100 years!

I was going to write another blog post about poverty, but that can wait, because today is a celebration and I have a more interesting story to tell at the moment.... 

100 years ago in Tennessee, a beautiful little baby girl was born into the world who would shape the lives of everyone she ever interacted with or met.  This little girl grew up in a large family, lost both parents early on, worked as a secretary with the FBI to support her siblings, and was an all around classy and clever young woman.    

74 years ago, on her 26th birthday, this amazing woman married an equally good-looking man who loved her dearly.  Her husband went to war, survived the war, and returned to have a little family in Texas.  She raised this little family with grace and love, knowing that she walked steadily and confidently with Jesus.

Although she wasn't perfect and experienced much loss in her life, she only grew stronger and more beautiful with each passing year.  She had incredible, quiet, resilient faith that sustained her through each day.  She was not college educated, but was one of the smartest, most well-read people.  Dog-eared, penciled-in copies of the Bible, Chekhov, and Tolstoy never sat far from her, even up into her 90s.  She wrote poetry, regaled her family members and strangers with fascinating stories from her childhood in the South, and genuinely listened to others.  On the outside she was also elegant and put together--she and my grandfather played tennis every day until they were 88, and her hair was still quite dark even into her ninth decade.  She was not a flashy woman, but had a calm, quiet grace and joy that drew people to her like a magnet.    

5 years ago this gorgeous woman, inside and out, turned 95!  She was still extremely sharp, bright, funny, kind, and loving.  She had a small surgery on her birthday and then passed away a few days later after being in a coma, leaving nearly a century of love and light in her wake. 

This unique, amazing woman was my grandmother, Evelyn.  

When she died, I was living in the middle of China, thousands of miles away.  When I heard she was slipping away from this world, all I could do was crumple to the ground of my little bedroom, sobbing for hours.  Never before had I felt so sad and broken as one of my closest, dearest friends on earth was leaving us for the glory of heaven.  I had been blessed to live so close to her in Kansas most of my life, able to visit her several times a week throughout high school and during summers in college.

Oh, I just wanted to hold her thin, beautiful hand one more time.  Hug her one more time.  Laugh with her one more time.  Watch her smile delightedly one more time.  See her eyes sparkle with joy one more time.  Gain more words of wisdom from her one more time.  Listen to her captivating descriptions of birds and plants and nature one more time... Just. one. more. time.

I mourned.  I wanted to post a big portrait of her outside my apartment and blare somber funeral music for days like the Chinese grieving the loss of their loved ones.  I wanted to scream if one more Chinese friend told me to just keep smiling.  I wanted to be by her side like the rest of my family as she stepped into Jesus' presence.  

But then I remembered how it was her own sense of adventure, love for life and other people, never-ending perseverance, eternal optimism, and perpetual encouragement that helped bring me to China in the first place.  As I grew up she became one of my best friends--we could talk about anything and everything.  She was my champion, but she also graciously taught me that life actually didn't revolve around me, even if I was cute and talented.  My grandmother pointed me to something far greater than myself-- to Christ.  And she displayed how life was only worth living if lived for our neighbors, friends, family, and strangers.

So today I wish Grandma a happy 100th birthday!  Thank you, dearest Grandma, for being such an amazing example for all of us.  I look forward to hugging you and laughing with you again very soon in heaven!    

In closing, here is a link to the original letter I wrote to her 5 years ago.    

Today Andrea bought flowers in honor of Grandma on the East Coast, while I covered the West Coast!

Grandma's engagement picture. 

The happy couple.  

Her famous laugh.

 

The stellar tennis stars.

I miss them! 

Oaklandish Living

Oakland grows on me a bit more each day.  It is just a short hop, skip, and a jump across the bay to San Francisco, but it might as well as be a different world.  San Francisco is cultured, but still pretty white and yuppy, while Oakland is also incredibly diverse, but primarily African-American, Hispanic, and poor.  San Francisco is twice as expensive as Oakland and twice as safe.  It is probably twice as crowded too.  San Francisco is known as "the city," while Oakland is just Oakland, and most people who work here don't live here.  San Francisco is about twice as well off as Oakland with some pretty swanky areas.  It is probably as twice as clean as Oakland too.

But despite being known as San Francisco's cast-off step-child, Oaklanders have immense pride in their city, and rightly so.  Does that include me now too?  I am registered to vote here, registered my car here, and have a California driver's license.  For better or worse, Oakland is now my city and home. 

Each morning I stumble out my door in my quiet, sleepy neighborhood and climb into my car for the relatively short drive into downtown for work.  I am surrounded by windy, narrow roads, and trees--gorgeous pines, oaks, and eucalyptus that you can smell even through the closed car windows.  It is nearly 10 degrees cooler up in the hills in comparison to the flatlands below.  After about half a mile, I crest a hill where there is a view of the entire Bay Area that still nearly takes my breath away.  Spread out before you, you can see Oakland in all its grit and grandeur, while San Francisco with its skyscrapers and misty hills stands in close proximity.

I wend my way down out of the hills which takes a good two miles.  Then I squeeze my little car into a nonexistent empty space in all the traffic on the highway and cruise right on into town.  As I drive, the scenery grows increasingly urban and congested.  I bounce along over all the potholes, under several freeway bridges, and onto the edge of downtown.  Oakland is already in full swing by this point.  You see fresh piles of rubbish and amazingly artistic graffiti "tags" in some very creative places.  Homeless individuals are already perched alongside the traffic lights with their signs.  Signs for Korean groceries, African-American wigs, and cash advances all compete for attention in a variety of languages.  I cautiously drive toward my usual parking garage, making sure to stay alert as people wander out into the middle of traffic carrying an assortment of canes, scooters, grocery carts, children, bags of clothing, etc.  Having to be super vigilant so early in the morning really wakes you up fast!

Then I cruise into the parking garage with my monthly pass and wave to the attendant.  After parking, I hurry out of my car, since I'm always on the verge of not being on time.  I walk past a center for the blind, empty storefronts, the gorgeous art-deco Paramount Theater that is still in use, and to the busy corner next to our office building that has a light rail station.  That street corner is a blur of color and activity.  About twice a month, you can see dozens of people of every color and nationality clutching little American flags on their way to citizenship ceremonies at the theater.  Cars speed by, buses rumble past, and bicycles speed along.  Everyone is going somewhere.

After waiting at the corner for the walk signal, I join a small crowd of people surging through the crosswalk.  I walk past construction workers, businessmen, fashionable girls in trendy clothes, the poorest of the poor, and everyone talking on their smartphones.  Then I reach the boxy black building from1968 that is home to my office.  I walk through the door, grab a free newspaper from the lobby of the Oakland Tribune, say good morning to the security guard, glide up the elevator, and rattle around my purse trying to find the key to get me into the office.  And I'm at work!  Just like that.  I'm exhausted just writing this!

Oakland was once a grand city, especially in the 1920s and 1930s.  Most of the buildings and apartments are art-deco.  Some have been restored, some look like they might give up any day.  The landscape of the city is so unique, but so are the people. Some folks will chat all day with you, but others can be downright mean.  Each day and conversation is different.

Here are some of the most memorable characters I have interacted with over the past week:

-Smog check man. He probably wins the award for colorful.  I took my car into a tiny neighborhood smog check place to get the required testing and certification the state requires.  It was in the middle of a neighborhood that doubles as both Chinese retirement community and urban jungle for not very well off residents.  One man who was there getting a smog check also happens to own his own car repair place.  He was about 40, wore a mechanics uniform, very nice shoes, a gold chain necklace, and gold sunglasses.  He had brought in his 1994 gold Lexus, which he assured me was only one of five cars he owns.  Of course he wanted to chat with me for a good half hour about everything under the sun.  As the Middle Eastern man conducted the eternally long smog test on my car in the concrete, cobwebby garage, my new gold chain necklace friend was very chatty.  As we nearly choked on car exhaustion, elderly Chinese people hobbled by the open garage door in an endless stream, and my friend told me all about his life, how he loves to eat lobster, wants to take me to lunch and dinner that day, wants to also show me the San Jose flea market, and how he cleans up really nicely.  He was also so impressed that I drove a manual.  Somehow I managed to escape without committing to a date or getting the hug he offered.  And I passed the smog check!

-Bhutanese refugees. A couple of my friends have been very active in the Bhutanese/Nepalese refugee community, which is still quite small in the U.S.  They knit with some of the women, sell their handiwork online, and work with the church plant among their community.  These joyful people come from some of the most closed and isolated countries in the world.  They have fled political and/or religious persecution.  Last night I tagged along with my friends to the Bhutanese music night, which was a social gathering in Oakland of the Bhutanese community.  I have never been around anyone from this remote mountain nation.  Elderly men and women were dressed warmly in colorful hats and scarves.  Young women were dressed in gorgeous, traditional hand-made dresses of reds, yellows, and greens.  Young men who have probably only recently entered Western culture, wore jeans, plaid shirts, and gelled up hair.  Little children in a mish-mash of traditional and American clothes ran wild around the Elks lodge that had been built by old white men in the 1800s.  The entertainment for the evening included a ceremony honoring the elderly people, which was very touching, and series of performances of Bhutanese dances, rock music, and singing.  We ate rice and some really great Bhutanese food consisting of meat still on the bone and super spicy potatoes.  I sat at a table of petite women and girls who thrust their squirming baby toward me, and I was able to prevent him from falling off the table head first.  I definitely think I found some friends.  Although my own country can frustrate me so often, it was a delight to be among people who had found freedom for the first time in their lives.            

-Eager Chinese college students. On Tuesday my coworker and I jumped on the light rail and headed deeper into Oakland.  We found our way to a college classroom filled with accounting students, most of them straight from China.  We made a presentation about volunteering with our free tax preparation program for low-income individuals and families across the Bay Area.  My heart swelled as I stood near the chalkboard in the sweltering classroom looking out over the sea of Asian faces.  Their enthusiasm, level of English, and clothing reminded me of my sweet students in China.  Practically all of them waved their hands eagerly in the air when I asked if any of them were interested in volunteering as tax preparers or interpreters.  Student after student peppered us with questions.  It reminded me of my love for Asia and also how much I enjoy my job here.

Last Sunday I was talking to the pastor of the church I've been going to.  He and his wife left their comfortable lives in an Atlanta mega church about a decade ago to plant churches in Oakland.  They had started praying about where to go when they were sitting on the couch of their nice suburban house in Georgia one evening.  He said, "Do you hear that sound?  That sound is my soul slowly dying."  So they prayed, met with other church leaders and even Tim Keller in New York City, and believed they were called to the Bay Area, which is probably the greatest unchurched area in the U.S.  Their obvious love for these people encouraged me in my own love, which I know is only possible because of Christ.      

Oh, and I experienced my first newsworthy earthquake--a 3.1!  Guess that is my real initiation into the Oakland culture...    
          

Shiny San Francisco from my perch at a community fair.

I didn't take this picture, but this is pretty much the view of Oakland I have when driving to work.

So... the Bhutanese party was supposed to start at 5, which is when we arrived.  All 300 other people showed up at 7 p.m.  At least the Elk statue kept us company...

Partying Bhutanese style.

Wishing the Bhutanese elders long life and good health. 

Epicenter

Each time I want to write a blog post, I get sidetracked or give up.  There are either too many or not enough words in my head.  I am trying to stay engaged, while learning how to work and live in such a brand new place with brand new people.  That means there are plenty of ups and downs.

Someone remarked that Oakland has a split personality, which seems to desribe this city quite well.  It can be the most frustrating and remarkable city filled with the most frustrating and remarkable people.  Oakland is a city of paradoxes and cannot fit in to any box, which I really want to do.  Why, Oakland?  Why are you the way you are?  In addition, to having a split personality, Oakland has physical and cultural earthquakes.  From what I've gathered, Oakland and the Bay Area seem to be at the epicenter in issues of race, poverty, and religion... the effects radiate out to the other parts of California and the country.   

Oakland has been voted as the 3rd unfriendliest place in the world--just behind Newark and Islamabad apparently.  It is indeed an unfriendly place--people are stressed, densely packed in, and from so many different cultures and backgrounds that don't really trust each other.  But I've also met some incredibly kind strangers, neighbors, and new friends in unexpected ways who are welcoming even to this foreign Midwesterner.  Sure, people may look at me with wariness or even angry glares when I say "good morning" in the elevator, but at least you don't have to worry about small talk or millions of people asking, "How are you?" when they probably don't really care.  And sure, a man snickered when I mistakenly said "howdy," instead of "hello," but it helps build my character knowing that only God's viewpoint really matters.  I've also noticed that people are the friendliest on the hiking trails and out in nature.    

Oakland is an impoverished place, especially due to generational poverty and low education levels among most of the native Oaklanders.  There are homeless individuals on nearly every street corner, with countless people walking around very nearly in rags.  However, at the same time, you also see overwhelming displays of wealth in the form of multi-million dollar mansions, luxury cars, and designer clothes.  (In case you were wondering, I don't fit into either category).  Many parts of the city are filled with unbelievable urban blight and graffiti (in our meetings, we ponder how someone managed to tag a building with spray paint on the side of the ancient Sears building, a few stories up), but then there are also parks filled with some of the most gorgeous scenery I've ever seen.  It is filled with racial tension (mostly black-white), but the diversity is also one of its strong points. A small house church I've been going to has recently helped plant churches for Nepali and Bhutanese refugees, which are some of the most difficult countries in the world to evangelize.  Yet, here they are walking among us!  And I can enjoy food from nearly every nation on the planet within a five block radius downtown.  

In regard to violent crime, most of those descriptions are unfortunately true.  Last Friday afternoon during work just down the corner from our office, two men were engaged in a shootout in broad daylight in front of the Marriott Hotel (and only 2 blocks from the police station!).  A bystander was injured, and police were unable to respond to the scene or find the guys, because they're so understaffed.  Many of the nicer neighborhoods hire private security to patrol their streets, while the Chase bank I've been to encases its tellers in two-inch thick, bullet-proof glass.  It all sort of boggles your mind.  Oakland has one police officer for every 638 residents, while even other notorious cities like Detroit have one officer to every 235 residents.  The U.S. Department of Justice just announced a grant to help Oakland hire 10 more officers to help fill the gap in the additional 300 officers the police department needs.  I've lived in urban areas with their share of crime, but Oakland takes it to a new level.  It's definitely a different world here--like the Wild West, 21st century re-mix.

Overall, life has been a little difficult lately.  It's hard to envision how I can build a life here--it's so expensive, crowded, and a little lonely.  I'm meeting lots of people, but nobody yet really knows who I am or where I've been.  I don't really know anyone or where they've been.  People tell me not to be out after dark as a female or because my skin is white.  Why do I feel drawn to crazy places like Norfolk, Nanchang, and now Oakland?  Why couldn't I be content in sleepy, safe Indiana?  How can one place make me so happy, sad, angry, and hopeful?  I don't understand and don't think I'm necessarily supposed to understand... I think it will just take time for this place to become home. 

Like always, I thrive in challenging places and situations.  I get to remember my street smarts, relationship-building skills, and ability to adapt-- all characteristics that I have allowed to get rusty.  I have a great job, a safe place to live, and food in my stomach.  Life will be hard for a while or maybe forever, but I am a child of God, and there is a reason I beat out all those other competitors for this job that brought me here.  I really enjoy my job, co-workers, outdoorsy opportunities, dining options, and sunshine.  Please pray that I will find a fellowship to call home--that is proving to be one of the most difficult parts of this transition.  And please pray that I will have plenty of love and grace for the people around me.           

My prayer for Oakland is:

"You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more."  Psalm 10:16-18.

 Checking out the new and old Bay Bridge with new friends.

Hiking at the Redwood Regional Park with my neighbors.

 Can you spell f-o-g? 

California girl

Apparently I'm living the American dream--I live in Oakland in the San Francisco Bay Area.  This city has been designated as being one of the most expensive, dangerous, and unfriendliest cities in the world.  I hit the jackpot!  Really I did...

The Bay Area is...colorful, crowded, loud, gritty, beautiful, diverse, and sunny.  Before arriving here a couple of weeks ago, I had never set foot in northern California.  Living in California had never crossed my mind.  I was much likelier to live in a foreign country than here.  I only knew what I had heard--California is a land filled with liberals, hippies, and self-centered people who drive Priuses.  Life is expensive, highly regulated by the government, and lived without God.

Yes, those descriptions are true in many ways, but there's also more to the story, as I am slowly discovering.  I've met incredibly genuine co-workers, neighbors, and strangers.  The streets are a mix of so many nations and languages-- all I can do is picture heaven and the nations gathered around Christ's throne.  The area is filled with growing churches, amazing natural scenery, incredible restaurants, and creative citizens.

One word that jumps to mind every day, however, is scarcity--a result of millions of people competing for limited resources in a tiny geographical area.  There isn't enough water, housing, transportation options, or space for everyone.  That's why over 30 people must compete for one apartment, why I was put on the waiting list at number 1,792 for a parking spot at the nearby light rail station (which means I'd get a spot in, oh, about 90 years), why plastic bags are nearly nonexistent at stores, why I live on top of a mountainous hill that is perpetually at high risk for fires (and where 25 people perished in the 1990s), why my rent is $1200/mo. for a 350 sq. ft. studio apartment, why tempers boil over into riots and looting (really), why poverty is rampant, and why my job is even necessary in the first place.

But in the face of scarcity comes a unique community.  On one city block I can see African Americans, elderly people who look like they walked right off the streets of China, Middle Eastern women in veils, stylish Europeans, people who dress like it's still the 1960s, and hipsters wearing cool sunglasses I've only seen in magazines.  People bike, walk, and take public transit.  They shop at farmer's markets and go hiking on the weekend.  They live in old, tiny, art-deco apartments.  They create community gardens in vacant lots next to the rubble of run-down buildings.  They speak so many languages!  They are able to spray paint graffiti in the most seemingly impossible to reach places.      

So I don't know if I can or will want to ever be a "California girl."  It's too expensive!  But for now, I'm settling in nicely, thriving in my job so far, and engaging in a culture far different than any other I've ever known.  It will be a challenge living here, but I know that I do best with challenges, so I am happy...

One last glimpse of Kansas sunflowers on the amazing 1800 mile drive out West with Mom!

 Some of Wyoming.  Smallest state population in the country and I understand why...

The Great Salt Lake in Utah.  Nevada doesn't deserve any pictures, unfortunately.

Driving on the nearly 80 year old Bay Bridge to San Francisco, just days before they permanently closed it and opened up a replacement.

 Pretty trails near where I live in northern Oakland.

Not a bad view of the Bay from my neighborhood!

The cutest little library that ever existed.  This is located about a mile hike down from my house.  I already got a library card and think I will probably read everything in this tiny place in only about 2 months.

Just a little bit of what I see from my office window in Oakland.  I don't know where all the people and cars were when I took this...

View in the morning from the San Francisco office.

San Francisco's Chinatown smells just like China!

Next steps

There was a time when I blogged at least twice a week.  Now I'm just a less wordy person or not as many noteworthy things are happening.  However, after not writing for a month, this post is long overdue!

The latest news is that I'm packing up my life (once again) and moving to the West Coast!  I've lived in the Midwest, East Coast, and Asia, so why not try the strange, foreign land of northern California?  My job ended on July 19th, and I've been searching for a new job since May.  In this crazy economy, I've been blessed with a great job with a nonprofit in the Bay Area.

I start in about a week, which means I need to drive out there ASAP.  I've spent the past ten days traveling to see East Coast family-- Andrea in Daytona Beach and grandparents in Rochester.  I love them all so dearly, and enjoyed laughing, crying, and just being with them.  Now I have one day at home before Mom and I start the four day/1,800 mile drive to California.  I honestly don't know what's ahead or what will happen, but I'm looking forward to the opportunity to live in a big city again, to experience diversity once again, to be challenged once again, and to make new friends once again.  Thank you for your prayers and encouragement in this next season of life!    

And a couple of weeks ago I was cleaning out some boxes and found a sealed envelope written by Laura to Laura.  It was dated April 24, 2010 and I was to open it a year later back in the States.  Well, I was a couple of years late in opening it, but the words were still timely...  I will spare you the whole long letter, but here are a few excerpts:

"Letter to myself-

It is a beautiful, sunny spring day in Nanchang, China.  Our sisters, "R" and "C," are here with Jodi and me having our weekly Saturday morning study.  They are some the dearest people to me in the world.  I know as you're reading this a year later [or three!], that life is much different.  Maybe you're in your second semester at Indiana?  Even if you aren't, I know that you're in the palm of His hand wherever you are and whatever you're doing.

I have been in China for nearly 2 years now.  I have never experienced such an amazing and frustrating place.  I have witnessed so much joy, happiness, and freedom in my heart and in the hearts of others.  It has been one of the biggest privileges and joys of my life to see God calling people to Him and to see people follow Him faithfully.  I have seen Him transform so many lives and hearts--including mine!  He has been peeling away the bitterness, impatience, selfishness, hurt, and evil that has a home in my heart.  It is painful, but I trust that it is for my good and for His glory...

Laura, whatever is going on in your life right now, just continue to trust in Him and love Him!  Be steadfast in spirit.  I can anticipate that living in America again will probably be an enormous challenge.  If times are good, remember to thank Him and praise Him always!  Be generous and kind because of Christ.  Love others even when you don't want to.  Meet new people, get to know some international students, be involved with a fellowship, and be a light!  Don't take life too seriously.  Try for excellence, but not perfection.  Remember the great friends you had in China, but it's also okay to make new memories where you're at in life right now.  Count your days and remember that tomorrow is not promised.  And if things are discouraging and difficult, throw your cares at His feet!  He loves you and cares for you and knows you.  Nobody else or nothing else can ever satisfy like He can.

I have a feeling that your faith will be challenged--maybe even more than in communist China-- and I want you to remember that God is the only answer and Jesus is the only way.  Don't let the enemy feed lies to you.  Remember God's promises and goodness and renounce the enemy in Jesus' name.  Take heart.  Be accountable to others and read the Word daily.  Be refreshed and restored in His presence.  Persevere and stand firm in your faith.  You are free in Christ and nobody can ever take away your security and identity in Christ."

And so, folks, I hope those words from 23 year old Laura can also encourage you, as you seek to keep your sights fixed on Him!

Lastly, here are a small handful of pictures from the past wonderful couple of weeks in Florida and New York:

Andrea and I spent many happy hours swimming...

...and playing tennis.  I'll miss her so much!  She is a delight.

Also hung out with my most delightful 90 year old grandpa and 84 year old grandma!

A gorgeous day kayaking with my cousin on the Erie Canal in Fairport.

27 Candles

I’m 27.  TWENTY-SEVEN years old!  How can I still feel like I’m a 19 year old living in 2006?  Aren’t people usually married by now?  Have a handful of kids?  Have a career?  Have a smart phone at least?  Well, I guess God has different paths for different people.  And 27 is the new 17 anyway.  Actually, I hope not.  I do not need to be 17 again—with blonde highlights and awkward prom dates.  I prefer my more natural, confident 27 year old self, although I do still go on awkward dates sometimes.  And I don’t really mind growing older and wiser—that means I am just one step closer to heaven. 

Okay, the past couple of weeks have been filled with plenty of ups and downs.  I’ve interviewed for jobs, packed up to leave Bloomington forever in just a few days, had to move out of my apartment into a friend’s, visited some friends in gorgeous Michigan, have been locked out of my email account for a week, started to wrap up my current job here, and said many goodbyes to many dear friends.  I’m looking forward to the future with anticipation, but also just sort of shaking my head dizzily from how fast life has gone. 

Leaving Bloomington is rather bittersweet.  I’ve had some of my best and worst memories here.  I’ve made some of my best accomplishments and biggest mistakes here.  Three years ago I arrived in Bloomington to attend graduate school, without any idea of what the future would hold.  I applied to school while in China, had never visited the city, and didn’t know a soul.  Yet I remember nearly crying for thankfulness when I was pleasantly surprised by an awesome church, awesome people, and an awesome community.  I gained a master’s degree, learned to be more authentic, loved others well, and truly had my faith refined by God.  I hope that this city and people have been made slightly better off because I was here—I know I have grown in too many ways to count.

“All of us have had that veil removed so that we can be mirrors that brightly reflect the glory of the Lord. And as the Spirit of the Lord works within us, we become more and more like Him and reflect His glory even more.” ~2 Corinthians 3:18.   

So I say goodbye to Bloomington.  Goodbye to genuine friends.  A beloved Christian community.  Pretty trees.  Great restaurants.  Connections in the government and nonprofit world.  Mild weather.  Hiking trails.  A nice little city newspaper.  International students.  Compassionate citizens.  Low crime.  Small town living.  Ballet classes and tennis games.

I also say goodbye to my 26^th year.  Goodbye to a challenging and humbling year.  My mid-20s.  The hospital.  Physical pain and scars.  Mental pain and scars.  Fear and anxiety.  My first truly full-time, professional job.   

And I say hello!  Hello to life as a wiser 27 year old in a yet-to-be-determined location and job.  Hello to new adventures, friends, experiences, and memories.  I am still young and I am “Laura the Brave,” as a couple of my friends have said.  I never believed them, but am slowly starting to think it’s true.  I’m brave because of Christ.  I’m brave because of my family and friends.  I’m brave because you just have to be brave in order to keep moving forward...   

Change is in the air

At times during the winter, I was pretty sure life in Bloomington would just keep going on and on forever.  I would work hard at my job, attend small group Bible study, listen to my roommate practicing her viola, laugh and play with friends, cook simple meals, tentatively grow stronger physically and mentally, and always remain 26.  Now it seems that this existence of contentment is slowly fading.  Change is coming.

I'm not adverse to change--change is a part of my life, and usually I embrace it.  Lately, however, I feel a sense of loss.  Some of my closest, dearest friends in the whole world have recently packed up and headed elsewhere, even my roommate.  I, too, shall soon be moving elsewhere.  Sure, now I have more free time that can be spent applying for jobs, etc., but life seems quieter and less risky and colorful.  I thrive being around people, and now that I've had more than 5 minutes to myself over the past 2 days, my mind can start wandering to a million different thoughts.  Like what on earth am I really doing with my life?  Or thinking that 26 still seems so young.  Then a split second later thinking that 26 is extremely old.  Or dreaming about having an awesome studio apartment in San Francisco... or Prague... or Shanghai.     

So to break things up, I'm still trying to have little adventures for the remaining month I have here.  I continue to play tennis with friends and even random, handsome strangers I meet at Bryan Park.  And now that I have more quiet time, I try to fill my empty thoughts with prayers.  I pray for all those dear friends scattered in different directions, my mom's challenging and meaningful work, this crazy country, conversations with coworkers, and peace for all that has happened in the past year.  And now I even have time for novels!    

I've also started biking a bit again. This past week I rode my bike a couple of times across town to work.  It takes about 20 minutes.  With gas at $4.25 early last week, I decided it was time to enjoy the nice weather and pedal myself all the way to office.  It has been fun--minus the parts where I arrive at work all disheveled with helmet hair, or where drivers can't really see you in their early morning daze, or where you can't really time your arrival to work and end up either 15 minutes too early or late.

In other news, I'm still volunteering visiting my elderly friend.  Today's conversation centered on tennis.  I only try to bring up topics that I know I will somewhat enjoy, since we will talk in circles about that topic forever because of her dementia.  So tennis is a doable topic.  Topics that are not doable to me include cats, boyfriends, and more cats.    
 

Farewell!  All of these dear friends have now headed to all corners of the U.S.

Prairie Vacationing

I've been taking tennis lessons all month, and loving it. When I fall asleep I dream of backhands and volleys and overheads. Yesterday at 4 a.m., my alarm woke me from my happy dreams of tennis matches, and I jumped out of bed (well, maybe slowly rolled out), and headed to the Indianapolis airport. As I drove along the winding roads on the hour-long trip north, I was brimming with anticipation. I was going home after nearly a year!

Our plane touched down in Kansas City just about as the sun was coming up. I strode through the plane's exit door with my spindly long legs that were expecting the heat of the Great Plains. Instead it was pretty chilly for this time of year! Nevertheless, I kept onward. I left the gate area, expecting my mom to run and hug me. But there was not a single soul waiting for anyone. Nevertheless, I kept onward. I walked outside of the terminal, shivering. My mom called to say she would be there in 15 minutes. Nevertheless, I kept onward. It was barely dawn, after all.

She arrived after a few minutes, and we drove home to Topeka. I've always loved that homecoming drive--when I returned on breaks during college, when I came back after China, and even now. As we drive west, the view is pretty spectacular. The sky is the most vivid blue in all the world, I'm convinced. The rolling hills and farmland are a hazy green. There's so much open space that you feel a bit freer and more relaxed. Time stands still, and all seems right with the world. How many times have I made this drive now after being in far-off lands?

I look forward to coming home and recalling memories that seem to tumble out of each room in my Mom's house or at each landmark we pass in Topeka. Walking into the "inner-city" high school each morning with my sister, anticipating another school day filled with German, history, math, and drama classes; the old halls seemed alive with a blur of excitement. Playing noisy games of baseball and hockey with the other neighbor kids on our block. Getting scolded by older folks as the same neighbor kids and Andrea and I would race along the grassy back alley between the houses, jumping fences and causing even more noise. Looking for Andrea and finding her high up in the big Bradford Pear tree at the front of the house. Jumping through the sprinkler on hot, windy summer days. Waiting out the storms in the basement with my family as the tornado sirens wailed. Launching stuffed animals off the balcony inside the house to help them fly. Creating obstacle courses weaving around the yard. Drawing the longest hopscotch trail down the street with my best friend. Having nothing but time to play, laugh, think, dream, and grow.

And so I come home to all of these memories, wondering where all the time has gone. Would 6 year-old Laura be happy about what 26 year-old Laura is today? Had I ever imagined I would be a Christian, study several languages, explore Asia, be educated, and love people well because of God's love? A part of me wants to feel jealous about 6 year-old Laura who was so free, uninhibited, happy, and without a care in the world. But then I realize that in my ways I haven't changed too much. I still play, laugh, think, dream, and grow. I'm even freer, happier, and cast all my cares to God. Twenty years later life isn't as simple, but it is still colorful--with added colors, textures and tones. Yes, 6 year-old Laura would be glad.

On that note, I am off to have an adventure with my Mom! Here are some pictures of late. I'll add some Kansas pictures next time!


Evening campfire on a cliff overlooking Lake Monroe.


At my Chinese friends' wedding on an American farm!

Getting back on the horse

In the last post I didn't have much to say, but now I feel like I'm busting at the seams with words and thoughts. It is currently graduation weekend--hard to believe I graduated a year ago! Today it is rainy and chilly, which is opposite of graduation day last year. It felt like the middle of August in a tropical rainforest then.

My doctor referred me to a neurologist, who apparently wanted to test my endurance this week by making me get MRIs for THREE whole hours. She wanted a better look at my brain and spine to try and figure out the bizarre things that still happen to me. Wow, what an experience! It was like being trapped in a cage inside of a cage... Or being trapped inside of a bird cage inside of a ship's deafeningly noisy boiler room. I tried to think of some things I've experienced that have been worse, and there are only a few: being on a China Eastern Airlines (aka "Duct Tape Airlines" flight for 14 hours over the Pacific) and running regressions on statistical software. Yep, that's about it. Oh, and maybe getting hit by a car. Overall, however, it was a great confidence builder, and I felt extreme peace, knowing lots of people were praying. Of course it has been determined I have an absolutely beautiful spine and brain. I wouldn't expect anything less.

In other news, I didn't let any MRIs get me down this week. On Tuesday after work, I went home and thought, "Today is the day." I was determined to ride my bike (for the first time since my accident) that very day. After wheeling out my old bike that had been overhauled since the accident, I heaved it onto the bike rack on the back of my car. That was the most difficult challenge of the evening. My upper body strength is about nil. So I struggled to hoist the horribly heavy bike onto the rack. It had been the easiest thing to do last year, but now seemed about impossible. I silently glowered at neighbors walking by who watched as my monstrously-sized "Giant" hybrid bike nearly devoured me. Nobody realized the gravity of the situation! I HAD to get this mass of metal onto my car and ride TODAY.

Eventually, streaked with sweat and coated in grime, I found success. I was already exhausted and hadn't even ridden my bike yet. But I persevered and made it downtown to the B-Line trail. I parked in front of city hall, ripped my bike off its rack, strapped on my helmet, and slowly pedaled down the trail. It was an absolutely gorgeous evening, and nearly the whole town seemed out and about. I pedaled past ninth street, then eighth, and then reached seventh. I remembered turning off at this particular juncture nearly 8 months ago, and almost immediately getting hit by a distracted undergrad and his blue Saturn. As I write this blog, I paused to glance at one of the latest news stories in the city newspaper. A big story is, "May is Bike Month in Bloomington." Apparently the City of Bloomington is planning on creating a special bike corridor from west to east on seventh street that will be safer for bicyclists. That's the exact route I was on. It seems too little too late.

When I was on my bike ride Tuesday, however, I didn't really feel anything--not anger, sadness, regret, or anxiety. I loved riding my bike and want to love riding again. As I pedaled along the B-Line, I felt like I had come to terms with it all. Instead of the past, I focused on the blossoming trees, the amazing blue sky, and the colorful, cheerful people biking, walking, and running. Everything felt right. I can still bike (even if I'm a little slow), and I have been able to honestly forgive the guy who hit me--all by God's grace. Ultimately, I feel even freer than before the accident.

Although the past 8 months have been among the worst of my life, they have also been the best in many ways. I feel like a very changed person on the inside, especially. I've grown more into who God intended me to be. When you feel so lost and hurt, you have the opportunity to gain so much through the love and strength of God. As the book I'm reading, Disability and the Gospel, points out, I've discovered personally how God is a "lover of the downtrodden, the broken, and the weak." As I've mentioned before, the past several months have been an incredible refining process for my faith, and even the faith of others!

In other news, I had a letter to the editor published in The Herald-Times here in little Btown. I'm passionate about the marginalized and homeless in our community, and I've had several articles published in the paper, but this was the first opinion piece I had with a novel idea about a summer shelter that is needed here. It stirred up a lot of emotions and thoughts, with a lot of people basically freaking out. All the leaders I know in the city, though, loved it. Laura for Mayor!

Few words

I'm sorry I haven't written for a while! Perhaps happily, there really isn't too much to report:

Weather-wise it's still chilly here in southern Indiana, but I'm hoping it will at least warm up by July. Work-wise things are going really well, and we've had a lot of great outcomes with some programs lately. Literature-wise I just finished The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. Wow. Read it if you haven't. Health-wise I'm still getting stronger physically and mentally. The cobwebs in my head seem to be getting swept out, and the aches and pains in my body are becoming a little less noticeable. Activity-wise I'm still volunteering, dancing ballet, going on little hikes, and hanging out with wonderful friends. Future-wise I've started applying to a handful of jobs. No word yet on anything, but I'll keep you posted. I'm open to most any job, preferably in a warm, sunny location. In lieu of a job, I'll accept a wealthy husband.

Since I talk about them rather frequently, I'll leave you with a pic of the church small group I've been a part of since September. We hung out last week at Orange Leaf, the newest frozen yogurt place in little Bloomington. I'm so thankful for them!

Pep in my step

Where has time gone? It's finally April and everything seems much more hopeful now that spring is (supposedly) just around the corner. I think today I even spotted a flower! People suddenly seem more cheerful and I also can't help but being super chipper.

Early last week I left Indiana behind with snow on the ground, and headed much farther south to spend the most marvelous week with Andrea in Florida. It was a much-needed break from work and the constant cold and cloudiness of Bloomington. I felt the old, adventuresome Laura well up inside me as our plane banked over the coastline late at night and landed at the tiny Daytona Beach airport. I think they turned the airport lights on just for our plane's arrival and then switched them off again.

Throughout the week, we went to the beach, read a lot, talked about everything under the sun, watched an old movie, got our first pedicures ever, ate lots of amazing food (mostly Asian, of course), hung out with her friends who have also become my friends over the years, and laughed nearly every waking moment. On Easter Sunday after church we drove up north along the shore to St. Augustine, which is an old town founded by the Spanish in 1565! It's extremely historic and gorgeous. We packed (well, Andrea did most of the work) a little picnic lunch and lounged on a blanket under a little palm tree on a hill overlooking the old Spanish fort and old town. It was a beautiful day, as families flew kites and played games, sailboats drifted by in the harbor, and the sun shone brilliantly. We even watched an Easter parade, which was a first for me. The parade was filled mostly with Easter bunnies and pirates, which was an interesting and amusing combination. It was my first Easter I've spent with any family member since 2004--9 whole years ago! So I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to see her, to be warm, and just to rest. She was a great encouragement to me, and hopefully I was also able to encourage her!

One of my favorite parts was going to Good Friday and Easter service at her church. I have felt very distant from God lately, like my heart was covered in lacquer. Life has just been so... hard. From the sermons and the songs we sang, and the time I got to spend praying and reading my Bible, I felt like a little bit of the ice inside me was being chipped away. Some of the verses from the hymns we sang pierced me to the core:

Because He lives
I can face tomorrow
Because He lives
All fear is gone
Because I know
He holds the future
And life is worth the living
Just because He lives

~"Because He Lives"

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.

~"In Christ Alone"

So with a little pep in my step, I returned on Tuesday to Indiana, where it had flurried that morning. That evening I rushed to downtown to the old theater for the "Be More Awards" by the City of Bloomington. The bikers, beach bums, and tourists of Daytona were replaced with Btown's hippies, hipsters, and intellectuals. At this cozy, packed-out event of hundreds of people, several individuals and organizations were recognized for their incredible volunteering. It was an experience uniquely Bloomington. The mayor and our organization's executive director cracked jokes about each other on stage like they usually do, the crowd was filled with a diverse array of students, elderly folks, prominent business people, and all the nonprofit people I've gotten to know over the past 3 years. The recipients gave short, heart-warming acceptance speeches, and there was one woman who used her speech to warn about climate change in a way that made everyone so uncomfortable (now I just keep laughing about it). This particular woman stood on the edge of the stage and commenced to blow a ram's horn, "as a warning against climate change." It was delightful seeing someone who could make the eternally-accepting Bloomington crowd cringe from awkwardness.

In other news, I've still been staying extremely busy with the usual activities: volunteering, church and small group, dancing, and solving everyone's tax issues... I'll leave you with a couple of pictures from this past week's little Florida adventure! Sorry they're mostly of me--Andrea is modest and doesn't like to be photographed. I, however, obviously don't mind!



In my preppy Florida gear.



Amazing sushi!



St. Augustine on Easter.



Little Easter picnic lovingly prepared by Andrea.



My gracious hostess.



Ah! Warmth and sunshine!

Whole

It's always rather humorous and sometimes disorienting how we can make plans for the future, but they often don't work out, or they turn out a lot differently than we could have anticipated. For example, since I returned from China in 2010, I thought I was being prepared to go back and serve in some capacity. And I thought that time to head back would be this fall, as I had the opportunity to live in Guangzhou and teach public policy at one of China's top universities.

But, alas, God seems to have other plans. For the time being, my place is here. My doctors have made it clear that I'm not up to snuff yet, especially since I've started to feel a lot more awful again over the past month. I have come a long ways, but healing is a bumpy road, and sometimes there are effects from series of traumatic events that may only appear months later, and not so conveniently (or maybe it is convenient?) when I'm trying to return overseas.

So now I'm not quite sure what to do, although I don't have to worry about it yet. When my job is finished here in July, an option may be to move to Florida to be closer to my sister. That would be such a novel idea--living close to family! Being with Andrea and in a warmer, sunnier climate may do wonders in healing. Now I may never be fully recovered in some ways, and will always have some physical and psychological scars, but I am trusting fully. Who knows what adventures await? Who knows what relationships the future holds? And besides--Chinese people are literally EVERYWHERE, even in Florida. And maybe I'll miraculously learn to love regular, white Americans...

I don't think the 16 year-old Laura would recognize the 26 year-old one. When I was 16, I had been accepted to top ballet programs, knew I was heading to the East Coast for college, had a column in the city paper, and believed I could do and be anything. When I thought of myself being in my mid-20s, I pictured roaming the globe for the New York Times while speaking several languages, having a marvelous boyfriend, and wearing super classy clothes with a gleaming head of gorgeous hair. Haha. So maybe things haven't turned out quite that way (except the hair, of course), but in a lot of ways, my life so far has turned out better. I may often feel broken and scarred, but I also know that there's more to life than what I can see or feel. And when I feel disappointed and discouraged, which seems to be a lot lately, then I remember the scars of our Savior. He knows. He understands. And someday I will be made whole again.

Not yet home

I still have a vivid memory of trudging up the five flights of stairs to my little humble apartment in China. It had been a long day, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the crushing weight of poverty, corruption, and hopelessness that surrounded me in the country of 1.4 billion souls. I wanted to pack up my things and return home. Then it was like God told me very clearly: "Laura, I don't ask you to change the whole world. I just want you to love and live alongside those I place in your path- one person at a time."

Sometimes I still remember those words that renewed my faith in God's grace and my purpose, when I feel like I'm not doing or being enough. But then I remember I'm loving and living alongside people even now--when I prepare someone's taxes and listen to their stories; when I serve Louisa who thinks my name is "Roberta;" when I hang out with my friends of all nationalities who are dealing with their own struggles; when I share my own stories of struggle, hopes, and challenges with others... So maybe I'm not changing the whole world or even the little town I live in, but that's impossible anyway, and not what we're called to do. We just step out in faith, live our lives to the best of our ability, and invest in those He brings into our lives.

Oh, but some days I wonder how much sadness one can take. When is enough enough? When will it be over? Yes, I have experienced incredible moments of joy, and still do, but so often it seems like the darkness can overwhelm the light. A part of me just wants to rest, take care of myself, heal, put up defenses, build a respectable career, turn inward, and brick my heart off from the pain of the world. But then an even bigger part of my heart knows that I was placed on this earth to be a light and to bring glory to God's name, not my own. I recall 2 Corinthians 3:3: The most important resume or credentials should not be "carved on tablets of stone, but on human hearts."

I agree with C.S. Lewis when he said:

"The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure, and merriment, He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why. The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends...have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home."

In other news, please keep my dear 90 year old Grandpa in your prayers! He went in for emergency surgery today, and it's rather serious. Thanks as always!

Life snapshots

Shouting on the phone about spicy hot dogs for all to hear in the middle of Kroger on a busy Saturday morning. Laughter ringing throughout our house during dinners and times of fellowship with close and new friends. Countless conversations of life and financial struggle with low-income people while preparing their federal and state tax returns. Reading brief sentences emailed by my globe-trotting sister in Europe and the Middle East. Flying through the air in ballet class like gravity doesn't exist. Listening to testimonies about how Christ has radically altered lives...

These are just a few snapshots of life this past week. The spicy hot dog episode was related to my volunteering, where I visit a homebound elderly, very hard-of-hearing woman, whom we shall call "Louisa." She writes a list of groceries for me (which includes an impossible to find brand of spicy hotdogs), I go out and get them, and then we just sit and visit awhile. It's sort of similar to the movie "50 First Dates," about a woman who has amnesia, and it's like a first date everyday when she sees her boyfriend. Louisa seems to remember me, but nothing about me, which I don't mind too much. She'll usually ask a refrain of pretty much the same questions each time. It's always 50 First Dates with Louisa. These questions and the variation of my answers include:

Question in a sweet, southern accent, "What are you studying in school?"

Reply in the clearest, loudest voice I can muster: "I just graduated with my master's and am working with a nonprofit."

"Where are you from again? Pennsylvania?"

I automatically reply, "Kansas," without explaining all about Virginia, China... Once I mentioned China, but never again, because she was quite worried about communists.

"Why do you voluntarily visit me, since I'm just an old lady?"

A quick internal reflection about why we do anything in life. "Oh, that's easy. I enjoy visiting you and helping out a little." In my mind, I'm thinking about how I miss visiting my own grandparents, or how I hope that I can brighten her day a bit, or how I secretly pray that someone will show me kindness and care when I'm nearly 9 decades old, or how I really should have been born early last century.

"Do you have any cats?" Louisa asks as she strokes the head of an affectionate kitty at her side.

"Nope, I don't have any pets." I don't explain that I'm actually allergic to the cute little fluffy furballs that are purring contentedly on my lap.

"Oh. Well, maybe when you're settled. Tell me about your boyfriend. You know I met my husband on a train during the war."

"I don't currently have a boyfriend, but I have lots of fun, interesting friends," I say confidently, while wishing I could meet my future husband on a train, too, albeit minus the whole being in the middle of a war part.

"You must have a bevy of beaus! Well, you're still young! You're 20, right?"

"Actually I'm 26." I say that, but feel like I'm lying. I don't feel or look 26.

She expresses a mixed look of surprise, shock and concern. "26? You don't look a day over 20. You'll be glad you look so young," says the woman with pictures of her younger, absolutely gorgeous self plastered on every wall of her house.

Then I proceed to ask her lots of questions, asking more about her soldier-husband, her short career on Indianapolis television, and her experience as an elementary-school teacher.

*Repeat the exact same conversation at least 14 times before it's time for me to go.* Then after a couple of hours of circular, yet pleasant conversation, I exit in a cloud of cat hair and 70 year-old memories that cling to me like a shroud.

Here's to many more years of serving, loving, living, and laughing! I'm so thankful that God has blessed me and most of us with the ability to encourage, help, and teach others, while always embracing opportunities to stretch, grow, and change.


Dinner before the opera at our cozy house!


Hosting 15 women from GFM and church small group for a refreshing evening of food, conversation, study, and prayer!

Whirlwinding

From 8 am to 10 pm every day, I'm usually working, out and about, and staying busy with almost too many activities. Life is truly a whirlwind. Yet, I feel entirely at rest and joyful. How can that be?

Today, for example, there was a big crisis with a huge program we run at work, and it became my responsibility to put out the fire, respond to the public, take charge, and get things in order. It was intense, but ultimately rewarding. It could have been a true nightmare with that much pressure, but God gave me the strength and the appropriate response. I went into the situation not knowing what on earth I was going to do with angry people and a total meltdown on my hands, but He provided! There was so much at stake, yet I felt such calm in the middle of the storm.

There have been many storms lately, but that's when we as Christians learn the most, and I'm no exception. In small group we've been studying Romans: "We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." Romans 5:3,4.

Now, I definitely don't relish suffering or being in difficult circumstances, but I've also learned not to run from discomfort and challenges, knowing that it's in those times that God's presence seems the most noticeable and His grace that much greater than our own shortcomings. It's also in those times when our character is developed and refined to reflect His glory. As believers, we can be at rest in the midst of the storm, the hustle and bustle of the world, and the unexpected times of suffering--all because of what Christ did for us on the cross!

In other less reflective news, Jennifer and I went skiing up in Michigan this past weekend. They received 12 inches of beautiful snow, and we had a marvelous time at her dear grandma's house. Jenn and I skied for hours upon freezing hours, but it was exhilarating to be plummeting down mountains, and nobody got hurt! I hadn't been skiing in almost 3 years, so it was nice to know I could still handle it. Ah, adventures are always such a welcome blessing! Oh, and I would love to live near a mountain someday, somewhere. Skiing is always quite exhilarating, and boy, did we talk to some good-looking, adventure-loving guys while we were there! ;)

Have a blessed, restful week in the midst of whatever little rain clouds or storms you may find yourself experiencing!

Heavenly!

Lots of cars were sliding off all around us, but my trusty little car kept going!

It was certainly bittersweet having to leave and head back south for work!

On the slopes with my frozen face!

Sitting by a roaring fireplace with Jenn.

Community-ing

"Community" is a word you hear all the time interchangeably: it can be used in regard to a nation, a city, a neighborhood, a group of friends... Different verbs can also be applied to community. You can build, grow, expand, maintain, and improve it. And you can be intertwined with that community to varying degrees.

Lately I've reflected on the different communities I'm involved with, and how much color and texture they add to life. At church, I'm involved in a community through Sunday school, small group, and international student ministry. With friends, it's a wide network of people in close proximity or scattered across the globe. In this city where I currently live, community seems to be defined through my work and volunteering roles.

It's amazing to know someone at just about every place I go. Some people even come up to me and say they know me, although I don't know them. How did I get to be famous? I guess it's by investing in this community and not just taking from it. When you're involved in 500 different activities, you get to know a large proportion of the community--people from all ages and walks of life.

Most likely I won't be living in this specific community after this summer, but I can say that I gave it my all. I truly loved this place, the people, and tried to see this community through God's eyes. And hopefully I'll leave all of those various facets of community a little better off than when I came upon them. And I think this place and these people have also helped change me for the better.

This past week, in particular, I've realized the myriad blessings of community through some interactions: Praying with a dear friend in China over Skype, encouraging someone in my small group, and hearing how what I do in my job is truly helping those who are marginalized, low-income, or struggling.

Yesterday I got to stand out in the freezing cold for two hours at Walmart to tell folks about a service we offer that has a huge financial and social impact in the community. There was a man and his wife who were waiting in front of Walmart as we set up our table. He had read about us in the newspaper and came out just to talk to us about the program. They looked so weary and worn-out from life. I wanted to give them a hug. That's when I realized that what I do matters--we are helping people in real, tangible ways that help people keep their homes, feed their families, and keep their jobs.

Here's another story published today in our local newspaper about the event, after the editor came out to interview us. You have to be a subscriber to read the online part, but I can quote some of the key parts. :)

"Free tax help to be offered at 10 sites"

Never was a person more aptly named for a job than Laura Freeze. Then it goes on to explain how I and other representatives from various local nonprofits and the IRS were out in the 22 degree cold telling folks about the Free Community Tax Service and other financial stability initiatives. Freeze, her cheeks bright pink from the cold, was wearing long underwear, thick mittens and insulated boots. “My face is feeling a little frozen, but there’s a lot of good energy out here,” she said with a smile. Then the story goes on to interview others. It just warmed my heart, even though we were so cold and my face looked like a cherry tomato!!

But these efforts of being involved in community would be all for naught if they weren't done in love and for His glory. Each bitterly cold morning, I roll out of bed with a prayer already on my lips: "God, please give me your strength for today. Let whatever I say or do be all for your name's sake!"

That reminds me of what David Jeremiah said recently:

Most of our worries involve a fear of insufficiency. We're afraid we're not good enough as parents or providers or Christians or whatever. Or we're concerned we don't have enough, whether food or money or health or strength. When we think of ourselves as the source of our own sufficiency, we have reason to worry and be concerned. But as Christians, our sufficiency is from God. "And God is able to make all grace abound toward you, that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may have an abundance for every good work" (2 Corinthians 9:8). His grace is sufficient for us (2 Corinthians 12:9).


Here are a few "community" pictures of late:

Had international friends over for dinner.

Love the look of sheer delight on their faces while we played "Guesstures."

Aw, young lovers...

A variety of folks helping me talk about the Free Community Tax Service.

Frozen, but content.