High Stress and Divine Sovereignty

I took a short blog sabbatical to wrap up my adventurous, transformative East Coast sojourn. One year ago, I packed up my home in Lawrence, said goodbyes and cried a lot because it all seemed so terribly final. As I prepare now to drive my belongings back across six states and settle in Kansas City, I realize how much more strength and freedom I feel. Not because I dislike Philly -- I love and appreciate it more than I ever expected to. But I am going home. And I am a different person moving to a different city to live among different (and familiar) people. Change is scary and goodbyes are hard, but if there is one thing I've learned this year it is that God's plan is greater and He loves me more than I could ever imagine. It sounds simple, but that is no easy lesson.

To help illustrate this, I present to you my worst day in recent memory, in which God proved (again) how little control I have and how much He loves His children. (Since it would have been dangerous to document the day with my camera, I will intersperse photos from my recent trip that make me feel calm.)

Last Tuesday I left Lee, Mass., where I spent the weekend exploring the spectacular Berkshire Mountains, watching dance and reminiscing about college with my wonderful friend Toni. I was driving the car that I purchased earlier this month to initiate the transformation back to Midwesterner. (I'll go ahead and deflect any assumptions that I got into a wreck...the worst did not happen.) I switched on my phone's GPS to guide me the few hours to Philly. These are all important details.

To get to Western Massachusetts, I had driven along quietly winding roads through New Jersey and New York. I didn't realize that my GPS was leading me back a different way until I found myself entering the Bronx. There was a lot of traffic, but I was not too phased. The beauty of GPS is that regardless of how many wrong turns you make, it will always find a way home.

It was then, all at once, that stuff got stressful: The nearest bridge leading into Jersey was under heavy construction. The GPS satellite connection went out. My phone died. Then it overheated and wouldn't charge. Ridiculous. Meanwhile, I wasted time and gas driving around this northern borough, sweating, praying and resolving to take Megabus everywhere I go from now on. I kept driving south, telling myself that I was not stuck in New York City forever and that it was worth holding out to get gas in Jersey where it is much cheaper (and they pump it for you!).

The details here get a bit fuzzy, but at some point I realized that my phone would charge if I held it up to the a/c vent, so I frequently pulled over in No Parking zones to make sure I was on track and flipped U-turns when I was not. None of the NYC cabs I've ridden ever have to do this. Thankfully, Jesus had the wheel so I was free to baby my phone.

I finally made it to FDR Drive, a comfortable drag along the East River. As soon as I had a second to breathe, the thought came to me: Masha is in Manhattan right now. I had said a final farewell to my dearest Philly friend before leaving for my weekend trip. Her flight to long-term mission work in Europe left from JFK Airport before I would return. She planned to spend her last few stateside hours with her family in the city. Although every fiber of my being wanted to get out of Manhattan as quickly as possible, I had a stronger urge to see her.

My phone battery held up long enough to call her, but when her voicemail picked up I did not leave a message. I felt a bit relieved (sorry, Masha!) and kept driving. She called back just as I reached the Upper East Side. She was in Soho. I told her I'd be there in 10 minutes. Commence rush hour on Park Ave. As I gritted my teeth and willed a protective bubble around my car, I laughed realizing that God brought me here just to give Masha another hug. And when I pulled into a parking spot and met her on the corner, she laughed with me. He loves her a lot.

I could tell you how long it took me to get through Holland Tunnel, how I was never so excited to be in New Jersey. I could tell you about eating cold leftover pasta after I'd been in the car for seven hours (of the 4.5-hour trip), or how I missed the exit for Philly and was scolded for being $1 short for the very last toll. I could tell you how I finally stumbled through the front door of our house and wept on Kelsey's shoulder in a big ol' glass case of emotion.

But I'd like to focus on the fact that God took me to New York against my will to amaze us with His love for us. That makes me pretty excited for whatever is next.




With love.

A Wedding with Fireflies

Earlier this summer, before I had to start sleeping with a box fan, we drove six hours across Pennsylvania to see our friend Ben marry his dear Canadian bride. It was the dreamy kind of wedding that I might read about on a blog and wish I could attend. So, in my duty to bear witness to these beautiful God-ordained experiences, here I blog about it.

Ben worked with Kelsey her first summer at CSM, and his vagabond spirit has allowed me to get to know him. We really bonded when he slept on our couch for a week this spring -- that's when he invited me to his wedding.

For me, it was icing on the cake that we got to leave the city and see them wed in a forest. The bride, groom and their wedding party camped on these festival grounds for a week creating their oasis. 

I could go on about the perfect weather and how refreshing it was to be in nature for 24 hours, but I must address the stunning, barefoot, Jesus-filled ceremony. It completely reflected Ben and Naomi's hearts for each other and for God. The Episcopalian priest beautifully melded ritual and personal, and charged that their marriage might be a beacon of Light in a broken world. Amen.

The celebration that followed was as comfortable and sweet as their ceremony. Friends and family wasted no time pouring the wine (into Mason jars) and starting the grill.

Naomi served cupcakes baked by a bridesmaid.

We pitched our sleeping arrangements.

Then rejoined the party to dance to (with) a delightful Canadian folk band and eat s'mores around a bonfire. We saw fireflies for the first and only time this summer (which meant an awful lot to the Kansas girl who wept at the sound of cicadas).

It struck me that I would not have experienced this had I not moved here. There were a lot of reasons for that move out of my comfort zone, but I had not anticipated such wonderful friends. Let alone expect to share these major life moments with them. This post is filled with adjectives because blessed is an understatement.

God willing, I will still be a witness to Ben and Naomi's Light 60 years from now.

P.S. No pressure, Kels and Jim.

With love.