Go

I have a love-hate relationship with my birthday.

In fact, I probably blog about it every year because of the inner turmoil I experience. To celebrate, or not celebrate? To take my birthday off of Facebook, or leave it up? To request anything special, or not?

Getting married added a new challenge. Poor Kel suffers on this day each year, trying to do the impossible: make his wife feel special, cared for, valued. As the dreaded day approached this year, we had a few conversations about it, especially given our pandemic-world we now live in. What could we do and what did I want to do. You'd be surprised to hear I changed my mind a million times. Mostly I wanted to be content with doing nothing... and I kind of wanted everyone else to be content with that, too. But, that type of answer never really flies...

But then last night, it hit me.
It was brilliant. Mostly because it wasn't me.

Come to me.
Be with me. 

"Kel", I said minutes later, "If you don't mind watching Baby K for a few hours tomorrow- I think I'd like to go get lost in the woods for a while".

Hiking has become somewhat of a birthday tradition for us, but it's always included people. In some ways, excluding my husband felt selfish. But, it also felt necessary. Even as I typed those words, I immediately remembered The Message version of Matthew 11:28-30 that a professor had brought into a seminar on Sabbath. Check it out:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

On a day that I have wrestled with wanting to be celebrated versus wanting to live with humility, it had never once dawned on me that perhaps the most perfect way to celebrate was to go be with my Creator. That instead of seeking the accolades of others, of wanting to know what value I have contributed to the world in these 36 years... that maybe there was actually something more beautiful about escaping to be with my Father, being in relationship with Him, being reminded of who HE is and how that defines who I am.

These past weeks and months I've heard a lot about social distancing... a lot about how we were created to be in relationship with others. How, now that we can't, we realize more than ever how much we truly do need community. But, I wonder how much we've remembered that we were, first and foremost, created to be in relationship with the Creator. To love God, then others.

I hiked. I hammocked. I worshipped. I dozed. I prayed. I cried. I laughed. You might have thought of me a crazy person.

But it was so good.
I've been so blessed by the many who have reached out to tell me kind things today. But, it will never compare to the love of a Savior, who redeems my darkest moments. He, who weeps with me, but reminds me that there is more in store. He, in whom there is eternal victory.

I feel compelled to tell you, friends, to go to Him... to recover your life... to learn the unforced rhythms of grace. Even if you never have. Even if it's been years. Even if you did this morning.

Henri Nouwen's book, Reaching Out, describes something that has stuck with me for a few years now. He pushes people to move from loneliness to solitude in the first section of his book. My basic take away is that when someone is lonely, our intuition is often to surround that person with people. Nouwen suggests, quite beautifully, something foreign-feeling. Instead, what if we pushed people toward solitude... with God. He writes, "No friend or lover, no husband or wife, no community or commune will be able to put to rest our deepest cravings for unity and wholeness."

I have been convicted, on my birthday, of all days... how much I try to seek this wholeness from other humans. And I bet a lot of you do the same.

As a result, my challenge for you (and me) is this: Go. Get away with God. Go without an agenda, without a plan, without expectation.

Turn off the TV. Turn off your phone (or set "Do not disturb notifications" up). Set down the news. Escape into the wilderness. Disappear into a different room. Enjoy your porch at sunrise.

Be willing.
Be honest.
Be mad. Be lonely. Be sad. Be scared. Be sick. Be healthy. Be thankful. Be happy. Be worried.

But go.

He can handle all of it.
He is calling.
Will you follow?

Husbands/wives- watch the kids while the other takes some hours away.

We have the time. Maybe now, more than ever before. Be in relationship, yes. But with the Father, first and foremost.

Go.
Recover your life. 
Keep company with God. 

I have reason to believe that when we do this... that it (He) can change everything. I have reason to believe that it might be the best possible thing to do while in quarantine.

Try it.
And then let me know how it goes.

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It is Time

Yesterday felt like "one for the books".
Final paycheck.
Cleaning out my office.
Saying goodbye to our laying hens in a rather sudden fashion.
Finding out that we can move with Baby K at any point.

There was a certain finality in yesterdays' events.
The stark realization that I wasn't being Punk'd, but that all the things that had unfolded in the last several weeks were, in fact, real. That our everyday was about to look very different. That my life for the last almost 7 years was actually ending. It's not just the job... because, when you live and work at camp, losing your job means losing a lot more than losing an occupation.

In the finalities, however, there was also so much blessing and goodness.

As I rifled through the things in my office, it felt like a fitting departure. After all the office moves, I was ending where I started. Saying goodbye where I said hello. A perfect bookend to a season I didn't anticipate ending in this way, but every ounce of me knows: It is time.

I don't know how to describe the inner workings, or the thoughts, or the feelings... but I can assure you that even in the moments of the deepest pain, there also exists a deeper peace-- a peace that resolutely knows it is time.

Time to move on.
Time to explore what's next.
Time to discover new beginnings, new challenges, new (and maybe old) friendships. Time to trust God in the uncertainties, in the unknowns, in the anticipation and excitement of what could be. And there are a lot of those.

If you asked us today where we will go and what we will do, we would have some ideas. Our current plan is Columbia, Missouri (where I grew up). We'll be boomerang-ing for a while, which I imagine my parents are both thrilled and terrified about. Kel is already working his way through a real-estate course and dreaming up non-profit start-ups.

I, on the other hand, have been slow to latch onto anything concrete to pursue. I think a lot about discipleship, spiritual formation, counseling, church ministry, etc. ... but then feel content to just wait, to be, to see what happens. At least today. In the coming weeks, I imagine I'll be fine-tuning my resume and casting it out to the masses in hopes that something catches....something that I can be passionate about.

It's been both hard and good to watch the life we've built up for ourselves crumble around us. As we purge, clean, and sell so many of our possessions, there is a great reminder that this world is not our home. It's a great reminder that so many of the things I store up, the things I place value in, the things that I hold onto... they only last for a finite time. It makes me reconsider what I want, what I buy, what I spend time on, what I value. Because, in a moment, everything in our world can change. Everything we found comfort in, security in, hope in. I'm so thankful that today, this only means our jobs, our house, our community... and that today I still have my husband, our baby, and our health. Today we are still a redeemed humanity, saved only by grace - even while we were sinners. How beautiful that this never changes. May we rejoice in this truth alone!

It is time to sing a new song on this earth.
While we're not leaving today, or tomorrow, or the next day... our remaining time in New Mexico has an end in sight. We know it will fly by. We grieve, we mourn, but we rejoice in celebrating the end of an incredible season and the beginning of another. It is time for new beginnings, new routines, new dreams, a new way of life.

May our hope be resolutely found in the One who does not change, even when all around us can and does. May we rejoice in what is true, despite the hardest, saddest things that may be surrounding us. May we fix our eyes on what is unseen, may we be unified in our love for the Lord and others as we navigate through these "unprecedented times" and through the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

AND, if you have any great suggestions for next my career moves, I'll happily add them to my list to consider :)

Baby K rolls!

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