Faith, Hope, and Love

As I mentioned in an earlier post , I'm totally playing catch-up on a lot of the resources the IF:Gathering has on their website (I bought their conference webcast stuff and still haven't sat down to watch any of it yet). While doing this, I fell upon this spoken word piece by Amena Brown Owen and Ann Voskamp .   Can I just say, "Window to my soul?" Fear that I'll never move past my past... That I'll never be perfect, that I'll never be worth it, that I'll never be enough... Tug of war between my fear and my calling... Fear is my chain... He is second chances... His love never runs out... His love is looking for me. So who would I be, if I wasn't afraid? Where ever He takes me, He is always the Comforter. To take the weight on my backs and offer it back to the Savior... that my life may be chiseled by his pen. Who would I be? And what would I do?

When I look in the mirror, what do I see? To what do I attribute my identity? To get ready for my upcoming mission trip to India, we've been asked to "tell our story," and I'm struggling a lot with that. While I know  that being a Christian allows me to walk in grace, to leave behind shame and guilt and to see myself in all the beauty that God seems me (Easter was/is a good reminder of all that)... I don't always feel  that way and struggle to really embrace His truth about who I am. Instead, I think of all the labels I wear--daughter, sister, teacher, writer, friend, ex-girlfriend, Miss (versus Mrs.)--and I see a lot of failure. Failure as a daughter when I think of my years of rebellion and disobedience, when I don't call enough, or feel known by my parents (or even really know them). Failure as a sister because of all the years we lost being the closest friends we could be, and how I often take my siblings for granted. Failure as a teacher when I ...

If you've been reading the blog for a while, then you know I generally reflect on my love life every so often. And of course Valentine's Day is the perfect opportunity to do that. Not to gripe about being single or even to gush about the romantic thing someone did for me (because, sad to say, that's only happened ONCE... and while I acted all pleased at the time, it was a bit over the top and embarrassing for me. Note to future man: Public Displays panic me ). I reflect each Valentine's Day because I think love is a beautiful thing, and February 14th pretty much puts it right in your face. I don't feel sorry for myself because I'm single. In fact, this year, as I watched kids pass chocolates, carnations and roses, I didn't think once about not having someone to share the day with. For one, I was in the middle of losing a battle with a major cold/sinus infection that has me laying in bed and wasting a roll of toilet paper. But secondly, I feel extremely...

My last post was a bit all over the place. So let's start this new year right. Will I be blogging more? I can't say for sure. I know it's not like I have this amazing group of followers who are relying on me. I started this blog for myself as a way to commit to writing on a regular basis and sort of working out big changes in my life. I had just lost my job and felt lost as a person. Over the years, the blog has evolved, but one thing has been consistent: I tend to mostly write about things as they are changing for me. The job, the living arrangement, the hair... So what's changed since the last time I blogged in 2013? I have moved once again. It seems I can't stay in one place for more than a year. In my life, I have moved a total of 18 times (no including the back and forth each summer of college). I have lived in two different countries and four different U.S. states. I'm kind of at a point where I really want to stay in one place and call it home...

I'm in the process of packing up my stuff to get ready for my move in a few weeks and I've been unearthing quite a few things that have brought back tons of memories and tons of laughs. One thing I seem to have a surplus of is notebooks, notepads and journals. One I recorded interview notes from my active journalism days. Ones I wrote down plays or Biblical vignettes for church. And of course, the journals with all my thoughts and dreams. I found my most recent journal. The last entry was dated a year ago. It's incomplete. I'm not sure why I never finished it. Although, it doesn't really surprise me that I didn't. But reading over this last entry made me smile... A year ago, I was offered my teaching job at YES. And much like with my magazine job, it all worked out at the last-minute. A blessing poured out when I was ready to give up. The job at CURE came right on the heels of my internship with the Dallas Morning News. I remember, it was ...