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Fascinated by the solar system. 

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Deciding on my new shoes. Verdict: yes.

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

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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.

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New church member. 

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

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Find my foot. 

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We just took some time to relax on out patio. 

In Target.

Oh Minnesota winter.

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Love it when zebras somehow end up in my room.

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A drug-like experience at the grocery store today. 

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The Dome.

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Anthony came to my rescue with jumper cables today.

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Kitten toes.

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Chinese lesson time!

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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.

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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.

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

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Minnesota is my home.

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Crafts with the kiddos. 

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At the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. 

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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.

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Guilty pleasure: 

Kicking off the snow buildup from my tires. 

Such a thrill. 

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Walking.

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