Faithful

Faithful was my chosen word for 2013. At first when I began thinking over this year I couldn't pinpoint specific moments that really embodied that word. But I'm slowly becoming aware of how incredibly faithful Jesus really was to me this year. 2013 was such a whirlwind - falling in love with Beatrice and her four children, discovering the world of refugees in my very own Boise, senior year of high school to freshman year of college, my life in Boise to a brand spanking new life in Spokane.  A lot of change happened this year, more change than in any other year of my life.  And I don't think I quite understood last December 31 how desperately I would need God's faithfulness.

All the change equaled a lot of hard days, emotions, decisions but in the struggle I have found Christ more.  And though I've had fewer mornings to do Bible studies, less energy to memorize Scripture, and no time to listen to my favorite Christian music I have found a closeness to Him that I hadn't known before.  He is faithful.

I don't actually expect 2014 to be any less whirlwind or full of change.  I have been praying so much these last five months about God's plans for my major, my career, the rest of my life and I'm both excited and scared to see where His answers will take me.  So for my 2014 word I've chosen...trust.  I want to learn to trust Him more.  I'm the kind of person who likes to prove to myself that I can do things without anyone else's help.  But if 2013 has taught me anything, it's that there are a lot of things I really, really can't do on my own.  I don't trust Him like I want to. And I hope 2014 will change that.

"Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The LORD, the LORD Himself, is my strength and my defense; He has become my salvation." Isaiah 12:2

Suddenly Jesus Met Them

I wake up with chest tight and soul heavy. My stomach is in a knot and I don't know if it's because I stayed up too late last night, because school starts tomorrow, or maybe because of some tension in the house. I feel wary and on guard as I come downstairs. I get my coffee and sit on the sofa. My hand reaches towards my Bible and picks up the soft leather. Flipping through the pages with the worn gilded edges I pull out the flashcard bookmarking Matthew 28, and I read.

"I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.

He is not here; He has risen, just as He said.

Come and see the place where He lay."

The women hurried...afraid yet filled with joy.
Suddenly Jesus met them...They came to Him, clasped His feet and worshiped Him...

My imagination sees the women crying-laughing their tears slipping over their smiling lips. They cling to Him, holding tight to Him, falling face down, kissing His feet. He pulls them up and wipes away the tears on their checks with His thumb, laughing with them. I can't imagine that their whole encounter was as short as it is described in Matthew. I imagine the women were talking as quickly as they could form the words with their tongues. Trying to tell Him their thoughts and feelings and actions over the last two days. Trying to tell Him exactly what happened. I imagine He smiled and nodded and understood. This scene of outrageous love fills my empty heart. Because He loves me like that. Thumb-brushing-away-tears kind of love. That's how He loves all of us. Me. You. All.

...Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go.

"All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me.
And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

Eleven men mouths open, hands timidly reaching to touch the fresh wounds on His hands. The flesh on His hands, feet, and head still ripped, red, delicate, loosely hanging. Hearts pounding. Breath short. Falling to their knees.

"Jesus..."

February 27

*Written the week of Feb. 27*

Holding her I can feel the sadness and pain from her life seep into my heart. She is so dear to me and my heart swells and hurts. Why is there so much pain in this world? Why so many warped minds and twisted bodies? Why so many blood thirsty, conniving people? Why so much war?

Her family was chased out of their home. Her grandpa was killed in the war in Congo. Her grandma was pregnant with her fifth child when grandpa was killed. She had to run away from their home seeking safety, just her and her four small children. It's actually a miracle that grandma and all of the kids made it out alive. They then spent 16 years in the camp. 16 years of homeless. 16 years of no where else to go. This little one's mom is now 24. She has three kids and is pregnant with her fourth. This one I am holding is her third. She had her first at 14. She came to the U.S. a year and a half ago. It only took 10 years of paperwork.

Grandma is 52 now. She succeeded in getting all but one of her kids and grandkids to America. I don't think we even realize how amazing that is. She's also only been here for a year and a half. She started feeling sick last week. Monday she went to the hospital. Wednesday, February 27 she died.

You've got to be kidding me.

She. Just. Got. Here.

The little one in my lap is sleeping now. Her head resting against my shoulder. Her stomach rising and falling against mine. She knows what's going on. You can feel it in her clinging arms and hear it in her whimpering voice. She's feeling the pain. I'm sure the torrent of tears rushing down my face earlier with the phone pressed to my ear didn't help. I had just been told her grandma had died. The little one had climbed into my lap and patted my wet cheek.

This whole week the famous verse from Job 1:21, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of The Lord,” has kept running through my head. But at this point it isn't comforting. It just makes me mad.