Brittany, Part 1

In my most recent prayer letter I promised Brittany's story. If you've been with me for a while, this will be a refresher. If you haven't heard this before, buckle-up!

Brittany's silence spoke loudly to me as we sat in our small group discussion Friday night. I was helping lead a weekend retreat for students involved with our ministry at Utah State University (two hours north of Salt Lake). I made it my goal to draw this mysterious English major out of her shell. By Saturday morning I began to doubt my chances of meeting the "real" Brittany. Over lunch, though, the floodgates opened and she hit me with a torrent of profound questions.

That cold February afternoon has been the highlight of my Utah experience thus far. The whole conversation is a blur in my memory, but somewhere along the way Brittany realized what it truly meant to have a personal relationship with God, that she didn't have one yet, and that she wanted to change that. During the course of our conversation Brittany prayed and invited Christ into her life. Here's part of a letter that she sent out at the end of March:

"This past winter I attended a retreat...and made a life-altering decision to allow God to lead me in my life and truly devote myself and my time to Him."

After making that life-altering decision, Brittany revealed more details of her recent spiritual journey. In the months prior to the retreat, she'd spent a great deal of time meeting with Mormon missionaries on her campus. What she didn't share with me until weeks later, was that 3 days after the retreat she was suppose to have an appointment to be baptized into the Mormon church. She canceled that appointment. Her decision to give her life to Christ was more timely than I could have imagined!

Brittany's jumped headfirst into following Jesus and is taking 10 days this summer to be part of a Summer Project in Mexico. Summer Projects are our short term mission trips and are by far the most effective too we offer to students for life transformation. I can't wait to hear from Brittany about her Summer Project experience.

Thanks to that year's H1N1 virus outbreak, Brittany never went to Mexico. She decided to go on a different summer project. Instead of 10 days, she spent the whole summer working with inner city kids in Indianapolis. If you stick around for Part 2 of her story, you'll see how that turned out and how maybe the swine flu was actually good for something.

Brittany, Part 2

And here is Brittany 18 months later. Now an intern with Great Commission Ministries at Shepherd Community Center in Indianapolis. The following is a piece she wrote for my latest prayer letter:

Cru has been my foundation. I had given me the means of finding God and from there growing and following His call. It was because of people who trusted God and were believing and living a life according to His will that I became a believer. That was my beginning.
It wasn't until I embarked on my first summer project that I truly became acquainted with God. I went on The Heart of the City Indianapolis 2009 project. Placed in the depths of the inner city, working with kids who'd rather pick a fight than pick up a Bible or turn an ear to anything I had to say stripped me of everything worldly and anything belonging to my own strength.
I started to project frustrated with things like trying to find verses in the Bible because, oddly enough, the Bible isn't alphabetically categorized, who knew, not me. But slowly, with the warmth of God's community and the persistence of my Cru support, I began to truly experience God at work in my life.
I wasn't the one who could get up every morning and love on kids who didn't know how to sit down, had lice and fleas an other ailments galore, and more than one occasion professed their undying hatred toward me and my efforts to sacrifice my summer for them. No, this wasn't me. I didn't know how to love myself, let alone love them. God loving on me and giving me the strength and the eyes to see Him in me and in my kids pushed me.
I went back for a second round of this summer project, but 2010 style. I have learned to depend on Him for everything, but most importantly strength to reach out to these kids in the inner city. I want them to see and learn what I've come to know.
I am currently working as a year-long intern for Global Commissions Ministries at Shepherd Community Center, where I participated in both Cru summer projects. I am teaching middle school English, mentoring, and working in the after-school program on a day-to-day basis. Every day I will have an opportunity to reach 20+ kids in order to build relationships and provide them academic attention as well as opportunities to learn more about God, which they wouldn't have typically had.
I am working to develop a ministry team--a group of people who will join with me in this effort. for the year, I will need to raise $8,308.00. The GCM's donor website: www.gcmweb.org/give is a secure and easy-to-use website that enables a convenient way to give regularly towards my work at Shepherd.
Where I am right now, the people I'm able to reach and share/show god's love was primed by my foundation. I would never have gotten here without Cru. God puts the right people in our lives at the right time, and this definitely holds true for me, as I hope it does for my kids here in Indy.

I think this is so cool. Who knew all those months ago that through Brittany's changed life kids in inner-city Indianapolis would be reached?! I never would have guessed. I'm excited to be a part of Brittany's ministry and want to encourage you to join me in finishing-off her funding. GCM's giving website is linked above, and Brittany's blog is also linked under "People I've Met Along the Way".

When A Lightweight Wrestles God.

A few weeks ago, in the depths of waiting to get better, a wise woman gave me this word of encouragement, "Emily, when God puts us on our backs like this, we just have to keep our ears to open for whatever lesson He may have to teach us about ourselves, how we interact with the world, cope with stress, whatever. Count this time as a privilege."

Good advice. I took it and in my weariness and impatience made it into a magic formula. I decided that if I could just figure out what this lesson was, then God would release me from the stranglehold of this stupid illness. Ah, the folly of my little human logic. I was treating God as though He were playing a cosmic game of "Uncle" with me. But it makes for an interesting story, so I'll tell you about the night I wrestled with God.

I have this great friend and every time one of us mentions wrestling with God the other inevitably asks, "How's your hip?" If the joke is lost on you, go here and you'll catch up in about 10 seconds. Anyway, this one's for you, Ross.

I went outside one night to sit and await/demand God's answer under the quiet of the stars.

Silence.

"Hey, God, I'm out here. Would You come meet me and tell me what I'm supposed to be learning in all this, please?"

Silence.

"God?"

Silence.

"Okay, listen up, God. I don't care about my dumb hip. I am wrestling You and I am not letting You go until You bless me and give me an answer for why all of this is happening!"

Silence.

More Silence.

"It's getting kind of cold out here, but I'm still wrestling You."

Silence.

"Okay, look, I'm cold. I'm going inside. You're the omniscient and omnipresent one here. You can come find me."

Silence.

A few minutes later I'm brushing my teeth (obviously still wrestling God with near Jacob-like intensity...I mean he lasted all night, I didn't even make it 10 minutes in the pee-wee division B-squad) and I started a mental dialogue: I don't get it. I mean God wouldn't let me go through this without giving an explanation, would He? No, He couldn't poss..i...b....l.....y......

"Job." That's what God spoke. One single word and it was the name of the man who got one heck of a rough deal, (makes anything I've ever gone through look like a hangnail) and received no explanation from God.

"Crap," was my first response. My second was to read Job 38-42. Reading with my face on the floor and crying sounds impossible, but somehow I managed. The water damaged pages in my Bible after the fact are proof. Those chapters have always been some of my favorites for the grandeur and power with which they describe God. That night they pierced my heart and humbled me. I realized in a fresh way just how holy God is and how sinful and separated from Him I am apart from Christ.

It's funny how much peace I got from not getting an answer. I realized that I needed an attitude adjustment. It doesn't matter if I ever get an answer. My job is to acknowledge and worship God for who He is. Period. Maybe that sounds crazy, but there is a lot of peace in that.

The next morning I went outside again, hoping that God would throw me a bone for learning that big lesson the night before and maybe, just maybe give me that answer I wanted anyway. (Some habits die hard.) I even went so far as to read Job 38-42 again. They hit me in the normal way, no profound moment there. And then I heard the following,

"Emily, come and take a walk with Me."

"Okay! Hey, do You want to take me really far, or can I go barefoot?"

"Whatever you want."

Barefoot it was. I started walking, wondering if God would tell me something profound. (At this point I was still fairly sick, so going on a walk like this was really quite a treat). About a half mile from the house is a long dirt road and it felt great under my feet. As I started down it, He gave me the most incredible invitation.

"Want to open 'er up and see what she can do?"

I just smiled, started running and let the wind hit my face in that familiar way. It was one of the most wonderful things I've felt in a long time. (p.s.-I was still in my pajamas and not giving a rip)
So, while I don't know what God is doing, I know that He loves me. I know that He doesn't owe me an explanation.

"Who is this that darkens My counsel with words without knowledge?
Brace yourself like a man: I will question you, and you shall answer Me.
Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?
Tell Me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions?
Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone---while the morning stars sang together and the angels shouted for joy?"
"Can you raise your voice to the clouds and cover yourself with a flood of water? Do you send the lightning bolts on their way?
Do they report to you , 'Here we are'?"
Job 38:1-7;34-35

Showing my age.

I picked up my mail at the PO box today only to find 4 or 5 health insurance claims forms and the quarterly report from my 503(b) investment (that's pretty much a 401k for people who work for non-profits).
Of course I tore into my investment report like it was Christmas morning just to see how the little guy is doing. Yeah, somewhere along the way I started getting really excited about my retirement account and saving money.
And then came a moment I wasn't expecting: the double-fist pump and cheer when I opened up the insurance claim and found out I met my deductible. Wow.
Maybe I need a rocking chair and 7 cats.

That Barefoot Yankee Vagrant

I've continued to walk and run barefoot with my improving health. My feet are tough and strong and I really am enjoying the feel of the ground directly under the soles of my feet. The whole thing remains in experimental stage. It's very fun and even feels mildly edgy. But I keep reminding myself that I am just trying something new and am out there with nothing to prove.
I made a firm decision that if my feet begin to resemble the feet of any of the following, I will quit immediately:
-Frodo Baggins
-chimpanzee
-shoeless, deck-swabbing, pirate from any Robert Louis Stevenson novel

I often wonder what my neighbors think as they pass me. Do they think I'm going swimming somewhere? Got locked out of my house without my shoes? Dirty hippy moving into a nice Republican neighborhood? I make a point to wear my expensive running sunglasses when I go out so that I don't look so much like a vagrant.

One of my first days of feeling better I decided to take a real run. Barefoot, of course. (up until this point, I'd been taking walks and running bits and pieces) It was a glorious day and the sun felt wonderful on my face and shoulders. I know I had a huge smile on my face. The wonderful thing about being barefoot was how incredible the sun-warmed dirt road felt under my feet and between my toes. After a good long stretch of running I got to thinking, Man, all of this being sick really has taken a toll on my lung capacity. Feels pretty tight in there. At which point I looked at my watch. Oh, Emily, you dork! You've been running at 8 min/mile pace! (My normal pace is more along the lines of 10 min/mile) I slowed it down and the lungs held-up just fine. That sure was a fun way to start off running again.

One week later....for now I am putting the barefoot experiment on hold. Not because I'm in danger of developing hobbit feet, though. Two road-killed rattlesnake babies between our driveway and the entrance to the development make me wonder just how many of them are out there and crossing the road...then there's the tarantula, and the 3 large communities of enormous ants (what do fire ants look like, I wonder?) on my favorite dirt road. Going to make the official call that it is not worth it. For now.
But I must raise my coffee cup to honor those that settled this mean old chunk of Texas panhandle. Those men and women had a whole lot of pluck. Hats off to you.

Arachnophobes, skip this one.

We have a dog that barks. A lot. Mostly it's at birds or the horses standing on the other side of his fence. When he was standing barking at the wall, I decided to check it out first before scolding him.
Not sure if I took the Lord's name in vain, or was asking for His protection with what I shouted next. Either way, the dog sat down like he was in big-time trouble. But this, my friends, is what was on the patio wall.



I am not sure if this is an actual tarantula or just a tarantula-sized spider.

I don't usually get worked-up about a spider. I'm from the NORTH, folks. We have stuff like this. It's safely locked in a cage at a zoo. We just have the little guys to deal with. Definitely nothing bigger than a quarter. And my spider philosophy has always been to either coexist or shut-up and kill it without making a fuss.
But THIS?! This giant?! Now, before anyone gets all PETA, spider's got-a-right-to-life on me, let me explain: for the past 2 months between the kitten, the dogs, and the sheer audacity of the little critters, I've caught at least a dozen live frogs in the house, the kitten brings in dead toads, and live mice that she's playing with.
"Osama!" (That's what I call the cat for her terrorist activities) "If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, PICK UP YOUR TOYS!"
(I realize the picture I just painted sounds a bit vermin-infested...it really isn't. My parents have a very nice home.)
But with that background, suddenly seeing a spider that will probably get into a wrestling match with the kitten and the victor likely dragging the defeated into the house....however that one turns out...I give the cat a 50/50 shot. OR this spider could very well walk up to the back door and use one of its bajillion legs to turn the knob and walk right in, tip-toe to my bedroom and crawl into the empty space next to me. You see my point. Immediate and lethal action was the only way to go. Read: step dad.
"Tarantula? Well, it is that time of year, I guess."
Not exactly the reassurance I was hoping for, but he did kill it dead. And that was all I wanted.

Deadpan.

Recently I've been going to see a massage therapist. Turns out I have these really cool muscle spasms that can cause so much pain I throw-up. For some people the massage-therapist might be a no-brainer. They'd even jump at the excuse to throw themselves down on the massage table. Not me. It's either this or muscle relaxers. I am less excited about more medication than I am about a stranger touching me. So, massage it is.
It's not my first rodeo with massage therapy. But I still find it ironic how my discomfort with all the physical contact makes me more tense. I'll be laying there and realize that I've had a death grip on the table for the past 10 minutes.
It's no surprise that physical touch ranks dead last for me on love languages. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, The 5 Love Languages are a fascinating way to look at the different ways that we give and receive love. And in the words of today's youth, "it's legit." I'd recommend the book, but check out the website for a quick idea. You can even take the quiz and find out what yours are.
The other day I'm lying there trying to relax (not very well) and I can't help but wonder, What in the world is it with these places and pan flute music? Why is that the universal sound of relaxation? And how often do you think pan flute players bore themselves to sleep? Or worse? Death by pan flute. What a way to go. Not exactly down in flames, but certainly novel.

Armchair, M.D.

Confession: I do not have a medical degree. What I do have under my belt are years of medical drama on television. Let's call that the "Armchair M.D."
The A M.D. degree has given me the false impression that when I walk into the hospital I will have a specialized team of diagnosticians focused on only ME. And they will run every test in the book immediately just because they can. There is no question as to whether or not this is in-network, out-of-network, meeting my deductible, and who exactly is footing the bill for all this jazz. Most importantly, the treatment works right away and very conveniently into a 1-hour time slot. It's wonderful.
So, it's been a struggle to understand why it takes my medicine so long to work. It's hard for people that want me to get better quickly because it appears that I am taking a very passive approach, when really this is just the way it works. And since I don't have that genuine medical degree, all I can say is that it takes a while for the chemicals to build up and really do something. I like to think of it like a flash mob. Like this:



I simply must point out the man just left of center in the blue dress shirt and tie. In my mind I've named him "Middle Management Steve." Every time I see this clip I end up looking at him. Maybe it's because his timing is just a touch off and I think, "I'm with you M.M.S., I'd be behind everyone, too." But really, I think it's his enthusiasm that's so darn endearing. Go get 'em, Stevo.

Eye of the Tiger, baby.

You haven't heard from me (if you have, you've been one of the lucky few) for a long time because I've been feeling like J-U-N-K. The first round of drugs never really did the trick past those first few clicks of the bicycle gears that I mentioned in an earlier post. So we moved to something with more firepower, but still had to wait, wait, w...a....i.......t........ for those to kick in. It's been 6 weeks now and we thought it would take at least 3 more days of drugs building up in the system before I felt anywhere close to this good. I'm okay with early.

At some undetermined point in the wee hours of the morning my eyelids popped open and my body said, "Okay, Emily, we are done sleeping now." (don't ask me why, but my body always talks about itself in the first person plural). And then it started.

Buh. buh-buh-buh. Risin' up, back on the street. Did my time took my chances. Went the distance now I'm back on my feet. Just a man and his will to survive. (Insert mumbled lyrics I can't remember here) It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight...

By the time I actually looked at a clock it was 5:15. I didn't get out of bed for a while mostly because I knew what would happen as soon as I hit the coffee pot: a raucous 3-dog rodeo of sheer breakfast joy. Eventually, though, even I got annoyed with Eye of the Tiger and the stupid lyrics that I couldn't remember, so I got up.

My step dad is always up at unseemly hours for work, so he looked a bit surprised to see me walk (not stumble) into the kitchen.
"What in the world are you doing up?"
"I am done sleeping. It's the Eye of the Tiger day."
"Okay."


Ba-da bing. That is my morning. I like it and I am grateful that it has arrived.

"Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you."-Ephesians 5:14b

Okay, hilarious sidenote that I cannot let slide: I looked-up the lyrics to Eye of the Tiger just to make sure I wasn't going to find out through mockery that I've had the words wrong all these years. Have you ever been to some of these lyric websites? One had "It's the eye of the tiger, it's the CREAM of the fight." How that made sense to anyone, I don't know...but it sure made me chuckle.