On being home...

I have been home for almost three weeks now. In some ways, its feels like I was in Haiti a lifetime ago. I have been trying to process through the three months I lived there and what it means for me now that I am home. In all honesty, I struggled with my time there as I was faced with my own fears and insecurities that are only heighted by living in another culture.

One of the things I have come away with is the vast need that is before me each day, right here where I live, if I would only open my eyes and see where he is taking me.

Everywhere you look in Haiti, kids are running around their makeshift houses with shoes that are falling apart or have no shoes at all.  I live in a place that is the epitomy of wealth. Shows like The OC and Orange County Housewives all give glimpses of what life is like for a group of people that live around here. This culture needs the latest fashion. The newest car. Bigger is better. More is better. I even find myself being sucked into the those beliefs as I had to shove my 3 new dresses into my already full closet of clothes. But, hey, I only paid $5 for each item!

Then I hear stories like the one below…

Volunteers at Richman Park in Fullerton are learning that VBS is not only an opportunity to share the gospel with children from the community, but also a chance to have unique eyes on their city and be a tangible demonstration of Christ’s love. On the first day, one leader saw a child alone on the swings and asked him to join the festivities. He agreed, but said that the leader would need to ask his mom. When the leader asked where his mom was – the boy reluctantly pointed to a woman sleeping on a bench nearby. Over the course of the day, it became clear, the child and his family were homeless and were living in the park.

The boy’s brother didn’t come over to join the group until Wednesday, and volunteers realized it was because he didn’t have any shoes on his feet. When it became apparent that a few more of the children’s families were indeed living in the park, volunteers knew something needed to be done. Bri Stickney, Fullerton’s new city liaison was able to be at the site and got to spend time with the parents of the kids while they participated in the VBS activities. After working with Bri, one of the families experiencing homelessness is now being placed in temporary hotel housing and another is slated to meet with Pathways of Hope, an organization that helps families with transitional housing and food vouchers.

Families from RHF (and even some who don’t attend church at all) have been moved by the experiences their children are having at VBS and have banded together to support their neighbors. Different parents have taken it upon themselves to bring hearty snacks each day for the children, and some have joined together to purchase shoes for a few children that don’t have ones that fit properly. They are also working to provide vouchers and gift cards to bless the families in need.

This is one of the beautiful things about the community-driven VBS model, communities are able to be in the neighborhoods and are able to see the very real needs of those around them. Relationships are being formed, families are being assisted, and most importantly, Jesus is being put on display in tangible and transforming ways.

http://costamesa.rockharbor.org/2014/07/16/vbs-2014-stories-richman-park/

I feel grateful to be apart of a church that has eyes to see others as Christ does. I feel heartbroken that in a place of such incredible wealth there are many who are with out homes and such basic things as a pair of shoes. I am humbled that God has chosen his Church, me, you, to show his love, grace, and provision to those he has placed around us. Father open our eyes to what you would have us do. May we not become so busy that we miss what you are doing.

Snowflakes

I have the chills right now. Not because it is cold in my office right now, which it is, but I am overwhelmed with God right now.
His creativity. His order. His design. His detail. All inside something that is too small for the human eye to see.
Someone posted this.
 http://chaoticmind75.blogspot.ru/2013/08/my-technique-for-snowflakes-shooting.html

Snowflakes. I dont know how one can deny the existance and love of a God when they look at one of those!! Can you imagine all of the creativity when you realize no two snowflakes are a like? Think about the meticulous designs that are there. The perfect symmetry that is present from the God of order. The Creator God!

The phase that keeps swirling in my head is How Much More?! My creator God cared enough to design each one of those. How much more does he care about me. How much more detail and design and love is there when it comes to us?

Those snowflakes are screaming I love you from a God who knows most of them will melt or be trampled on! Oh How He Love Us!

Rest

I haven’t written much lately. For a while, there was just nothing to say. Recently, there is too much to say and I just don’t have the words for it.

But here I sit, forcing myself to put words down. If I don’t, I will forget. Even now, I am forgetting the pain and heartache that led to experiencing love and grace in ways I hadn’t before. I want to remember the deep laughter that made its way out of a broken heart, the joy and rest that came from a weary soul.

Thursday, September 5, I laid in bed, staying up longer than usual, because I had the next day off. I was getting together with my friends from high school! For six months we planned this little weekend away in Calabassas.  We were all going to be in one place for longer than 2 hours. It was going to be such a sweet time.

About 1130 that night I got a text from Rebekah asking if I was up. It was strange to get a text from her that late at night. I thought something happened to her or she was in trouble. She called a little later and told me about Brad. He was gone. He did it. All I could get out was “WHAT?” “Are you sure?”. I sat there stunned. I knew that it had to be true because no one would make this up. But I couldn’t believe it. Not Brad. Not this way.

That night I understood what it meant to weep. Not just cry. It was tears that came from so deep inside me it hurt.

Sleep eluded me that night…what was left of it anyway. The next morning I lay around before going to pick up a friend at the airport and I wrote this, “Today I’m reuniting with my oldest friends while grieving the loss of someone. Sitting in the tension of the now and not yet. Pain and privilege. A heart that is full and a heart that breaking.” I was so excited to be with my friends, but my heart longed to be with my family.

That weekend and the days to follow were filled with tears as we gathered together to remember Brad. Each Facebook post made me ache. But as always with my family, there was laughter, healing laughter. I love that my family shows up. Good times or bad. They are there. We can cry together and we can laugh together.

That next Monday was the first day of Seek Week. I love seek week. But I didn’t have it in me to sing that night (and for a while after). I sat down because I didn’t even have the strength to stand. My dear friend sat next to me and asked if I was ok. I said no as I started to cry. All he said was, “Im just going to sit here next to you, ok?”

The theme that night was God’s goodness. I rolled my eyes and thought, of course it is. But even in that, whether it was through my friend sitting with me, or the words to the songs that I couldn’t sing, God was reminding me that he is still good. He hasn’t changed. And He is with me.

A week or so later, I met up with that same friend for coffee to discuss some life group things. He asked how I was doing and in typical Andrea fashion, I didn’t really answer the question. But he looked at me and said, “You’re not ok.” I looked back at him and agreeing, I said, no. I’m not.

I felt as though I had nothing left in me. Nothing left to give. Brad’s death cut my heart open and it laid there exposed, bleeding out. Not only was I grieving, but God was showing me things that needed to change. Areas of my heart that needed to cleaned out. And he was doing that. He was gently cleaned out that dirt, but it hurt!

That conversation with my friend led me to stepping down from where I was serving on Sundays. After 3.5 years, I was tired and needed a break.

Third Wednesday was the follow week and they were talking about God as our Father. During the response time they talked about how we need God to show up as Father in different ways, whether it be discipline, love, grace ect. I though, oh great, ok God, you have been showing me all of this crap, discipline me now. I went forward to receive prayer. The words my friend heard were, You are faithful, Andrea.  I began to cry. God was giving me grace. He was loving me. Not disciplining me.  He was holding me, encouraging me to keep changing, but he loved me anyway.

The next month at third Wednesday God showed up again. We had several stations set up around the room. The first was lectio davina. I sat there for a while trying to decide what passage to read. Psalm 23 came to mind and I brushed it off because I know that one and didn’t want to read it. So next came to mind was Psalm 62. Now I thought I was just coming up with random numbers. So went ahead with 23. And as I read it I began to cry.

            He restores my soul.

            He leads me beside quite waters.

            My cup overflows.

This is what I needed to hear. I needed him to restore my soul. He is the only one who can fill my empty cup.

I went to the next station, Silence. I felt such pressure to quite my mind and hear God. But as I sat there, I felt as though all I needed to do was just rest. It felt so good to just be still. Be quiet.

The third station was prayer. Someone on the prayer team prayed over me and she got John 15 about abiding in the vine and the verse about come to me all who are weary and I will give you rest. There it was again. Rest. I wasn’t resting in him. I wasn’t allowing him fill me and give me strength. My heart was broken and shattered and he was the only one could put it back together.

The next day was my 29^th birthday. As I sat in Starbucks waiting for my friend, I began journaling what happened the night before. I was curious if I had chosen Ps 62 if that would have changed what I got out of that night. The first line says “My soul finds rest in God alone”. If there was any doubt in my mind that God was speaking something specific to me and he gave me Ps 23, that cleared it up!

It was a month, almost to the day Brad died that I was finally able to sing in church again.

On jumping and trusting.

Yesterday was Labor Day. Each year, I spend this day down in Oceanside with my family.  For the past 30+ years we have spent this day BBQing, swimming and catching up with each other.

Yesterday was no different. I drove down first thing in the morning, a little concerned with the 68 degrees and heavy cloud cover that accompanied me as I made my way down.

I was greeted with a hug from the cutest five year old who ran over to my car when I arrived.  We walked in and gave hugs and hellos to everyone to was already there. Soon the food was out which meant my plate was now full of salads and desserts.

We sat around tables eating and laughing and complaining about the now 90+ degrees outside. That meant it was time to get in the pool.  An integral part of France Family Labor Day BBQ is the older cousins throwing, tossing and dunking the younger cousins around in the water. This year was a little more mellow in that area. As we chatted in the pool, I would be summoned by a little voice saying, ‘Andrea! Watch!’. So I would watch and smile and clap as that adorable five year old would jump off the side of the pool to his dad.

He would do this over and over. And each time as he would get ready to jump again, he would ask, ‘Dad, you’ll catch me right?’

Dad: Yes, Im right here. 

Son: You’ll catch me?

Dad: Yes, I have caught you each time you have jumped, right?

Son: yeah. (Takes a big breath and apprehensively jumps)

Two thoughts ran through my head at the same time. Kind of annoyed that it took him so long to jump each time, I thought, why are you still scared. Your dad has caught you every single time. He is right there. He isn’t going to let anything to happen to you. He hasn’t given you any reason to believe he won't catch you. Just jump.

The second thought was that is the conversation I have with God all. the. Time.

Andrea: You’ll catch me right?

God: Yes, I’m right here.

Andrea: But you’ll really catch me?

God: Yes, I have caught you each time you have jumped right?

Andrea: Yeah…(except I still don’t believe he will catch me and I continue to sit on side of life)

I watched as another cousin, this one is about seven years old, stood on the shoulders of her dad as he would launched her over and over to the deep end of the pool. She laughed and kept coming back for more. Higher, farther, faster. It didn’t matter. She wanted to go. She trusted that her dad would be there.

Oh, how I want to be like my cousins. To go, do, say what my father asks of me…even if I am terrified.  He has never given me any reason not to trust him. 

Stuff.

A few years ago, I sat at the kitchen table of this wonderful Brazilian family. We talked, ate, laughed as we tried to understand what the other one was saying. I remember thinking how content they were and how content I was at that moment. They had a simple concrete home. No decorations on the wall, no paint even. One pot and one pan that was filled with dents and scratches. There was one tiny tv they rolled out as we crowded around the table to watch the soccer game. There was more love and joy than my heart could contain.

I have lots of stuff. I just moved and was amazed at how little ol’ me could have acquired so many possessions. I really would like to blame it on the fact that I live in Orange County. I live in the middle of this bubble that is consumed with consumerism.  Everywhere I look I am reminded that bigger is better. I need more. Enough isn’t a word that is easily understood. But the reality is, its all on me. I have allowed myself to be concerned with what I wear, how I look, what I eat. The reality is, what I throw away on a daily basis in food, someone is hoping it will feed their family tonight. The reality is I am more concerned with how I look to others than how my heart looks to the One who gave it all to me in the first place.

Getting rid of things has always been easy for me…as long as I feel I don’t need it anymore. But its that word need I get hung up on.  Even as I write this I am thinking about things I could possibly get rid of. A few items I haven’t worn in years come to mind. But then I think if X situation ever came up, I would need it. I don’t want to have to buy it again. My perception of need is skewed. 

Recently I have felt compelled to downsize. There is something freeing about owning less. There is a book called 7 by Jen Hatmaker. I haven’t read the book yet (Im toying with the idea of actually needing to buy it or not). From what I have read and heard, she takes 7 areas of excess in her life and 7 months and gets to work. Each month she focuses on simplifying a different area whether it be food, possessions, waste, stress, ect.  In doing so, trying to realign with the heart of God (assuming on that part, again I haven’t read it). But that is what I hope to get out of it. While I don’t plan on doing a seven month challenge, I want to think through areas of my life and heart that need to be purged. Purged is a strong word. I am reading through the Old Testament right now and it says several times in Leviticus that if there was any sin, anywhere, they were to purge the camp of it. I remember thinking in regards to the specific rule I was reading, wow that is so extreme. But if you don’t, it will begin to infect everything around it and ultimately the entire camp. Purging the uncleanness, the sin is not optional.  It is vital to my survival.

I'm all for enjoying the blessing God has given us. I think he delights in it when we do. However, I do have a problem…I Should have a problem with enjoying the blessing He has given us when we… when I am not being obedient to the commands to care for the widows and orphans, to those in need, to the least of these.

Just as I need to purge my closet, I need God to purge my heart. I moved two weeks ago. I went thru my closet as I was packing and got rid of a bag full of clothes and other items. The other day I got rid of about 15 more articles of clothing (Im trying to do 1 a day for a month). The reality is I have more than I need and there will always be more to get rid of. Just when I think God has cleaned my heart, there will be more that needs to be purged.

I hope by doing this, I can reorient myself around to what God has called me do.  I want to free up more space (physically and mentally) to sit with Jesus. Honestly, this scares me. I think part of the reason I fill my life is to avoid what is hiding in the corners of my heart. I want to free up money to pay off debt and to give. To bless because I have been blessed. I want to let go of the things of this world I am clinging, to say Here I am, send me.

April: No shopping for clothes. Get rid of at least 30 items of clothing.

-       Content with what I have

-       My identity is not shaped by what I wear

-       Save money

May: No eating out. No last minute grocery store runs when I don’t want to eat what is already in the fridge.

-       Enjoy the food God has created

-       Do what I enjoy. Cooking, Baking, and  Eating

-       Health!

-       Save Money

June: Use my phone only for talking and texting. No facebook, instagram or pinterest on the phone.

-       Be present

-       Silence/Solitude

-       Listen

-       People watch, read, talk

July: Haven't got that far yet...