Chaos Covered in Peace

This morning I woke up to the sound of my neighbor yelling at his family. It seemed fitting to wake up to something ridiculous, so that I could continue through this crazy week.

Remember all those times in math class when everyone would sit around and say: "When are we EVER going to use this in real life!?!?" Well, this week I feel as if I've proven myself wrong. I might as well have my nose stuck in a geometry book. However, this time it's for real, not only for a grade. We've had a rather large project at Beauty from Ashes. A local family is starting a new business and has enlisted much help from us. Diana and I have been hard at work crunching numbers, having meetings, and creating projects. My brain hurts, not only from the math, but also from focusing so much to understand everything in the meetings where we discuss things in Romanian. When I say "we" I use that very lightly. While I'm able to keep up with much of what I understand, my additions to Romanian conversations are still limited, especially in front of new people. 

To add to my crazy week, I've had some sort of meeting or activity every night this week. I cannot express how valuable the quiet morning moments with my Lord have been this week. I know I would be a wreck if it weren't for the comfort of His Word. His blessings are immeasurable. Earlier today I had 15 minutes of rest at home before heading out again and I can't even describe how grateful I was for those 15 minutes! It's funny how I'm feeling tired, a bit stressed and like my chaotic life is stuck in fast forward; yet, God has given me a heart of peace in the chaos. I'm so thankful that though my world may be a whirlwind, my God is a rock. He is the foundation upon which my life is founded. Because He is faithful and constant, I will give thanks and praise His Name! 

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. 

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way

and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea

though its waters roar and foam

and the mountains quake with their surging. 

Psalm 46:1-3

A Grateful Heart

The other day I was conversing with a friend when it hit me, clear as day:

God's been teaching me gratefulness.

I think in every season of my life there has been a primary part of my character that God was sanctifying. There were years of learning to trust. There were, oh so many times of learning humility. There were definitely years of learning patience. Though I have yet to master any one of these attributes, there are times of intense training in my life.

It's like isolating particular muscle group in the body, while not ignoring the body as a whole. I can often trace a steady thread through my day-to-day life, pointing to a singular characteristic that God is training more intensely. Right now, this characteristic is gratefulness.

There are many ways God is teaching me gratefulness. First of all, He took me away from all that is familiar and brought me halfway around the globe to Romania. Many of the people, places, and things that I was grateful for were gone, or at least quite far away. Yet, I was never alone. My Heavenly Father's presence was made known in a mighty way. I was also blessed with many new friends who bent over backwards to bless and welcome me. I had no idea how important these people would be to me. I was also incredibly grateful for technology and the ways that I AM able to stay in contact with friends and family in the States. 

There are countless other little ways God has been teaching me gratefulness. It's a daily process. Living in a new country and culture, I am often tempted to complain about how things are here. I'm also often tempted to spend time missing people, places & things at home. However, spending time bemoaning the things I don't have only distracts me from the blessings I DO have. So, I'm practicing being thankful in every circumstance. Even when I'm overwhelmed, confused, frustrated or lost, I'm learning to choose gratefulness.

God teaches me gratefulness each day as I walk down my sidewalk and see men, women and children digging through the garbage. It's like a smack in the face, or a megaphone sized reminder to: STOP COMPLAINING! I'm constantly reminded to stop wishing for more/bigger/better/different. I am incredibly blessed. I have churches, families and individuals who support me so that I can follow God's call on my life and serve Him in Romania. I get to serve here because the Body of Christ saw God's heart for the people of Romania. The Body of Christ saw God's call on my life and chose to enter in His service through their prayers, encouragement AND finances. It's so incredible; I'm continually amazed and thanking my Lord for the beautiful way in which He provides for my needs.

God is teaching me gratefulness for His presence. He is teaching me to look for Him through it all. 

I see Him in the eyes of orphans...in the smile of my neighbor, in the hug from a friend, in the changing fall leaves, in the living, growing pain of sore muscles, in the sun glittering across the river, in the pink hues of a sunset, in the giggles of little children, in the wrinkled faces of weathered women, in the tongue twisting failures of new language, in the weary process of buying & registering a car, in the rapid forming dust-bunny collection under my bed, in the painful molding & shaping of my heart, in the humbling failures of my days, in the crunch of juicy apple, in squeak of sneakers on a gym floor, in the tears rolling down my cheeks... Jesus is there, in it all. He is worthy of praise in each moment. I'm learning to truly see Him. Each time I see Him brings an opportunity to turn and give thanks. 

"Be joyful always; pray continually;

 give thanks in all circumstances, 

for this is Gods will for you in Christ Jesus."

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Where have you seen Jesus today? 

Did you turn and give Him thanks? 

Past due confessions

Kentucky Sunrise a couple years ago

Multiple events are pointing to the undeniable fact that I may have become....dare I say it: a morning person! I cringe at the thought, I have lived so much of my life hating mornings. Yet, the facts are undeniable. Yesterday morning I showed up at the gym early. It was Saturday. The gym doesn't open until 10am. I mean seriously, who get's up early on a SATURDAY to go to the gym? Evidently, I do. Eeek! Second fact: I have a good friend here who has begun to refer to me as an, "early riser." She has even admitted to not calling me late at night for fear I was already in bed in preparation for my said: early rising. Additional confirmation has come through the repeated lamenting of the fact that there are no coffee shops here that open at 6 or 7am. I have repeatedly desired to go work on some language homework, read my Bible, journal, etc. while enjoying my favorite espresso drink, an Americano. Evidently my drink is not the only "American" preference I have, since I have yet to find a coffee shop with decent coffee that opens at or before sunrise. 

I requested a Sunrise service on Easter
which also happened to be my birthday!

Now, before we go further let's clarify that I love staying up late and generally do so. It is incredibly rare for me to get to bed before 11:30pm. I also still despise the act of waking up each morning. I pretty much dislike all of it: 

 - forcing my mind out of the foggy dream world and into reality

 - peeling open eyes that have nearly crusted shut from hours of blissful slumber

 - hitting the snooze button over and over after that horrid sound 

 - internal debates about getting up or changing the alarm for another hour of sleep

 - finally throwing off the covers and slapping feet against cold floor in one fluid motion so that I can't change my mind halfway through

 - rapidly blinking eyes against morning light



So, it's obvious that I'm not one of those peppy people who pop out of bed with a smile and joyful words flowing from their lips. However, once I make it past the desperate need to pee & brush the morning breath out of my mouth I'm remarkably glad to be awake. I enjoy those quiet morning moments. I like heading straight out to run or to the gym in the mornings. Then I like the time I spend on my yoga mat with my Bible spread open between straddle stretched legs. I enjoy setting quiet music playing while I start the coffee and pour a bowl of cereal. I love the swift stroke of pen against journal as I pour out my heart and prayers on paper.

Bible & Journal time

I also still have a bit of what my mom used to call the: "zombi stage." As a child the zombi stage referred to the first hour I was awake each morning. During said hour, I didn't talk, eat, get ready, or really do anything. Once the hour is up I was usually able to rouse out of my zombi stage and start getting ready for my day. However, if someone tried to force me through my needed wake-up time too fast, things got ugly. Thankfully, I have grown out of this...a bit. I still prefer my morning time to have as little verbal interaction as possible. 

 Sunrise in Kentucky

In the end, my days are significantly better when I wake up around 6:30 or 7:00am. Waking up early usually guarantees my time for exercise, Bible, & prayer time with Jesus; all three are incredibly important for my sanity.

So, obviously I am past due to confess that I am indeed a morning person. Although, I'd still claim special clarifications of this title and I'm not ready to let go of my night owl tendencies.

 snapped this pic with my ipod on a morning run in Oradea, RO

My Mom in Romania

I've often dreamed of being one of those bloggers that posts almost daily on her blog, providing readers with a perfect mix of humor, transparency, challenge, depth, helpful tid-bits of information, possibly an occasional recipe or DIY just to round it out. On this dream-cloud I would obviously have hundreds of followers and be pasted across everyone's Facebook as a "good read."

However, as you can see, there is nothing in the previous paragraph that adequately describes my blog. I'm erratic in posts and I've not once posted a recipe on my blog! As my former housemate and I grew fond of saying about anything and everything:

"It is what is is." Period. The end.

 I can dream, dare myself, become more determined... but in the end, it is just my blog. A blog where I occasionally share stories of my life, thoughts that cross my mind and ways that God is challenging me. It is a blog that is rarely read by more than 25 people. It is what it is: my blog.

So, here it goes, once again.

When I moved to Romania ten months ago, I knew I would be experiencing a lot. My list of things to expect was long: culture shock, strange looks, spending my first Christmas away from my family, struggles in learning a new language, loneliness, adjusting to living in a city, learning to navigate the public transportation, missing my favorite foods from America, being confused, making ridiculous mistakes in Romanian, and missing my family & friends at home. However, one thing I never expected was for someone from home to come visit me. I knew my family talked about visiting me in Romania one day, but we always said it made more sense to wait until I was here for longer than a year. My mom just couldn't stand it though. She started talking about trying to come early in the summer. She mentioned it to me and I replied that of course it would be great, but inwardly wrote it off as impossible. I didn't really think she'd be able to make it work. Then Mom's birthday was getting closer and my older brother mentioned helping mom with her plane ticket as a part of her birthday present. I still didn't want to get my hopes up, but I was starting to believe it was at least possible.

Possible it was. September 5th my mom flew into Romania and I was so excited to hug her and see her in person for the first time in over 9 months. I've traveled and lived away from home before, but I've never been away from my family for more than 3 months. Mom coming here was a such a blessing during my first year away!

 So, Mom & I began 19 days together in Romania. There was something so special about sharing this place I love with my mom. Mom is one of my most favoritest people on earth [yes, I know that's not grammatically correct, but sometimes you have to be incorrect to state something correctly!]  Introducing her to this new world I live in here and the people I care so much for was amazing!

Mom was her natural helpful, joyful self. I loved living life with her here for a bit. We got to explore together in Bucharest, Brasov, and Sigisoara. We spent a week in a beautiful valley with a kitchen window view Mom wanted to take home! I showed her around to all my favorite places in Oradea. I introduced her to all my friends and "family" here. I made sure she tasted all my favorite Romanian foods. I made her walk all over the place and take all sorts of public transportation, like a "real European." We served together in various ways: sewing, baby-sitting, telling Bible stories, carrying bricks, encouraging, loving and laughing with many.

Then I had to say good-bye. It was a bit tearful, but not nearly so bad since I know I'm headed home in December. After going 9 months, two and a half feels like a little bit of nothing!

Mom, I'm so glad you got to come visit me! It was so wonderful to have you here! You've definitely set the bar high though. You got over jet-lag remarkably fast (thanks for passing that trait down to me!) The enormous amount of America-gifts you brought my friends and I created Christmas in September as we fondly refereed to it. You jumped in and enjoyed, served, loved and lived in the moment in a way only few people can. Anyone else who comes to visit has a hard act to follow! Love you Mom!