He Didn’t Forget….

Monday morning I stayed in bed as long as I could.

I rolled over, and shut my eyes praying sleep would return to them.

It had little to do with the finally here spring break.

Little to do with the purring cat sleeping at my feet.

Little to do with the fact that I really had nothing that had to get it done.

I was waiting.

Time seems to stand still when dreams are on the line.

“I would like to extend an official invite to you to join the 2010 Summer Staff at Glen Lake camp…”

Bundled with emotions, I wasn’t sure what to do next.

Three summers I’d spent at Glen Lake.

All different.

All life-changing.

July 2005.

My first non-basketball camp. Skit night. Pickles. A broken ankle. Cabin 3. Highs and lows.  Memories. Friends. Laughter. Jello Fights. Thursday night I sat quietly on Turner Steps and gave my life to Christ.

June 2006.

Tears. Hotdogs. That little green grape. Cheerio Pirate Twins. The turtle dance. Unskit night. Cooked oatmeal and tootsie rolls. ML. Thursday night I sat outside Bekah Faye’s cabin, looking between her and my best friend, tears rolling down my face, knowing that somewhere in all this mess, and all this pain, God was present.

July 2008.

Secret Senior Thursday Night Get Together. Sleep. Leading morning devotional. Heroes. Spoons. Last night as a camper. This little light of mine. Chocolate Syrup. Thursday night I stood in front of turner steps, and explained in words what Glen Lake meant to me.

The place where I grew.

Learned.

Cried.

Laughed.
Celebrated.

It seems fitting that after the six months that I’ve had.

When a wrecking ball came in and tore apart everything I knew.

That I return to the place were I first came to understand.

Grace.

Love. (Be Love.)

Joy.

Peace.

Heartbreak.

Carrying each other’s burdens.

Vulnerability.

Brokenness.

The place where I learned to dream.

Is where I will be returning.

It all seemed unreal.

Finally (nine months later) finishing the application.

Sliding it into the mail slot.

Finding references.

Setting up the interview.

The interview.

Waiting for that email.

\

I didn’t think there was a chance.

Not me, not this summer.

And then the email came.

Yes me.

Yes this summer.

God whispered in my ear “I didn’t forget you.”

For the last six months I’d wondered where God had been.

At times I’d felt Him.

His arms holding me together when life was tearing me apart.

But as I watched what I had planned as my future slip away.

I wondered where He was.

Had He forgotten what He had promised me?

Had He forgotten my dreams?

I had forgotten who I was.

I had forgotten my dreams.

Somewhere between trying to do all the right things, and please all the right people.

I forgot.

I forgot about that girl.

The girl who sat on those steps looking out over that lake and dreamed.

The girl who laughed until her abs hurt.

The girl who spent more time pretending she knew how to make a lanyard than it would have taken to learn to make one.

The girl who talked about that ONE week of her summer for six months after it happened.

Then she started counting down till the next summer.

The girl who had dreams.

Dreams the LORD had whispered in her heart.

But He didn’t forget.

A year ago I wrote my mission statement.

“I will radiate God’s love to the lost and broken of the world. Bringing hope to the hopeless, a friend to the friendless, a father to the fatherless, and loved to the unloved. I will reach out a hand to the lost and broken of the world, whom so many have forgotten.”

He wrote those words on my heart.

He placed those dreams in my soul.

No matter what happened.

No matter how many times I forgot.

He didn’t.

He didn’t forget me.

That email, Monday morning, was my reminder.

No matter what the wrecking ball tore away.

No matter what I feel.

He hasn’t forgotten.

He hasn’t forgotten that little girl.

He is granting some of her dreams, everyday.

Glen Lake Summer Staff 2010.

67 days.

…. And yes, I’m still getting there.

The Fire

A month ago a fire danced before my eyes.
Tears ran down my face, and a stranger set to my left, beginning to pray.
Little did I know how much that one moment, would set the course for the next season of life.

Embrace your crucifixion.
We don’t get to pick what our surrendering looks like.
We don’t get to pick what God takes away.
We don’t get to chose when we are ready to be tested.
God is in control.

“Do you think it might be possible that God’s love for us is so intense, so pure that He would allow these terrible nails to come our way so that what is dark and bitter and resentful in us could be put to death?“ – Sheila Walsh.

We are sinful human beings.
But just as big as that, sinful things have been done to us.
A month ago I sat staring at a fire as one by one teenagers and adults threw pieces of paper into that fire. They were letting go a piece of themselves, for the next forty days, it was no longer to be a part of them. In the weeks following, we have discussed how those things, keep coming back. When we walked out of that room it was like the fire never happened, and the paper was back in our hand, with us where ever we went.
I am no different. In that fire that night I threw away the things that were making life hard, my past, my struggles, thoughts I didn’t want to think anymore. I wanted them to disappear.

God heard me that night.
He heard my quiet sobs, and heard the prayers of my heart.
He listened to the prayers surrounding me.
He heard.
And, He answered.
He strengthened me for the road ahead.
He turned that praying stranger into a lifeline.
He inspired me.
But even as that little slip of paper burned in the fire, He didn’t take it away.

I was presented with a choice.
What would I focus on?
Giants…. Or God?
What I had… or what I didn’t?

I knew my giant. He was my first thought in the morning, my last thought before bed.
I’d retreat. Hide.
Crawl into my whole of seclusion.
Alone I didn’t have to answer questions.
I didn’t have to have answers.
I could pretend nothing ever happened.
But at some point, the alone time would overwhelm me.
I would be forced into public.
And there was my Giant.
He was everywhere I went.
I knew him.
Everything about him.
His smell.
His taste.
His movements.
His voice.
And I tried to hide from him.
But he always found me.
Always.

I was challenged.
I knew my giant.
But did I know my God?

Isaiah 43:2
When you pass through the water, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you,
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.

Just because things have been hard, doesn’t mean that they He left.
I had to make a decision, that even through the waters, the rivers, the fire, to be God-focused.
As I ran from my giant, I’d ran from my crucifixion, and I’d ran from my God.
I walked away from that fire a month ago running.
I thought for sure if God had heard me, something would change.
And on the outside, it looked like nothing had.
So I ran.

But now.
I’m not running anymore.
I’m resting.
I’m learning.
I’m becoming focused on God.
Who is bigger than any giant.
Focusing on God.
On Him.
On His power.
On His track record with me.
Will not fail me.
Nor would it fail you.
Stop thinking of all the things He hasn’t done that you think He should.
Think of the things He HAS done.
Look at what is HAPPENING.
And realize a whole lot more is going on than meets your eye.

Even when I was running, He was working.
He never once left me.
Even through the time I left Him.

Now, it’s time I step back and embrace the crucifixion.
It is going to hurt.
Dying to yourself always does.
That piece of paper burning in the fire was a part of you.
It is going to hurt as it fades away.
But this crucifixion is an opportunity.
One to let God take a hold of the deepest parts of my heart.
To set me free.

The crucifixion must happen before the resurrection.

It’s baby steps.
Baby steps with Jesus.

Now, the fire burns in my heart.
Pieces of my past welting away while my eyes look to the only one who can defeat the giants withering away in the flames.
The stranger still prays.
She’s just more than a stranger now.