Going to bed.

Going to bed knowing that the Lord is pleased with me is better than any human affirmation. 

Moms Know Best

Moms really do know best sometimes. There are some things my Mom has told me that I have forgotten until today. Some of these things have not only slipped through my sub-conscience into the unseen, but have disappeared from my demeanor altogether, so as to seem nonexistent. If I have remembered these things in the past few months, it has usually been with the assumption that they were false claims, made half-heartedly or insincerely. But today I was reminded that God speaks through people to proclaim truth (this is what it means to be prophets of God).

She told me:

You are the joy of my life.

You are fearless.

You are able.

I don't think she knew over the course of all 19 years of my life that I would, on April 29, 2013 be struggling to believe those things, or see them as truth in my life. Rather, I think that God has been speaking words into her mouth since my birth, beautiful words that would comfort me when I feel joyless, scared and disabled. Today God used those words to confirm in my heart that he is not done with me. My flesh is still battling my spirit for my allegiance (something I fail to understand). Christ is still pursuing my wandering heart. This wandering heart flirts with depression, is seduced by fear, and sleeps with inability. But God has promised to reverse my flesh in the resurrection, and in sanctification to begin my transformation. Now he has used the words of my mother over the course of my life to remind me of who I really am as his daughter. Does the King of the Universe have a depressed, frightened and totally unable daughter? No. His blood could never make such a thing. Rather, his daughter is joyful, fearless and able, just like her mother always told her. 

You Are My Sunshine

My little sister, Peyton, was having trouble sleeping the other night. In an effort to lull her to bed I began recanting all the songs I could off the top of my head. After I felt my repertoire running dry this song came in to my head. After singing it, my eyes were opened to its depressing nature.

You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine.

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

You'll never know, dear, 

How much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

Tomorrow the Minnesota Supreme Court decides if Peyton, and her sister Hannah, get to stay with the only family they've ever known, or be returned to the biological grandparents-- nearly perfect strangers.  Please don't take my sunshine away. 

Whatever happens, whatever battle ensues after the decision is made tomorrow, I know that my real sunshine is the Lord, and because of that I have wells of peace.

Dimensional

Relationships have many dimensions-- layers like an onion, and planes like a stack of graphing paper. It can get confusing. It can get pretty challenging. But for my boyfriend and I we deal with more than just abstract ideas of a dimensional relationship. We really do live our life out in two different, sometimes opposing worlds-- the 3D world and the 2D world.

In the 3D world we are together, holding hands and going on walks. In the 3D world we have engaging conversations utilizing all forms of relational language--body language, eye contact, physical contact, juxtaposition, etc. We have comforting gestures like hugs, and alarming gestures like the slight wincing of an angry face. In the 3D world we spend time with our other friends in engaging conversations and activities. In the 3D world we have the comfort of quality time, my primary love language, which feeds almost purely off of proximity.

In the 2D world are are apart. We live separately, in distinct existences. His face takes on a flat, anti-tactile-like-identity, composed of pixels. His voice, and our communication, is only as good as our connection or surroundings (it seems important conversations always seem to happen when one of us is walking through a windstorm or something). He can only go where my phone or my computer goes, and no where else. Technology becomes a kind of bridge between our real (3D) selves. In fact, technology becomes a falsehood in many ways. My toddler siblings have often confused my computer with my boyfriend. The youngest repeatedly asks for Stefan, when she really desires to look at photos of Stefan on my phone, or sometimes just my phone. Though I am more able to recognize the difference between my phone and my boyfriend (obviously a good thing for our relationship), living in the 2D world does get confusing.

In all reality, however, neither of these two worlds are really easier or harder than the other, but rather different. I learn different things from both worlds. Operating most often in the 2D world means we learn to really process things together. Conflict is elongated, due to the complexity of long distance communication, but we really learn to resolve. In the 2D world, we are not able to comfort one another during conflict by an encouraging hug (which surprisingly goes a long way to making one feel resolved, as I've learned in the 3D world), so we know that when we resolve something it really is resolved. The 3D world, conversely, is obviously much more enjoyable. There are always pros and cons.

But the real struggle is the transition between the two worlds. After each time we visit, there is a transition period of 2D loathing. After spending Christmas break with my boyfriend and his family, coming back to our 2D reality felt like hell. The first time he said an inside joke we had formed while in our 3D world I cried. There is some sort of barrier between these worlds that only some sort of long travel experience can cross. Emotions have a hard time making the trip, or at least in a timely fashion. There is always lots of pain in the aftermath of the 3D-2D transition.

Four Months.

Four months ago I started dating an incredible guy. 

A guy that has made everything more beautiful, although sometimes more complicated.

I've had to learn a lot these four months.

I've had to learn how to communicate over 1725 miles.

I've had to learn how to edit photos better.

I've had to learn how to be flexible, and how to be firm.

I've had to learn how to say what I'm thinking, but not always. 

I've had to learn how to concisely explain where my boyfriend is from (usually by leaving out the Singapore/ Atlanta/ Florida part if I can help it).

I've had to learn lots of Chinese words. 

I've had to learn how to remember how handsome my boyfriend is when all I can see is fifty pixels on my screen.

I've had to learn how to get homework done when all I want to do is stare at his handsome face over Skype.

I've had to learn to get better at timing videos over Skype (mostly Pokemon). 

I've had to learn how to have better lighting over Skype.

I've had to learn a lot about Skype.

Actually, I've had to learn a lot about computers in general.

He's taught me an awful lot, and I'm so grateful for the things I've learned. It's been a crazy four months, and I hope for many more. 

Abnormality is pretty normal for us. I guess I never really think about how weird our relationship really is. We've seen each other a grand total of 20 days since dating. So we're 20 for 120 days. That's a pretty good ratio for us. Better than expected, at least. 

We've never seen each other in the same place twice.

Beijing

Minnesota

Charlotte 

Georgia

West Palm Beach

Next time I see my lovely man it will be in Chicago. After that we have a repeat of Minnesota. But then we're back to our exploring. I love my adventuring boyfriend. We're definitely a strange couple, but I love it. 

Happy four months, dear! 

Tuesdays

Uncertain.

Anticipating.

Unready.

222: 365

March (A Prelude to Spring)

221: 365

Fascinated by the solar system. 

220: 365

Deciding on my new shoes. Verdict: yes.

219: 365

The most stressful day of my life. Poetic trail of thought free write turned into long depressing rant.

218: 365

Shopping at Target.

Nicky fell asleep.

A Family, A Home

We're all born into a family. Whether we know that family, like that family, or really feel like we belong to that family is a different for everyone, perhaps. I was born into a very unique family, a family that knew me and taught me a lot. I grew up in a house in a beautiful neighborhood where I was part of a community. Circumstances then led me to occupy a room in a new house in a new place, with a new family. Now I'm learning to be part of this new family, as an extension of my existing family members.

It's a growing reality I live in, where I am challenged each day to put aside my own needs and desires for the sake of ten other people that occupy the same house. I have therefore found myself as the youngest child, the oldest child, the middle child, and an only child at different seasons of my life. My brothers and sisters come from six different biological families, and between us all we live in six different cities across the world.

This kind of diversity is a beautiful thing, something I treasure in my life dearly. It is not, however, always easy to live with so many different people. In fact, it is often very difficult. I'm often left wondering where I really belong, and where my real home is. I often struggle to accommodate everyone, and wonder if I'm doing a good enough job. I often get frustrated with the imperfections of my family members, and with the even greater imperfections of myself. As the Lord has been faithful to shape my heart, I have learned a few things about family. The very first thing I have learned, and yet the thing I have to constantly remind myself of is this: no family is perfect. Every family requires a great amount of effort and commitment. Every family requires sacrifice, diligence, and stewardship. 

This same lesson is the one God has been teaching me about his Church, the family of those that follow him. I have, over the past two years, come a to life-changing, yet rudimentary, truth: no church is perfect. Every church requires a great amount of effort and commitment. Every church requires sacrifice, diligence and stewardship.

It is no wonder why God chooses to refer to us as his children: because we are a family. Just like I have to struggle through life with my own family, so the Church struggles as a family together.


Today I became an official member of New Hope Church, my church family. I am blessed to be a part of a beautiful and diverse community of individuals. It is a growing reality I live in, where I am challenged each day to put aside my own resources to be used for the furthering of God's plan for our family. I find myself a follower, a leader, a learner and a teacher amongst the other children of God there. My brothers and sisters come from hundreds of different biological families, and between us all we come from dozens of different countries across the world.

As children of God we have the privilege to belong to one another as a family, to grow with each other as a body, to be challenged in a community as we strive for the glory of God. We struggle in great effort and with every ounce of commitment to bless one another as we await our final homes with the Lord. We strive together in sacrifice, diligence and stewardship as a family. The Lord has blessed me greatly.

217: 365

New church member. 

216: 365

215: 365

I had a "broken foot." Cessie's prescription: Barbie pants. 

214: 365

Find my foot. 

213: 365

We just took some time to relax on out patio. 

In Target.

Oh Minnesota winter.

212: 365

Love it when zebras somehow end up in my room.

211: 265

210: 365

209: 265

A drug-like experience at the grocery store today. 

208: 365

The Dome.

207: 365

Anthony came to my rescue with jumper cables today.

206: 365

Kitten toes.

205: 365

Chinese lesson time!

204: 365

My Identity

Note: This is another paper I wrote for class. The assignment was to write out four of the most basic parts of who you are and write a paragraph on each. 

             

 I am a part of many families. I am a daughter to many dads and moms that call me their own. I am a sister to nineteen people from seven different biological families. I am an aunt to two lovely babies, a “foster-aunt” to three more, and a mourning aunt to one lovely child I never got to meet.  I will always hold to and cherish my biological family, to whom I was born, and our foster sister who was brought into it with us. I will also always cherish the lovely family who has taken me in as one of their own, and the wild array of kids from different places who have come to find refuge here. I am lucky to be a part of so many different peoples’ lives. This inevitably changes who I am, as I function as a different piece in many puzzles. I have learned to be the youngest, getting to take risks and entertain. I have learned to be the oldest, the responsible and cautious one. I have learned to be the middle child, blending in and helping out. I have learned to be alone, independent and confused.

I am an INTP. According to the Myers Briggs personality test, I am an introvert, I am intuitive, I am a thinker, and I am perceptive. I value these things greatly because they make up a uniqueness in me that governs how I think and act. My personality is what makes up who I am, or rather, how I am who I am. I can be just as thoughtful, for instance, as someone of different characteristics, but how I got to that thoughtfulness is different, and that what makes me who I am. Being an INTP means that I am often caught up in thoughts of reason and abstractedness. I process things in steps and in logical increments. I see everything in gray until I follow my thoughts to a logical conclusion, which is when gray turns to stark contrast.

I am xenocentric. Xenocentric means foreign-centered, “xeno” meaning foreign in Latin. This word was invented by sociologists to describe a person who has an unhealthy obsession with a foreign culture, but I use it more literally as someone focused on the foreign. Foreign can include anything outside myself, and definitely includes different cultures and countries. I am very passionate about the rest of the world, and strive to bring to light the beauty, goodness, need and injustices that are sometimes not seen unless we start thinking outside ourselves.

I am a child of God. At the most basic level, this is the most significant thing about me. Where I live, how I dress, what I look like and who I am friends with will change. My identity as an adopted daughter as the God of the universe, however, will always remain. This is the most stable part of my identity. This, however, is also the part of my identity that demands change the most. This is the driving force that changes selfishness into selflessness, and pride into humility. This is the part of me that brings to light the things in myself that are not profitable for gain, and overcomes them with good. This is a steady source of steady change.

203: 365

I can always count on my three year old brother to notice
 when I change something. He's the boy that always
 notices hair cuts and outfits and apparently, new shoes.
 He pointed with glee when I put them on and said
 "I like your new shoes!" Good taste, buddy.

202: 364

Boyfriend's cardigan + boyfriend's cologne + super rad pajamas = good night.

201:365

Minnesota is my home.

200: 365

Crafts with the kiddos. 

199: 365

At the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. 

198: 365

Starbucks study time. 

Joy in Justice.

I've wondered often in the past couple of years why "justice" no longer feels just. The standard of good has been set so low that it looks like gray, mirky water now. Is it even just to punish crime anymore? There are all these questions of capital punishment, prisoner rights, border security, equal opportunity, and work unions. There are endless topics that constantly beg our attention and force us to decide what justice is. These things that are hurled toward us daily make justice seem subjective and confusing. But then something happens that seems simple.

This month has been difficult because I, like many others who are praying and hoping, are waiting for some strangers to decide what justice is. It has felt like waiting for a time bomb to explode. Any day two little girls could be taken from my house in the name of justice. Two girls could be taken from their family in the name of justice. 

In this waiting, I've wondered more than ever how justice can seem so different to the other said. How is it possible that anyone can justify ruining a little girl's life, a little girl's chances at success, a little girl's understanding of reality. In what world is that a question? The answer to this question, as I've learned, is this: 

A fallen world.

Only in this world of fallen people can anyone think it is okay to separate a child from all she's ever known as family to put her in a desperate position. In the same way, it is Only in a fallen world can someone pervert justice to make it seem okay to rape a woman, okay to watch woman sell their purity for pleasure. Only in this disgusting reality is it possible for a young girl to feel that it is right for her to kill her baby because of a mistake she made. Only in this world have we all reverted to shameful things to desperately seek pleasure.

Jon Foreman captures this heartbreaking idea well:

And both of their hands 
Are equally skilled
Active in evil 
Equally skilled
At bribing the judges 
Equally skilled
At perverting justice
Both of their hands
Both of their hands

So as I await the fate of two little girls that have stolen mine, and so many other hearts, I am reminded of the deep injustice that runs through our human veins, and I quiver. I quiver because it is left to mere men to decide the fate of two beautiful souls. It is left to men to decide the fate of so many other little girls, grown men, and everything in between. But in this, the last bit of Foreman's song has reminded me, and convicted me, of some substantial truths. 

And both of His hands
Are equally skilled
At ruining evil 
Equally skilled
At judging the judges 
Equally skilled
Administering justice
Both of His hands

Both of His hands
Are equally skilled
At showing me mercy 
Equally skilled
At loving the loveless 
Equally skilled
Administering justice
Both of His hands
Both of His hands

His hands will bring justice. When I don't understand his justice his hands will bring mercy.   At the end of all things his hands will judge the judges.

197: 365

Guilty pleasure: 

Kicking off the snow buildup from my tires. 

Such a thrill. 

196: 365

195: 365

Walking.

194: 365

193: 365

192: 365

191: 365

Went early to small groups to study in our room. It's precious to see my name on a door. 

190: 365

http://www.kosteljinak.cz

189: 365

Remind me again why running is worth the pain.

188: 365

187: 365

Treadmill action. 

186: 365

Still not feeling great. 

Resting whilst painting my nails.

Never again.

I hate painting nails.

Also, found out today that my boyfriend is much better at painting nails than I am. 

#femininefail

185: 365

Hanging out at the most nostalgic coffee shop before going to my evening class at MIA.

Although I still feel like keeling over, I have no choice but go tonight. 

184: 365

Standing and wearing jeans for the first time this week.

183: 365

Fever may be breaking = wearing socks. 

182: 365

105.5 F internal temperature. 

181: 365

Stefan has been such a lovely companion in my sickness.

180: 365

I tried to get a different angle at least; it's hard to be creative when there's no change in movement from day to day. 

179: 365

Well, it didn't pass. All day in bed.