I'm Baaaaaaack!!

After several long weeks of saying goodbye to my Nicaraguan home, I am finally back in my Michigan home. And I can't even express the utter joy I feel right now. Happiness doesn't begin to cover it. I feel light, excited, giddy even.  And a little bit cold too :)

Which isn't to say the move has been easy! Weird might be a better word to use. I've come home, and yet it feels so very alien. Things are the same and yet nothing is. I have a new room. Actually, my family has renovated several rooms in our house. We even have a new dining room table. Rhys is taller than Evan and I now hug his waist. Evan has a funky new hairstyle and a beard. Sarah and Jordan have a new home and a new puppy.  Mom's hair is longer and Dad's hair is grayer.  I hardly recognize us.

West Michigan, I’ve noticed, is very different too. My church has a new sanctuary.  There are new coffee houses and breweries on every corner.  Our gas station has a new walk-in beer cooler. There’s a new Japanese restaurant near home, plus countless others I’m sure I don’t know about yet. There's even an outlet mall not 10 minutes from my house. 

And that's just the start of what's new here!  Apparently, I am going to feel like a tourist here for a while.

But I'm excited about it :) I get to wander the streets of downtown and rediscover the hidden treasures there. I get to be excited about colder weather and cloudy days. I get to indulge in holiday delicacies like candy canes and peppermint mochas. I get to revel in a new wardrobe of sweaters, scarves, hats and boots.

Most of all, I get to see you all again.

I know I'm different. And I know you're different. I look forward to getting to know you again :)

Until it's Gone

“Only hate the road when you’re missing home.  Only know you love her when you let her go.”  These lines keep running through my head, the catchy tune in Michael Rosenberg’s folksy voice and a guitar strumming away in the background.  I’ve always loved the lyrics to his song “Let Her Go” as I feel they describe oh so well several moments in my life.  Now, more than ever, I feel like it’s my theme song, played in the background of some epic movie about a girl who goes off on adventures and makes her home wherever her feet tread, only to realize she misses that which she has left behind.

The truth of the matter is: I don’t really know it’s been my home until it’s not anymore.  Does that make any sense?  Yesterday, I had this really surreal moment of trying to feel sad about moving and leaving everything I have come to love here in Nicaragua… and I just couldn’t feel as sad as I wanted to.  It then dawned on me that, as I soak up all these last moments here and savor every bit of adventure left, I won’t miss it here until I’m gone.  I won’t miss the sun and heat until I’m stuck in the snowy cold north.  I won’t miss the crowded streets and the nosy hustle and bustle of city life until I’m trying to sleep at night and all I can hear is the wind and the crickets.  I won’t miss the people here who I’ve come to call family until I feel the distance of the thousands of miles between us. 

I won’t miss it until it’s gone.

But, Nicaragua, do not worry! 

For I will miss you, that I can guarantee.

I will miss your green hills and volcanoes that line the horizon.

I will miss your sunny smile that wakes me in the early hours of the morning.

I will miss your sandy beaches and palm trees and salty waves.

I will miss your noisy markets and streets full of traffic, animals, people and random surprises.

I will miss your fireworks and parades and marching bands and spontaneity. 

I will miss your people and their open hearts that have welcomed me here and loved me as family.

I will miss you, a lot.

But not until I have left you.

So, Nicaragua, in a few days when I finally leave your land, wave me goodbye and wipe away your tears,

Knowing that I leave a piece of my heart behind.

And that someday, I will come back to get it.

How Long Does a Goodbye Last?

Today, as I'm sweating from the intense tropical heat, it's hard to understand that we have arrived at the first day of December.  Yes, here in León we have Christmas music playing on the radio, Christmas decorations and gifts for sale everywhere, and Christmas lights decorating houses here and there. Sometimes you can even get a glimpse of a decorated tree in someone's living room. Even so, it doesn't really feel like December should be here yet... Like when did that happen?

I also have to admit that as I sit here and type these words, my sight is a tad blurry from unshed tears.  Quite suddenly it's hit me just how close the end is.  I know I am not leaving for another 20 days, but guys, I'm leaving in 20 days!

I've already started saying goodbye. To people. To places.  I've started planning the bigger goodbyes, going-away parties with my students, my host families, my coworkers, my friends. My next couple weeks are going to be filled with these goodbyes.

And I hate it.

I hate saying goodbye. I hate thinking that in just a little while I won't see you again. I hate knowing that I won't be able to just pop over and chat with you in your kitchen, or meet you for coffee, or enjoy a random parade or fireworks or a gigantonas performance that we run into on the street. I hate to admit that there will be no more street-food dates at that place behind the cathedral, no more long bus rides together to Managua, no more jaywalking and dodging traffic, no more movie nights in our living room. Really, I just can't stand the fact that I have no idea if I'll see you again.

So how long does a goodbye last?

A few weeks? A few months? A few years? Forever?

I know I want to see you again. I want to go to the beach with you again, watch the sunset, marvel at the stars. I want to have drinks with you on the third floor and spend too much time chatting and people watching. I want to speak Spanglish with you and laugh at how bad our English is getting, or be proud of a new Spanish word or phrase we learned. I want to do spontaneous things with you like birdwatching or going to a concert or going for an ice cream run or running home in the rain. I want to have sleepovers and air-conditioning dates and weekend getaways. I want to just be with you, doing whatever we fancy at that moment.

Bottom line: I don't want this to be an End. No capital E's here. Just nice pauses, a "see you later", a "nos vemos cuando nos veamos".

I’m going to pretend that this isn’t just a fanciful wish of mine, a fleeting hope that “ends” don’t exist, not really.  Yes, I will see you again.  Someday. 

Until then,

Kelsita

Lord, we are tired

Lord, we are tired.

We look around and all that we see makes us profoundly weary…

Tear-filled eyes.  Shattered glass.  Screeching sirens.  Shivering bodies.  Harsh words.  Closed doors.  Cold hearts. 

Death, death, and more death.

We long for a day when our newsfeed wouldn’t fill up with stories of yet another massacre.  When pictures of blown-up buildings, dead children, and overcrowded shelters wouldn’t barrage us day after day after day.  When our mornings would be times to be thankful, and not times to be heartbroken and despairing. 

Today is not one of those days, Father. Today, we are hurting.  We are all hurting. 

And we don’t know how to handle that.

We are ashamed, ashamed to admit we are growing used to the violence, numb and silent to its piercing call.  Our only response is “not again”…

We are scared, scared that one day we too will suffer in our own homes.  So we respond by closing our doors and shuttering our windows.  Out of sight, out of mind…

We are angry, angry that people could commit such atrocities and we can’t do a thing to stop them.  We are angry enough to lash out, to hate, to condemn…

We are frustrated, frustrated in ways that keep us from taking deep breathes and finding the compassion in our hearts.  We want answers, we want solutions, and we want them now.  But we don’t get any…

But most of all, we are tired.  Bone weary tired.  The kind of tired that not even our dreams at night can help us escape.  The weight of the world bears heavily on our shoulders and keeps are feet buried in the sand, knees locked and legs shaking, sinking deeper and deeper. 

We can’t hold on much longer.

Lord, we want you to come.  Preferably now, if at all convenient.  We’ve quite suddenly reached the end of our supply of patience.  We’re scraping the bottom of the barrel and coming up dry.  There’s simply not enough to make this all right again… 

Please, come and restore the world before it gets much worse.

Please.

And thank you in advance.

Better yet?

It has come to my attention that many of you are suffering from "seasonal depression". It’s that time every year where not even the promise of hot cocoa and the sound of Christmas music can warm your spirit.  People get sleepy, crabby, and frankly a bit boring.  I blame the heavy grey clouds that loom overhead, the chill of the wind that makes your bones ache, the wet damp feel of everything around you.

So I thought I'd help you all out a bit.

At this very moment, I am quietly rocking away in a beautiful dark wooden chair located in the gazebo at the Nehemiah Center. Surrounding me are green things of all sorts--plants, grass, hanging baskets, trees, and the green coffee mug on the table by my feet. Big fluffy clouds with a hint of grey are moving in, promising a brief shower of rain later this afternoon.  It's lunchtime here and so I am practically here by myself, the only sounds I hear are the birds cooing and singing in the nearby trees, the leaves rustling in the wind, the school bells of the campus next door, and some distant pop music playing in the background. The air here is warm, not hot, with the sun shining down, kissing the earth here and there with its golden light. The shade brings me some relief from the 85 degree weather, but the slight breeze feels even more delightful as it gently caresses my skin and flutters through my hair.

It is peaceful here, like taking a deep breath or snuggling under a warm blanket.

And I can't help but feel happy as I sit here, describing all of this to you.

Now, I’m not writing all of this to make you jealous!  Instead, I hope my words bring you to a place where happiness can fill your heart today. I hope the greyness and dreariness of approaching winter doesn't drag down to its gloomy depths. I hope that you find that cup of hot cocoa and listen to Christmas music and snuggle with a loved one under a big, heavy blanket.

Mmmm, yes, that sounds delightful doesn't it?

I AM with You

I am with you, He says.  In the darkness, in the quiet, in the joy, in the pain—I am there.  I always have been.  You are never alone.

Do you hear His voice?

In these past two weeks, my heart has felt the weight of pain not my own.  I have cried tears of suffering, suffering that I myself did not experience.  It physically hurt me to hear the story of someone I love who endured not months but years of neglect, to hear the pain in that rejection and loneliness.  To hear the story of tragic loss as a mother loses yet another child to the murderous power of the gangs in her neighborhood.  To hear the shaking voice of a man sharing his story of losing 21 members of his family in one day to a landslide, one man among many who lost loved ones that day.  To hear the agony in the voice of a close friend who suffered physical and sexual abuse as a small child from those who were supposed to protect her and love her.  To hear of a young soul who could no longer bear the weight of the world and so tragically cut his own life short.  Story after story after story. 

In those moments, I could do nothing.  I could not comfort them.  I could not bring back their loved ones.  I could not heal them, make their lives whole again, give them peace.  In my completely helplessness, I could do nothing but obey the Spirit and weep with my fellow brothers and sisters.

Do you know what word kept running through my mind as I heard these stories?  Immanuel.  Literally God with us.  I AM WITH YOU, His voice whispered to me.  I AM WITH ALL OF YOU, AS I ALWAYS HAVE BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE.

Really, God?  You were there?  In those moments when your children needed you most, you were there?  Where?  You didn’t save them.  You didn’t wipe away their tears.  You didn’t protect them from the rivers of mud, from the gun’s bullet, from the abusive hands.  You didn’t.  So how can you say you were there??

Because He was there, even when we didn’t have the eyes to see Him. 

Every beating, every abandonment, every loss, every death—God felt every single one of those.  In those intense moments of hurting, God hurt too.  That’s what Immanuel means.  Not God by us, not God around us, not God above us or beneath us…  No.  God with us:  “…whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me” (paraphrase of Matt. 25:40).  None of us was ever alone.  Ever.

I don’t know why but this gives me such Hope.  “In Christ we see God suffering – for us. And calling us to share in God’s suffering love for a hurting world. The small and even overpowering pains of our lives are intimately connected with the greater pains of Christ. Our daily sorrows are anchored in a greater sorrow and therefore a larger hope” (Henri Nouwen).   Our suffering ties us not only to God in an unbreakable bond, but also to others around us who are suffering as well.  We are led to lives of great compassion, literally "to suffer with", to seek out the outcast, the hurting, the persecuted, the lonely and to bear their burden with them, recognizing that this is “the way to the truth that we are most ourselves, not when we differ from others, but when we are the same” (Henri Nouwen).  We are called to solidarity, to togetherness, with our brothers and sisters.  We weep with our weeping brethren; we rejoice when they rejoice; we are because they are. 

And we are because HE IS, right here with us.

Small

Have you ever felt how big the world is?  No, not thought.  Felt.  I’m talking about the feeling that you get when you imagine you are just one drop in an ocean, that feeling of immensity, of infinite.  It’s the feeling you get when you look down into an abyss, or up at the stars, or into the eyes of the person you love.   There’s just something hugely indescribable about it, isn’t there?  There comes a moment where you have to pause, look around you, and marvel at how BIG everything is. 

Ok, take a deep breath and come back to normal.  Everything is as it was before.  Now, this time, I want you to feel how small the world is this time.  Think about how easy it is to fly across the ocean.  Think of how many times we’ve visited the moon.  Think about how fast you can hop in your car and drive to the nearest coffee shop.  Think about your loved one whom you Skyped with not moments ago.  I am 3,200 miles away from most of you and yet here we are chatting. 

My mind jumps to all of the people I’ve met in my life, years ago or moments ago, and how suddenly they’ve connected me to places I had never been before, places I never even cared about.  Now, I have friends living in Houston, Abuja, Târgu-Mureș, Mexico City, Cairo and Santo Domingo (and many others!) and those places mean something to me.  I also now care about Sioux Center, Iowa because of all the Dordt people I’ve come to know and love.  I think about my friends spread throughout Central America and Mexico, their pueblos meaningful to me.  I think about my family all around the globe, and how strangely their homes are important to me.  Me, little ol’ me, is connected to places everywhere.

So in my mind, the world is small even though it is big.

This week I had the opportunity to feel just how small the world can be.  I had the privilege of attending the international conference Synergy 2015 in Guatemala City (http://cmtguatemala.org/synergy-2015-realities-opportunities-challenges/).  It was a gathering of men and women from around the world to talk, discuss, dive into and celebrate one thing: God and the City.  Voices that spoke a variety of languages came together to talk and to laugh and to share.  We walked the streets of Guatemala City, experienced the love Guatemalans have for their people, and participated in loving their city with them.  We learned of the pains Guatemalans continue to endure, but we also saw the joy Guatemalans have in the abundance of their beautiful country and their God.  I can’t speak for anyone, but I daresay that we all came away from this conference inspired.

What truly took my breath away during this conference was the diversity of the people gathered there in that conference room, eating meals and drinking coffee together.  Bangladesh, Egypt, Kenya, Nigeria, South Africa, Romania, Korea, Central America, North America—faces from many places.  We prayed in Spanish, English, Creole, and a myriad of other tongues and dialects to the same great God above.  And in that moment, the world didn’t seem so big.  In the hands of God, the world seemed very small indeed. 

Secret to Life

I’m super giddy right now.  Filled right to the brim with energy.  Kind of like champagne that’s been shaken up in a bottle and the cork is stuck.  Why do I feel this way?  I’ve stumbled upon a secret.  The secret to the universe as it were.  I seriously feel like I’ve just unlocked the mystery of this thing we call life.

And before you go on and say “good grief Kelsey, you became a Christian a long time ago”, that’s not what I mean.

It’s much simpler than that.

And it all comes down to this: relationships.

We were created—from dust or a rib bone or however—for relationships.  That’s it.  Period.  Amen.

We weren’t created to learn the alphabet, or to master our times tables, or learn how to swim, or to memorize the Apostle’s Creed.  Forget school, forget college, forget work—those are all just time fillers. 

No, we were made for each other. 

Stop and ponder that a moment… how does this make you feel?  How does it make you feel to be so tied to those around you?  Your very essence important because they too are important?  Not because of anything great you’ve ever accomplished; not because of what great work you do; not because of the spotlight you’ve fashioned for yourself.  But because God created us to be in community, His community.

I learned a new word this week, one that only makes sense if you believe what I just told you.  The word comes from Zulu: Ubuntu.  The concept of Ubuntu can be boiled down to this punchline: I am because you are; you are because I am.

Isn’t that beautiful? 

At the end of life, you are going to look back and be measured not by what you managed to accomplish while here on earth—no you are going to be measured by your love and how you loved others.  That’s it.

And guess what?  We were created for this!  That means that to love is as natural as to breathe.  It isn’t something that can be graded or taught—it’s ingrained in our very DNA.

Unfortunately, society today has made it so hard for us to not only find our identity in love, but to be that love.  Individualism creates barriers between me and you, keeping me from reaching out and loving the person beneath all those layers of self-protection.  Society doesn’t want us to embrace the vulnerable—it wants us to buy insurance plans so we never have to feel vulnerable!

And that is life’s greatest lie.

So I dare you today to love.  I dare you to trust your instincts and reach out to someone.  I dare you to be who God created you to be.

Full

For just a moment, I want you to sit down in a place that’s comfortable to you.  Shut off all distractions, things that will take you away from this very moment—no phones, books, TVs, computers, tablets, nothing.  Now close your eyes and take a deep breath. Feel the air fill your lungs, expanding and contracting as you breathe in deeply.  In... and out... Breathe in again.  Take a moment and pause all your wandering thoughts.  Ask yourself one question: how do I feel?

As I take a deep breath, I feel many things.  Slowly though, I let those cacophonous thoughts and feelings leave me, in their wake something much more centered, calm, and relaxed.  Sadness and pain wander at the periphery of my attention but, at this very moment, I feel tranquil.   

Another word comes to mind: full.  Not full as in I just ate a hearty breakfast.  No, I feel full in the sense of wholeness, peace, Shalom.  Full as in rain and smiles, stars and silence. Full as in immersion and a connectedness to something much bigger than me.  Full as in I am more than I appear to be, that we are more than we appear to be.

These past few weeks, God has given me glimpses of his Fullness, the depths of which are fathomless. He has led me to people and places who have every right to feel broken, abandoned, empty. And yet, jars of clay that they are, God's light pours out of them.  I see a community, crippled by loss, and yet they don't cower in the shadows—they dance in the light. I hold a family in a prayerful embrace and, instead of empty silence, we are filled with the Spirit’s life.  Tears are filled with stories of not only pain, but also of God’s grace.  God’s abundance takes on a whole new form, growing not out of plenty but out of fullness. 

Fullness. Abundance. Life.

These are words my heart so desperately wants to hear right now…  I have witnessed too much loss and death in the past days than I care to think about.  My very heart beats loudly in my ears, an ever constant reminder of my life, and yet also a never-ceasing ironic reminder of those who have lost theirs.  But I find that I cannot stay too long resting in my grief and sorrow… just as I feel broken by loss, I can also feel the rays of God’s hopeful light pouring out of me.  The light, while a testimony to others, speaks to me in a profound way, telling me that God is here with me.  I may feel broken and tired and empty, but the truth is that God has me enveloped in his embrace.  I, we, are never alone.

I’ll close today with a short prayer I heard this week:

We ask that God may grant us peace.

That in our pain we may find comfort,

That in our confusion we may find a measure of understanding,

That in our anger we may find forgiveness,

That in our sorrow we may find hope,

That in the aftermath of fear we may find strength and healing.

We pray this in the name of the Father who is for us, the Son who is with us, and the Spirit who unites us all in the never-ending dance of Love.  Amen.

Go in peace.

The Curse of the Wandering Heart

Have you ever heard of the curse of the Wandering Heart?

Here, gather in closer and let me tell you:

One morning, we wake up and look around us. The world all seems normal... But it doesn't feel normal. For years we have lived our lives peacefully, happily even, in this normal world we know and so, this feeling of otherness comes as quite the surprise. Something is off, and our hearts can feel that.

Now there are two responses to this pull at our heartstrings. The easy response is to ignore it and continue living our lives as we have been, happy and peaceful. It's a life we know well and can easily traverse it. But I tell you, that feeling of otherness will never go away.

The other response, the more dangerous and mysterious one, is to feel the tug on our hearts and let ourselves be pulled to where it desires to go.

And so, as the valiant few, we put one foot in front of the other, wandering to where our hearts pull us.

We look and see and experience and feel the newness of life around us. We explore and dive into the worlds of newness we encounter and, as we do so, we realize something profound in our hearts--our hearts are growing, their depths to an unknown and unmeasurable distance. The new places and people we meet and know carve out their places in our hearts. As our hearts expand and grow and stretch, oftentimes painfully, we realize that our hearts know no bounds. For even as it hurts to fit in all that we come to cherish, we see that there is a space in and around our hearts that can never be filled.

We begin to realize that the world is too big for our hearts, and yet, it is not big enough.

We realize that our hearts deeply crave something otherworldly. Something in this world, yes, but not of it. Something that whispers lovingly to our hearts, calling out to us to seek the eternal source of that whisper.

And so we wander far and wide in a never-ending search for that which will Fill our Hearts.

And that, my dear, is the curse of the Wandering Heart. 

The Big Blue

My feet buried in warm sand, the ever present sound of crashing waves, the sun beating down through clouds heavy with rain, the smell of salt and fish and brine—yes, I had the wonderful chance to spend a few days at the beach this past week.  Even more beautiful than the setting was the company I shared it with:

Hi mom and dad!!

As I stood there one afternoon staring out at the endless horizon of blue waters, I was struck with just how majestic and weird the ocean is.  Have you ever thought about how big our oceans are?  How, geographically speaking, they have more real estate than land does?  Just last week I dipped my toes and tumbled in the waves of the Pacific Ocean, and so did some Japanese children.  I took a boat ride on the same waves that some dude was surfing on in Hawaii or in Australia.  The immensity of that body of water is just… well, too big.  I can’t wrap my mind around it.

Yes, that's a sea turtle :)

Not only are oceans ginormous, they’re also an alien planet unto themselves.  The many abysses of unknown depths, the unseen but ever growing submerged volcanoes, the new species being discovered every year, the numerous currents and strong tides, the submerged cities and shipwrecks: all are crazy mysterious things that boggle the mind and make you wish you could breathe water like a fish.

Instead, God gave us two land-dependent legs and oxygen-dependent lungs.  It seems we have been cursed to wander the Dirt forever.

In my mind, God is sort of like the ocean.  He is vast, mysterious, of unknown origins and depths.  He is teeming with new life, with adventure, with creativity.  He is powerful, strong, dangerous.  He is peaceful, tranquil, and beautiful.  He has no beginning, and no end.  He moves in us, waves of grace and tides of mercy.  We cannot control God, much like we cannot control the oceans. 

I suppose I also imagine the Kingdom of God like the ocean, where all His children come home to live in his watery Oasis.  Like drops of water, lost in the sea of not only other drops but also in the overarching presence that is His. 

It’s not a perfect analogy, but it does inspire the imagination, doesn’t it?

As you go to the lakes and the oceans, what side of God do you see?  As you ponder the depths of the seas and the life that calls those waters home, what lesson is God sharing with you?  Remember the early poets who compared God’s love with the endless seas, the depths of which could not be known.  Is that not amazing to think about? 

Someday, I will shed these land-legs and trade them in for my Kingdom-ocean ones.  Someday, the oceans will make sense and their secret places will no longer be a mystery to me.  Someday, I’ll join God in his watery depths and swim in his glory.  Someday, I will call those waters Home.

Someday.

Stay tuned!

Cha-Cha-Changes

Courtesy of Carlye Tazelaar

Pensive, I stare off into the distance, not really seeing the vista in front of me.  I think of the future and, quite quickly, get lost in the emotions and dreams I have swirling around in my mind.  Caught in the powerful vortex, I am sucked into the great questions of which I have no answers:  Where will I be?  Who will I be with?  What will I be doing???  I have a fairly concrete plan for the next 3 months (no really, you should see my calendar—there’s no white space left), but have intentionally left blank my year of 2016.  

Why, you might ask? 

For the first time in my life, I don’t have a red carpet laid out in front of me.  There is no doorway open with a bright light shining through, beckoning me to cross that threshold.  There is no guide blazing a trail ahead of me in this jungle, no one to follow in their footsteps.  For the very first time, my future seems quite… well, open.  Blank.  Free.  Which at first terrifies me!  I am the girl with a plan, a well thought-out plan, I might add.  I always have my ducks lined up, the details sorted through, the options well labeled and categorized.  I hardly ever just wander blindly, hoping to bump into the right door to open or the right path to follow (though this sometimes happens if I misplace my glasses, bewildering moments I try to avoid).  So the idea of me intentionally not planning anything is bizarre. 

My only reason seems a bit feeble, but it’s all I’ve got—It comes down to the fact that if I think too much about the future, I’ll forget to live in the present.  As silly as it sounds, planning and dwelling on my future feels like an escape from the challenges and drudgery of my reality right now.  I will invent such a beautiful and perfect future that the world around me right now will become dull, annoying, and burdensome.  I will polarize the two, seeing the grass as very green over there, on the other side.  I will yearn for the future, and begrudge the present. 

And I don’t want that to happen. 

So I am avoiding the temptation of daydreaming too much so that I can find joy here in the present too.  The key is in noticing the small things, the little gift bundles God throws into every day.  When I look up, I can see the clouds in the sky and cherish the rain they bring.  When in the countryside, I can see freshly planted coffee and savor the taste of cacao fruit.   At the markets, I can marvel at the handiwork of Nicaraguan artisans, both past and present, and admire their artwork.  In my rocking chair, I can sip my coffee in the mornings and enjoy the company of my little hummingbird that visits me.  Every day, I can laugh and smile and just be with the people I’ve come to call good friends.  These are the good times. 

Even though my future seems dauntingly blank and looms over me from time to time, I find that it also motivates me to fully engage in the here and now and see how blessed I am.  The future will come, and I will be ready for it when it comes. 

But not yet, not yet.

My Old Friend

It’s been just over a week since the last time I enjoyed a thunder storm.  I miss those rain showers, those cacophonous moments of rain pelting tin roofs and thunder booming in the dark clouds above.  I miss feeling the chill of the fresh air, the smell of water-drenched earth, the feeling of the cool drops on my bare skin. 

Last week, I spent a few days traipsing around the countryside down by San Carlos, mostly in a small pueblo called Guasimo.  These small towns butt up against the border with Costa Rica, giving them a very different feel to the colonial city I call home.  The jungles engulf the countryside and villages in their wild foliage and teem with wildlife like monkeys, parrots, boa constrictors, tarantulas, and jungle cats.  To make it even better, it rains there.  A lot.  As you may know, rain and I get along rather famously.  Although recently we haven’t seen much of each other…  So this trip of mine, though tiring, turned out to be quite the blessing :)

During one particular thunderstorm I felt inspired to write a small poem of sorts… A poem to my old friend, Rain:

The rain, she calls out to me

Like an old friend.

I welcome her greeting warmly;

I pull up a chair,

Put on a pot of water

And brew us a cup of sweet tea. 

I snuggle up in my warm sweater

And sip my hot tea,

Grateful for Rain's fresh air she's brought

A gift of air that smells of wet earth, puddles, and green.

She invites me to talk first,

Listening ever so gently.

And so we talk,

Just her and I.

I talk of deep things that weigh on my heart:

My feelings of the past,

My desires for the present,

My dreams for the future.

And Rain listens to me well,

Giving me advice and counsel.

She speaks of patience and timing,

Of rhythm and passion and balance.

I ponder her words and

Savor their wisdom

like the cup of tea I currently hold.

She is wise, my old friend Rain.

And then she takes her turn,

Sharing with me her thoughts and hopes.

As her passion rises,

So too does her voice of watery droplets.

Crescendos of raindrops pelt the earth around us,

A symphony of notes and beats.

Thunder and Lightning join in from time to time,

Forever lost in their mighty dance.

And I sit here,

And listen

As we share this moment in our lives,

Just Rain and I.

And then the time comes

When Rain must go.

I thank her for bringing me a bit of peace and wisdom.

I sigh, content and refreshed.

Farewell, Rain.

Until the next time when our paths cross.

Until then, here I will wait for you.

Stay tuned!

You've Got a Friend in Me

I’ve been thinking a lot lately what it means to be a friend.  In my experience, friends are those who listen, who make you laugh, who get you to take yourself seriously, and who advise you against making bad decisions.  They are the ones we turn to when the day gets rough.  They are the ones we seek out when boredom strikes, or when the weekend arrives, or when something big happens that demands a celebration.  Friends are a BIG part of our lives.

If I’m honest, I’m a bit selfish when it comes to friendships. I’m drawn to psychology and I absolutely love delving into the inner realms of any person.   What makes a person tick?  What do they like?  Dislike?  I’d like to know absolutely everything about everyone BUT I’m also the last person to open up to others.  Which I suppose makes me something like a gentle parasite: gleaning off of others, learning all I can but giving little of myself in return.

My questions abound… How does a friend act?  How should a good friend act?  What do I say, share, repeat?  When am I allowed to keep secrets, to keep parts of me safe and private?  Where are those lines, those boundaries, those places that should be saved only for God?

My biggest question for today: are all friendships equal?

Clearly, no.  My friendship with my family is very different from my friendships with my housemates.  And those friendships are very different from my friendship with my boyfriend which is also very different from my friendships with all of my coworkers and students and neighbors and church.  Each friendship is unique and I interact with each person in a very unique way.  Friendships are much like a fingerprint or a snowflake—no two are the same.  And I shouldn’t expect them to be.

I’ve also come to realize that with each relationship I have, I give a little bit of myself to that person.  As a gift, I offer a piece of my heart in exchange for a piece of yours.  To some, I give more.  To others, just a little piece.  I can’t give all of me to everyone.  But even though I may ration out those little heart pieces and hoard them like a little squirrel, it’s impossible not share my heart with those I call friends.  I’m connected to you.  There’s no turning back, no refunds, no gift returns. 

Which is why absence and lies and disappointment hit so hard—the heart is deeply involved.  Friends know us best, yes, but they are also the ones who can hurt us the most.

My wisdom then for today is simply this: Be careful who you give your heart pieces to.  

Those are gifts you can’t take back.  But they’re also gifts that connect you to a network of people who cherish you in very unique and wonderful ways.  Friends are incredibly important, so treasure their place in your life.  And your place in theirs.

Stay tuned!

Amar es Perdonar

It’s another night here at Casa Kelsey and with no other great distraction planned, we turned to Netflix for some easy on-demand entertainment.  Netflix courteously suggested titles of movies and shows that might perk our interest and, for some inexplicable and extremely random reason, we chose a ridiculous movie about the ever-famous topic of love.  As is the case with many chick-flicks the plots twists and turns were sudden and laughable, not realistic in the slightest.  Nevertheless, it did its job to engage our attention for a couple of hours :)

The movie was quite unmemorable except for one single phrase that stands out to me even now: “Amar es perdonar.”  To love is to forgive.  I don’t know why this simple 3 word phrase has struck me so profoundly…  But for me, that night, those words rang true.  I think we often highlight the other, more enjoyable parts of love: the passion, the sincerity, the fun, the togetherness, the adventure.  But we often avoid the harder, more gritty parts of love: the pain, the hurt, the anger, the brokenness, the disappointment. 

If we jump around in our love-giving and love-receiving, we are only going to skim the surface of our relationships.  When we become disappointed or hurt by someone, we will forever give into the temptation to cut-off that person from our lives, to break off, to run away.  We will befriend people, stay with them for a time, and then move on.  People will fill our lives and yet we will feel a deep loneliness. 

To endure through the storms, to bear witness to the ugliness of love, to come out of it on the other side and be able to honestly say “I still love you” is a deeper love that transcends failure and brokenness.  This is the Love God demonstrates for us every single day.  Let me say that again: God loves us that much every single day.  Yesterday.  Tomorrow.  Forever. 

It’s hard to love this way.  It’s really hard.  But it’s so worth it.  And as Christ-followers, it’s what we are called to do.  As our Father and Creator loves us, so too should we love his Creation and fellow image-bearers. 

To paraphrase a favorite Bible passage:

In those dark moments of failure and brokenness, I love you.  Even while you are a sinner, I love you.  I love you so deeply I sent my Son to save you, once and for all.  Indeed, I love you still.  (Romans 5:8)

Do you believe in Love?  Do you believe in it enough to live it?  Don’t be afraid to love.  Love others as you want to be loved.  Be the love you want to see. 

Stay tuned!

A Home Connection

Back in the ol’ days, the ones that scarcely anyone can remember any more, traveling and living abroad looked very different from what we see today.  Travel itself was slower paced—days and weeks were dedicated to crossing the country, even longer if you were visiting family or taking a vacation.  People enjoyed a more sedentary lifestyle simply because moving took a lot of work (even more than it does nowadays!).  Then came the invention of all things technological and BOOM! we find ourselves in the midst of a day and age that we only dreamed of when Star Trek was first on TV.  We are living it, folks.

FaceTime with the bro

To provide a very obvious example, I happen to currently be a missionary living in a country 3,200 miles from my hometown.  And yet, this week I’ve been able to talk to my friends and loved ones “face-to-face” through the beautiful convenience of FaceTime and Skype.  I can text regularly with people all over the world.  I can worship live with fellow believers back home in Michigan via the internet.  And this past week, I was given the extra special opportunity to check in everyday with my church’s VBS kids! 

In case you didn’t make it to the daily VBS pow-wow held at Wayland this week, I’ve included below the short and sweet messages I sent my kids this week.  I hope you enjoy them as much as they did!

Day 1:

“Buenos días everyone! This is a little shout out from Kelsey Davies from sunny Nicaragua. Each day this week I'll be checking in and saying hi. I'll also try to leave you with a fun fact about Nicaragua as well as a favorite bible verse of mine. So here it goes: here in Nicaragua, we are known as the land of lakes and volcanoes--we have two huge fresh water lakes (think Lake Michigan) and 27 volcanos! Quite a bit different from Wayland huh? And the verse I'd like to share with you today is Micah 6:8 "He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Well, that's it for today. Dios les bendiga! Hasta mañana :)”

Day 2:

“Hola VBS-ers! I hope you had a really great first day yesterday.

I am currently sitting in my office in the capital city of Managua, catching up with work and having meetings. Managua is about an hour and a half from my home in Leon. Normally I come here on Mondays on a bus that looks like a school bus. But these school buses are a bit different from the ones you might be used to--these buses are painted bright colors on the outside and many have streamers and other colorful decorations. With loud music playing and waaaay too many people crammed in there, riding the bus here is always an adventure! Many times, there's so many people, the only way I can get off the bus is through the emergency door in the back!

The Bible verse I'd like to share with you guys today is another one of my favorites: Psalm 150:

1 Praise the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens.

2 Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness.

3 Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre,

4 praise him with timbre and dancing, praise him with the strings and pipe,

5 praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals.

6 Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.

Have a great day guys and I'll check in again tomorrow!”

A pic of the kids listening to my daily hi-hello-there

Day 3:

“Hola everyone again! Hope you’re having a fantastic week! Today I want to share with you a bit more about Nicaragua, but especially about the family. Family here is SUPER important. You'll often see extended family all living together in one house: think grandparents, your mom and dad, your siblings, maybe even a cousin or two. Sometimes even your uncle or aunt might live with you for a while. That's a lot of people all living in the same house! Birthday parties, weddings, and funerals are all huge family gatherings and can sometimes last for a couple of days. Let's just say here, you're never without family!

The verse I'd like to share with you today is from Psalm 103: “But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children— with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.” Psalm 103:17-18 NIV

Dios les bendiga and I'll chat with you tomorrow!”

Day 4:

“Bienvenidos to the last day of VBS! What a week, huh? I hope everyone has had a great time!

I don't know how many of you have been on soccer teams or at least kicked around a soccer ball in P.E. Probably a lot! Did you know that soccer is the most famous sport in many of the countries around the world? Including in Latin America? Well, it's popular here in Nicaragua too, but do you know what sport is even more popular? Baseball. Several decades ago, the U.S. Marines spent a good amount of time in Nicaragua and brought with them the well-liked American sport, and it's been a favorite ever since. In fact, several Nicaraguans play on professional American teams (Google it if you don't believe me). Kids and parents play catch in the streets here, and pick-up games are played everywhere. I live right by a stadium and boy are game-days crazy! So, if you enjoy baseball, then you have to visit Nicaragua someday! 

Ok, so today is the last day of VBS so I'd like to share with you a verse that has been used as a benediction for centuries, even before Jesus was born! You've probably heard it in church too. It's Numbers 6: 24-26: "The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace."

Have a blast at Fun Fest tomorrow!

Un abrazo fuerte (a big hug), 

Kelsey”

A shout-out of thank you to everyone who made VBS a fun time last week.  And thanks Dana for contacting me!  Miss you guys.

Stay tuned!