I saw a severed wing on the ground as I pedaled home. Vultures circled above in an ominous pattern. The wing sent me straight back to Piura. Walking aimlessly through the streets and passing warped houses with iron wrought windows, I was stopped by a wing that was missing its bird. It’s unnerving how fast the body fills with old emotions that feel as fresh as their first feeling. I have never known loneliness like I did in that place. I don’t think puberty even held a candle to Piura. Now, the quantity of life flourishing around me is so overwhelming that it is beginning to choke out the quality in some regards if I’m not careful. There are English speaking teenagers to love, fight with, and fret over. There is a job that challenges my truth, tries my patience, and humbles my pride. There is a roommate who is an answer to long times of prayer. There is a school that calls me “Ms. Robinson” on occasion, or dork depending on the day. There are people to love and loves to fear. There is truth to be sought and thoughts to be challenged.

There are so many stories to tell and some are true while others may be exaggerated realities, but that line in a writer’s mind can get fuzzy.

Even though I teared up on my way home after my first day back at the bike shop, the transition from the glories of camp life to being back in yolo county is not too bad. Hopefully, I’ll start writing more now that my every waking hour is no longer taken up by camp duties and relationships, which to be honest .  . . was not a bad trade. But who knows what the future brings? Surely, not I.

After another exhausting week of camp, the crew went to Malabar in Santa Cruz where we feasted on vegetarian delights from Sri Lanka. It was the most fabulous food experience of my life. Raj, the owner, brought us dish after delightful dish. We chose nothing and were teary eyed from the goodness of everything. I have lived with this community for a mere five weeks, but my heart is bursting. We have our difficult moments, but I am so inspired by this incredible group of people and I fall more in love with this ministry every single week. It’s strange to not have consistent and direct contact with the students, but there are more moments that make it more than worthwhile.

This week we had two students who walked in waving their banners of atheism and loving them was the highlight of my week. The thing that astounds me about love is that it is the only salve for bitterness and fear. Christians can be some of the worst lovers, but we serve the master of love and he somehow continues to use us despite ourselves. I’m realizing more and more that my life’s purpose as a Christian isn’t to convince others that I am right and not a crazy fundamentalist. Instead, it is merely to love. We cannot go and make disciples through argument or proof because there is so much that can give weight to both sides, we make disciples by sharing the singular, divine love that has saved us.

After our grand meal, our little group walked down Pac Ave and I languidly hung on a railing and listened to the Mariachi musicians serenading the downtown air. The only thing that was missing was a hand to hold to pass the electricity of the moment from palm to palm, but even that longing was fleeting. It made me long for Peru and more adventures, but it reminded me of where I’ve been, where I am going and the adventurous gift that I have been given to treasure in the present. Telling kids that they are loved by serving them and listening to their story is such a privilege and I’m in greater awe each day in the forgiveness I’ve received and the mercy that envelopes me every morning in our little community. I wish I were a songwriter. If so, I’d play you the beats of my heart and sing you the many sounds of my soul.

I don’t know where I’ll be when this summer is over, but I must learn to release that anxiety daily. I still have three weeks of kayaking, river stumbling, and adventurous teaching to dig into. This is me sucking the marrow out of life right now and it is delicious.

In short:
-I am absolutely in love with where I am, what I’m doing, and who I am with.
-My body is beat up, and I love it.
-There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
-Community is hard, it takes so much work, but when you leave the door open when you pee so that you can keep talking to the people around you, you’ve arrived some place called wonderful. At least, that’s how it works in my book.
-The only thing missing is enough time to write and ride more often. (and a few lovely friends I left at home).
-God and I still fight a bit. I throw my Bible against the wall sometimes. We’re not over this hump, but I think I’m falling in love and it’s bloody damn time.
-I think I’m going to have to buy Ryan a present.

The sunlight wrapped itself around the redwood trees as it pierced the thick morning mist. The view overwhelmed me with gratitude that I believe in God and have someone to say, “Thanks” to when I bask in such a beautiful sight.

Right now Kristin and I are dragging ourselves out of coffee cat and back to camp.  Two hours just isn’t enough, but it’ll do pig. It’ll have to do.

Right now I am surrounded by green, growing things and a whole lot of love.

This is the place I’ve retreated to before and I’ll keep coming back because God always has a way of getting my attention. Today he showed up in a flower given to my dearest friend by a stranger and again in the quiet, peaceful voice that whispered, “Just be still” in the midst of my mental spin class. Even in my season of doubt, He’s there, and I love Him for it.

I dream of a cabin on the coast for a month of solitude and writing like Annie Dillard, and I just might need some version of it before the summer is out, but for now this place is what it is because of the people who inhabit it and I am grateful for them.

Two things I know this very moment: I am so happy that I’m not in Peru and I am so grateful to be surrounded by so much love.

Seattle, I’ve missed you.

What is that? You want to hang out for a few more days so I can see some more lovely faces? Well alright then. If you insist.

Maybe this is why I subconsciously sabotage my alone time.

It’s exhausting.

I know what’s happening from June to August and then . . . I don’t know. If my job at the bike shop is still around I’ll likely find my way back there and maybe begin seminary because I just happened to “miss” the deadlines for credentialing again. Oh darn. On Tuesday I met up with a group of people to discuss whatever theological topic we wanted. We landed on salvation, the existence of unforgivable sin, once saved-always saved, Lordship salvation, apostasy, and blasphemy . . . my head is still reeling and in need of some serious research and soul searching. This is personal.

I’m hearing a lot of life stories these days.  The honesty that is being poured out by other people, that I genuinely would have never guessed to hear from, is astounding and flat-out humbling. It’s fascinating that with every new chapter in the life of someone’s story I get the privilege to look into, I see God, or at least the need for God. I see brokenness, pain, loneliness, and love. It helps remove that facade of contented secularism that sometimes twinges envy within me. I’m realizing that we’re all broken one way or another and at the end of the day I feel a little more thankful than I did yesterday.

Now it’s time to bicycle my way to the coffee shop for some much needed reading and writing time. It’s noon and the coin toss between “get pretty” and read is rigged. To the books I go.

I’m entering into a Kurt Vonnegut phase where he’s all that I want to read when it’s “fun” reading time. Even when it’s supposed to be “serious” reading time, all I want is Vonnegut. Who will win the battle today? I know not.

Things are good. I’m somewhat aimless and am in the midst of working some things out on the inside, but for the first time in years things are going well on the outside, at least by recent standards. So, to drop it all, even for just two months, would seem sort of foolish wouldn’t it?

I guess I’m that sort of fool.

The century ride is inevitable. There’s no getting out of it now. Even though my shoulder already hurts so bad I want to rip it out of its socket. I’m going to have to toughen up, or as I learned today, H.T.F.U. Obviously, I’m not toughening up at the present moment, gotta save some energy for later right?

The overwhelm, and hormones, hit me so hard Sunday morning I didn’t make it to church I didn’t make it to service and had a meltdown instead. As the years go by I’m getting better at knowing how to handle my emotional ups and downs. I cried and then did what I had to do. Get some help and Ride.

I dragged myself out of bed and into my car to drive to Redding for a training ride with Ryan. On my two hour drive I talked to God. I received a phone calls and texts asking me not to go. I was getting ready to pull out of the internship, but knew that I needed to at least talk to Ryan one more time about this whole debacle.  As my legs burned over the 40 mile ride, I listened to his stories about being a camper and interning, and he made the kind of pragmatic points I needed to remember. This ministry changes and impacts people and I want to be a part of it even if only for a short time.

There will always be students and kids that are important to me no matter where I am. This summer I will likely fall in love each and every week and have to say goodbye and it’ll break my heart. I’ve been called out as an, “All or nothing” kind of girl. And I think the title suits me well. I know I need this season of simplicity and a time of reckoning my faith post-Peru.

I have a tendency of getting in WAY over my head, freaking out about it, and pulling it off, in varying degrees, or absolutely failing in the end. Today someone asked if I’ve ever considered taking a step back. I have, but I don’t think that’s the way God made me to be. I’ll get better at this. Sometimes I’ll harness this passion exploding inside of me and it will be awesome and other times I will blubber like an emotional girl trapped in the tampon aisle. I’ll get better at being me. But it’s going to take a lifetime and a hell of a lot of God’s grace. Everyone has a different opinion of what I should do and who I should be, but I need some time with the source to de-clutter my brain and heart.

For now I’m just focusing on letting my yes stay a yes in this scenario and trusting God to see how it unfolds. He’s already showing up in more ways than I could have dreamed.

Get excited.

At first light I was sliding into cold nylon, spandex, and polyester and mounting Racine to begin what would become a life changing journey. I had no previous experience to warrant leadership capabilities in this specific capacity and yet here I was. One crazy 21 year-old-girl and 8 teammates intending to ride from the coast of Oregon to Nashville, Tennessee. I have never not wanted to do something more in my life than I did the night before we left. I thought my guts were going to escape outside of my bellybutton I was so nervous.

My body is starting to go into “What the hell were you thinking” mode again.

Ryan Freaking Miller seems determined to meddle in my life no matter which continent I am on. What I thought was going to be a delightful snowboarding trip with two, old college friends turned out to merely be a springboard of events. At surgarbowl I met Ryan’s old friend and camp director, James. James runs a young life camp just outside of Santa Cruz. Uh-oh. It’s a camp focused on extreme activity, discipleship, and community. Doesn’t sound like anything I’d be interested in right?

Fast forward through a lot of debating, I can be quite stubborn it seems, arguing, resisting, and praying, I once told my adversary to get on his knees and pray and if God showed up in a flaming coat rack I’d listen. I decided today to take a huge leap of faith and become an intern for camp this summer. Also, intern = doesn’t get paid.

I have to risk my job. Luckily, I told both of my bosses today and they responded quite favorably. My manager did cuss me out, but that was only after she transitioned from boss mode to friend mode.  I guess she likes me after all . I have to raise my salary and $ for the camp, and train for a Century ride by May 1st. I have to leave my current ministry and community in progress here in Davis/Woodland for a short stint. I have to trust that I’m whole and healed enough internally to survive the beautiful breaking process that camp life usually is. I have to try to not be like Gideon and throw out my fleece a few times before I finally decide to trust God.

As I reasoned this whole dilemma out with my Mom she pointed out a very crucial point in the whole debacle when she said, “Ya know, you won’t get to always drop everything and run away to camp . . . but you can NOW.” The point is, I’m starting to just spin my wheels at home and feel aimless. Wonderfully busy and involved, which I love, but somewhat aimless nonetheless. I don’t know whether to focus on seminary, and which seminary to focus on, or credential at the moment.

Hopefully, this will be the retreat, re-focus, and recharge I’ve felt lacking since my return from Peru. Intense ministry and Redwood trees have a tendency of helping direct me back to Jesus in a very real and necessary way. I’m nervous and have that itching desire to crawl into a small space and hide until the fear passes over, but ah well. God really does work in mysterious and obnoxious ways.

If I can keep my butt in the saddle for 2600 miles, I should be able to pull this off. And just like on the ride, there is grace for when I can’t make it and people around me to help me do it.

Cheers!

When I got back into California I knew I needed to start building relationships and community again once enough pieces of myself were back into their proper places. The wounds, hurts, and failures of the last few years are never going to completely heal until they are filled in with more big risks. After scoring a job in Davis and a gig with the youth group of my local church I knew it was time to find some of “my” people. There were lots of avenues for pouring out, but the well would run dry very quickly without a place to be filled.

Deciding to not attend seminary, even just one class, right away and opt to focus all of my efforts where I am was not the easiest, and it felt like a risk. That night I began searching the web for any churches in the area that had a twenty-somethings group and I found one that immediately caught my eye. The Roaring 20s is a group of non-undergrads who meet once a week, share a meal, and discuss a chapter of scripture. Because of my work schedule I am late every single week and only arrive for the Bible discussion portion and wind up in the same group every time because of its proximity to the door, but what a gold mine of fortune. It’s a smattering of all sorts of people within a certain age bracket. So many different backgrounds, levels of education, and levels of comfort regarding social interactions. I’ve ended up sitting next to the same guy most of the weeks I’ve been there and last week he turned to me and asked me what I thought about “Just War Theory” in order to pick up an abandoned digression regarding the crusades. I think I’ve just found my local theology sparring buddy. He doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to be friends. Someday, when we have sane schedules a post-seminary student (living with her parents- it happens to most of us) and I are going to start a book group and the first item on the list is Dante’s Inferno, because we once joked in our group that “I’ll digress for Dante any day.”

Today at the café I ran into a member of the group who’s working on his PhD and he let me preview some of the undergrad’s sad attempts at character analysis. On my way out I ran into one of my silliest co-workers who’s always game for a joke and a laugh. On Saturday I found out I can still dribble and juke out a guy or two on the basketball court and then nursed a beer, and maybe a bit of vodka, with my favorite Saturday gang amidst stories about life, love, loss and why Paul needs more cardio and fewer energy drinks. There were Spanish asides with Matt’s Salvadorian roommates too! At work all the guys seem to walk into our side of the shop just to tell Rachelle and I their life stories and it makes me so happy. Sometimes it feels tedious, especially because it is almost all one-sided, but that never means it’s insignificant.

I’m still me. Still flawed as ever, but it’s a breath of fresh air to see some of my better qualities get some air time for now. Granted, there are tons of awkward, frustrating, and confusing moments. I’m currently in the spiritual aftermath of questioning and resolving aspects of my faith after what I witnessed and experienced in Peru, but this too shall pass. I’m “leading worship” at the youth group without any experience or genuine clue as to what I’m doing and it’s so much harder than I ever anticipated. I know my place at the shop isn’t secure, but I do know there are seeds in the ground. Brick by brick I am building. Little by little I am learning and becoming known.

Friday nights mean youth group, songs, and kick-ball-four-square. Saturday night means coordinating with Matt and his girlfriend and whoever else will join about where we are going to force Paul to eat next that doesn’t serve only cheeseburgers. I don’t mean to rattle on about how wonderful my life is. It’s a fairly typical sort of existence I will venture to say, but all of these things are signs of life and growth and community that have been absent for a very long time. A little over a month ago I stood at a door waiting anxiously for someone to open it up into a room full of strangers and last week I didn’t have to knock and, instead of complete strangers, I found a few familiar faces and a chair waiting for me to sit and join in.