that, even though the were torn from their homes, they can find a home here and it can be beautiful. *

My workplace is full of people from many countries,  different faiths, and they speak various languages.  Not a one of them is the same and they all work in this building with a common goal of helping others.  It's a beautiful way to express all of our faiths and work for our Divine Creator (I say divine creator because it can mean many things and take on many forms.  It would be unfair to say God and leave any faith out of this).

I'm so excited to start work on Tuesday!

Now, about my community.  This is what prompted me writing this entry.

Today I caught a glimpse at why God placed me in San Antonio.  I am surrounded by roommates that are all SO different from me.  I'm probably the most conservative in the room.  Is anyone else shocked? I am.  It's uncomfortable.  It's different.  It's a little painful.  I think that this is all part of the growth that is to take place inside of me this year.  I'm going to be pushed and pulled and tested.  I'm going to spend a lot of my time talking to God because I'll get discouraged or asking for things like strength, clarity, or serenity.

I'm mentioning the above because I don't want to seem like I'm in some sort of daze, unable to realize that we're going to have issues with one another.  We will.  Lots of issues.  Lots of fights.  Lots of pain.

We're also going to have tremendous amounts of love.  Understanding on deeper levels.  Strength in our community.  I very much believe that after our community discussions today we will be standing seven strong and together at the end of these twelve months.

There is so much beauty and light in this household.  So many people willing and ready to help shoulder any burdens.  So much trust formed between people that have known each other for such a short period of time.

God knew what He was doing.  I don't know why I'm always so surprised by this, but I am.  I am blessed beyond any measure to have been able to find a community that is just as loving as the one I left in Florida.  It's hard for me to be separated by my family, but I'm so glad that I'm finding a new family in San Antonio.



*Issues with undocumented immigrants do not directly pertain to my work, so it would be appreciated if negativity over these issues stayed off of my blog and Facebook.  

Just know, wherever you go you can always come home.

Every road is a slippery slope, but there is always a hand that you can hold on to.

Looking deeper through the telescope, you can see that your home's inside of you.

There has been an awful lot of processing for me to do this past week.

I've tried to do a blog post TWICE and came up with nothing to say because I hadn't allowed myself to sit down and digest all that had happened.  It's been a long week, but definitely an amazing week.


I'll start with last Sunday. . .

My church is phenomenal.  I cannot begin to express how grateful I am to have such a wonderful group of people supporting my journey.  I have found, yet again, that the community I come from is one of genuine and caring people.  I am so blessed that God led me to FPCQ six years ago.

Enough gushing. . .

My commissioning service (at my home church) took place on the 17th.  For those of you that don't know what commissioning is, I'll do my best to explain.  Basically, my church sent me off into mission.  They asked me some questions. The one that sticks out the most in my head is "Do you declare Jesus Christ as your savior?" I'm going to be real honest: as soon as Mr. Chris asked me this question I thought it would be hilarious if I was like "eh."  I refrained for multiple reasons.  The most important is because, you know, you should never deny Jesus if you follow Him.  Pretty important.  After the questions for me, they asked if the church would support me and they said yes and then there was prayer.  It was short, sweet, and super awkward.

After service there was a church family meal for rally day, and so many people, many that I had never met, came up to me and were genuinely excited for me.  I was in awe of the amount of love I felt that day.  I've always known that my church community was fantastic, but it was just so amazing to see it again.

Now, I'm not going to lie.  Sunday was really rough.  I got more and more nervous and incredibly sad that I was having to leave.  It only got worse and I spent that night and the next morning making myself sick because I was so upset.  I cried the whole way to the airport, I cried at the airport, and I cried on the plane.  Once I got a short nap in I woke up and felt a lot better. At least I wasn't crying.

Orientation took place at Stony Point Center in New York.  I didn't take pictures of my own (sorry Lisa), so these are some I found on the Stony Point Center website and google images. The quiet space was found is found on this website from google images: http://www.spirituality-network.com/2013/06/stony-point-retreat-and-conference.html




The meditation space.



Now, I'm not here to write a review of the Stony Point Center, but I think that if you're ever presented with the opportunity to visit this beautiful space, do it.  Talk with Rick Ufford Chase and the others the live there.  The community is fascinating and wonderful.  Oh, and the food is FANTASTIC.

MY EXPERIENCE AT STONY POINT.

Sorry, I had to let you know that we were getting back on track.  I had an amazing time at orientation.   I met so many people going all over the world and I know that each and every one of them will be a blessing in their community and that God will do amazing things with all of them.

They tried to let all of us know that we wouldn't be changing the world.  That's too big of a task for mere humans, but I can promise you, if there were ever a group of people that can and will, I was in their presence this past week.  It's easy to look at the world today and think that it's doomed.  I do it all the time.  I'm the first to say that it wouldn't bother me a bit if Jesus came back today, but this week helped me to see that, even though things are horrible right now, there are people that care and want to make it better.

I've been asking for God to give all of my YAV class the insanity to believe that they can change the world.  I hope all of you pray the same.  We need a few more people crazy enough to believe that things can and will change.

 Each night we listened to a reading of the poem Passover Remembered.  I think it's important to include it in my blog because it was such a central theme.  If you're taking the time to read this blog PLEASE read this poem.  My history professors always told us to avoid block quotes because people skip over them most of the time.  I found the poem at this website: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/passover-remembered/.  It's by Alla Renee Bozarth and I feel empowered each time I hear it.  I realized after looking at this website that we only heard chunks of the poem, so this is what we heard each night.

Pack Nothing.
Bring only your determination to serve 
and your willingness to be free.

Don’t wait for the bread to rise.
Take nourishment for the journey, 
but eat standing, be ready
to move at a moment’s notice.

Do not hesitate to leave
your old ways behind—
fear, silence, submission.

Only surrender to the need 
of the time— to love
justice and walk humbly
with your God.

Do not take time to explain to the neighbors.
Tell only a few trusted friends and family members.

Then begin quickly, 
before you have time to sink back 
into the old slavery.

Set out in the dark.
I will send fire to warm and encourage you.
I will be with you in the fire
and I will be with you in the cloud.

You will learn to eat new food
and find refuge in new places.
I will give you dreams in the desert
to guide you safely home to that place
you have not yet seen.

The stories you tell one another around your fires
in the dark will make you strong and wise.

Outsiders will attack you, 
and some who follow you, 
and at times you will weary
and turn on each other
from fear and fatigue and
blind forgetfulness.

You have been preparing for this for hundreds of years.
I am sending you into the wilderness to make a way 
and to learn my ways more deeply.

Some of you will be so changed
by weathers and wanderings
that even your closest friends
will have to learn your features
as though for the first time.
Some of you will not change at all.

Some will be abandoned
by your dearest loves
and misunderstood by those
who have known you since birth
and feel abandoned by you.

Some will find new friendship
in unlikely faces, and old friends
as faithful and true as the pillar of God’s flame.

Sing songs as you go, 
and hold close together.
You may at times grow
confused and lose your way.

Continue to call each other
by the names I’ve given you, 
to help remember who you are.
You will get where you are going
by remembering who you are.

Sing songs as you go, 
and hold close together.
You may at times grow
confused and lose your way.

Continue to call each other
by the names I’ve given you, 
to help remember who you are.
Touch each other
and keep telling the stories.

Make maps as you go, 
remembering the way back
from before you were born.

So you will be only
the first of many waves
of deliverance on these
desert seas.

It is the first of many
beginnings— your Paschaltide.
Remain true to this mystery.

Pass on the whole story.
I spared you all
by calling you forth 
from your chains.

Do not go back.
I am with you now
and I am waiting for you.

I think it's an amazing thing for each of us to read over because God sends each of us on our own journeys.  

I'm skipping ahead some, but we had commissioning services at local churches this week as well, and I had the joy of visiting White Plains Presbyterian Church.  I wish I had taken a picture of the building.  It was absolutely beautiful.  According to a brick somewhere on the outside it was an early 20th century building, but I feel that the actually sanctuary was most likely older.  The congregation itself is celebrating their 300th anniversary! The pastor, Jeffrey Geary, and a member of the congregation, Kara Neal, came to pick us up and when we got to the church I felt the joy and excitement that the congregation clearly had every Sunday.  Noelle Damico, Paster Jeffrey's wife, is also an ordained minister and she and I had such an amazing conversation about women in ministry when she came along.  It was clear to me that this couple is such a blessing to the members of their community and congregation.  It was a joy to be a part of their service on the 24th.  

Also: on the 25th of each month the congregation, and many other people worldwide, wear orange to raise awareness for violence against women.  So, you know, do that! 

We arrived kind of late last night, and I haven't taken pictures of the rooms in the house, but the house itself can be seen on my Facebook.  

I feel like this blog entry is kind of long already, so I'm going to say good night.  I'll post again as our site orientation continues.  

XOXO

Here's to never growing up.

When the sun's going down, we'll be raising our cups singing, "Here's to never growing up!"

The title of this may be slightly misleading.  This whole entry is about the exact opposite.  I think that I should write a little about how I've gotten to this point in my life, and how much I've grown in the past four years.

I assume that a major part of my journey as a YAV has a lot to do with my personal journey of growth and all of that good stuff (life, love, etc.).  Well, in the past few weeks I feel like I've noticed a lot of the ways I've changed since college began.  I feel like I've taken the time to notice this because I'm terrified about being out, so far away from my parents, and relying on myself much more than I ever really have before.

1.  I've learned to trust God so much more.

Don't get me wrong. There is A LOT of room for improvement here.  On Sunday I read an e-mail and immediately went into panic mode. "What am I supposed to do? This is impossible!!! I don't know what to do! How can I manage this? OH MY GOSH."  Obviously I'm still having some problems in this area, but I was able to get a hold of myself and starting praying.  I asked God to help me trust him, and to guide me through this.  I pretty much begged for peace and felt it.  Not immediately, but I felt it.  I'm pretty good at resisting God's nudges and guidance, and that's what I was doing when I was resisting his peace.

Well, let me tell you a little story about my first heartbreak to prove how big of a step this was for me.

When I went through my first break up I lost it completely. COMPLETELY.  I knew that God had done something wrong.  This wasn't right.  It was IMPOSSIBLE that I hadn't found "the one" at eighteen years old.  I was angry, so angry, at God. I didn't trust him.  I was telling Him that he had it all wrong and that He was screwing everything up.  Well, He wasn't.


I know this is probably a ridiculous example, but I mean, HELLO, it shows you just how little trust I had in a God that I claimed to follow.


In the time during this breakup I did things that I had never allowed myself to do while I was with this boy.  I had spent a year at a new school and had exactly one friend to show for it.  I didn't want to make friends or hang out with anyone. I wanted to go home every afternoon and spend every minute on the phone with this boy until I went to sleep.  WHAT WAS I DOING?!?!?! I wasn't being present in my own life!!! I made some amazing friends once I was opening myself up to the people around me.  I went out on the weekends and at night.  I had FUN for he first time since I moved to Quincy.

God knew what He was doing, obviously.  It's only hindsight that allows me to see this, but there's a mid point to this "trusting in God" part of my story.

Last year, on June 9, 2013, I lost the closest thing to a brother that I've ever had.  My cousin Josh from day 1 was an inspiration and a joy to all of our family.  We got the call about his accident at around 10:30, and drove to the hospital where we were surrounded by almost forty people that were there with the same purpose: prayer and comfort. We prayed through his surgery, we knew that he had been a fighter since his first day of life, but all of a sudden we had been let down.  God had failed us and didn't answer our prayers. I was angry, but angry isn't even really the word.  I WAS PISSED.  God can do EVERYTHING and He did nothing here, right?

He did nothing, didn't He? Had we really been failed?

No.  I'm not claiming that I understand this.  I'm not saying I don't still get angry when I think about it, but there were things that came out of that pain that would have never come otherwise.

If it wasn't for this tragedy I wouldn't have realized how truly amazing our community was.  I had never really felt a part of Quincy until then, and seeing how much love and caring came pouring to the Wilders made me feel like this was a place that I could call home for the rest of my life.  I had yet to feel that way in the five years my family had lived here.

If it wasn't for this I would have never mended the relationship I once had with Josh's sister, Courtney.  Growing up we did everything together.  We learned to ride bikes together, we shared secrets, we laughed, we cried, and most of all we fought.  All the time. Non-stop.  Even in our sleep.  Literally.  We both talk in our sleep and one time we woke my mom up yelling at each other.  When she came in to get on to us for being up so late she realized that we were asleep and carrying on a fight with one another.  Well, the summer after my senior year of high school we didn't fight.  I betrayed her trust and let something so silly get in the way of our relationship.  If Josh was the closest thing to a brother I've ever had, Courtney was my sister, and still is.  I regret the time that I spent being mad at her.  I regret not loving her the way God calls me to love everyone, because I was being stubborn.  So silly.  So Courtney, this is an apology that you let me leave unsaid.  I'm sorry and I love you.  I'm glad we've gotten to this point, and know that we're only going to get closer.

So, we have one really silly example, and one not silly example.  The degree of seriousness isn't what's important here.  What is important is my trust in God, and I'm pretty impressed with how far I've come.  I know that I have much more growth to achieve here, but, for now, I think I'm doing a pretty good job.


2. Life isn't perfect, and I'm not either.  

I'm the worst type of perfectionist.

Many people are probably surprised to see this.  My mom says that I come across as the total opposite.  I seem like I'm "flying by the seat of my pants." She told me this when she said that most people think I probably make really bad grades.  Which I found funny, because I do come across that way.  That's why I'm the worst type of perfectionist.  I refuse to let anyone know that I've tried in any way.  I won't show any sort of weakness or caring, and then not come out with perfection.  I would rather make a "C" in a class and be able to say, "I didn't try at all. No studying. No homework." Than to have to say that I worked my butt off and made a "B."

That makes no sense, but it's how I am.  I expect perfection if I've tried, because I think that attempts should mean perfection.  How silly is that?

One person that has helped me through this is my best friend Victoria.  She has pushed me to try since the day I met her.

It's been really hard and this may seem off topic, but here we go. . .

I'm not a very good friend.  I'm a great listener.  I'm incredibly trustworthy.  I am loyal, but I'm a really bad friend.

I am possessive.  I get jealous.  I pick fights because I feel like it'll hurt less when she decides that she doesn't want to be my friend anymore.

Again, ridiculous.

Victoria and I are soul mates.  I decided that a long time ago.   She is not my exact opposite, but she complements me.

I'm very introverted.  Insecure in friendships (I have only had a very few close friends that haven't really hurt me, so I have come to expect it). I'm so impatient with other people, but Victoria isn't like that at all.  She's outgoing, levelheaded, and so, so confident.

If it wasn't for her I would probably only have one friend in my sorority.

I'm not outwardly like able.  It's only once you get to know me that you can realize that I will literally do anything to help anyone, but when you meet me I come across as cold and tough.  I'm not, by the way. Victoria has been my apology for those things.  If someone so wonderful can love me, then other people can too, right?

I have known since the day that we became so close (it pretty much happened overnight) that I was lucky to have someone that was able to see the good in me that other people took longer to find.

Looking back on our friendship I realize how much she's helped me overcome.  She makes no apologies for her short comings.  She is who she is, and perfection isn't her goal.  Happiness and confidence are.

I rarely compliment people.  Really rarely.  I almost never compliment her, but every time I'm around her I think of all of these amazing things about her and thank God that someone like her pushes me to be better everyday by realizing that trying and not reaching perfection is okay.  It's normal.  Perfect isn't possible, and my plans will all fall through, but she won't.

So sorry that sounds like a love letter to her, but, really, she's done a lot of good for me as a person.

3.  I've learned to trust others.

This piggybacks on what I was just talking about with Victoria.  I didn't trust people the way I should have before I went to college. I trusted too easily, but I also didn't trust at all.  I had only ever trusted one person with all parts of my mind and soul, and had been let down.  Before that I had trusted all the wrong people, but had not learned.

I've found that walls are okay.  They don't need to be so high that no one can ever get to all of the good things about myself, but they're there for a reason: protection.

I know now that God is sending me people that I can trust.  I'm surrounded by people in all parts of my life and in all of the places that I will go that are trustworthy.  That I love and that care about me.  People are not put in to my life to disappoint, but to help me grow.  To help me learn.  To move on.  To love.  To make me strong.  God has done all of that.  He has truly molded my heart to see these things by sending me the people that I can trust.

I'm blessed by the people I've become close with over the past few years.  Even the ones that I've hurt, or that have hurt me.

4. Love should be built on a strong foundation and with someone that challenges you to be a better person everyday.

This goes back to that break-up, and every break up since then.

This past weekend I was in the wedding of my oldest friend.  I maintain that I am too young to get married (it's a personality thing, not an age thing), but after watching Will and Kelsey this weekend I learned something in that hit-you-over-the-head way.

God has built each of us for someone.  In Will and Kelsey's case that's so obvious to me.  They're made for one another.  Their parents prayed for each of them and they found each other.  God doesn't expect us to settle.  Which is what I've spent much of my time doing.*

I've spent much of the last four years single, and this has led to questions.  Some of them involving my sexual orientation (I'm straight, I promise).  Some of them involving all of the things that might be wrong with me (Yes, I do go for guys that I know it won't work out with, and yes I self-sabotage).  Some of them just people curious about why, with no accusations.  This has been a hard road for me.  I've been incredibly lonely at a lot of times and called my mom crying because I was the only one that didn't have someone.  I've been angry.  I've questioned what's wrong with me.  I've pleaded with God to send me someone.

Kelsey and Will made me realize that it's not at all in my timing.  Kelsey didn't want to be the first of her friends married and Will had just come out of what sounds like a bad break up.  They weren't expecting each other.  They weren't ready.  They weren't looking, and they knew that it wasn't their choice.

They happened upon each other and the rest is history.

They have proven to me that the right love is worth being lonely right now.  The right love is out there, and I don't even have to look for it.  Wasting my time and exhausting my heart on the wrong guys won't make the right guy get here any faster, and I think, for me, I've been doing what I should have been all along.

*I have not "settled" meaning that I found bad guys.  They were simply the wrong guys for me.  I mean to offend no one.

5.  Plans will fail, but that's okay.

I didn't get in to the sorority I wanted.  I didn't end up dating this guy that I REALLY liked and that seemed to like me back.  I have changed my life plan that I've had since I was sixteen and am now faced with completely unknown circumstances.  I didn't graduate on time.  I'm not engaged graduating college.

I don't know why I threw in the engaged thing.  I've never really wanted to get married young, but I did want a candle passing in college.  I have such childish wants like 98% of the time.

All of these things seemed so perfect at the time, but in hindsight I'm realizing that NONE of them would have made me happy.  Except maybe graduating college on time.  It'd be nice to have a completely relaxing summer.

I've been disappointed.  I've felt like the whole world was crashing around me and I had no idea what to do about it (like right now when I'm coming to grips with the cold truth that I no longer know what I want to do with my life).  And I'm realizing that it's because none of these things were ever meant for me.

I'm a part of a plan.  God has a purpose for all of our lives, even mine.  None of these things are a part of my plan, and I am learning, and have learned that it's all because I'm meant for something different and BETTER for ME.  Not for everyone around me.  That's tough.  These plans could have made me pretty dang impressive.  I'd be a part of a bigger named sorority, would have a nice rock on my left hand, a diploma, and my sights set on a pretty high paying job with flexible hours.

Okay, where was I going. . .this all still sounds pretty great.

OH! Right.  I'm a VERY immature 22, or at least in my mind I am.  So an engagement would take away from all of my time to be selfish.  I like being able to move to San Antonio and not worry about some boy that bought me a diamond.

I am meant to help people in a different way than I had originally thought.  Occupational Therapy isn't my calling (right now).  I'd probably be pretty unhappy.

The sorority thing wouldn't have led me to my soul mate and to 90 something girls that I can count on. . .all for different things.

I'm so glad I didn't get what I thought I deserved (pretty sure that's part of a song).  Now I'm on to a whole new world.

YAV is how I'm getting there.  YAV is how I'm meant to grow.  YAV is how I'm meant to make a difference.

1 in 525,600 minutes

How do you measure a year in the life? 

How about love? Measure in love. 

I'll admit it.  I have never seen Rent.  I first heard this song on Glee, and since then I have been obsessed with the meaning behind it.  Time is a made up concept, right? It exists, but in a very strange way.  In our memory (which can be altered), in our present moment (which is fleeting and can't be grasped), and in our anticipation (Dr. Brommage, if you're reading this, I hope I didn't totally butcher St. Augustine's take on time).  So if we can't really measure time by something tangible then how do we know that our time has been well spent? How do we know if we've been useful? What do you do with the 525,600 minutes of each year? Well, Rent did a really good job of answering all of those things.  Love.  Love is the perfect measure of our time spent on this earth.  

"If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing." 1 Corinthians 13:2

Without love we aren't living.  We are simply existing.  A life that is without love is not a life well lived.

I have no idea what my life's work will be.  I have no idea what agency I will be working with come August either.  I do know that God is calling me out of my comfort zone and into a year of service to others. There is no better way to love others and to show them the love of Christ than to serve them, and, for right now, that is my calling.  To serve and to share love.  

I found out on June 7, 2014 that I had been accepted to be a Young Adult Volunteer in San Antonio, Texas. I don't know where I'll be working while I'm there, but I do know that I am terrified.  In a good way of course! Over the past few weeks I have had informational conversations and discernment interviews with several sites, and San Antonio is the second most terrifying place that I talked to.  In San Antonio, we live in community (true of all YAV sites that I talked to), create a community with the people in the house, cook with them, clean with them, and create a home for ourselves.  I'm going to live simply. This is scary and new. Gluttony is my deadly sin, and simplicity will be the biggest challenge off the bat. I'll be attending a church in the Latin American neighborhood I'll live in.  No, I don't speak Spanish, but I bet you I will by the time my year is over! 

What led me to the YAV program? 

I went to the Montreat College conference this year and felt pulled (that pesky Spirit!) to go to an informational meeting for "A year of service for a lifetime of change." What the heck is this? What do these people do? What's this all about? I kept having questions pop into my head about it, so while my friends went to another small group, I made my way to the YAV meeting.  I was interested and immediately felt myself get defensive. I got scared.  I could feel that calling in me and was already hating it. You know how you do something, but you're not happy about it? You know how you feel pulled to something and know you need to do it or you won't feel satisfied? That's the feeling I had. 

How did I finally accept this calling?

This is assuming I've accepted it.  I'm excited and know that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be but I'm scared. Terrified.  Freaking out, really.  I don't know how you accept your plans being shattered (I was going to teach for a few years and then go to grad school) and your life being turned upside down. 

My mom's reaction made me feel more at ease with this.  She seemed excited, but in that way that parent's have.  You know when they don't want to spook you by being too excited or turn you off of something? Or when they refuse to influence your decision with their thoughts about what you should be doing? It was like that.  I was nervous and she was completely calm (only completely calm after she found out I didn't want to do YAV abroad).  

I finally thought that I might be able to do this.  

Why San Antonio?

My only answer for that is God. Like I said before San Antonio was the second scariest place I talked to. That's not a reference to the crime rates, by the way.  It's just one of the places that is the furthest from where I've lived both in terms of distance and the city itself.  I've never been to San Antonio, nor have I been to Texas.  I'm not sure what this city has in store for me, but it's time for me to see if I can mess with Texas.  Apparently you're not supposed to do that or something...and it seems like I'm forgetting something. . .OH! The Alamo. According to every general American History class I've taken, I'm supposed to remember the Alamo. 

If anyone ever reads this blog I'm sure there will be more questions, but, for tonight, I need to be done. Feel free to ask and I will answer. I'm an open book.