the 48 hour shock

The weekend that followed our Friday diagnosis, was filled with stretches of distraction as well as little to no sleep. Thankfully, we found moments to laugh and enjoy the company of new friends and tender forever moments from seasoned friends. 

By Sunday evening, Ian and I were physically and mentally exhausted, still overwhelmed in shock and beginning to grieve. 

Our son's diagnosis of a congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH) is a life threatening and serious condition, but with that being said it also has huge thriving success rates. We believe our son will live and will grow to be a healthy child, despite the heavy road that lay ahead. 

We praise God for the discovery of our baby's condition, because without God we are unsure if this would have been detected. My midwives, nurses, family, friends and ourselves include have all marveled in thankfulness at the time we've been given to save our baby. 

Our son was growing phenomenally, we had seen his beautiful face and his long legs during my bout with kidney stones. We had heard his heart beat time and time again, and I kid you not, nurses and doctors always marveled at his development. It wasn't until I fell down our front stairs on my way to work and landed on the side of my belly, that there was any cause for alarm. 

Within minutes, my tummy began to feel tight and I started cramping. I headed to L&D to make sure I hadn't bruised or tore my placenta. While I was there, my midwife ordered a bedside ultra sound where they checked my placenta, fluid levels and also preformed an anatomical scan (a proceeder we previously didn't get). They told us my placenta, fluid levels looked great but something didn't look right with baby. It was then, the news no parent ever wants to hear, became our new normal. 

At the time, they gave us incredibly limited information, saying they found fluid in areas "that fluid isn't normally found," specifically the lungs. We were immediately referred to a maternal fetal medicine specialist to run more tests. 

The three days we had to wait for our appointment ached on and I desperately restrained from scouring the internet. Faithfully we believed for healing and faithfully we clung to each other.  Our appointment finally arrived and with it came the diagnosis of CDH. 

Our journey is just beginning though it feels like many years have already passed. I spent the entirety of yesterday on the phone with different people from the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP). With which we have decided to move our care forward with and our first appointment with them is on November 23rd. 

We cried for hours, holding each other, trying to grasp the reality of our lives changing so quickly. Clinging to God in our time of uncertainty and trouble is the only way we know how to make it through this. Thankfully by the true and utter goodness and grace of God our friends and family have set a canopy of hope, love, generosity, compassion, and togetherness that has already engulfed us tightly. 

To the ones who deeply care for us-

This past Friday my husband Ian and I found out detrimental information about the health of our baby boy. Specialists have found a hole in his diaphragm that has allowed his stomach/intestines to grow up through said hole and into his lung cavity. This condition is diagnosed as a Diaphragmatic Hernia, for more information here is a link. We are transferring our care as of now to Boston, Ma, as Maine does not have the resources to care for our son.

We will be having an appointment with more specialist and a neonatal surgeon, hopefully this upcoming week. We will then have more information about severity and his current state of lung development. Until then, this is all the information we have. Our lives are and will be continuing to change in the coming weeks/months as we prepare for our baby boy's delivery.

We are asking that you would not forget our baby in this season and that he and our family would be in your prayers.

We will not stop believing in the possibility of full healing- nor will our peace and hope be shaken. We fully trust and are relying of God- who has promised to carry us through the deep waters of life.

Thank you for standing with us

Coming clean about my struggle with faith.

I've been putting this off. Writing that is, since the middle of March, and to be honest, I can't be stagnant anymore. I can't keep stuffing things deep down, my sorry heart hasn't anymore room to swell.

All the while its suffocating and stifling, and has greater effect on my emotional well being then I am interested in giving the simple act of writing credit to.
But if we believe...if I believe, God gives us great gifts and great treasures, then I can't forsake the gift that writing has been to my healing process. In fact, sometimes deep parts of me, hope that God's gift of writing to my little heart would be more then a healing process for me, but in turn a catalyst for others, a place that leads them deeper into personal reflection and ultimately where God meets them, face to face, in a very real way.

So where do I begin? It has been seven months since my last post, since the last time I've truly taken the time to feast on one of the ways I delight in worship!

To be honest, this is going to be a process, involving more then one "updating" post. Because I want to talk about all the joy and all the sadness I have seen in so many facets along this journey, in getting engaged, losing a beloved grandmother, returning to Chop Point, losing a friend, questioning my faith, planning a wedding and getting married to my favorite person.

My heart is swollen and I can't keep from weeping thinking about it all.

The place I'd like to start, which feels like a giant elephant looming over me every where I go, is the journey I've been on in regards to questioning my faith. I want to start here, because I believe its the underlying piece to this season of my life and this season of healing.

I haven't wanted to open up about it. Especially when all I've done since I was 15 was throw myself, wildly into the arms of the church, wildly into the arms of ministry, wildly into the palms of other broken, hurting, lost people. Who want's to admit they've been wrong about something they've believed and put everything into? Who wants to crawl back, naked and afraid, wondering how delusional they could have been to spiral this far out of reality.

It is so painful for me to think about the morning that I was awoken this summer with a violent nightmare, one that played all around me, one that I couldn't escape. I began to see religion for what it was, ugly, controlling, manipulative, striving, corrupt and evil. I wanted to run away from God, the church, my christian friends, I wanted go home and tell my family they were right all these years, and that I would gladly conform to the greater thought of the Universe and humanism.

But mostly, like many other pivotal moments in my life, I wanted to dissolve. And I lived most of the summer and early mornings of fall wanting to dissolve into nothing. Wanting to escape the ever present questions of how I could have fallen so deeply into something so shallow.

Until my sweet Jesus met me one morning, oh how He laughed when He saw me, He was filled with such joy. And I thought to myself, I have really lost it now, I am beyond help, I am not even a christian, I don't know the first thing about love or Jesus.

And that's where God stepped in and told me I was wrong. He wasn't gentle, the usual approach to which I had attributed God, He was urgent, persistant. He was clear- I was wrong, so wrong it was awful. I had fallen into one of the many deceits religion has to offer, which is putting my own human qualities and expectations on God, thinking God judges like we do, thinking God hates like we do, thinking God is intolerant and impatient and unloving and unforgiving like WE ARE. Like you and I, like the world is, like the church and the unchurched alike.

I had wildly chased the church, ministry and people, seeking wisdom, acceptance, status and this summer Jesus intervened and ripped me from the depths of religion. He opened my eyes to what I worshiped- which was a far, far shot from the true cry of my heart. He beckoned me, come wildly chase Me, come wildly chase My heart, come wildly chase people the way I see them, come see how I feel about the world and all My beloved children.

Stop chasing the church, stop striving after ministry, stop giving yourself to hungry, hurting, lost people. Just be- sit in My love, My energy, My healing, My thoughts, just be yourself. Stop feeling like you have to change, stop feeling like you can't be who I made you to be because those who are rigid and scared and need love have told you that you're not doing it "right".

And so here I am- again. Just Raelyn, the ragamuffin, baptized in a Bob Marley shirt, who loves to talk about pornography and wild love, who has struggled with depression for years and usually makes conservative christian's mildly uncomfortable on a regular basis.

Right now I am tender and healing and fragile-That's okay. I am allowed to question and dig through my hurt and challenge the church and challenge the world.

There is freedom in Christ- I can be who He made me to be, washed free of religion, washed free of expectations, washed free of labels.

Thank you for loving me, even in the chokehold of religion, thank you for freeing me and giving me a glimpse of Your heart for the the world, thank you for giving me revelation on how to love better and more fuller, on what's important. And most of all thank you for showing me that You love ALL your children and that all the hurtful and excluding boundaries that the church has set up all these years are not YOUR boundaries. I love how radical and outside of the box You are Jesus. Please keep me in your secret place forever and teach me how to love the church, give me a heart for the religious, give me more compassion Jesus, lead me into deeper wells of humbleness and empathy.

I want to be wild for you-

RL

A Trying Season-

Walking with Grief 

Do not hurry

as you walk with grief;

it does not help the journey.

Walk slowly, 

pausing often:

do not hurry

as you walk with grief.

Be not disturbed

by memories that come unbidden.

Swiftly forgive;

and let Christ speak for you

unspoken words.

Unfinished conversation

will be resolved in Him.

Be gentle with the one

who walks with grief.

If it is you,

be gentle with yourself.

Swiftly forgive;

walk slowly,

pausing often.

Take time, be gentle

as you walk with grief.

Celtic Prayer by George MacDonald  

Revival raged through my veins the night I heard about America. 

"The Land of the Free" finally free.  It was the last weekend in September (9.29.13) and I wept over "10,000 harvesters" 10,000 people being raised up and sent forth to see a nation free from shackles. That was the night I stopped asking God "why?" That was the night I began to mourn for my family and the ones I loved from high school and summer camp, that was the night I decided it was all going to be worth it. 

Every last painful thing.

Leaving home has been hard. 

For the last 9 months I have been trudging through a season of deep sorrow. And as I prepared for our great adventure north, grief kept finding me. I packed and sorted through what to keep, what to put in storage and what to take with me to Maine-but the memories and pain I had tucked away in old familiar things that had fallen behind my bed and underneath white leather couch cushions were found again. 

The grieving of lost loved ones, false realities revealed, and radical family changes wasn't going to cease existing come March 1st. (Though parts of my heart hoped and prayed they would.) 

Depression war'd within me and I was faced with an incredibly pivotal moment- Did I believe and trust that following Jesus was bigger then the pain I was experiencing within my heart, within my family and throughout the lives of those I saw around me. 

Yes. 

And though from the outside looking in it seemed too obvious, yes, yes, yes- I believed and trusted. Within my heart and mind, things were a different story. I had to, and still have to, make very deliberate steps to continue to walk in freedom, though many days it feels too difficult to reach. 

I am thankful that God has answered my prayers and sent me to the pioneer's land to love children. 

I am thankful that God is so good, gentle and merciful. 

I am thankful He has given me an intentional time of healing and purging of pain.

And I am thankful for all those who have loved me in this trying season, for my family who has weathered great trials and tribulations and for the opportunity to live out my dream- though I am weak and have little to offer.

Despite whatever odds my mind tries to conjure- I am still clinging to hope and expectant that great things will blossom here in the land of the Chickadee! 

Here are a few other things I've learned since being here; 

Grilled asparagus is tastier then baked asparagus, especially with garlic, butter and fresh squeezed lemon. Coconut oil is a great deep conditioner for hair, an amazing dental hygien agent and the best face moisturizer. Sugar is giving me mad acne and its time to purge it from my diet. In the middle of March, 2 feet of snow is normal, I have also learned the true essence of shoveling, scraping, and why everyone lifts their windshield wipers before a big storm. And in the midst of a mid-March snow storm how to fill a 5 gallon jug of gas and fuel up a snow blower. Mainer's are pioneers, the life of a pioneer is cold, tough and includes lots of work. And I am totally unprepared and need to invest in a real winter coat, mittens/gloves, snow boots, and wool socks. 

Guess I shoulda thought that through before moving up ;)

Editors note- GOD IS SO GOOD! After writing this post, I got a message from one of my campers from this past summer, who had bought Tiffany and I brand new snow boots, winter coats, thermals, gloves and socks! 

Walk in Love,

R

We're moving to Maine.

Finally I feel as if I'm walking out alive. Burned and bruised from the unyielding secrets that wrecked my reality months ago.  I'm Alive. I'm Alive. There is no brokenness inside. I laugh now, at the process and journey to Whole. I laugh because I'm not there and I laugh because I'm closer then I've ever been, but truly I laugh because Wholeness feels a lot like laughter and life.is.funny.

I remember the beginnings of dreaming, it was raining outside in late July. I had the most radiant of people all around, they ranged from 14 to 17 and knew everything about the world and life and love. Most people will tell you teenagers don't know anything about life but they are so incredibly wise and so under heard. We (but I really mean they) decided that we'd buy an RV and establish a mobile, traveling church where we'd all play important roles like hugging sad kids, visting old people who used to be young and living radically together for Jesus. We dreamt for a long time about Wholeness and family and somehow, somewhere the love that connected us and the dreams we dreamed changed each of us that July. And I will never forget, how could I ever forget the handful that rekindled up a dream in my heart that I thought was long dead and gone.

Abby. Isabella. A.J. Bekah. Ines. Sam. Phoebe.

Seven months later the beginnings of a dream dreamt out of pure hearts and pure faith is now unfolding into reality. 

On March 1st Tiffany, Ian and I are moving to Maine!

There is sadness in our hearts as we leave our loved ones and families, but there is also eagerness, expectancy and an adventure we are in awe to be on. Each of us has a different dream and calling to which Maine beckons us- but at the root we all want to see revival, families restored, lost sons and daughters found and love radiate throughout the beautiful state of Maine.

We cannot wait to sink our roots down in the boonies of Midcoast with others who have pioneered before us and are still pioneering the land.

Here's a link to a post that goes more in-depth about our journey and what God has been doing in our lives these past several months.
click here :)

I really feel as though the resounding word that has been repeating over and over in my heart and mind since the summer has been "You call me out upon the water, the great unknown where feet may fail."  I am thankful for all our family and friends who have encouraged us to continue out upon the water, where plans aren't all figured out and trusting in God is scary. I truly believe we are continuing into a season 'where feet may fail' but am so ready for God to pave the way.

God isn't religion.

The Spirit of Religion has come, day and night I strain for freedom. For his ways are just like bondage, they are ways of silence and oppression. Religion has seeped his way in, declares himself 'Church' and the Accuser is pleased. For there is no room for the Spirit of Love when Religion still reigns.

When I first heard the phrase,
"He doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called" 
I was unsure of what the implications meant. You see, I didn't grow up going to church or practicing any sort of religion with my family, but my parents did afford me the sweetest gift and that was my freedom to choose. So once I encountered God, face to face, at 15, things were never the same for me. My encounter with Him was so divine I ran to wherever I thought I'd find Him and I wound up, quite literally on the doorstep of a church. Very soon I become disillusioned by the people and the message and the political agendas that those in authority where preaching. I began to despise church, and the more Religion was revealed to me the more I wanted Jesus, the more I cried out for freedom from condemnation, judgement, and bondage, the more my gentle God beckoned me. In High School, I was propelled into rebellion for the sake of boundaries and expectations the church had placed on me and my generation, I spiralled for years, unwilling to conform and unable to find others alike.

And so it goes, the phrase of a young, wild rebel who holds no qualification in the realm of church, is called. I have been called since late June 2008 and have fought and cried and begged against it. My poor parents, damaged, abused, lied to and led astray by the confines of The Church and Religion. I'm sure most any other path would have pleased them more then to have a daughter live a life of abandon in the name of a man who was twisted by others and brought only pain and turmoil unto them.

To my parents, friends who I grew up with and those that find their way here- I want to apologize on behalf of those of us who have been deeply moved by the love and spirit of Jesus and refuse to conform to the ways of Religion. I am sorry you have been abused, I am sorry you have been lied to, I am sorry you have been rolled over, ripped off and ransacked. God isn't religion. Jesus came to free us.

God calls the broken, damaged, wounded, lost and says YOU ARE WORTHY. YOU ARE PRECIOUS. YOU ARE GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD! He calls all those who look and are completely unqualified by the world's standards and calls them sons, calls them daughters, believes in them and entrusts them with the hearts and souls of the world.

I still am in a state of rebellion- I will always rebel against religion, conformity, and bondage to a checklist of rules on how to "get into heaven." God isn't religion. Jesus came to free us. But now I have found the greatest way of rebellion, most clearly represented as Jesus Christ's life on earth. And that is to radically love, radically forgive, and to never give up on anyone! There is always gold to be seen, reconciliation to be had and love to be shared.


-Walk in Love

My thoughts about your sexuality.

Who cares? Sincerely, truly and wholeheartedly, who cares about my thoughts on your sexuality?

I sure dont. 

I'm tired of the division between human to human, I'm tired of the ugly language and the hardened hearts, within all spectrums, sides and communities.

But what I do CARE about and what is relevant and important and what I have many thoughts on, is wether or not you know Jesus and have a relationship with God. Mainly because God is bigger then our sexuality and because Jesus didn't come to be divisive, He came to unite. He didn't come to bind, condem and shame but instead He came to free the soul from bondage, from all condemnation and all shame. If I call myself a Christian, a follower of Jesus, light of the world, I can no longer adhere to an ideology that oppresses. I refuse to continue to be apart of a movement that points fingers, puts up walls and labels groups of people without ever entering into personal relationships.

So I'm here to say I don't care about my thoughts or your thoughts, though I do care about YOU and will respect YOU and love YOU regardless. Because that is what Jesus' love and purpose and destiny was all about, love. Reuniting the lost and the hurting with God.

That is what I care about. Love.

Packing up and moving out- how we became REVIVALISTS!

My story is simple.

I didn't always think it so, especially when I thought about my family and the circumstances that have challenged me these past 5 years, words like hard, complicated, exhausting, painful, and confusing came to mind. 

Not simple.

But I'm here to tell you that is exactly what my story is- simple.

Jesus changed my life.

In a simple moment, an act of faith I'm sure of it, 

"Can I pray for you?" She said.

And my life was simply wrecked, rolled, turned upside down.

He came to me and lifted my broken spirit, He took my dry and rotted out bones and breathed life into me. I had searched and searched for a love and tenderness like His, I looked to boyfriends, materialism, social status, food, perfection, body image 

and even to my family but nothing touched the joy I encountered 5 years ago.

The joy that had left me reeling ever since.

 

It is because of that so tangible yet incredibly indescribable love, joy and peace that the decision to dedicate my life to the unordinary, or as some have plainly put it, unorthodox and irresponsible has become so clear and so effortless. My decision is yes, I will go. Send me. 

I want to tell you, with great anticipation, joy, an overwhelming sense of purpose and hope that Tiffany and I will be moving to Maine. 

It started 5 years ago for me, when the day came for me to leave Chop Point, I never knew I was capable of crying so hard, feeling so deeply or even loving people in such a way that I learned to love my first summer in Maine. And that was the beginning and that was the end for me, Maine has always been on the brim of my lips

 It started 4 years ago for Tiffany, my California girl by birth but east coast girl at heart. A cross country road trip with her family sealed her fate as soon as she saw New England's cobblestoned streets, autumn's great landscape, and of course, the Kennebec, which gave way to a new calling in her spirit.

 Our stories crossed in perfect rhythm. Lately, it has become one of my favorites to tell, as it continues to fit the curvature of our ripening destiny.

We met this past summer at Chop Point, Tiffany was the camp cook and I was a camp counselor. It was Tiffany's first summer at Chop Point and it was my long awaited return. Ironically, we probably weren't each others "first picks" but due to ending up in the left over or "surplus" van a couple times, our pickins were slim. Whether we liked it in the beginning or not (for the record I did and Tiffany did not ;P) our friendship flourished throughout days off, giggling in the boat house, long naps  in the sun and our love for Jesus, food and high school kids.

We decided early on that after camp ended I'd pack up my Virginia life and head out to the coast. But as it goes, God had very different plans. I took an internship at a local church in Virginia and Tiffany, a woman full of guts, grace and humility (did I say GUTS?) came out for a visit and discerned God's call for her to make the cross country jump.

 By mid October she had her license, a new car (named Misty, she's blue and was born in 1998) and was settling into the bedroom next to mine. Things didn't seem to slow down, thanks to an incredible guy we met in our bible study named Ian, (who by the way, is a legend but we'll get to him later) we began going to a Saturday evening revival service for young people. To say our hearts were shattered would be a radical understatement. In the span of a few short weeks our souls were being revived, Jesus began to do a new thing in us, for the first time in a very long time the realization of life, love and our time here on earth became clear. We began to live Saturday to Saturday, hungry for more knowledge and teaching, each day was newer then the last.

By early November we received extremely sad news that one of my counselors from when I was a camper had passed away and so we packed up the Kia and headed north.

 Our hearts grieved for our friends and kids who were deeply affected by her passing.

Though while we were there, Holy Spirit began to speak to us in a new way, His direction was so clear it could have been audible. Maine. It had always been Maine. 

Somewhere between the back and forth of spending the little time we had with our teens, it dawned on us. The revelation of what God had done for us and was doing in us. It was Maine, the children of Maine. The promised land. 

The more we prayed the clearer it became. The more we looked around the more we saw Maine everywhere we went. Homesick in our hearts for a people who are longing for freedom, longing to be seen, loved, cherished and called chosen! 

 Unsure of how we'd sustain ourselves in Maine but certain we wanted to see the revival, I shared our dream with a beautiful friend of mine, Grace. Who with wide eyes and the most comforting of smiles told me that there was a guy and there was a new church and there was a dream, SOMEONE HAD THE SAME DREAM, someone loved Maine and it's people and its teenagers and its children and its family and its lost and its broken.

 God is and was and will always be so good and gracious and perfect and loving.

 The next week we met with the youth pastor of The Roar (the local rival we had been chilling at) and he graciously opened his doors to us, welcomed us and gave us the opportunity to grow under his leadership team. He then (this man is amazing) said he would put us in contact with the guys in Maine who were birthing the same movement as The Roar.

In disbelief we nodded and in disbelief we cried, in disbelief our hearts called out and our good, loving Father answered. Softly He whispered all that He was going to entrust to us, that He loved us so desperately and believed in us and in our stories SO much that He was going to birth in us a dream  beyond satisfaction.

 Our original plan was that we'd spend the summer at Chop Point, come home to Virginia in August pack up our things and move back up to Maine by mid to late September at the latest, that was until...

New Years Eve came upon us and God began to speak and stir and do a new thing again. The month March began replaying over and over in my head and God told me March, March will be when you go. So, I rushed through the crowds to find Tiffany, I asked her to pray and ask God when He wanted us to go (I am a skeptical woman). Two hours later, only moments before midnight I asked Tiffany what The Lord had said, and she looked at me, more unsure then I'd ever seen her, and she squinted out the word March.

\

As for now, we continue to wait as God moves and speaks to us about whether we will go March 2014 or March 2015. And in the meantime, Tiffany has decided to learn guitar (Ian and her are going to be worship leaders), she's also picked up knitting (I'm learning too) and Ian has decided to move to Maine with us, he's also in the midst of working on his famous collages and mix tapes. 

We are so thankful for all our family and friends who believe in our dream of LOVE and REVIVAL! 

The expectancy of 2014.

2013 rang in fast and loud, as I stood among 16,000 fellow Urbana attendees. We were singing worship songs in Swahili and I couldn't stop wondering how and why I had found myself at one of the biggest reoccurring missions conferences in the states. At the time, long term missionary work had yet to cross my mind but looking back I now see that it was a carefully thought out miracle and since, (thank God) has become an incredible undercurrent that has continued to push me in the direction of my destiny.

The new year started off and I made my resolutions, all four in a row, like a check list that would come and go:

• Get messy- people rarely have lives that are clean cut and ordinary. Life is messy and loving messy people is extremely challenging. Get involved, be apart, be ok with messy.
• Humble myself. I am so very prideful when it comes to food and taking care of myself- but its about time I humble up and accept the love and help.
• Be. More. Intentional. 
• Take myself less seriously- chill out. 

What I didn't know at the time, was that when we declare things that are true and align with our destiny, God Himself comes in agreement with us and an unbreakable declaration comes evermore into movement and forms life. I had just barely dipped my toes in the alignment of God and things were about to get crazy. 

Shortly after the New Year, I attended a women's conference and the truth and freedom I found within the walls of that beach house began to unwind the suffocating ropes that religion had bound me with. I began to believe in change and freedom in a new way (Jesus came to do a new thing!!!) blinders had been lifted and my self respect and His love for me softly began to point out all the "off" situations and relationships in my life. One of the most wall breaking experiences during this time was the realization of how soft and gentle the Creator of the universe actually is and all those years of shame and self condemnation weren't really a doing of His love but a consequence of a fallen and very rule oriented religion. My heart had been changed and January was its catalyst. I was introduced to the porn industry(if you read my blog regularly, you probably saw the sudden interest), sex trafficking, sexual addictions and false manhood. I became an activist in my home and my community for freedom and awareness. Sadly, yet thankfully in the midst of my journey I discovered I had been in a relationship with a classic candidate for all things "cheater" "porn addict" and "falsified manhood". He had an alternate life full of dark secrets, pain and shame. To say my heart was broken isn't completely true, but to say my self confidence, sense of worth and ability to trust was pulled out from under me would be very accurate. But all things considered and like He ALWAYS does, my God of love and mercy saved me from a lifestyle that would've eventually lead to more bondage and sorrow then I know I could have bore.

In late May,  I went on an amazing and life altering missions trip to Port Au Prince, Haiti where I fulfilled one of my oldest dreams which was to go on a missions trip and visit an orphanage. I am certain that just like Urbana, my family trip to Haiti continues to be an undercurrent that will lead me further into my destiny. Days after my return I boarded my favorite type of plane *which is a plane destined for Maine* where I assumed the long awaited role of Counselor at my favorite place on earth, Chop Point. 

The summer changed me, my girls changed me, my boys changed me. God changed me. I was marked and forever different, deeper wells sprung up in my heart and things became clearer about life. The summer, a season of healing and confrontation of so many of my fears, threw me even faster into the current phase I am wading in. Where finally the Lord has answered my long and tearful plead for a best friend, for a community not driven by religion but by the love of God, for healing within my family and restoration for my heart.

As 2014 dances in, I am on my knees begging that this will be another year of breakthrough and that I will undergo any uncomfort so that I can learn how to:

• Have and unoffendable heart- that no offense would keep me from continuing to love, pursue and press in.
• That I would learn to walk in love, and that would be the only way I know how to move.
• Reconciliation would be a banner to which I continue to always look to and strive for.
• I would tenaciously love - te-na-cious
• not easily stopped or pulled apart : firm or strong
• continuing for a long time 
• very determined to do something
• not flashy
• not impressive
• Be sincere. I want to be a sincere christian. I want all that I do to be of sincerity at the core.

I am expectant of this new year, a new season and a chance for God to do a new thing in me! Thank you to all my devoted friends and family who have waded and continue to wade in the waters of life with me. You are loved far more then you know :) 

yours truly and always warmly, 

I'm not a feminist, I swear. I just really, really love women.

I love my mum, I adore her so very much. I love the way we laugh and how she makes me laugh and all the joy she brings to my life- this post is for my radiant mum, who I have inherited my cheeky mouth from. 

I come empty handed, baring nothing but Your truth and time and time again, it ignites a storm so much greater then I could have ever gathered... 

Legs crossed, elbows to knees, I peer over to the young men eagerly discussing their hopes in a trip to Las Vegas. Full of excitement they exclaim about the girls, you know, the ones who are naked and come in catalogues that you can purchase for an hour or two. Prostitutes. 

My palms begin to sweat. My stomach lurches to protect those women, all women.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" I ask, knowing that this guy has been going steady with his girl for at least 3 years. 

"Uh, yeah but.."

"But what? Do you have a girlfriend or not?" My heart begins to tangle around my most recent conversations with the women in my life. How I desperately try and refute the lies that they so readily believe and how I get it, I get it, I get it, I get why we as women live in so much self condemnation and agony. Partly because we are surrounded by men who are so lost and so broken and don't know the first thing about respect, and the other is we don't know how to accept true, pure and selfless love.

He barely notices my point, my meager attempt to defend the woman he so carelessly calls lover-

"Yeah but Vanessa's cool, you know..." Laughing off the awkwardness with his buddy, I sit wide eyed, I can't stop looking at them. I want to scream.

And as I think about the evening I still want to scream and it makes no sense in my mind to continue writing out the awful conversation or the disrespectful and misogynistic things that were spoken that evening. But it was horrific and disgusting and every single man that sat in that basement fell so short of honor, integrity, respect and courage that if they ever so thought to consider themselves 'real men' I would have gladly taken on the duty of informing them otherwise. Because a real man delights in respecting women and those around him. A real man honors and builds up others, he does not tear them down. A real man has enough courage to stand up and defend, to love sacrificially and admit when he has been wrong.

To my mother and my grandmothers and my aunts and the sisters in my life, my dear girl friends and young girls who are rising up to be women, YOU are worth so much more then the single-mindedness that an offensively large percentage of men hold- YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL in everything that you are. You deserve to be pursued, sought after and won over. You, a beautiful daughter of God deserve a man who is willing and ready to lay down is own life for you. You deserve better, you deserve more, you deserve wholeness and to be lifted up. You deserve laughter and tender care, moments filled with such pure love it makes your soul ache with happiness. 

Dear friends, do not go another day believing the broken theology of man- do not compare yourselves to the women who are sculpted from plastic. But instead ache for them and note that anyone who hates themselves so much they must become but a shadow of the masterpiece they once were, is hungry for the same thing you are. LOVE. Unconditional, radical, life altering LOVE. We all want to be accepted, to be told we are special and that we are loved by someone, anyone- so let us start now. Lets stop talking poorly about each others appearances, always comparing but instead realize that we are the movement of change. We apart of the movement that will heal a generation.

One of my favorite stories from the bible is when a woman caught sleeping with a man that wasn't her husband is dragged from the place she was and thrown at the foot of Jesus. The whole town watching, chanting for her demise- she lay there naked, ashamed, broken, embarrassed and abused. Desperately wanting to be loved and accepted, to find worth and wholeness in a culture that labeled her as an object of conquest.  But instead of throwing religious law at her, stoning her to death or reprimanding her, Jesus looked to her and found in her a beauty that took his breath away, a radiance that was unmistakable and a perfection that only God could create- he saw the cry of her heart. 

I wonder what our world would look like if we stopped to listen to the cry of the hearts around us. I myself am nothing like Christ, nowhere as forgiving, loving or wonderful, but lately I have tried to stop and listen to the cry of my sisters' hearts. What I feared I would hear and what resounds among all, are deep seeded lies, lies rooted in self worth, image, belonging, and love. How desperate my soul is for truth, revival and change. How desperate we all are for someone to hear us and assure us of our worth and purpose.

In these trying times of brokenness, I am ever grateful to know so unwaveringly the love my God has for me and EVERY SINGLE person on this planet, even the guys I began my post off with.


to be continued..

Lord knows I'm ready: more on porn, sex and lies.

I could crumble up and cry for days, soak in the pain that is seemingly ever-present
Fold into myself and try to whisper away the haunting reality of the world we live in
or maybe I could scream, running ramped through the streets begging for freedom for my brothers, freedom for my sisters.

I'd say my thoughts about sex and sexual encounters became skewed when I was 15. Darkness swept over me and silenced any cry of confusion my heart had- I was in a man's world, playing by man's rules. That was how it was for us, stumbling around trying to make sense of self worth and fitting in. A neighboring High School had a homemade club called the "Whore Four," I'm sure you can guess the requirements and how any school within 10 miles knew their names. Our school thought it would be cool too, and came up with a similar one, "P*ssy Posse," was their name. I tell you this because it was normal for my peers and I- we grew up in the dawn of sexting, dirty images flew about on our flip phones with grainy cameras. And this was just the beginning, sex tapes and threesomes riddled the hallways of my school and of course anyone who wanted a boyfriend had the hovering pressure and expectancy to be "experienced." Looking back, High School was really scary and confusing- no one talked to me about healthy sexuality or expectations. Of course my parents regulated what shirts showed too much cleavage and I was never allowed to wear high heels- there were unspoken "rules" or expectations, like don't sleep around or get a bad reputation. But we never talked about secret things, or when it was expectable to enter into an "intimate" relationship. I don't write any of this to slam my parents, that is not the case at all, navigating parenthood and teen years I can only imagine is a haul but I know that if I lived it, I can assume there are so many of you, too, who stumbled around when it came time to face the pressures of our hyper-sexualized world.

So what do we do with all that?  How do we send our pre-teens and teens off into a world that only 5 years later runs rapid with even more lies? Where do we truly begin to embark on the journey that leads to empowerment over oppression?

I recently read a blog post (which was the catalyst for my post) by one of my beloved teenagers, very courageously he wrote about his struggle with pornography and the pain it left him with, the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and bondage. Weeping over his struggle and filled with a similar sense of hopelessness, I wonder and pray desperately for a generation corrupted by lies. Not only lies about sex but lies about WHO we are, lies about our value in this world and how much we are or aren't loved. 

You are worthy despite what anyone has told you- you are WHOLE. You are perfect and you are loved by perfect love. You are not hopeless, you are not destined to live in darkness or evil. God only wants to love you endlessly, fully. His favorite thing is to redeem us, to make us new all over again. You are worthy, you are worthy, so very worthy. 

Every week as I stand in line at the grocery store I fight the urge to let the lies take hold, while I channel surf, when I check my facebook, as I squash fat at the gym, the lies are always there inch-worming their way back and forth. And I fear its because there isn't enough dialogue in our day to day lives about insecurities, sexuality, struggles, pornography, addiction and self hate.  These things are targeting and torturing a subgroup of our population- wrecking their confidence and leaving them hopeless for death and numb on whatever gratifies them quickest.

I want to keep the door for this dialogue open, I want to keep talking about porn and self image because asking God to heal us or take away our thoughts isn't going to be what changes us- Its praying for accountability, for support, for the ability to be truly honest and face our fears, our demons, our pain. What will change our hearts and our lives is Jesus' sweet love and the help of a dedicated and determined community, ready to battle every last lie.

Lets do something that should of been done for us- lets talk, lets cry, lets dig up the bitter roots of deceit. Lord knows I'm so ready.  Are you?

Soccer Mum (in training): love is waiting.

While reading quietly to myself I was interrupted with... 
7 year old girl- "uh.. Do you even have a boyfriend?" 
Me- *nervous laugh* "no."
7 year old girl- "uh... um.. Why not? Aren't people your age supposed to have boyfriends by now?"
Me- "Well..you see.."
7 year old girl- "I mean, can't you just go ask some guy?"
Me- "Well uh.."
7 year old girl- "Jeeze it's not that hard... Just go ask SOMEONE, ANYONE!" *sighs and walks off*
5 year old boy- "at-least you're wearing cute jeans."
Me- ...

Three weeks later- 

It's my 5 year old's first day of soccer practice, so naturally I drop him off and find a sliver of shade to hide under while I wait for evening to come. The sun is warm and there are so many kindergarteners running around, laughing and learning how to properly handle a ball. I'm wrapping up a phone conversation with a mom about house sitting, stories from the week and what activities her girls are up to when I see the cutest 3 year old eye me up and down. We begin tossing back smiles until he cant stand it any longer and crawls right up to me, just then my 5 year old rushes back for a water break and gives me a big wet kiss on the lips. 

"Is that your brother?" I look up to find the grandmother of my new little friend peering at me with some confusion. 
"No, I'm his babysitter."
"Oh ok, I thought you must be too young to be a mother."
"At the moment yes, but I hope to be one soon!" 
"mhmm... do you have a guy to go with?"

here we go again.

"*nervous laugh* uh, no."
"Well, you're sure not gonna find a man round here! Where else do you work?"
"At a church in fairfax."
the woman nearly explodes with laughter
"Sweet thing, you need to hang out with me, I'll show you around, help you out."

Turns out older women and young children are eager to give advice and offer generous help when it comes to my personal life. I must be (or my ovaries) omitting off signs of being highly incapable of preforming such tasks, so thank goodness the faithful and duty oriented folks have come to my aid. 

In the midst of the humorous irony,  I'm thankful for soccer practice and conversations with grandma's on the sidelines- and for the record, I am pretty sure I was created with the sole purpose of being a soccer mum. The get up got me going and I was in complete bliss.  Some people could wait a lifetime but I can NOT wait for the day I have a handful of my own just for the sake of sloppy kisses and life advice. 

But the whole context of the situation got me thinking deeper then just my biological needs to reproduce- I have lots of thoughts on marriage (which I'll save for another post) and have heard many success stories and many failed ones too. I have watched parents get lost in the craziness that is parenting, become overwhelmed with marriages burdened by the pile up of daily stress and I've also seen the grace it takes to orchestrate amidst the chaos. I find myself in a unique place, an opportunity if you will, living in singleness, living amongst children and also walking life with teens. There is SO much to be learned on my end, I almost feel like a gleaning gluton as I take in all of the experiences. Its exciting really, that while I patiently wait for not only a extraordinary man but for my future children as well, I am learning the "do's and don'ts", what healthy relationships/communication/parenting looks like and how I can be the best I possibly can be for my future family. 

Makes the waiting less daunting and my empty belly less painful! :)