Dear Centro NOE & Max Lucado,

Dear NOE & Max Lucado,

These words of mine are long overdue, and honestly they’ve been sitting upon my heart for weeks, for months.

You see, Centro NOE, you have changed me.

God brought me to you, when I was a million pieces, certain that all I’d know for the rest of my life would be rejection.

I was feeble. I was weak when we first met.

And yes, some of your dear students remember those first few months as ones filled with silence, with a girl that seemed out of her element, one that would surely cherish the experience but wouldn’t return, because fear held her captive.

But on the last night, the goodbyes would be the most painful they’d ever been. They would rip out parts of my heart and withhold them from me until I returned.

And I would return, twice.

In fact, here I am.

I am no longer defined by rejection, nor held back by fear.

Yes, I am weak most of my days, but He is thankfully enough, He is my strength.

And most of all, I am home. These cobblestone uneven streets are all that I know; they are all that I want to know. These days spent in my second home, hours upon end, are all that I need. These students that challenge me to learn, to encounter joy in the simplest moments are all that I want.

NOE, you are home to me.

And yes, these months have challenged me, but there have been moments that have taken my breath away. Moments when former students come into my most difficult classes and pour out their hearts, vouching for me and supporting me with all that they are. Moments when the Directors, seek me out, give me more responsibilities and tell me that NOE can be home to me for however long that I like. And there are moments when the entire class caves into laughter over past participles, when students lose themselves in learning without even realizing it.

Moments when I must quietly remind myself that this life is my beautiful life to hold.

My dream has come to life before my very own eyes, and I’m here.

Ten years of praying, ten years of tears, ten years of missing, ten years of planning my perfect life.

Ten years of waiting. Ten. Worthwhile. Years.

And now my heart is full, because those ten years did not go to waste.

“His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed I cannot.” Jeremiah 20:9

NOE, this is our third time together, and yesterday I took part in your inauguration, with tears trickling down my cheeks, because you are no longer just a chapter in a book to me, no you are apart of me.

And God made me for you, NOE. 

I am weary of holding it in, I cannot.

I was made for you. Long ago, when my plans were to hide at home in the company of silence, my God set me apart to speak another language, to move without certainty. And when I followed, my life changed, because He knew where I was always supposed to be.

Tears are relentless, just like your love, because I’ve stumbled onto something that I never want to lose. And my heart longs to be the difference, to be your hands and feet, to shout your love from the rooftops, to love to the tips of fingers. May you use me to use me up, sweet Jesus. USE ME TO USE ME UP.

this. is. your. day.

“The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the Lord. 

Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing.”

Do you know what it’s like to hit the wall?

You are running with abandon, because you have a goal and mind…

And then all of a sudden, your breathing steadily becomes gasping, your feet are still moving, but your mind is telling you enough is enough, it’s telling you that today is not your day.

These words are being poured out and as I listen to Him speak, yes, He’s speaking:

He’s telling me to let go of the clichés, the useless salve for our souls; He’s telling me that never once has He ever walked away. Never once has he ever uttered those senseless words of “its just not your day.”

I’m sitting here writing when I should be doing a million other things, but sometimes God would have us sit with him, instead. Sometimes he would rather us lay down and join him in silence, then offer up distracted prayers.

It’s one of those moments, when your head and your heart require something other than what you think you should be doing. One of those moments that He deems with another purpose.

And you can choose. You can choose to fight what He’s asking of you or you can let something of yours give; let it go. You can paint yourself with a myriad of lies: you’re not enough and this isn’t your day. Or you can wash yourselves in grace and truth: you’re enough and this is the day that the Lord has made. 

You can hit the wall and flee. Or you can keep moving, because His grace is enough.

And there’s today and the beauty of it all- is that this is the day that the Lord has made.

As I bring that hymn to life, the wooden pews come to mind washed in the morning light and I picture my Grandfather, his eyes beaming with life and joy, his voice carrying throughout the chapel over all the others.

And. I. Understand.

I understand why nearly every Sunday our voices sang that hymn, because Jesus never once said it wasn’t our day. He never once said we weren’t enough.

We are the guilty ones.

We are the ones that tell ourselves that we are mistakes, the ones that tell ourselves it's okay to give up, because today is not o

ur day.

So child, this is your day, because this is the day that the Lord has made.

What will your response be?

I’m praying that you won’t give up. I am praying that you’ll push through the wall, and that you’ll keep running, that you’ll keep fighting.

Because. You. Are. Worthy. 

Prayer.

So, I’m just going to be honest with you precious ones, my prayer warriors, the ones that I love…it’s been rough.

And when I say that, I’m still bent in gratitude, because I know that God is with me, that He is my strength when my knees give out, when I lay down.

For the teachers, I’m sure your heart is kin to mine- do you have ever have those days when nearly half of your class arrives late, refuse to listen and complain when you try to make things interesting? Yes?!

Well that has been my last week and a half. And each morning and night I have been waking up and going to bed with these students on my heart, seeking strength in prayer. And although they have gotten a little better, we are still far from where we should be.

·      Prayer is welcome for discernment and understanding and the needed strength.

·      Prayer is welcome for these students that are distracting and keeping others from understanding.

·      Prayer is welcome for patience, because if I’m honest I’m a little spent.

·      Prayer is definitely welcome, because I will be speaking in youth group this Friday night.

I’m sorry this is so short, but these are my heart's needs. 

More to come in the coming days.

I'm found...

“I will extend peace to her like a river.”

Peace has wrapped me up in her arms, and I’m found again. 

I’m found in 737 Calle Tzintzunzan, a little house tucked off the streets, away from the wandering eye. 

I’m found in Centro NOE, a pale-skinned “guera” among a sea of faces with chocolate eyes, full hands and full heart. 

I’m found in friendships rekindled over the dinner table- mugs of steaming coffee and the sweetest of pastries, piles of tacos or a tower of fries.

I’m found in the bent-over singsong laughter of friends filling the dark streets on a walk home.

I’m found in the New NOE, tears brimming over, because there’s nothing quite better in this world, than being found. There’s nothing better than living with the quiet assurance that you are where you are, for a reason.

And though my days are busy and trying, there’s nothing more satisfying. I’ve been given seven groups of students to tend to for an entire year. I’ve been entrusted with being love in Centro NOE and in the streets that have become imprinted within my memory.

I’ve been found.

I saw what I saw and I never can go back.

I can never return to the mindset that “comfortable” is the home I should never leave. I can never become accustomed to never seeing a suitcase waiting to be filled. I can never go about my days without thinking of the people I’ve been given to love. Without heeding the mission I’ve been called to fill.

And so, life goes on here.

And so, His mercies fill me in the mornings and stay with me until the waning hours of sunlight.

Don’t you miss it, little one. Don’t you dare settle, do you hear me? There’s something around the bend, there’s light yet to be seen, there’s a clearing in your wilderness. You’ve been called, will you heed? You’ve been chosen, will you rise?

  

Fear. Shame. Doubt.

Have become…

Peace. Joy. Assurance.

Keep your hands empty, your arms open and your heart unlocked, child.

You’ve more to give.

I’ve more to give. And peace has been extended to me like a river.

For. I’m. Found.

 

I’m found in the unfamiliar, the distinctly foreign.

And my heart looks to this place as home, these people as mine. 

ONE MONTH.

"I get lost in the beauty of everything I see."

One Republic

So here we are, once again. In just two days I will be celebrating my one-month anniversary of returning home. 

And let me tell you...

I've been binding hundreds of books, participating in meetings, painting classrooms, washing windows, registering students, running and breaking out of my shell a bit. 

The other day I met with the director of the NOE Center, Brian Overcast, and we caught up on everything. And yes, I spilled my heart telling him that this is where I'm supposed to be for good and hesitantly asked him if I would have a place indefinitely. 

I'm brimming with joy as I write, because I was told there would always be a place here for me. 

I also have been given more responsibilities: I'm now in charge of the Administration of the Angel Program (our child sponsorship program) and I have been designated the English Coordinator. This means I'll be taking the new interns under my wing, as well as prepping everything for our other English teachers. 

I've been a little more outspoken this time around. There are still days when it's harder than others, but God is proving to be faithful, and keeping His promises about becoming strength in my weakness. 

Of course, He isn't limiting his faithfulness to my Spanish-speaking. I went running with the team of NOE staff and former students that we have here training for the Portland Marathon a couple Sundays ago. And I ran the most I have ever ran in my life: 9.5 miles. This is a feat, because like most things in my life, I have always counted myself incapable.

So I think this is what it all comes down to...God is quietly, ever so gently reminding me that I truly can do all things through Him, because He strengthens me. 

I just want to challenge your little hearts that wherever you are, He's already there. I want you to feel deep within your soul and mended bones, that God finds you worthy, He finds you capable. That's what He's teaching me and once again, I feel as though these beautiful people are blessing me more than I can ever be for them. 

Here's the run-down for you:

-We just had registration for the original NOE Center: parents and students started standing in line at 5 pm in the afternoon on Sunday to receive their number at 7 am on Monday. I lost count of how many we registered, but I believe it was close to around 250. Registration for the new NOE will be happening this coming week and we are expecting 200 students to register there. And there are still openings, so the numbers will continue to grow the next few days. 

-I'm going to be teaching seven classes: adults, three classes of the final level, the final level of elementary and two exchange classes. 

-Your prayers are definitely being heard. I've seen God working in my students' lives and redeeming the broken. 

-Another one of my former students is getting baptized on Sunday! 

-My sister received her visa for 10 YEARS. 

Here's how you can be praying:

-I have been dealing with sickness these past few days. 

-Registration at the new NOE and for us as we finish up painting and moving things. 

-For the three other interns: their health, peace, etc. 

-The NOE staff as these final days before opening are full of stress!

-The two meetings that I'm in charge of this week! 

I'm so sorry this is haphazardly written, but somedays the words don't come as easily. 

dear child, welcome home.

You hear it don't you?

That sweet little voice telling you to move ahead, to push through, to come out of the shadows.

You've been lost, child.

Your heart is frail, untethering at the seams like your favorite hand-me down sweater.

It's one of those days, when moving comes unnaturally.
When your soul longs to stay beneath the covers and avoid the daylight.

You've fallen victim to the vicious cycle, the never-ending routine.

Or maybe you've forgotten what it feels like when God's close to you.

Or your heart is
broken, because feelings just weren't what they were supposed to be.

Or maybe you poured yourself into addictions, that did nothing to shield you from pain.

You hear it don't you?

You matter.

You. Your mess. All of those mishaps.

They matter.

God wants to bring you out of this, whatever your "this" is.

He is with you.
Do you feel Him?
He sings over you.
Do you hear him?

I wonder what it would take for you to be still and know.
I wonder what it would take for you to stop trying to be the fixer.

Child, you don't have to come fixed.
You don't have to come perfect.

God, in all of His love, is enough.

He will meet you in your mess. His strong arms are open and his hands are trembling at the thought that you've finally, you've finally returned home. His eyes are twinkling stars, filling with tears, because you're right where you need to be.


And his steady, sure voice can be heard over all the Earth, "Darling one, I always knew that you'd come home. Give me your bags, sit down with me and rest. Let's look at how far you've come my child. Heartbroken, but never too broken for me to fix. Addicted, but never too far for me to lose you. Oh sweet, sweet child, it's time for you to rise out of your ruins, to meander out from your mess, and it's time for you to finally open the door a little wider to your heart to let me in. You were never too far out of reach, son. You were never too far gone, daughter. I have always been right here."

Is this real life?

I am trying to find the words, but they tend to fail me.

I'm going to picture you holding your coffee, sitting in His gentle graces- while I stammer to paint the picture of this beautiful world I have settled into.

It's already been a week and oh my heart, how I have seen Him move.

I've stumbled back into LOVE.

I have stumbled back into the city that never sleeps, home to a million.


My eyes, my heart, I can't keep from smiling, because it's home.

Home to my sisters who are growing into women, passionate for pursuing more of His presence, forgoing tradition.

Home to my students who have graduated and are moving forward, shining their lights for His kingdom.

Home to my students that have been awakened to His presence, doing everything for His glory.

And my heart is overwhelmed.

And so there are moments when my tongue falls into the singing language, and then there are still moments when my soul catches itself, questioning if this is even real, and so I sit and take it all in.

As I write, tears fill my eyes, because yes, I'm home.

I finally made it.

My bags are unpacked. My heart is heaving a sigh. My soul can't contain the joy.

And so as this journey begins, I pray you'll join me in praying that I can fully let go.

Pray that I can rise above fear of the language, once and for all.

Pray that I can be used in as many lives as possible.