a dream, a purpose

it's far too easy to pass through days unaware of the potential of 24 hours
or critical of all the things left unachieved:
the i shoulds and i coulds, the giant mountains ahead of us
i should've solved world hunger today
or
i could've built a school to transform a nation today


we are rarely satisfied with what we've done
very rarely (okay, never) do we save the world
but we have big dreams of big change
so we wonder if anything less, even the seeds of change, are enough


we are Christ's image bearers with His breath in our lungs and His resurrection in our bodies
we have endless potential (the developer in me is celebrating!)
and yet, we are not asked to save the world
we are simply asked to live intentionally in that identity: to bear His image
to make His image our purpose
even in the face of coulds and shoulds and lists of things to accomplish
our best efforts--living out His truth in our hearts, our intellect, our strengths and our passions--should be our dream and our purpose



[via]

so here it is, my purpose, uniquely mine
a draft, of course, scribbled into the pages of my journal
it's the woman i want to be, the love that i want to show,
the things that i want my life to be about
it's my dream for myself
a reminder that if i can live each day to this end,
if i can accomplish this,
no more, no less
then i should be satisfied, knowing that greater things will follow

to empty myself in surrender to God's love; to reflect God's love and in it find my strength; to care for people outside of myself; to affirm God's truths over the people around me (and to know His truths for myself); to dream with and for others; to see God's purposes and movement in my own life; to love with God's love; to watch and expect Him to transform people and things; to give generously of every resource; to let myself experience love in transformational ways; to live in the challenge of the gospel; to laugh; to know the fullness of God; to always learn from the lives and stories of others; to be transformed by Jesus

...may it be so*

*Did you know that amen translates to "may it be so?" i love that. it's not just a closing statement, but a genuine request, too. may this dream, this purpose for my life, become a reality. it's my genuine plea.

what is your purpose?

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

happy birthday, daddy!

**My dad's birthday is on Thursday, but I'm impatient and wanted to post this today! Why not celebrate all week, right?! Happy Birthday Daddy!**

Everybody thinks that their dad is the best. The strongest, the smartest, the most capable of beating up some other dad. As a bratty 10-year old, I remember saying things like, "Ya, well...my dad will sue your dad!" He joked about “strongly-worded letters” to anybody who messed with his kiddo girl. That’s what he calls me, even to this day. I guess for a dad, your daughter never really grows up. I moved out, pay my own bills, make my own decisions (mostly) and yet, I’m still his little girl.

It's true, though, that my dad is the best. He's frustratingly intelligent. He knows something about everything. When your dad is Michael J. Kimball, Esq., you learn to articulate and argue well out of necessity. And you still can't out-argue him. But in the meantime, you learn a lot: about the power of words and the importance of knowledge, among many other things. It was my daddy that taught me most of what I know. In Junior High, he'd attempt to explain chemical reactions and concepts of economics to me, things like depreciation and elasticity. Then he'd build a bookshelf or teach me to change the tires on my car, check the air pressure, drive a manual or even tow a boat. When I brag about being able to do those things, I'm actually bragging about my dad, the most versatile person I know, who lovingly took the time to teach and equip me for all kinds of life situations and anything involving an engine.

So yes, I'll brag about my dad. It is his birthday, after all. Sure, he can be embarrassing at times. Maybe a little too protective in line for the ski lift, kind of a crazy driver. We don't see eye-to-eye on everything, and I've come to grips with his humanity; but still, he's my dad and he's the best man I've ever known.

He used to read to me, every night before bed. Silly books like “Feelings” and “Firehorse.” (My book choice alone proves how much he loves me...) He is personally responsible for my “just one more chapter before I go to sleep” habit.

He handled a crazy teenage daughter and crazier teenage son like no other single dad I’ve met. He’d laugh when I dramatically stomped up the stairs and slammed the door, but he’d apologize if he knew that he had hurt me. He’d rub my back when I cried, take me to Target when I needed a new turtleneck, watch North Shore with us for the 142nd time. He never stopped telling us how much he loved us. I never doubted it for a second.

After my brother moved out, it was just the two of us. Every night we would have dinner together: Cafe Tandoor or Taco Bell (he is personally responsible for my Taco Bell obsession). We’d discuss politics and faith and eventually, I started trusting him with boys. He became privy to stories and dreams and jokes about paying for my wedding (which he still doesn’t find all that funny...). When I moved to San Diego, he became my best friend. I told everybody stories about how cool my dad is and made them watch the slideshow I made for his 50th birthday. I reverted back to elementary school: “my dad is better than your dad.” My dad can fly. My dad can read an entire book in one day. He can fix any computer problem and can count backwards from 100 by 3.

He set the standard high. By loving my brother and I the way that he does, he’s set the standard high.

They say you’ll end up with someone like your dad. I probably won’t marry a conservative and I wouldn’t be surprised if my husband doesn’t know how to construct a cheese cave.

But you can hold me to this:

He will be strong and fearless

he will love unconditionally

he will read to me before bed and rub my back when I cry

he will encourage me to follow my dreams

he will remind me to see the big picture

he will make difficult decisions for the sake of his family

he will shamelessly listen to tacky music (Really, dad?! Liz Phair?!)

he will make me proud to bear his last name.

Happy Birthday to the Best Daddy There Ever Was!

when God made me (a lesson on patience)

when God made me
He shaped the cartilage in my kneecaps
and grew my fingers long enough to span entire octaves
He chose the specks in my eyes from an infinite color palette
He decided that I would prefer wildflowers
and told my hair how to respond to humidity

when He wrote my story
He captured every circumstance
every intention
every gaze
every sentence
every breath

when God made the animals
one by one by one
He perfected the shade of their fur
and the pace of their step
and in the trees
He put His breath and life

He watched it all begin to dance

a million years it could have taken Him
a million years of delicate workmanship
a million years of patience

patience/pay-shence:
the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset

I know so little of patience
less, even, of focusing our patience on Him
my heart is too busy focusing on my delays
my troubles, my suffering
every thing standing in the way of reaching the desires of my heart
even the desires of His heart


I rush them
maneuvering and manipulating
craving instant gratification and immediate answers
I turn away from the journey
I am no gardener, lovingly watching crops grow
I'm hardly an artist, aware of every detail of every project

I know so little of waiting for His timing
trusting in His good and right will
standing there, for as long as it takes
for eternal hopes to become present reality


even still, there is grace in every humbling lesson


[the Lord is wonderfully good to those who wait for Him and seek Him]
--lamentations 3:25

mondays in the kitchen: chipotle-kissed black bean soup

it's been a long while since i shared any of my kitchen-escapades. to be perfectly honest, i'm not much of a chef. i do, however, love a good meal, especially when i get to share it with some lovely ladies. tonight, i cooked, and tonight, i share!

this recipe happens to be my first and favorite meat-free recipe!
(i've made minor adjustments over the last two years to make it my own)

chipotle-kissed black bean soup

ingredients:
(i'm not one for measurements anymore...follow your tummy on this one!)

olive oil
sliced baby carrots
chopped onions
garlic, minced
LOTS OF black beans (3-4 cans)
diced tomatoes
vegetable broth
potatoes, cut into small cubes
sliced zucchini
other vegetables of your choice
1-2 chipotle chiles in adobo sauce (for flavor)

1. heat olive oil in a large pan. add carrots, onions, garlic, potatoes, zucchini, etc. cover and cook until softened. transfer to a large pot.

2. over medium heat, add black beans, vegetable broth, and tomatoes. lastly, add chipotle chiles for flavor (warning: these are SPICY!)

3. eat and enjoy :)