a letter to his beloved ones...

"Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him, and He saved us. 

This is the Lord, we trusted in Him, let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation."

Isaiah 25:9

"Sometimes what we want is just to be heard. 

We want to know that they've actually listened to us." -Bell

I may be the only one that these words were written for, today, but I'm just not that sure. So if you are feeling like you are sitting in His silence, I pray that these words would find you and tell you that you are not alone. The beautiful thing about our Savior is that….He always meets us right where we are.

Oh child, don't dig your own cistern. What you have planned down to perfection doesn't even begin to match what I have for you. My best is better that you can even imagine and while you fear what you cannot see and what you cannot hold- 

I  a  m  f  o  r  y  o  u. 

I have redeemed your rejection.  

I have healed your heartache and I am mending your mess. 

Stop fearing and stop fleeing, child, you are meant to be here in this very place and well, what you are feeling is okay. Don't you be ashamed of this,   i   t   '   s   o   k   a   y. 

What is not okay is hushing your heart, forbidding your voice to speak up. You were not made to be silent, child of mine. I have words set apart for you, alone. Your story cannot be replaced by anyone else's.  S   T   O   P.  just breathe. 

Just be and rest in my many promises, they are for your taking. 

I know you are feeling as though you are giving up too much of yourself and letting too many people into your heart. I know you feel as though your past has caught up to you. But unclench those fists and realize that I am guarding your heart and I am with you. 

Yes, know that you can't even imagine the beautiful future that awaits you. You just can't, love. Be still. Stop defining your present with your past and just trust, trust that you cannot limit me and that I refuse to be sealed in a box of your messy idea of perfection. Instead I will redeem your ruins and I will make something beautiful out of this and I will make something beautiful out of you. 

Unclench your trembling fists and take my hand, dear child. 

I a m r i g h t h e r e. 

My purpose for you and that precious, fearful heart of yours will and is being accomplished for you. I will have my way in you, just trust me. 

I see you, love. 

I know you have hidden your desires from most and I know even more so, that you have spent years hiding from them, yourself. But dear child, it is okay to recognize your desires. It's okay to long for something, just let me be your first love. When you do this, you will begin to realize that your desires were always a part of who I made you to be. However, the best thing you can do is give them back to me. 

My timing is perfect. 

Stop living out of expectations and step into faith, dear one. 

I am taking you to the other side and you will not be left, do you hear me?

You will not be left. 

Your past does not define your present, nor does it define your future. 

I know you, love. I know that confusion is trying to take your eyes off of me, but don't love, look to me, trust me. 

I h a v e y o u r h e a r t

I a l w a y s w i l l 

and so are small beginnings...

I had a student quietly whisper over the commotion outside that his New Year's Resolution was to find Jesus…and just as quickly as he said it, it faded into existence, but I stowed that resolution away for keeps. Prayers fumbled from my heart to mind, and I asked Jesus to make this my student's year.

My little dreamers spent Tuesday declaring dreams for the new year and then they prayed over each other, when finished one of my students gently said, "this is the first time I've ever prayed before." We celebrated her victory like a home-team is supposed to and then Thursday when a student took over the teaching, the same girl declared that this would be the year that she starts to read her Bible.

My dear adults found their way back to class and ended up admitting that although they were reluctant to come in the beginning, that now there isn't any other place they would rather be on Tuesdays. We had a student observing whether or not he wanted to register and the other adults mentioned how our class is so much more than English, how it's the fellowship, the verse we see each week, and talking about God.

My little light that I call my daughter had heavy eyes the other day, so I wrote her a little note and she admitted that she didn't do as well in school this past semester, while tears fell from her eyes. Jesus nudged me to speak truth and even though he knows how unconfident I am about praying in a second language, He told me that this was one such moment.

In the past couple of classes, we have had the case of relentless giggles and while this is the last thing a teacher wants to tell you…I'm telling you, anyways, sure I have no idea the reason for the contagious laughter and we probably have laughed more than we have seen English, but I think sometimes Jesus wants to remind us that it is okay to lose it in laughter, it's okay to be so full of joy, that it gets out of control.

There have been afternoons this week when I have been able to rest and relish in His faithfulness and just sit in awe at the beauty that is, Him making us brave. I am in awe of how He turns something so small into something so beautiful.

Let's celebrate small victories. 

I have been here over a week now and well, the beautiful thing is that these things started happening the day I returned to the classroom. I believe it is God's way of telling me that I'm right where I need be, that yes, although my heart longs to fix things and give immediate answers, that sometimes the "me too" or the silence you offer someone who needs to be heard, does more than you could ever imagine.

I wonder how many times we miss the moments, because we are afraid of what to say.

I wonder how many times we miss the moments, because we are too busy over-thinking and too paralyzed by fear to act.

I wonder how many times we miss the moments, because we are expecting something huge to happen.

God delights in small beginnings. 
God celebrates small victories. 

And while you think that these little things are nothing in the grand scheme of things, these are small beginnings and they, too, are accomplishing His purpose.

I think sometimes our idea of this side of Heaven is lost upon us. Sometimes we feel as though Jesus is telling us to fend for ourselves, to clean up our mess, to fix the broken things in our life and the broken people around us.

But such feelings are just doubting his provision,

and "Grace leaves little room for doubt."

Sometimes there are no good answers and there are no quick fixes, but Jesus is a God who enters into our mess and He says that with Him, it is well.

My word for 2015 is enough and all of these small beginnings and so many other things have shown me that this is already ringing true for my year. With Jesus, it is well. With Jesus, it is enough.






And while I'm sure hard days will come, I'm certain that HE is and always will be enough for me. I'm certain that the small victories and small beginnings in this life deserve to be celebrated and I'm positive that God is celebrating them with me.

a letter to you, for keeps...

Dear you, 

Your eyes failed to ring in the new year and you faded quickly into deep sleep, but before you faded 2014 gently crept onto the movie reel of your heart and you reveled. You reveled, because 2014 was a year of torrential tears, breathtaking beauty, reckless abandonment and surprises that whisked your heart away. 

A year spent among your NOE abruptly came to a close at the end of May and you thought the goodbyes you had spent years saying were the worst, but you had no idea...Because, love, the more time you had spent at NOE, the more it had become home. The home that you spent years praying for, but you just didn't know that it existed some 2000 miles away. 

And while, it was sometimes hard to get up most days and find joy in hanging clothes, again, God reminded you that there was a need right where you were, that there is always a need right where you are. Even if it may be the last place you think you "should" be. 

Hard times fell upon your heart, because you had to relearn the inner workings of living stateside while loving your babies from afar, you had to be still and you had to relearn that as much as you love fixing, that there are things on this side of Heaven that you can't fix. Those people in your life, you love them; you don't fix them. Those problems that they are living in aren't something you can just take away and stow for safekeeping. But you can be there. You can sit with them. You can say the hard words that would have never ever been mentioned in the past. You can love them without fixing them and dear girl, that's something that you learned and you are still learning. 

But May, yes, it was a month of saying goodbyes, but God used something minor to bring about something beautiful. Most days...things were held inside and went unmentioned or were overlooked by the ones you were loving, but there was a voice among the silence that stood out. And it's been pretty steady since then…crazy to think how God can use the smallest of things to remind you of how loved you are, to remind you that He hears you. And crazy, beautiful to think that the familiar voice hasn't gone silent. It's still very much a part of your life. 

You finished your Masters. You ran a half marathon. 

You remember that day when the table of students you were sitting with started to pray…and then it all ended in a circle of seventeen hands with over eight voices rising up from the silence and praying over each other? That was a moment spent on holy ground, love. A moment that you can be certain came from Him and a moment that was given back to Him. 

…and when you joked about being an "angel" and writing a student who didn't have a sponsor to send him letters. You wrote a letter to him and the look of absolute joy on his face will be something forever engrained in your memory. Something so small made his eyes light up and a face that is often shadowed changed completely before your eyes. 

And then there were those conversations that took place upon your couch, in your own little house. Those moments when God somehow gave you the words to say and the grace to say them. Dear girl, cherish those moments and guard them for the years to come. 

Two Christmases full of joy and heartache was incredibly absent. Two Christmases spent among the ones that know you to your core, spent seeing life rebuilt and victory reclaimed. 

The dear boy kept awake one morning that ended up in church on a random Sunday. Holy ground, yet again.

And sitting on your grandfather's bed and reading him the words you sent him in October…moments spent on holy ground, my love. 

All this to say to you that 2014 was a year when God did something in you, just like years past. All this to say that He let you stand and sit on holy ground and experience love to the absolute fullest. 

All this to say, that 2014 was a year when you realized that the can'ts and shoulds don't really need to guide you, because your Maker is one of whimsy, of reckless abandon, amazing grace and He delights in your joy. 

He delights in your joy. DO you hear that?

You said goodbye, but He brought you back. 

Hold these moments close to your heart, child, and remember that this is just the beginning. The Lord will accomplish His purpose for you, because His word does not return empty. 

grace

I find myself grasping for more grace these days, wanting to be filled so I might be emptied, again.

and…I reach. I reach out with my feeble hands and I attempt to unearth what grace is, what it does. 

I take my seat at the head of the table in my classroom and I relish the feeling, the honor of being able to teach, the honor of being able to plant seeds. 

and the meaning of grace falls from my tongue.

grace, it gives people the benefit of the doubt. 

grace, is an open heart, an open door. 

but grace, is misused and misplaced. 

and i find myself reaching and reeling, longing that my every student might know, might truly experience grace, the grace that understands the unfathomable, the grace that welcomes the weary, the grace that says nothing, when nothing is needed to be said. 

I struggle. I struggle, because I know I can't fix what is broken. 
I can't reach deep into hurting souls and turn on the light to wash away the darkness.
I can't always have the words to bandage the heartbroken, the salve to lessen the scars. 

but I don't think grace focuses on what can't be done. 

i think grace is always enough. 
i think grace is always overcoming. 
i think grace is always forgiving.
i think grace is always grasping. 

I think grace is beautiful, it leaves me in awe, because grace is what brought me here. You see, I, I was just an innocent girl with a crazy dream. I was just one of those that rarely attempted to be someone else, to do something more, to speak when it wasn't required was something I all, but avoided. 

I hid in the face of confrontation. 
I hid behind the pages of my books. 
I hid from pain, from heartache, but it eventually found me. 

and well, grace found me, too. 

it found me battered, bruised, and left-behind. it found me on my knees. grace found me when i least expected that any hope could be left for me, because i started looking for grace and love in all the wrong places, in all of the wrong people. 

i found myself stretching to please those around me. i found myself opening the forbidden doors of the past, just because i thought i deserved, i needed to be loved by a boy, and not by God, alone.

i started quietly, fiercely demanding that a boy's over-promised love would finally be for me, that i might have a hand to hold. but this demand ended in torrents of tears for years. it ended, just as it begun, empty hands and a failing heart. but you see, my reaction and the common response to our hurt is claiming that jesus, that he had something to do with it. but i knew all along, that grace and love couldn't be found in this boy. that my expectations were far-off, i was leaving God out of the picture. i was telling him what i wanted, what i deserved. 

but grace. His grace looks at these failures, and says "oh, child, you walked right into heartache, what you thought to be enough, was just a way of settling, barely getting by." His grace looks at the homes we build, the short-cuts we take, and He whispers, "oh child, will you just put down your tools, will just sit down with me and trust that I have complete control."

and grace, it's enough.

my hands are still empty, but my heart is full. because everyday, i get the chance to give grace to my students, my children. because everyday, i get the chance to tell my story and miraculously God uses the heartache, he uses the past pain and he accomplishes something. he accomplishes something beautiful. because unlike the people our hearts long to please, our God's words never return empty. 

He will fulfill what he has promised.  

His grace is enough. 
It always will be. 

so let grace find you, today, you, wherever you are. whatever you are standing in. let grace find you and let grace heal you. let it fill you. wrap your empty hands around grace and refuse to define life by what you can't do, but rather seek out what you can do, give grace.

make it a point to realize the house you are building for yourself, the people you are pleasing are ways of settling, it's your way of telling jesus that you have everything under control, but dear child, you are one step from breaking into a million pieces, your God knows exactly what you need. unclench your controlling fists and cling to grace, it's enough. 

moment by moment.

I had a moment. 

One of those God-entering moments and I'm sitting here on the other side of it, amazed. 

You see, somedays as a teacher, you just don't have the gusto, nor the gumption to speak up to battle against the giants that your students face. 

Sometimes, you just want to give in. 

You just want to do things halfway and reckon that when it all is said and done, it's okay, and you decide that in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter if you do enough, if you are enough. 

But the beauty of it all, is that grace is enough.

God is enough. 

And even on the days when our pale faces reflect what we lack, He is enough. 

and he lets us in...on beauty. 

My last class had more empty seats than students, so rather than forging ahead with grammar; we found ourselves with more than twenty questions and answers. 

and some of the questions were simple-what kind of animal would you be, should Spanish be spoken in English class, but among others were how did you meet God and what was an experience that changed your life. 

before we knew it our fifty minutes had passed, but out of comfort and being settled into my second home i told my students that they could decide if they wanted to stay. and the majority stayed. we found ourselves wrapped up in an inexplicable comfort, a safety in numbers..but one by one they left. until fifteen or so minutes later there were just four.

four with tear-stained cheeks. four hearts tethered to mine in a God-ordained moment reckoning with abandonment, death, divorce, and coming alive again after almost giving up. 

four sets of hands clasped with mine...as i prayed for each of the sweet four.

and i. i am the changed one. i am the blessed one.

you see so many people think that this is all about the grandiose escapades of a girl on foreign soil, when really it's about a girl that never spoke up, that kept to her books. the same girl now, being blessed by moments such as these when God's presence is something tangible, blessed by students that ease into telling their stories and opening their hearts that were once left under lock and key.

you see. i'm just a girl. 

a girl that is wordy and lacks words simultaneously, because this place, right where i am, is the more i prayed for when i was just fifteen. 

and what i'm learning is that you can't love empty. i think that's been my problem, here lately, losing sight of the importance of meeting with my Maker to fill me up, and attempting to fill others, while i am lacking. 

but i can't love empty. 

my heart needs to be filled, just like yours. and when we set aside time, when we leave the dishes in the sink, when we refuse to give into closing our eyes and stumbling into sleep, when we go to Him, our hearts will be filled. 

and full hearts can love deeply.

i don't want to traipse through life without loving deeply. i don't want to live this life without loving fully. 

my students need me.

Questioning the Finish: Running for NOE

Feet graced the pavement methodically, resuming the pace that I have come to call my own and the rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins without ceasing.

And I was never tempted to stop. I never stopped.

I didn’t fight the queasiness, the doubting sensations of whether or not I would successfully make it to the finish.

Instead prayers echoed from within the pulsating walls of my heart and I knew, without a doubt in my mind that my God was running for me.

He has used life to teach me in the past that I am, but a vessel. A vessel to speak when words of truth quake within me, a vessel to write when words flood beneath the lead of my pencil, a vessel to run with the cause set before me.

And yes, the heart longs to give, to rebel in the midst of the storm, the heart longs to flee- when the rushing tide tempts to overcome the soul.

But God met me at the starting line that fall day before dawn and he gently whispered, “Welcome Daughter, I am with you and in me, you are victorious.”

So I ran with a knowing that long ago, before I even knew what keeping a pace meant, that God saw me speeding up at the Portland Marathon finish line.

Before I even knew I could, He saw me conquer.

And that is something that we should write on our ever so often-shaky hands,

we were made to conquer.

While you might have never seen yourself in the place that your heart now calls home, He knew.

Nothing has taken, nor will ever take him by surprise.

Yet we fear. We fear our mile 8s, when our body tends to give out, reminding us that we are fragile hearts merely attempting to dream bigger, grasping more grace than our feeble hands can hold, and barely standing on our weak knees.

We renounce victory, we desperately clench to control before things get too far out of our reach.

But God, the God who stands by you at the starting line as you jog in place is the same God at mile 8, who starts cheering you on and runs beside you to keep your pace.

He is the same God whose eyes light up with fierce joy as you fight to finish strong; He is the one who runs to embrace you at the finish.

I rely too much on my own strength. My tendency is tell my heart that enough is enough.

But thankfully, our life does not depend on “our enough.”

Our body does not depend on our strength to run the race that He has called us to run.

You see, we were always chosen for more.

We were always chosen to run…and we were always chosen to conquer.

I don’t want to remain the same anymore.

I don’t want to stand still when God has made me brave enough to move.

I don’t want to let my dreams go to waste and collect dust on a shelf full of worn-out memories.

I don’t want to go life without running a full marathon.

I know I can speak Spanish, so why stay silent?

I know I can love Mexico, so why not settle down and call it home?

I know that I was meant to sing, so why not sing?

I know I can run a half, so what is keeping me from running a full?

Jesus was enough for 13.1 miles and my Spirit rests in the certainty of knowing He will be more than enough for 26.2.

I am done living in fear of the starting line, because God is already waiting for me at the finish.

My Octobers: Running for NOE

I remember it like it was yesterday.

The shadows beneath my eyes were ever so deep, the fear of never leaving was prevalent and I was consumed with a dream. I longed to walk into my sweet, little home and open its doors to the children that would run up to me screaming "Cristina" in utmost delight. But no matter how hard I tried, this dream remained just that, a dream. 

A fresh graduate out of college, I had to meander my way back into the racks of clothing and attempt to ignore the hold on my heart for a country so foreign to my own. But it wasn't possible, I was stuck. 

While many of my classmates found life after, I felt as though I was waiting for my life to begin. 

So October of 2010, I walked into my mom's office with Sonic and her eyes lit up like she knew a secret. She directed me to the book she was reading and told me to read one particular part in Chapter 12. I followed her direction and found myself joyful, because it was about my Mexico. It was about students. It was about second chances. Breaking down walls. 

Before I could realize what I was doing, I searched for the website, perused it and a couple days later I was filling out the application. 

I couldn't even pronounce the city name. 

I didn't know a soul. 

It wasn't Baja. 

They weren't my sweet children. 

I got accepted with a "FELICIDADES" from a director whose name was just a name to me. And so began the fundraising and the praying that if this was from God, that He would make sure it would work out for HIS GOOD. 

That October quickly turned into a tearful March 22, 2011, a night that I spent telling myself I didn't have to go, it wasn't something that I had to do, I could tell people it just didn't work out, it just wasn't right. But my Mom, she's pretty fearless and she had this knowing about her, that God was going to use this unknown, this awful uncertainty and He was going to show His glory to me. 

Brian Overcast called that night right before I was going to bed and checked-in.

March 23, 2011 I was sitting on the plane with eyes full of tears, millions of questions running around in my head, most of which were questioning my sanity. The question "what on Earth are you doing?" was almost audible. But somehow I stayed on the plane, and I fought the questions as best as I could. I tried to tell myself that this wasn't any different from going to college eight hours away from the ones I knew and loved. 

But it was different, let's just be honest. 

I was moving to a foreign country, where books couldn't be my only company, where I would have to learn to teach and most importantly I would have to learn to speak. 

I was moving to MORELIA, and I couldn't even pronounce it. 

I was moving in with a family that I didn't even know. 

So you remember? That beautiful long-winded story started in October of 2010 and we now find ourselves in October of 2014. Just five days ago, I was again, bombarded with the question "what on Earth are you doing?" 

But instead of a plane, I found myself at the starting line of the Portland Marathon. And sure, I have learned to run over the past couple of years, but 11.5 miles was the most distance I had ever covered. As I stood there waiting for my corral to be called, I couldn't help but try to talk myself out of it, or there was also the thought oh Kristen, just run a little and then walk the rest, it won't matter. 

But then I remembered why I was running. 

Students started showing up in my mind, moments from my three years at NOE started playing on my heart's movie reel and I became sure that I was going to run and I was going to finish. 

I got teary-eyed midway, because I remembered my reason for running and I could feel God's presence with me. 

Mile 8 was my problem-child the last few distance runs I did in Morelia and I was incredibly afraid that I would lose my pace or I would get sick, so I thought about starting to walk. But then I renounced that idea and I declared that I was going to keep running. I declared victory in Jesus and I started to see myself crossing the finish-line, before I had even arrived. 

Mile 8 turned into mile 10 before I could even realize it and then I knew with all that was within me, that I would be able to finish. A 5K seemed like a breeze compared to the ten miles I had already completed. 

I started hearing the cheers and people of all ages were telling me the finish was just around the corner…so I took a deep breath and I decided that I wouldn't slow down, but that I would speed up for the finish.  

I ran my first half in 2 hours and 5 minutes. I ran it all without any walking. 

It was the first time for such a long distance and the first time I have ever run without walking. 

I was able, because my God is able. 

I was brave enough, because God makes me brave. 

And just like October of 2010, God reminded me that the most beautiful moments in our lives are the ones where we question "What on Earth are we doing?" Because those are the moments when we unclench our controlling fists and let Him have His way in us. Those are the moments that He gently shows us are much better than our detailed plans.