sweet, sweet malawi

i'm going to Africa today
that's an unusual sentence
but it's true
in twelve hours, i will be on a plane headed east, east, east
until i find myself standing in Malawi
on ground that we have waited for
prayed and prepared for



there are a billion things going through my mind right now
please forgive my scatterbrained-ness...
did i pack enough underwear? i hope the person next to me for 31 hours of travel likes cuddling. i hope i don't get typhoid. please don't let me get typhoid. call mom. call dad. eat mexican food. are we ready? i hope we're ready... am i qualified? adequate? justified in going?

i can't help but reflect on the same feelings i have every time i board a plane to jamaica:
i love this place [GOD loves this place]
i love these people [GOD loves these people]

doubt still creeps in, though.
is this trip more than a sign of my privilege?
this kind of travel, this kind of expense--is it frivolous?

there is a still, small whisper telling me "no."
love cannot be frivolous.
not lovey-dovey love.
but love.
love that overwhelms poverty and all of its friends.
love that stands against abuse and neglect and gender discrimination.
love that lifts up the oppressed.
love that affirms the value of every human life.
love that is renewed after the image of its Creator.
love that carries justice with it.
that love is God's very character and no, He is not frivolous.


He is not frivolous in giving out love that empowers even just one beautiful woman who needs to know her worth or love that pushes God's hopes for humanity to reality and redeems our brokenness. i'd raise thousands of dollars for that. i'd stock up on long skirts and malaria pills.
i would travel the world and back again for that kind of love.


somehow, i am a part of this
i am a small part of a small team going to a big place with a big dream
more than anything, it is about His love
His purposes
His dreams
His BIGNESS
and the plans that HE has, that go far beyond our 18 days and our conference and the resources that we can supply

so that is my prayer as i leave for Malawi
that i would be small, and He would be Big


and that i'd see a giraffe...


many, many more thoughts to come
please pray :)

a roadtrip, an escape

There is something so perfectly American (and yes, perfectly symbolic and cliche) about a summer road trip with my iPod on shuffle through 372 country songs. Summer was made for country music. The open road is in front of me (metaphorically speaking: in reality, we're driving through Los Angeles traffic, which is actually the opposite of "open road.") I somehow feel content with my sudden lack of plans, with uncharted territory.

A road trip seems made for escaping. For itching-to-go-adventure. For packing up and leaving it all behind. It's romantic and dramatic and exactly my plan: a new city, a fresh start, with only a dream to live by.

But this road trip is different. This road trip is my goodbye to that dream, a coming-home road trip, a drive that will let me settle fully into this place, where I already have roots. Where I already have hopes and people and all things life-giving. And it just might feel new, too. That other dream was a child's and it was fueled by impatience, like only a child's would be. And many, many other things. (Ask me about it some time, I'd live to share.)



So this road trip is an escape, yes, but of a different kind. An escape into something, if that's possible. And that something is beautiful and promising, if that's possible. That something looks a little like the open road: no street signs and no way to know exactly where I'm going. But here I am, ready for the journey.


"...right now I'm right where I wanna be...
Never felt so loved, so peaceful and so free...
There ain't no doubt that God's been good to me"

God's Been Good To Me//Keith Urban

happy birthday, mama!

I could tell you a billion things about my mama, and I'll start with a few:

She makes the best egg salad in town. My love of pancakes comes straight from her kitchen, and she made them perfectly golden and perfectly fluffy, every time. I'm hoping for her frame when I'm her age. She can do anything a guy can do, maybe better. Her house is immaculate and her constant request that I make my bed finally paid off.

The Friday song was our thing and it still brings me joy.

"Friday, Friday, Friday is my favorite day.
Monday is a bummer, Tuesday's only fair.
Wednesday's getting better, Thursday's almost there.
But Friday, Friday, Friday is my favorite...
Friday is my favorite...
Friday is my favorite daaaaayyyyy."

She woke me up with it every Friday morning, and I wouldn't get out of bed until we had perfectly harmonized (but what does an 11 year old know about perfect harmonies??...I'm sure it sounded awful) that last "day." Then I could wake up and start my day, and maybe even let her French braid my hair and crimp the bottoms.


She had this beautiful blue dress that I always asked her to wear. On Mother's Day, on her birthday, on my birthday, to my graduation. It was beautiful and she was beautiful in it. If she still had it, I'd ask her to wear it today.

But many things have changed between now and then.
I will say, in all honesty, that more than a billion wonderful memories, my favorite thing about my mama is who she is today. I've learned lessons in the last five years that were lost in translation when I lived down the hall. Now, she teaches me across state lines, on our Saturday morning phone calls or in forwarded emails, and through plenty of heartache. Lessons about generosity and love like only a mama can give. And it is a beautiful thing, a gift, to follow in her legacy of grace, to see what happens when a woman's heart is touched by God and a life is transformed. It was a beautiful thing to watch her bring our family back together and get the story she dreamed of.



Now, she is the consistent advocate for my heart and I could appreciate nothing more than the unwavering support that she gives, the confidence that she has in me and the love that she shows as we talk through life decisions and tell little stories and remember the past. She chooses encouragement over criticism, forgiveness over frustration, grace and generosity and adventure, over and over and over again.


Saturday morning, she's the first person I call and I hope it stays that way forever.

Happy Birthday Mama!
I love you!

I love my mother as the trees love water and sunshine -
she helps me grow, prosper, and reach great heights.

--Terri Guillemets

today

there are days that my only dream is adventure
of sailing a ship across the globe
of climbing giant mountains and camping under the stars
jumping off of things and into things and out of things
days of roaming and wandering and exploring with a paper map
of one-way plane tickets and train rides and shady, cheap hostels
filling my journal with the stories of strangers


{via}

even adventure at my doorstep:
i would like to feed a giraffe
visit salvation mountain
sleep in a treehouse
find the perfect wildflower field and lay in it for hours



and then there is today
when a book and a blanket and the quiet company of my favorite people
is all i really want

{via}

dear favorite people:
please help me make that dream a reality