Quiet Days

I'm not one for quiet days. Ever since I've been in college, I never look forward to them. They normally come upon me with dread. I never understood why I was so against these days, because back in high school I lived for days like these.

Coming to college ripped my security blanket out from under my feet. I was 8 hours away from my family and the only home I had ever know. I had to make a fresh start, find friends, and even attend a new church. Now people had told me before I left what an adjustment it would be to college life. But I guess I always thought I was strong enough, I though my faith was unshakable.

But there's one question that goes through every college freshman's mind the moment their parents leave after moving them in the dorm.

You walk back upstairs holding back tears with a head full of dreams. You pull out your new dorm key and stare at it admiring the fact that you are now an official college student. You walk in your room, and take a deep breath soaking up all that freedom. You hop on your bed and run your hand over the soft clean bed sheets. You lift your head up, look straight ahead, and then ask yourself,

"What do I do now?"

It's one of those questions that I asked myself subconsciously and never really dealt with it. So I began to get involved with everything I could and spent a lot of time with others. For me, I felt like I was expected to always be doing something and that busy was a norm I should strive after. Activities and friendships became my idol as I hid behind being "busy", whatever that meant. But I began a long journey that day running from myself. I discovered that not everyone grew up in Memorial, America.

Establishing yourself is hard. For me, I feel like I got one quick glimpse of myself the moment I left home and I didn't like what I saw. So I ran.

Which brings me to my quiet days. On those days where life seemed to slow down and I have less to do, the question again whispers in my heart "What do I do now?" I sit again on my bed and wonder what in the world I'm doing. I stand in front of the mirror and see a person looking back at me I barely recognize. I look at my faith and relationship with the Lord and see how shaky my faith has become. I don't even know who I am.

Quiet days are hard because they make me face myself. They make me answer the question. And the truth about myself is that I haven't taken ownership of my life. I need to grow up. I need to be mature. I'm not a kid anymore. I never thought my faith was contingent on my parent's, and I still don't think it truly is. But the accountability of having parents that desire the best for me and want me to be holy in all I do, is something I lost when I moved to college. It's still there in a way, but now a days months go by before I get to see my parents again. I'm not day in and day out doing life with them. It's just not possible when they live two states away.

But the thing about having parents, is that there comes a time in every person's life where they must begin to take responsibility for who they are. And for me, that time has come. So now, I will welcome quiet days. For their reminder of who I am, of who I need to be, and after whom I need to be seeking. I will gladly sit outside, take an extra long walk, and write. Because it's time to face myself. It's time to shine.

Oh thank you Lord for quiet days.

Most days I hate detours. And since this drive totaled around 9 hours, backtracking didn't seem to lift my spirits. But none the less, our car took a detour through now one of my favorite cities, Tyler, Texas.

When I got my call in November from the Camp in the City director at Pine Cove, I was less than ecstatic. I wanted to be a counselor at an overnight youth camp, not a day camp for inner city kids. Since I was in elementary school, I had been a camp kid. I loved going to camp each summer. For me, many of the significant moments in my relationship with the Lord had been at some camp. I accepted the Lord when I was at camp in 6th grade and got baptized in the Nueces River when I was in 9th grade. But I accepted the job as a counselor for Camp in the City for that summer and never thought twice about it until May.

I came back from lifeguard training and orientation that June still not sold that city camp was the place for me. I still didn't see how this camp was where I really needed to be. But I still went back to Pine Cove that July and began to work as a counselor second half. And man, if I could only put into words what the Lord did in my life there, I could fill up a room of books.

We continue farther down our detour as I gaze out the window on that rainy afternoon. And then all of the sudden I see it, a green street sign that says: TYLER city limits, population 96,900. My heart begins to race as I try to figure out what parts of the city we'll pass through. We head on through north Tyler and sights around become more familiar. We pass the caldwell zoo, the family dollar, and the old antique shop. I see the sonic with the sand volleyball court and playground and suddenly the conversation I had with Jasmine Kim about her parent's restaurant, China Cafe, comes to mind. I'm on the edge of my seat as I plaster my face to the window like a kid on Christmas morning. I take careful note of the street signs as we head deeper into the heart of the city.

The car comes to a stop and I look at the intersection ahead. I prepare my heart and my head as the car pulls closer to a  street that has so many memories. We turn right on Broadway and I see the yellow brick church building. I see the park with the dolphin statues, and the red roofed shopping center with the old testament store. My heart is filled and the tears begin to well in my eyes.

Suddenly I am back here.

Faith Owens is back in my arms weeping while Jasmine Kim is tugging at my shirt softly calling "Smiles" desiring my attention so she can show me her latest sketch. I turn my head towards the back and Brianna Rowland looks up at me and gives the only smile I will see out of her for the day. I hear shouts and see Breona Butler giving the other kids lectures about her magic stick. I feel a kick on the back of my seat and Reyna pops up from the tent her and her best friend Emily made to say hi. Memories swell my head and I can not contain the tears in my eyes anymore. The Lord whispers in my heart, "Remember, my child, all that I have done." I take a deep breath in and soak up my surroundings. My heart remembers.

Reminders are so very sweet, although they don't last forever. Eventually we turned off Broadway and continued on our journey. I only got to be back in the place I spent my summer for a brief few minutes. My days now do not consist of bus rides with the Cumberland kids. They don't consist of JAM time, or FOB, or joke Thursdays. My days now consist of balance sheets, fixing copy machines , grading papers, tutoring, and photo booths. But you see the thing is, my God is still faithful while I'm signing a pledge's book and studying french, and writing prospective students letters. He still in those moments is using faithless broken me. He still claims me as His child. He still is reminding me that He is faithful.

Some days I wish I could hold Faith in my arms again or walk back onto the bus hearing kids scream "Smiles" hoping to get my attention first. But the thing about life is that is comes and goes in seasons. All are so different, we as humans tend to get hung up on one and forget where we are currently. Or sometimes, like me, we let the present pass us by like it doesn't matter. There is a time for everything. There is a season for every activity under the sun, I just hope I stop long enough to enjoy it.

I hate reminders of how broken I am. I hate that I'm so sinful. I hate that I have reasons for my shame. I desire so much to be whole.

I am claimed. The Lord has looked down on this broken child of His and said "you are mine". But I'm not home yet. My body is still in this flesh. I have to momently fight my selfish desires. Oh how much I want to give up. How frustrated I am with myself. But yet in my moments of missing the mark, His love never fails. At the end of the day, He still sings songs over me. He quiets me with His voice. He still holds me. He still holds His dirty, unclean, unholy daughter. He reassures me that I am His. He promises that I won't have to live in my flesh forever.

How magnificent that our Father still loves His children that continually go against Him. That run away again and again, and He just patiently pursues us. In our moments of disobedient He looks at us and says, "that is my child whom I love." I deserve eternal death for what I've done. I am so unholy. I am reminded of just how much I need my Savior, my precious precious Savior. My Father, my Healer, who speaks for sinful Mary Helen on my behalf. Who took my shame and my sin, and put it on the cross and said "It is finished". Who fought the battle for me before I even existed.

It amazes me how this terribly unclean, nasty heart can be wiped clean and made anew. How daily His mercies are new for me. How in this flesh, I can say with confidence "I am redeemed".

Camp Journals

Well another week almost done. I say that like I've done so many. Having 6 girls under my constant watch and care for five days is exhausting yet so refreshing. It is really hard at times, but also so full of joy. To look into their eyes and see so much of our great God is refining.

So much war goes on in my soul. it's really scary to think about. Because normally, I don't feel it that much. And there is hundreds of thousands of times more warfare than I actually see. So much in my life that Satan wants to destroy. Which when I first think about it, I am so discouraged. Why am I struggling so much for my worship to be pure? Why isn't this easier? I desire pure worship so bad, but so much of me gets in the way. I'm sure Satan likes it this way, seeing me struggle in my shame and sin while being in the middle of such a ministry as this.

This is how I am encourage though. There must be something so big and powerful that the Lord is doing, that Satan is trying to thwart it in anyway He can, using areas of my life of which I am so ashamed and insecure. So I take this reminder of my shame and insecurity and remember that God is working in magnificent ways that I can not even fathom. Just as Moses' staff was his reminder of his sin, so I use my staff to lead those around me and to lead my campers. No longer do I continue to walk in what Christ has set me free from. How rude is that? To refuse the Lord's grace? For his grace is fully sufficient in my terrible weakness.

Turns out we're all so weak and insecure. Sometimes I wonder what people would think of me if they truly knew just how insecure and weak I am. I feel like they already know that, and that I need to prove it to them that I am not who they think I am. You see, the truth is, I am so humanly sinful, so full of flesh and sin that somedays I can barely function. Many days this week were so hard. I would wake up in the morning and feel like just laying there so I didn't have to face who I was. Even though I knew the sun was about to rise and it was time to sing the Lord's song, I really just wanted to sit in my bed and sing it from there. But the thing is, you've got to get out of bed. No one is any good singing the Lord's song in bed, when He has called you to this day. It doesn't' matter where your bed is, just as long as you rise from it singing His song all the way until you put your head back down at night. I feel like that is what it truly means to follow Christ, to wake up each morning glorifying the Lord and to walk in that all day long until you put your head on your pillow and the day is done. The Lord gives us just enough strength to live through each day.

I always get a good laugh around 6:25 in the morning as our four fifteen passenger vans truck out of the forge apartment and set out towards north Tyler. It's a sight to see really, packing us all in there like sardines. But then again, there is this serious tug on my heart that finds such beauty in those moments.

I wake up, and it's a new day dawning. I lift my head out of the pillow and I know it's time. One song comes to mind, bless the Lord O my soul. It's time to sing His song again. I fumble down from my top bunk bed as gracefully as possible, and sleepily walk over to my suitcase. I grab some clothes in the darkness of my room and hope that they match to some extent. I look outside and the darkness encompasses our apartment. I know the sun is on it's way up. I grab a granola bar off the top of my drawer and head to the kitchen to fill up my water bottle. I look around our living room as I turn on the faucet and see some of my coworkers already talking to the Lord about today. Excitement fills my heart as I am encouraged by the example set before me. I grab my backpack and head out the door.

We all stand out there together in front of our vans, still a little groggy from our early morning rise. At 6:15 sharp we all physically put our hand on a van. This is it, it's all starting. My heart continues to sing, Bless the Lord O my soul. We begin to load up as the usual apple cinnamon granola bars and breakfast burritos are making their way around the vans. As the vans begin to pull out, I feel this sense of community. I feel apart of something vast. I feel like we are an army heading out to conquer the great enemy. I glimpse back as we head down the hill and I see the other three vans behind us, full of my brothers and sisters, all heading towards the same goal. It's a moment of appreciation really, of something that I probably wouldn't see if I didn't stop and look around me. It's something I would miss if I wasn't careful.

I being to think about the day ahead of me, of the battle I'm going to have to fight against my flesh. I feel discouraged because of my sin and my struggle towards holiness. I begin to form a goal in my mind for the day. Let me be singing when the evening comes, Bless the Lord O my soul. As I watch the sun rise over the city, I begin to hope that as I watch the sun set that evening, the song on my lips will still be Bless the Lord O my soul. I am becoming more aware of my brokenness, and my challenge for the day seems to be less attainable on my own strength. But I hear a whisper in my ear. I ignore it at first, not really believing it's there. But softly the voice speaks again, do not be afraid. I am reminded of the Lord's faithfulness as we approach our destination. The vans pull to a stop and I take a deep breath in. I say it one more time in my head for reminder, Bless the Lord O my soul. I step out of the van onto the concrete and I'm finally there. It's go time. Let the battle begin.

I think one of the greatest lessons in life one can learn is selflessness.

I don't say this because I've learned it yet. But the idea that my life is in no way about me has come to the forefront of my thoughts.

It all started with the pursuit of excellence and a thousand tiny baby dragonflies.

Realizing that you can work harder in your life than you ever have and never get the thanks you deserve for it can discourage you.

For me, it was to the point that I wanted to take my eyes off what I was doing. I wanted to fix my gaze on something else.

But then you have to know you're actions are held to a high standard. It's the pursuit of excellence.

It doesn't matter if no one notices it, your actions must strive towards excellence.

We serve a God who deserves everything we have. He doesn't deserve our half efforts or human way of thinking. He doesn't want our logic or high thoughts. He just wants our lives. He wants our heart.

That's it.

It is not about me.

So no matter how uncomfortable I am, how tired I am, how annoyed I am, it doesn't matter.

Because it's not about me.

It's Jesus. It's about Jesus. It's for Jesus. It's in Jesus. It's through Jesus.

I am just the clay. I am solely a mouthpiece.

So help me in my selfishness. Keep me accountable in learning this lesson. Bring me back when I go astray for I am so human and I am merely flesh.

What if I told you that there was just life, and there was just Jesus.

What if I told you there weren't any answers, there was just Jesus.

What if I told you I tried to figure out life, but there was just Jesus.

Because you see, I've thought a lot about this, and I've tried to put it into words.

But you see that's just it.

The more you think about it, the more your head spins

and the more your head spins, the farther you get away from definite answers,

and the farther you get away from definite answers, you begin to lose hope,

and when you begin to lose hope, you've forgotten about Jesus.

So you see, it's just Jesus.

Let's not talk. Let's not write.

Just Jesus.