Changing Seasons

Last Saturday, my family and I drove two hours to the city of Ellijay up in the Georgia mountains. To B.J. Reece's apple orchard. 

It was a simply beautiful autumn day for being outdoors. Browning leaves had fallen from the trees and scattered on the ground and there was a crisp nip in the air just cold enough for lightweight jackets and sweatshirts. It truly felt like fall. It was perfect. 

My older sister, her husband, and my one-year-old niece drove from Tennessee to spend the day with us. We hand-picked apples and found a jackpot tree laden with apples in the orchard. We took pictures of my niece amidst the pumpkins vibrant orange in the sunlight. We took a tractor ride, watched pig races, and ate apple fritters. And I marveled a little at the thick Georgia accents of the employees and farm hands. 

The orchard offered many things you might expect to find at harvest time at an orchard or pumpkin patch. But it offered one thing that none of us had expected: ziplining. 

My parents, my sisters, and I had never been ziplining before but my dad showed interest in it. It would be a good first experience: it wasn't over a canyon or gulf or anything of the sort. They were two racing ziplines one-thousand feet across the sloping apple orchard. 

We watched the zipliners whizz by overhead. My dad said he would think about it and maybe try it later if my mom would agree to do it with him to share the experience. My mom, not being crazy about heights, asked me to zipline with him instead. And hence the idea was planted in my mind.  

As we went about our day, the more I watched the zipliners overhead and  the more I thought about it, the stronger the draw to do it became. My interest turned to excitement. There was something daring and bold, something spontaneous, unexpected, adventurous, and risky about it and that appealed to me. I love trying new things, particularly if they challenge me to step outside of my comfort zone. 

But that excitement slowly turned to something more. The past two months, as my twentieth birthday had begun approaching and as I had been working through some things in the wake of a turn in my personal life, the Lord had been teaching me more about myself. I had begun rediscovering a strength and a level of confidence that I had forgotten I had. He had begun reminding me of my old fearlessness- the fearlessness I carried within me as I would hop up onto horses' backs and train them in ways that often exceeded my comfort zone and my safety net. He had begun reminding me of qualities within myself that somehow in the past two years I had slowly lost sight of. 

And the more that I looked up at that zipline, the more times I heard people whizzing by, the stronger that draw within me became. Though I didn't voice it, something inside of me knew there was something about taking that step that was significance to embracing the change that God had begun working in me. There was something about it that I needed to do. And by the end of the day, I was willing to go on that zipline alone even if none of the rest of my family wanted to go with me. 

My dad, my mom, my oldest sister Christina, and I purchased our tickets, signed our liability forms, and were suited with helmets and harnesses. I felt so small as the young lady tightened down the straps on my harness around my petite frame. 

"If Julie can do it, I can do it," I heard my sister say, and as we climbed the wooden steps of the platform together, she told me, "I'm not scared because you aren't." And somehow, I wasn't. As I stood on that high wooden platform, clipped securely to the zipline and looking out across the orchard as the sun was beginning to set, I wasn't scared. I wasn't nervous and my stomach wasn't in knots or butterflies at all. I was thrilled. As I waited in anticipation for my turn, I couldn't wait. And I knew that in the past two months, I had changed. I wasn't the same girl anymore. Two months ago, while that girl might've still taken that step, she would've been having doubts as she stood looking out across the orchard before her. But not anymore. 

The farm hands opened the wooden gates and after my sister went, I stepped out onto the air, trusting the wire above me to hold my weight. I began sliding down the wire slowly at first but quickly I gained momentum as I flew down that wire. As I accelerated, I looked down at the orchard beneath my feet and out across the acres of land. There was something liberating knowing that for that moment in time, not even the grown beneath my feet could hold me down. 

But as I sped through the air on that wire, I got twisted somehow and I found myself looking back at the platform from which I had stepped. And my stomach began to feel sick. I began to get motion sickness at the speed I was traveling until I managed to twist myself around again so that I could look ahead instead toward where I was going. 

When you're flying down a zipline, the wind is whipping all around you. As my speed accelerated, all noises faded. My sister's shouts of thrill from up ahead grew fainter and any calls from the platform behind me would've been lost. The only noise that filled my ears was that of the air. The pure sound of the wind surrounding me. 

God calls us to do certain things in this life. To step in certain life directions, to perform certain tasks. As I was inexplicably drawn to that zipline, God puts callings and passions and tasks on our hearts to do. He draws us. And that drawing will become so strong that eventually, we won't care what people might think. We won't care if we're all alone and nobody joins us. Because the calling on our heart is that strong. 

And I realized that the things He calls us to do requires trust. Just as I trusted the farm employees to secure me properly to that wire, oftentimes, He'll call us to assignments that require us to trust other people, and just as I trusted that wire to bear my weight as I stepped from the platform into the air, the things God calls us to do will always require us to trust in Him to keep us from falling as we step out in faith. Some of the greatest moments of our lives will come as a result of our ability to trust. 

Oftentimes, we won't always feel qualified for the things that He calls us to do though. In the preparation, as He begins to equip us for the task ahead, we may realize how small or inexperienced we really are compared to Him. We may become suddenly very aware of our weaknesses and our faults, and it's in those moments that we realize just how desperately we need Him. 

But as we step out in faith, trusting the Lord and being carried by Him, suddenly the voices of others begin to fade away. The voices that may try to call us back. All I could hear was the sound of the wind in my ears, just as the sole voice we need to hear and focus on as we step forward into what God calls us to do is His voice and the wind of the Spirit as we're surrounded by His presence. 

Yet, the temptation can be strong to look back even as we're moving forward. But God calls us forward not back. We aren't meant to look in the past from the comfort zone and place of safe familiarity from which we came. We're meant to look ahead toward where God is calling us and drawing us forward to. 

But perhaps the greatest beauty of it lies not in the journey down that wire and what we experience in that flight and on the other side. But rather, in the example we leave behind. "I'm not scared because you aren't." We have the power to influence those around us by our own lives and by the decisions that we make. To leave behind an example for those left on the platform to follow and to support and embolden each other with those who go forward with us. Because we need each other in our moments when our courage fails. 

There's a time for each of us to put aside the fears that are holding us down from becoming the person that the Lord calls us to be and from doing all that He calls us to do. We're called to live fearless spiritual lives, but it's our choice to take the first step. "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." 2Timothy 1:7

Fishing Weather

With the weather here in Georgia slowly turning brisker and the trees on the verge of bursting into wild splashes of their autumn colors, my family and I have been going fishing lately. 

My dad, my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law... they love baiting their hooks, casting their lines off of the dock, and... waiting. Me? I just learned how to cast a line Sunday afternoon and learned that fishing with worms means fishing with LIVE worms that wiggle and spasm. (Eww! Eww! Keep him away!) While the fishing itself is fun and I like casting the line, I find the most pleasure in watching. So I sit eating my supply of snacks, typing on my iPhone bursts of writer inspiration, making my rounds to check on everyone's success, falling in love with the cute little turtles that peek their heads up for air, and snapping pictures with my iPhone. And reflecting. I spend a lot of time leaning on the dock railing, enjoying the solitude and gazing aimlessly across the lake, watching the ebb and flow the wind brings as it plays along the surface of the waves. And I listen. 

Because there's something glorious about being surrounded by God's masterpiece of nature. There's something about seeing His fingerprints everywhere, about feeling His presence in the stillness and serenity that makes me feel closer to Him. And it's in those moments of quieting my spirit and silencing my thoughts that He whispers to my heart. 

Sunday afternoon was no different. 

I consider myself to be a fairly patient person. I mean, I work with children, I offer advice and encouragement and understanding to people and their problems, and I worked with horses for four and a half years riding and training them. But that afternoon, the Lord spoke to me that there are different kinds of patience. 

I'm a patient person, but I'm patient when I'm doing something. When I'm keeping busy, keeping my mind distracted, keeping my hands moving to pass the time. When I'm watching children or training a horse or counseling a friend. When I'm doing something to stay occupied, I'm good at patience. 

But that isn't the only kind of patience that God requires from us. At times, He requires from us something more. The patience of silent waiting. 

Ever since I was a little girl, I've struggled with fishing. I could never keep my Snoopy bobber in the water long enough to catch anything. Because fishing requires this kind of patience that I'm not very good at. When you've cast your line and you're standing there on the dock with your rod in hand, watching your bobber rise and fall with the gentle waves of the water... you aren't keeping busy. You're silently waiting. And waiting requires patience. 

The Lord leads us into waiting seasons of our lives when we need to learn this kind of patience. When we need to learn to slow down and quiet ourselves. And in our fast-paced world, that can be a difficult thing to do. Because so many of us lack this kind of patience. 

In Psalms 46:10, the Lord instructs us to be still and know that He is God, and the Psalmist counsels us to "be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him..." (Psalms 37:7) But so often in the seasons of our lives and in our prayer life, we forget the instruction to "be still." 

We can be the most patient people in the world but unless we've learned how to quiet ourselves and be patient in the stillness of waiting on the Lord, we've yet to learn the greatest key to patience and contentment in the waiting. 

Godly Girlfriends: Sisters in Christ

This time last year, I was lonely. I had lost my one and only friend and found myself unconnected to anyone else my own age. But in that time, I learned how to better appreciate the people God puts in my life, and now a year later, I find myself surrounded by the gift of three close girlfriends at a time in my life when I need more than ever the support of godly friends. 

I know it isn't Friendship Day, but I was just reflecting on the unique qualities that each of these girls brings and how thankful I am for the role that each of them plays in my life. I only hope that I bring to them what they need in a friend as they do for me. And if there's one thing I love doing, it's giving public praise to the people I love. :)

My newest friend is Corrina. We were introduced at a church picnic in the summer by a mutual friend- a girl from my church who I've known for years. I remember Corrina initially mistook me to be in my twenties already. I'm glad I wasn't. :) And I'm so glad she came with Alex to our church that Sunday! Corrina is my unique friend as she's the only extrovert close friend I've ever had. High-energy socializing is a strength of hers. She's the girl that draws this introvert out of her cave into society to build relationships and I love her for it. Her persistence makes me get my act together over plans, because admittedly, while I love hanging out, I'm really bad at putting off planning arrangements to get together. She keeps after me as I ask her to. She's a great talker- I admire her conversational ease- and she's so friendly, I wonder sometimes if there's anyone she doesn't like. I love her optimism and enthusiasm for life and for every aspect of it. And her inner strength: she's so strong. She's bubbly and fun to be around, and she's wonderful at drawing me out when I get too serious and at reminding me that it's okay to let my hair down. She's well in touch with emotions and helps me feel human still when I grow too frosty and apathetic. I love her bright smile and she generously gives some of the best hugs! (I love hugs.) <3

Then there's Lina. Lina and I go back to when we were eight and nine-years-old. I've known her the longest of my girlfriends. When my family left the church we attended together, we lost communication with each other for ten years until reconnecting last autumn. Last October actually. When we met up in person again for the first time in December, it was an instant bond. I'll never forget her response when I hesitantly suggested us getting together sometime the next spring after the holidays: "Why do we have to wait until next summer?" she asked. And I knew then that the friendship was mutual. In many ways, Lina is like my twin. Our personalities and little details are so much alike, it's crazy sometimes. But we're different in many ways too. Lina is a fantastic listener, giving me plenty of time to talk. In fact, I think I generally monopolize our conversations, but then, we're both comfortable with it that way and sharing my heart is how I bond easiest with people. Lina's an avid reader, an avid writer's dream friend: someone to read my beloved handiwork and to give me feedback. Lina's also more sociable than I am- I can easily turn to my "clam-up, listen, and observe" mode- so being with her allows my introvert self a chance to rest in social situations while still being engaged in conversations but not having to talk much. Like Corrina, she's super friendly. Seriously, who doesn't like Lina? Lina's often my anchor: her level-headedness keeps me grounded when my emotions get crazy. And Lina keeps me in check. While my strong-will, stubbornness, and fierce debater side can be mildly intimidating, she isn't afraid to disagree with me, tell me the blunt truth, or call me out. Even when I do get defensive, she knows I love her all the more for her honesty. She helps keep me accountable, is extremely perceptive, and has pretty much seen (or should I say heard) me in all moods. I love the sound of her incredible singing voice (she's already promised to sing in my future wedding) and she can do really cool styles with her hair! :) 

And then last but certainly not least is Victoria. Victoria and I have known each other as acquaintances for almost as long as Lina and I have known each other. Our friendship didn't begin until she made the first step last year and sat by me at a young adult worship at our church where I was sitting alone. I took it as a sign of interest in being friends and returned the kindness by reaching out to her later that summer when she was having her wisdom teeth extracted only a week after my own extraction surgery. It became a gradual process of growing closer from then on until only a month ago when our bond became incredibly close through sharing our hearts and our vulnerability with each other one afternoon and in subsequent text messages. In my social media world, Victoria is my Pinterest buddy: she often repins my pins and I often repin hers. And she can manage a perfect fishtail braid that I always admire. :) Victoria is my tallest friend and I love her height. I love having to meet in the middle for a hug: she bends down and I stretch up. It reminds me of the healthy compromise of relationships and of meeting people in the middle wherever you both find yourselves and whatever differences you have to make your friendship work. Both give a little. Like Lina, Victoria's more quiet and an excellent engaged listener which means that I talk a lot, and as I connect easiest through sharing, we've become very close. Again like Lina, Victoria asks questions- sometimes bold questions- and I need that. There's really nothing I would mind telling these girls, but I need the prompter to help me open up and be reassured of my listener's interest. I love Victoria's heart. She has one of the sweetest and purest hearts that I know and when she trusts you enough to show you her heart, there's no denying that she's also an incredibly genuine person. She's an excellent confidant and is always ready to be a shoulder to cry on- be it by listening, praying for me, or simply putting an arm around me. She's soft-spoken, thoughtful, and I love her gentle teasing. She can always make me laugh and feel safe opening up to her. I so appreciate how reliable she is: she's had my back on more than one occasion when I've turned to her for help. I also love her heart for children and for missions. 

There are a few similarities that all three of these girls share though. They aren't only friends to hang out with; they're spiritual friends. I can't spend time with them without us talking about Jesus, be it about our spiritual journeys or about our church-related activities, and I love that about them! In my closest relationships, I need a spiritual heart connection, and these girls share my love and passion for Jesus. Talking about Jesus is better than talking about other people: we aren't gossipers in our conversations. I can be real with these girls. These are girls who want the truth when they ask how I'm doing, not just the polite "I'm doing good!" These are girls who ask if there's anything they can pray for me about. They let me be me: they let me be kind of geeky at times, they let me be the counselor and psychologist, they let me be a leader. Without thinking me prying or meddlesome, they allow me to use my spiritual gift of exhortation by asking for my prayers, seeking my advice or my opinions, letting me encourage them and build them up, and allowing me to use my own experiences to relate to their situations and offer suggestions. They tolerate my best method of communication: my really really really long text messages or emails. (Word-counts were never my strong point.) Corrina knows that I'll rarely answer the phone when she calls but that I'll always call her back within a few minutes, and all three know that I understand school and work schedules and don't need prompt text responses... especially to my book-length messages. They know that their friend is nocturnal; I keep insane night hours and that equals few to no breakfast dates or morning text responses from me. They're independent girls and being independent myself, I really need that in my friends. When we hang out in a large group with others, I never have to worry about keeping them close and engaged: they're all three warm and friendly, and oftentimes in a new group, I'll even lose them as I turn around and they're off making new friends and striking up conversations. 

We're four happy single chicks, just trying to figure out college, careers, and life. And I have to say, I have some beautiful friends with some gorgeous smiles. They're a beautiful threesome inside and out. <3 

Sure, it's a blessing to have my three closest friends get along and all like each other, but one of my favorite parts is the special relationship I have with each of these girls individually as well. Each of them has taught me something in her own way, but collectively, they've taught me an even bigger lesson: that God doesn't leave us with empty hands forever. 

As I said, last year, God removed from my life the only close friendship I had ever known and it left me confused. It left me lonely. I felt the absence of support from someone my own age who was going through the same stage of life with me. I missed her. And I still do. 

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." (Job 1:21) Always for a reason, always for our ultimate best, always for a purpose that most glorifies Him and shines as a testimony. But He never leaves our hands empty forever. God took something very dear to me from my hands and I began praying that He would restore my friendship or bring another friend into my life. A year later, He hasn't given me another friend. He hasn't given me two friends, double as He gave Job back (Job 42:10). He's given me three friends in return for the one friendship that He took away. But I had to go through a season of loneliness first to learn to rely on Him and His comfort and support alone before I was ready for Him to fill my empty hands again. 

God gives and God takes away. But if we're faithful and patient and persevering, in His way, in His timing, He'll fill our hands again with more than we could imagine. He empties our hands to make room for something more and something greater that He has in store for us. 

A New Thing

It's October now. And in twenty-three days, I will be twenty years old. And as is usual when my birthday starts rolling around again every year, I've been doing some inventory, thinking of my life and this past year. 

Thursday afternoon, I went walking in the park with my mom. And as I walked, I took note of the world around me. Of the early autumn air hinting of brisker weather on the horizon. Of the crunch of browning leaves beneath my Merrell hiking shoes. Of the rustle of wildlife- squirrels and chipmunks and deer- in the woods surrounding me on every side. Of the sunlight dappling in golden patches upon the black paved path before me.

And in that hour, my thoughts were cleared. I was walking the same trail that I had last walked with my mom and my sister almost six months prior. Yet I realized that my almost-twenty-year-old self isn't the same girl as the nineteen-year-old that had walked that path then. 

I realized I had changed. I had grown up more in the past six months. In the past year since last autumn. In the past two years. 

Her mom's caution and careful protection that that girl had once thought a little over-protective was now appreciated that she was loved so much to have someone worry about her. That girl had become more compromising in her relationships. Was she much of an outdoorsy person? Was she much for exercising? No, but somewhere along the way, she had learned the importance of compromise and how to be a girl who was up for anything. Making memories and spending quality time with the people she loved had more value to her now than what they did together. And there was no more putting her makeup on and wearing cute shoes to make sure she looked great even when she did exercise. (Seriously?) Somewhere in the past two years, in the past two months, she had grown more confident and more accepting of the person who God had created her to be. 

My mom and I spent an hour walking on the wooded trail of the park, at the end of which I suggested, "We should stop at Bruster's on our way home." Of course, you could expect that from me. So we did. 

In the late afternoon sunlight of a beautiful day, I found myself sitting on a red bench with my mom at Bruster's, a single scoop of double chocolate chunk ice cream in a paper cup in one hand and a red plastic spoon in the other. As I sat there, I was reminded of the Bruster's stops my mom and I would make together on our way home from my weekly riding lessons two years ago when I was eighteen. The same time of day, the same time of year, the same Bruster's, the same bench, the same kind of ice cream in my hand. We were making memories then and we were making memories now. 

But so much had changed though since those days in the past two years. Those long pigtail braids, Levi bootcuts, dusty Ariat boots and spurs, and brown felt cowboy hat were replaced then by short straightened hair, black drawstring exercise shorts and a tank top, hiking sneakers, and an iPhone and car keys beside me. In the last two years, that eighteen-year-old and nineteen-year-old had experienced new emotions. She had felt love in a way she had never known, she felt hurt, loneliness, rejection, joy, hope, excitement, anticipation, sacrifice, surrender. She had lost old friendships and had built new ones. She had faced closed doors and opened doors. And somewhere in the journey of it all, she finally realized the beauty of the laughter and the tears. Of growing up. Somewhere in the journey of it all, I've begun to realize that my nearly-twenty-year-old self is stronger. Is bolder. Is more confident. That somewhere along the way in the past two years, in the past year, in the past six months, God's been continuing to change me from the inside out. And I'm finally seeing now that that's a beautiful new thing. 

"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing..." -Isaiah 43:18&19

Reflections

I've been babysitting for over a year now. And if there's one thing I've learned about babysitting, it's how much you learn about people from babysitting for them. 

When you hire a babysitter, you're leaving them in your home expecting them to care for your child in the same way that you would care for them yourself. Which means for your babysitter to do that, your house basically becomes their house. And that's something that a lot of people probably don't fully think about. 

When your babysitter is looking for a television show to put on for your child or for a movie to play for them, they see your favorite shows and the DVDs that you watch. When they're preparing breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snacks for your child, they're going through your pantry, your refrigerator, and your kitchen cabinets. They're sitting in your living room, surrounded by your family pictures. And if you have toddlers on the go that wander the moment a head is turned, your babysitter might even see your bedrooms. The truth is that honestly, your child's babysitter probably knows you a lot better than you realize. 

But what a babysitter will learn most about you comes from your child. Sure, once a child begins talking, they share whatever comes into their little minds and often without filter. But to a perceptive babysitter, it's more than that. For example, a perceptive babysitter will see a sweet, very obedient and well-mannered child and will watch the child give its stuffed animal a spanking when it gets in trouble or put it in time-out. And a perceptive babysitter will see the correlation and recognize that that child receives healthy discipline and correction. 

Yesterday, I was watching a sweet little four-year-old. I've known her family for about nine and a half years so you could say I know them fairly well. I know the kind of people her mommy, her grandparents, her aunt, and her uncles are. 

And when this four-year-old spontaneously hopped down from her chair while eating snack to give me big hugs around my waist, I knew that was a reflection of the kind of affection that she gives and receives on a daily basis. 

Her daddy horse stuffed animal got injured in her imagination playing and I watched her rush her mommy horse to his side, exclaiming, "Oh, Honey, are you all right?!" I watched her hold the hand of her stuffed elephant and reassure him as I stitched up a hole on his face. And I watched the love in her eyes and in her soft voice as she mothered her babies- her stuffed animals. In those moments, I saw myself in her as a little girl again and I knew that she was reflecting the kind of loving relationships she too has in her life and is surrounded by. 

Because young children are a reflection of their parents and of their families. 

And as believers, we're no different. 

About three weeks ago, my parents and I went to lunch on our way home from church. My mom and I placed our orders and moved on to fill our three drinking cups. But as my dad ordered and paid for our meal, the employee asked him if we had just returned from church. And then he asked him a very unusual question: what had our pastor preached on that morning? My dad answered, summarizing our pastor's message, and ended inviting the young man to our church. 

His brief little interaction with the employee made me question though. Typically, inquiring if a family had just come from church wouldn't be that uncommon. It was Sunday afternoon lunchtime and you can usually tell the church-goers by how they're dressed. But my parents and I weren't dressed up that time. In fact, we were dressed very casually. So what I wondered had prompted that young man to ask that question, guessing that we were church-attenders? Had he seen something in us? Something different that made him think we were Christians? 

And his second question. The unusual question that had surprised my father. The young man had looked so sincere and genuinely interested as he inquired what our pastor had preached on and as he listened to my dad's reply. Had he simply but oddly just been wanting to make conversation? Or was there something deeper to his inquiry? As my dad acknowledged, it was almost something like a test: the young man knew then that we were Christians, he knew then that we went to church. But were we serious and genuine Christians? Or were we hypocritical who did the Christian thing and went to church just because it looks good and sounds right? My father's response to his inquiry would answer that question. 

And what if? What if that young man had seen a difference in us and my dad hadn't been able to answer his question? If he had had to admit that he didn't know what our pastor's message had been on? What kind of testimony would that have left behind for that young man's opinion of Christian church-goers? 

I left Atlanta Bread Company that afternoon being reminded that we never know who's watching us. We never know who's looking at us as a representation of believers and of Christ. We never know when someone is judging the genuineness and authenticity of our Christianity. And we never know when we'll receive an opportunity to share our faith and plant seeds in the midst of everyday conversations, everyday interactions in our everyday lives. 

Because the truth is, as believers, we're no different than the young children I babysit. We are children of God and as children of God, we are a reflection of our Father and of His family- the Church, other believers. We are a reflection of Christ to the world by the things that we do, the things that we say, the love that we show, and the reactions that we present.

"Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." -Ephesians 5:1&2