Baja & Beyond…[the ones that I've met along the way]

Dear Baja, Goodwill, Reynosa and the many homes that have held my heart, 

Loving you has always been easy. Yes, you might think it has been quite some time since my feet have graced the gravel roads, the red dirt pathways, the bustling sidewalks and the many racks of clothing. You might think the absence of years or maybe just mere days means that your significance has faded, that loving you has stopped. 

My cheeks have lost the flushed, rosy gleam of learning you and seeing you as something new. And sure, maybe my feet haven't stepped afoot on your home turf, but in the grand scheme of loving, that means nothing. 

My faith has indeed been tested a time or two, but you will see after I lose myself to my words, that there's always, there's always been you. 


You've been tucked away in the suitcases of the past-nudging me forward on into uncertainty. 


And well the truth is, there you will always be. 

I'm a different bird, a girl wounded by the pangs of rejection and weariness from worry, a girl that finds more peace in moving to a foreign country that meeting a new soul. And you might think that this means I am lonely, but I beg to differ...

You all graced me with your presence and your people and those people, they waited patiently me for me to find my voice. 

And with my voice, comes my story…people often peg my life as perfection, but oh I'm only human and so is my life. It's plagued with doubts and failures. It is full of questions and crazy risk-taking. It is ravaged with hard times and wondering where is HIS promised provision, but oh how He always comes through. 

But that is the ease that comes with this life of ours- we refuse to see the invisible tears, we refuse to dig deeper and realize that someone, someone sitting next to you needs love. Oh they need love and they deserve it. Look a little closer, will you. The woman with swollen eyes in the store, she needs you. The man looking for a hot meal, he needs you. There's invisible pain. There are invisible tears. 

And thanks to you the ones that really saw me, most days, I am 27 and fearless. Fearless, because God used you all to teach me that my heart was always meant to break the mold, my hands were always meant to hold and my feet were always trained to run a path, different and out of the ordinary for most. 

This doesn't mean I'm brave. I'm not looking for accolades, nor are they deserved. 
He on the other hand is my bravery. 

The more I have found in life, well, those sweet findings have always been among the times that were less about me. 

That's the key that was long ago spoken over our hearts, now forever bleeding red among His beautiful, perfect Word. Wasn't it? More of HIM, less of me. 

Joy has come from giving all of you more than I really had. And the beauty is that I have always had enough. 

Love never runs out. 

And faith, comes like the rushing tide and wanes like a dimming candle, but asking for Him to enter in-always assures a soul that all is well. All truly is well. 

Since I have last seen you, I've had moments of darkness winning, but light always wins and with Jesus, there is always victory. 

My hands sure have been empty, but my heart has always been full. And oh how I have seen love in you all, I've felt love to the tips of my fingers on the beaches of Baja taken over by seven children trying to sit in my lap at one time. I've felt love to the overflowing with customers showing up and adopting me, retelling their precious, beautiful stories. I've felt love in all of you and I've never stopped loving you. 

I couldn't be the woman I am, today, if it weren't for you. You have all impacted this heart of mine and people will tell me that I am the one leaving the impact, but friends when life has taken your breath away, when you have been adopted by strangers both Stateside and in a foreign country, you are the impacted one. I have been taught by the chocolate-candy eyes screaming Cristina from down the street, the women whose lives have been altered by so much pain, but who still tend the fields for twelve hours a day so that their babies don't have to go hungry, the family that I walked into among a million racks of clothing and the students both Stateside and those that call Mexico home. I have been taught by the hundreds of people that have walked into my life and some of those that have walked out. 

Four years ago, I thought I was walking into my dream. A few months later, my bags were packed and I was told that I was running away from God, that I was walking out of HIS will. And oh the pain I was stricken with as I stared the judgments from others in the face, but you know what? The ones that I loved, the ones that loved me- they never questioned me. They held me, instead. 

Look for those people. Look for the people that hold you. Look for the ones that listen to you dream with misty eyes. Look for the people that hold your hand and your heart and keep it for safe-keeping while you are away. 

You will have people that tell you to settle, to step backwards, because you don't deserve to move forward. You will have those people that do nothing but cause you to deem life to be nothing more than a pile of rejection letters and unrequited love, but dear one, you know there is something more. 

Listen, be still your heart. 
And just breathe. 

Look for the people that run behind and before you, the ones that enter your mess, and let them. Don't just stand there in your silence with the key in your hand. Unlock your heart to the ones that make your heart sing with joy and refuse to settle for the fear of life being nothing more. 

Four years ago, I stood on the other side of the door at five o'clock in the morning. Tears stood in my eyes as I acknowledged that the dream I had perfectly drawn was nothing more than a sketch. It was a reckoning of sorts and my, how it took time to get over that voice telling me I would regret my decision. Four years ago, and the sweet sanity I left behind is still going strong; she still carries out the mission. And I have managed to find my own…

But Oasis, Baja, you are with me every single day. 

You helped me stumble blindly into confidence and He used you to help make me brave. Without you, I would have lived off the assumptions that life was all it could ever be. 

Thank you, Jesus, for being more than a dream. Thank you, Jesus, for being the author and perfecter of my faith. Thank you for being the confidence I need to run my race. Thank you, Jesus, my heart has never been the same. And oh all praises to you, because it never will be! 

shared hurt among hearts.

i want to erase the hurt that bevels beneath the eyes of the ones i love.

i want to chase away the phantoms of guilt and shame that throw aways the keys to the hearts i hold dear.

and i find myself here.

it's a reckoning, because Lord knows, I don't know how to mend, i don't know how to fix what life has left behind as wreckage.

what i do know is that God didn't choose this.

he didn't choose cancer to latch onto my grandfathers.

he didn't choose to place souls into the pits of depression.

he didn't choose heartbreak of two, too young souls.

and that is where some people think wrongly…

they think that God chose pain and hurt and death for some.

but He chose grace, victory, and love for all.

He chose saving and healing, rather than walking away and leaving.

but i'm at a loss, here.

there are words that beg to be said and to be written, but all i can say is that i hurt.

i hurt for the boy who has always held quite a big chunk of my heart. the one that has been brave enough to ask every last question, the one that challenges and admires, the one that criticizes and loves me at the same time and never once left. the one that deserves to dream and doesn't need to settle. the one that has been in my every prayer for so many years. the one that i pray one day finds that love isn't overrated, that it does exist, that maybe what he is searching for is the one thing that he has always fled from.

i hurt for the one who is a piece of me, the one who doesn't deserve heartbreak, the one that is too bold and too good to settle, the man that will always be a boy to me, the one that needs someone to love every last ounce of him, to chase the adventure and love the spontaneous. i hurt that he has to feel this pain, that i've known all to well, i hurt that i can't just take an eraser and ease away the presence of pain.

i hurt for the superhero that holds all things together, that doesn't bend nor break, the one that faces life with feet built to run and a heart to love many. i hurt for the shoulders that bear the world over again. i hurt that i can't change things. i hurt that i have to love from faraway sometimes. i hurt that sometimes all i can give her thoughts is silence, that sometimes i can just be and that's all i know to do.

i hurt for the one the superhero that deals with shame and more pain than i could ever see in a lifetime, because he shouldn't have to feel it. i hurt that i can't just pick him and put him back together. that i can't hold out my hands and just carry him over into the light. i hurt that this eats him away into silence and that at times i don't even know how to act, but cower.

i hurt for the sister that needs and deserves the beautiful and the best, the one that is brave enough to speak up and fight for her heart, but needs someone to start fighting for her. i hurt that there is always someone holding her back and telling her big dreams are impossible and that she is meant to bandage every wound and hold things together in perfection, when really she deserves her every dream and to break free on the open road.

i hurt for my second grandfather falling into cancer, the man who stole my heart hanging clothes in a store eight or nine years ago, that graced my birthdays with cards and flowers, that left me with tears standing in his eyes, i hate to see him in pain and the thought of losing him.

i hurt for the sweet little woman who has the story of JOB, the one who tries to find an answer to every problem and strives to be the mother of her grandchildren. i hurt that her love never gets returned. i hurt that she doesn't remember what it is like to feel love.

i hurt for the beautiful young mother who needs a man to provide and love her to pieces. the one who tends to her children with the eyes of love, and has more needs than i know. i hurt that she feels alone and that no one bears the pain with her. i hurt that just a few miles make the seeing her harder, and the fact that maybe just maybe, she thinks i have walked away, too.

i hurt for the free-spirited woman that stole my heart reteaching me the art of a credit card machine, the woman that chased her dreams and came back with questions and with love and a readiness to care for the ones so close to her heart, i hurt that she spends day to day working and fighting the nudge in her that there is something more to this life. i hurt that she hasn't found what her heart is looking for.

i hurt for the blunt, tender-spirited mother-hen that took me in her arms that january, i hurt that drama is never far off and just when she thinks she has found respite something else catches her heart off guard and causes her to question if there will ever be enough grace to get a break. i hurt that i can't ease the lines of tiredness that are underneath her eyes.

i hurt for my sweet students that have lost parents and friends too soon, the ones that have pain and hurt hiding and cowering in the corners of their hearts and are too afraid to speak up, i hurt for the ones that hurt, that are overlooked, the ones that need someone to hear them out. i hurt for the ones that haven't known the love of a Father and the ones that are searching and searching for Him in all the wrong places.

i hurt for the shipmate that begs to be heard, even in silence, the one whose tender heart feels things all the more deeply than most and longs for reprieve. i hurt that i can't take away his pain and hold his heart close to mine, i hurt that sometimes my assurance of prayers don't offer much ease from the heartache, and that my feeble being there is often not enough.

i hurt for the brilliant blonde that stole my heart with one walk into her room with pictures of the mission field, the kindred spirit that begs to be heard and loved and that has walked down the roads with little light, i hurt that sometimes my words aren't enough and my love seems weak from afar.

i hurt for the best friend that questions what to do without having a clear answer and that is just fighting to bring God the glory in all things, i hurt that i can't just tell her right from wrong and that sometimes my speaking truth might seem a little callous in text, i hurt that i can't figure out things for her or make sense of life when it gets messy.

i hurt for the unnamed and the overlooked, the ones that i've met and yet to meet, and on nights like this the hurt is near, it surrounds me, and words fail me.

i want to take up the hurting and hold them in my heart until the hurting, the pain stops overwhelming their souls. i want to keep them all close...

two month look back...

Sunday morning tears fell upon my cheeks, because as I entered into church it was as though God was entering into my mess. He was entering into the sadness, the loosening threads, the breaking. And I'll be honest, it's been pretty rough. But this time around, I have found myself stealing away for moments by His side. I have relinquished the need to fashion myself to something fleeting, and relished time with Him that is lasting.

Sunday morning worship consisted of two songs that I have clung to this past year. Songs that have stolen the words from my mouth and inexplicable feelings of walking upon the water and embracing the call of the unfamiliar. Songs that have carried me in the unknown and gently reminded me that in the midst of the mess, in the midst of being lost again Stateside, that it really is well.

My heart still reels from the goodbyes, and I'm on the other side. And what that tells me is, that when people gawk at my life, at this choice of mine (this choice that chose me) God had this planned from day one.

He knew that my life would be turned upside down with one step into Mexico. He knew that my pigtails and my stumbling Spanish vocabulary would be enough for the children and that they would become the more that my heart always, always desired.

And I'm here, I'm here again, confident that Morelia, Mexico is the home that my heart has always sought after. It's the more that I begged God for when I was a sophomore in high school.

And you know what? 

I had life planned out. I had wrapped it up into a beautiful box of my own doing. I knew the timeline. I had the picture of my home in the back of my mind and I was ready. Right out of college, I just knew that it was time. God was going to take me to the Baja and that's where I would spend forever.

But there was something wrong with that, because my perfect was never His perfect. My ready was never His sense of ready. Where I saw confidence, He saw a quaking spirit that needed, begged for love. Where I saw sure footing, He saw trembling knees. Time would stand still and I would just wonder if all was lost. I would just wonder if that day would ever come.

And oh child, that day came and went. My idea of perfection walked out just as easily as it came in and I, I had no idea what to do, nor where to go.

But that's when a paragraph stole my attention and challenged me to move.

I had fallen for the idea of waiting on Him. I had fell into the trap of thinking that my idea was as good as His.

And then…I walked into a house with bright-pink walls. I curled up in a bed surrounded by a world of unknowns and a family that I was about to call my own for a few months. My heart quickly became full and I had this feeling that NOE would be more than a three month stop on my journey…that assurance was something that was felt my first night.

Three months turned into seven and then into this past year and now I'm finishing up my time Stateside once again, and getting ready to journey back to love on my students and to be used up for love's cause in Morelia, Mexico.

And dear ones, it's really not a testament to my braveness. It's really not a testament to my craziness. What it does tell you is that if your willingness turns into full surrender then He will take you to your NOE, He will take you to your Morelia. 

Life won't be exempt from its challenges, nor from heartache, but you will walk in the assurance of that which you were called. And I don't really think there is anything more beautiful on this side of Heaven. 

I have seven hundred students that open their hearts to me. I have seven classes that let me teach them fumbling through the English language.

I have been blessed to the brim and my life from this point on is to return the blessing. These dear students deserve to know that they are worth it and I will live the rest of my life being spent for this cause.

I just lack 140 dollars from reaching my monthly goal. Join the journey by following this link and looking for MAIN:
http://www.onlinecfc.com/give

Or you can mail your donations, with my name on the memo line of your check to:
CFC
4100 Millersburg Road
Evansville, IN 47725

Here's a glimpse at NOE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qp_XCH6w92U

like mother, like daughter.

    She is worth far more than rubies.

 

This little piece, http://carrasykes.com/MOTHER-DAUGHTER, inspired me to do a little digging and well, what I found left me pretty awestruck. 

This woman is one of the most-talked about in my daily conversation, because she hasn't just held the title of mother for 26 years, she has held the title of best friend. 

My sweet Momma is a beautiful picture of a woman after God's own heart and I want to be just like her when I grow up. Thank you for being one of my biggest supporters as I have left time and again to chase my dreams. Thank you for speaking life and truth over my heart and for being here with me through it all. 

I love you so much, Momma. I hope one day your feet will step foot on the ground of my home, because it is something that I have dreamt of for years. 

I miss you, but I'll be seeing you soon. I am looking forward to our sweet little, simple mother/daughter dates that are our source of enjoyment.

 

i need you.

I had a gentle voice awaken me from sleep the other day, the kind of sleeping your soul does after you've been wrecked by unexpected news. The kind of sleeping you find yourself in, that denial, because you're scared to death that you'll wake up and have to acknowledge what is happening around you. 

and it made me think. 

so the gentle voice asked, do you ever wish you didn't have to teach the last level of classes, because it's always a year of bittersweet moments, seems like you are saying hello to then just say goodbye?

and so i sat there and almost without hesitation I responded, I wouldn't have it any other way. I actually couldn't bear the thought of not teaching the last level of English. Sure, it's one year and then goodbyes creep upon you at the end of May and you're paralyzed, because the relationships you've seen bloom before your eyes start to dim with the thought of graduation. 

But I told the gentle voice that I loved teaching the final year, because I get to see my students' hearts get transparent as they think about packing up their bags and leaving NOE behind, I see them tendered toward the idea that maybe God brought them to NOE not to merely learn English, but that He brought them to NOE to know Him. 

And that is why I'm here. It doesn't matter how well my students speak English, nor does it matter that they may walk out of my classroom never to utter another word of English. What does matter, is that they leave my classroom absolutely sure of one thing, God loves them. That my dear hearts, is exactly why I'm here. 

It's difficult to teach the last year, but it's so beautifully worth it. I'll tell you why...Friday I had sixteen students show up on our day off of classes to start studying for their final. They spent an hour and a half with me reviewing, laughing and loving and lost track of time. 

I had students raising their sweet, innocent hands telling me that they would be waiting for me tomorrow at NOE to go to church. 

I had students walk up to me that started off the year painfully shy and tell me they loved me before they left. 

I'll be honest it is excruciatingly painful to think about leaving. It's heart-wrenching, because I'm absolutely sure this isn't something that I'll leave and get over. NOE has changed me when I thought change was impossible. 

When I first came here I was getting over heartbreak, I was shy and I didn't know a single soul...but now I'm about to leave again and the heartbreak is from leaving, it's not something that I will get over, the shyness still has its moments, but I'm able to hold my head up high in my classroom and the fear of speaking fades, and the not knowing a single soul? That my sweet readers  has changed, too. I'm the teacher of 90 and if we are honest, I have a heart that is built for all 700 of our students. I may not know every name, but every single student here means the absolute world to me. 

And so, I'm here. We are about to be on the other side of my third school year at NOE and I'm going to be absolutely honest. My support has drastically fallen and I'm getting ready to pack up, go home and work the summer away to get back here as soon as I can. 

I could use your help:
You can help me brainstorm and come up with fundraising ideas.
You can help me by praying for me and the transition that will come too soon and be praying for my students that are starting to worry about their final exam and graduating. 
You can join my team of financial supporters by following this link, but be sure to look for the box that says MAIN: give here
You can even help me by sharing this little blog or others of mine via social media!

I'm hoping that you see my heart in these words, because my love for NOE isn't something that is fleeting. My passion for Morelia, Mexico isn't something that can be ignored. Thus, I'm going home to do my part in all of this, but I need a team of you to stand up with me. Because after 26 years of living, I'm finally seeing that it's okay to need people. And I truly need you...

Laying down the pencil...

My throat catches at the thought of His mercies that wash over me with the sunlight peeking through the windows, the rays that reflect on the bluest ocean of tiles, His presence confronts me and I am...

I am amazed, because He has heard me. 

He wasn't absent in those tear-stained goodbyes said over a ten year period. 

He wasn't far when I was shuddering in an airport, trembling at the heartache that accompanied me as I sat alone, in the wake of leaving my beautiful children behind. 

NO, He wasn't absent and yes, maybe I thought He was for a time, but in hindsight I see that He was ever with me. I see that His cheeks were stained, too. His eyes were swollen and He wasn't silent. Instead, He was gently singing over me in a soft whisper, but I didn't listen closely enough. 

I got caught up in the moment and I lost control attempting to draw up my life in a series of brisk strokes, perfecting the idea with my innocent expectations. 

And, I thought I was strong enough, I thought I was ready. 

I saw my little, bright-colored house in the Baja, with children running in and out of the revolving door. I saw it, daydreaming in missions class. 

I saw it when Mexico was with me and when it was out of sight, but never out of mind. 

I thought I had it all figured out. 

However, that is where I went wrong...

I swiped His hands away, declaring that I knew everything I needed, that I would make it happen. 

That my house would become reality, that love would become mine to forever hold, that I would have a ring on my finger, and that I would live happily ever after. 

But when I asked Him to enter in, He turned my life upside down. 

He entered in and gently, with a precious, powerful force took my controlling hands off the pencil. He placed them in my lap and resumed the work, that He had never ceased, whether or not I chose to acknowledge it with grace. 

And He started to paint a picture, foreign to my dreams, by using a paragraph about a faraway place named Morelia, Mexico. 

He resumed the leading and ever so swiftly I caught onto the need to follow. 

I began to follow without the pull to control and I started to walk into the life of mine, He had planned from the beginning of time. 

And I realized something. 

My ability to paint a picture with my life, to breathe life from the pages of my sketches, pales in comparison to my Maker's talent. 

I lost control by taking control, clenching my fingers around "things" that would fade away with the dust encountering wind. I refused to believe that there was anything better than my dreams, my plan, my love. 

I refused to let Him enter in, because somewhere in my heart of hearts I knew that I was denying Him my heart. And if I were honest with myself, I knew that my plans weren't really His plans. I knew that my idea of love was misconstrued and that no one, not even "the one" could ever fill up my heart's desire.

 

So with hesitancy at first glimpse, I let Him enter in, and He opened my eyes to the truth. He opened my eyes to see that I wasn't ready for the mission field five years ago. He opened my eyes to see that my dream wasn't big enough and that I was too comfortable. He opened my eyes to see that "that one" only did my heart harm and took my eyes off HIM. 

In 2011, He challenged me to take a leap of faith and walk into the unknown, off the plane and into the arms of my greatest fear, being alone in a crowd of unfamiliar people. 

He challenged me to let go of the love that I had loved for seven long years. 

I will be the first to tell you, it wasn't easy. I still have my days when my heart rushes back into the unforgiving arms of nostalgia, to what it was like to have a keeper of my deepest, darkest secrets. 

But in Him, I found healing. A healing that isn't fleeting with the coming ebb and flow of emotions, but a healing that remains steady and enough to draw my heart back to where it has always belonged. 

And sure, maybe you would sit with me over a cup of steaming coffee and listen to my story that at times was consumed with an undeniable pain...and be left wondering. 

You'd be left wondering how I got here and how I left my plan, my love behind. 

So here is the answer, beautiful friend. 

I never did. 

He did. 

He entered in and erased my lofty ideas and dreams that I knew were perfect and He carried on the story He always had written, kept in His pockets, creased from the wear and tear, rewritten with His beautiful handwriting. He began to pick up the pencil and continue to write my story according to HIS perfect, beautiful plan. 

And well, that story it's still being written, but at the moment you'll find my heart lost among my ninety students at Centro NOE and the hundreds more that call NOE, their second home. You'll find that I'm a house-renter, that loves having company fill up the walls with laughter and the smell of fresh coffee steaming on the stove. You'll find that I'm a single woman, that often accepts the call with grace and understanding that my time, is and never will be His. You'll find that I'm setting down roots for the coming years and realizing that Morelia, Mexico has always been the home to my dreams. 

And you can join this story, this journey. Here is a little glimpse at http://vimeo.com/67433340#at=0

Financial help is still welcome and needed as I settle into owning a house here in Morelia: http://onlinecfc.com/giving/

After you login, you can choose at the top to give a one time gift or a monthly gift, then choose “Kristen Main” from the list of options, and enter the amount you would like to give.  You can also pick up a form to have funds automatically deducted from your account at the welcome center. 

 

 

 

NOE, you have my heart...

Sometimes my heart feels too much to properly explain. I’m on the other side of having spent the entire day reveling in my Morelia alongside newcomers. Aside from the exhaustion that is pulling at my eyelids and leaving creases and traces of its presence, I’m left with words that can’t wait for proper timing.

 

Sure, I should be sleeping.

Class will come soon enough and I’ve so many things to do that I haven’t even given a second glance, but words don’t ask for my permission, they don’t look for the most opportune times. In fact, they often look for the times when my soul says sleep would be much more satisfying, but that would be throwing in the towel. That would be giving up, and I can’t let my heart reckon that that is okay anymore.

Tonight, we dedicated the new NOE with the founders and twenty high school students from Portland, Oregon and current students and past students, alike. 

I heard stories of NOE that were absolutely unheard of to me. I listened to the hearts behind this dear place that I know now as home and I couldn’t, I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. Because NOE means too much to me, so much that at times my heart can’t contain what all I am feeling; there is just too much love that compels me to keep settling in and laying down roots for the future that awaits me here.

And well tonight, I’m grateful that I have been gifted with hands to serve cake spilling over with blue icing and steaming pozole. I’m grateful that I have been gifted with feet that can stumble into mini-dances and a voice that can sing to avoid trembling at the cold wind. I am gifted because I have hands, feet and a voice that can serve.

And all it took and all it takes is a willing heart…

I can’t even tell you. I just sit here and I’m overwhelmed that God would use me in such a grand way, that He would use fifty words to bring me to a place that would steal every bit of my heart and stow it away for keeps and my impending return.
 

I am too blessed. I am too blessed to keep it all in to myself.

 

And well, I am sitting here with tears standing in my eyes, because I’m thinking of my darling current and past students and their needs. I’m torn with their hurts and their pain, because they don’t just take up seats in my classroom, they take up pieces of my heart and their lives consume me and keep me here, they keep me pushing forward even when the missing of home becomes heavy, when the thoughts of my loved ones in Indiana take over.

Yes, my students keep me here and I am spent with the idea that I am a 

part of something so grand and 

beautiful, in awe that my Maker chose me with Morelia in mind, from the beginning of time, before I even got graced with my name. And so I will live and so I will love until my sweet Maker says all is well and it is enough...