коледни пости

My Dearest Friends,

Merry Christmas!
I've been thinking a lot about Advent, and what it means. 
I recall many years of lighting the candles on the Advent wreath

and never understanding exactly what it meant.
What is Advent?

Well, when it comes down to it, 
Advent is not pink, white, and purple candles.
Advent is not reading certain scriptures on certain Sundays.
Advent is not ceremony and tradition.

I'm no theologian- let alone, a Nazarene one.
But I am a Christian. 
And this is what I have come to understand about Advent.

Advent is a sort of condition of the heart.
It is eager expectation.
It is a long awaiting.
It is a deep yearning- a desperation.
It is all your hopes, - even your last hope

all placed in a person.
A single person
A person without wealth
A person without political authority
A person essentially, without any power

And even more absurd than this..
not even a Man
but a delicate, vulnerable, baby boy.

Advent is a confidence
Confidence in the One
The One in whom you placed all your hope
It is a trust.
Trusting that you have not been forgotten
That you have not been abandoned
That God has heard your cries of desperation
That God has seen your tears
And has promised you ransom
And He has promised you redemption
and forgiveness of sins
and Hope
and Love

Advent is faith.

Faith that awaits the fulfillment of the promise
The promise of the God who saw
The God who heard
The God who did not sit idly by
and watch
and listen.
But rather,
suffered. 
He suffered with His beloved creation.
He longed to draw near to them.
But humanity had created a barrier
We sinned.
Our sin kept us from our Holy Father.

And so He did the unexpected.
He did what some would call foolish.
He did what no one else could do.

God became man
Or rather,
a baby. 
a delicate, vulnerable, baby boy.

He did this to fulfill His promise
He did this to show us the depth of His Love
He did this to truly Be with the creation He could not abandon.

God came.
Advent is His arrival.
Advent is the fulfillment of the promise, that the long-expected, long-awaited, eagerly anticipated Father God would come and restore, renew, and redeem His most beloved Creation... in the form of a baby boy. 
Our Messiah.
Our Emmanuel.
He came.

And so
we celebrate.
We rejoice!
We remember!
God came!
In all our suffering
In all our brokenness
In all our sin
God came!
and He stayed.
He refused to leave us

because He loves us.
And though we may never understand this Love
We may embrace it.
We may learn from it
And we may exemplify it in our own lives.
And it will change us
It will redeem us
It will make us new
And we will rejoice.
We rejoice 
because God came.

just like He said He would.

We are the brokenness of the world.

I haven't written in a while.

In case you can't tell, I'm quite influenced by my emotions. Perhaps not in the sense that I am so easily swayed on any and every matter, but rather, I know that one of the strengths God has given me, is an incredible ability to empathize. I feel. I allow myself to feel everything. I am in constant prayer that God would make me strong enough to feel what others feel no matter how wonderful, or how terrible, and yet to not let it overwhelm or burden me. I pray that I may never grow numb to the pain I am able to feel. For this is how I am able to Love.

Because it is shared feeling. Mutual pain or joy with another person is what separates us from any other living creature. It is a sort of communion with all of humanity; at the same time, it is communion with God. It is love that allows us to feel this way- not just sympathize but to truly feel it.

Truth be told, I haven't felt like writing.
 I've found myself feeling weak.

I have certainly been physically weak (this Floridian body is not accustomed to such cold temperatures).
I have been mentally weak- perhaps from my tendency to over-think every. single. thing.
And I have been emotionally weak- and it is this weakness I think, that surpasses them all.

I don't think I've reached homesickness just yet. Perhaps just a longing to be with family during these holidays that I have always shared with my mom, my brother, and my sister. But this is perfectly normal.

However, when you couple this feeling on top of a pile of others, it becomes too great to carry on one's own shoulders.

I haven't been to the orphanage or the school in so long. Too long. I can't risk getting the children sick. But my heart is theirs. When I'm away, I feel as if I am torn from my own child.
Though I stayed away and remained at home for the most part, trying to rest and get better, I only got worse. I had my first hospital experience, my first x-ray experience, and my first blood testing experience all in one evening. It was frightening, but I was anxious to get better- to feel like myself again.
After beginning my medicinal regimen, I could instantly tell the difference. I was on an easier path to recovery and a dear Missionary friend and mentor helped to cheer me so much.

And then I came home. And I learned of things I missed while I was away.

Sandy Hook Elementary School.
Chenpeng Village Primary School.

And  I lost it. All those children. The teachers and staff who risked and gave their lives to save them. And the men who were driven to do such heinous things. 

I am no longer able to distinguish between victim and villain.
To so many, this is disturbing. Such a perspective on humanity is a criminal offense to be judged harshly- especially in light of these tragedies, and every other tragedy we have ever known. We need someone to blame. Perhaps it helps us when we grieve? I do not know.
But I cannot and will not take it back.

Because: we are all suffering. 
Because: we feel.
Because: some cannot feel.
Because: some of us have only known suffering, and consequently can only cause suffering.
Because: a person is so much more than a final product. 
               a person is an entire story- not just the ending.
Because: we are part of a world of brokenness.

We are the brokenness of the world.

 I do not say any of this to lessen or diminish the horrors of what has happened. On the contrary, 
I say this because the horrors are greater than we may realize. 

We must combat these horrors.
We must take up arms.
We must fight.
We must wage war.

And our weapon must be Love.

Love that allows us to feel.
Love that allows us to see more than just a Story's ending.
Love that leads to action.
Love that forgives.
Love that sacrifices self.
Love that "suffers with"- no matter how painful.
Love that trusts.
Love that gives generously.
Love that does what is right above what is easy.
Love that perseveres no matter how grim a situation may be or seem.
Love that sees that there is always another option- always a choice.
Love that refuses to give in to violence.
Love that refuses to avenge. 
Love that transforms everyone it embraces- including ourselves.

Love is the answer.
It is always the answer.
It is our greatest strength.
It is our mightiest weapon.

Love truly conquers all.
and by that I mean- all evil.
Perhaps it is more appropriate to say: 
Love Saves All.
    

I no longer know what to pray for except Love. 
I hope you'll join me.

I'm not the only one who cares.

As time has passed since my last written blog, I've been thinking a lot about the things that I said without words.. I've been thinking about the message I was sending in between the lines.

And I realized that that message was wrong. It was horribly wrong and I didn't even realize I was sending it.

Though I spoke raw uncensored truth, I also spoke falsehood without words.
And I want to rectify and apologize for that lie with the following statement:

I'm not the only one who cares.

How could I be? To say such a thing would be putting myself on a pedestal- a place where no human belongs. To say such a thing is like saying that God did not arrive here until He brought me here. And the truth is... God has always been here. God has always been moving and working here. And I want to list a few of the ways I have seen him working and moving here outside of myself.

I see God's presence in the the braided hair of the little girls when they get on the bus. Any parent or guardian who takes the time to braid a little girl's hair definitely cares.  I say this from my own experience as a little girl who would fidget and complain when my mom brushed and braided my hair. But she did it as gently as she could. She did it carefully so that she wouldn't hurt me. And she wanted me to look nice when I went to school. She did it because she loved me.

I see God's presence in the food that the children eat at school. Not every school has a food program-- food plays a vital role in education. Any teacher will tell you this. No person can learn when their basic needs aren't being met. Jesus knew this and He created 5,000 meals out of a meal meant for 1. The food program ensures nourishment throughout the week regardless of what home-life is like, and the school teachers and the principal work really hard to get grants to pay for things like food. And God has revealed his Love by  providing food through the grant-givers.

In addition to this, the school also applies for grants for wood. Winters here are extreme. The school would have to close down if there was no wood because no wood means no heat. And this is probably only seen in small areas of the Western world, but using wood alone for heat requires A LOT of work. For months, all you hear all day long is the sound of chainsaws cutting wood. It takes a lot to heat up a building and the fact that the school applied for, received, and were given wood for heating is absolutely incredible. It is nothing short of God's handiwork. The Principal cares. The people who gave the wood care. The teachers care.

Speaking of winter, there's also the issue of warmth outside of school. So the principal, the teachers, and Zhana have been working together to get duvets (comforters) and winter supplies for the families of the students. In fact, distribution of these supplies is to take place rather soon! And we're thankful for those who have provided warmth in so many forms.

And I'm going to be honest once again. Though I absolutely from the depths of my heart, love and cherish each child, I do not and can not deny their dreadful behaviors. In the classic "fight or flight" conflict decision, the kids almost always choose to fight. It's as if it is in their blood. And they fight with everyone: peers, friends, siblings, teachers, persons of authority. I think of a time when I had a college practicum at an inner-city school. A lot of the same issues can be found here, and it is a challenge. It takes an incredible amount of motivation to try to help these children to unlearn these bad behaviors and learn peaceful ones- positive ones. Though the motivation varies from person to person, I have seen in many of the people working with these kids- in many of the teachers and certainly in the principal that the motivation is compassion. The motivation is the idea of a different future- a different path for each child to take. And they work so hard to show them a different path and to give them the tools they need to survive on this path. These teachers have been building relationships with the families of the students for a long long long time. They don't have a certain day with certain hours of parent-teacher conferences where parents sign up for a time and come in to the school to meet with their child's teachers like in the States. No, they actually get in their cars and drive into the villages or to wherever the families live and they meet with the parents in their own homes or in a place that is easily accessible for the parents because they care about the students and their families, and they really work hard on building relationships with families because, as any teacher would say, a parent or guardian is a child's first teacher. Your family is your first teacher. Any good teacher knows that having a strong relationship with the parents of their students is vital to the successful education of any child. And any great teacher will work hard to build a strong relationship with the parents of their students even if it means making home-visits or providing food, or clothing or warmth, or whatever to these families.
I am not the only one who cares.
And THANK GOD for that.
I thank God for these people who care- who have been caring for so long.
I thank God for teachers who have not and will not give up.
I thank God for parents who won't let their children leave the house without a jacket.
I thank God for mothers who braid their daughters' hair.
I thank God for Principals who understand that children can't learn when they're cold or hungry.
I thank God for people who are generous with what they have been given and provide for those who are in need of whatever that may be.
I thank God for male figures who teach young boys how to be responsible young men.
I thank God for schools that work hard to be a safe place for children.
And I thank God for His constant presence- for His constant motivation moving within this school and His Love falling upon this community- upon His children.
I thank you Dear God, that I am not the only one who cares.

For my Mother and Sister:

My sweet mother and little sister sent me a package! It was mostly for things that they knew I needed.. practical stuff.. but to me, those are the best gifts. Well... those and sentimental ones. I promised them I would record my reaction when I opened up the package, so that is what this is.

Thank you Mom. I love you sooooooooo much and I miss you daily. Thank you for all you have taught me and for all the ways that you continue to teach me in the incredible way that you live your life.

And my darling Katie, I love you! I love everything about you! I love how much fun we have together and I can't wait to have Harry Potter/ black and white movie marathons with you again :) I send you and Mom so many hugs!!! xoxoxoxoxo!!!

Love,
Your Daughter
Your Sister
Your Alex

Blood, Tears, and Hope

I have special powers.
Or at least I think I do.
I have this insane ability to take on the feelings of another person.
Even a complete stranger.
... not exactly what one wished for as a kid.

Yesterday, I arrived at the school where I volunteer at about mid-afternoon..
I hadn't had my lunch yet. I was eating it on my walk there.
And the first body I see is this little shirtless boy.
I recognize him at once.
My violent little troublemaker.
My sweetheart
My baby.

Why isn't he wearing a shirt?

He was all alone. So of course, I was going to go over there and check up on him. After all, he's pretty much my son. And my baby looked cold.

He was seated on a faded wooden bench, bending down low, and working on something. As I got closer to him, I saw what he was working on.

In his right hand, he gripped a quarter-sized shard of glass.
And his "work" was a 2 inch bloody gash carved into his ankle.
My baby was cutting himself.

I'd say he's about 12. Maybe.
All alone.
And forcing his body to visibly show the pain he was feeling.
Most likely the humiliation he endures from a certain heinous teacher at his school.
My poor little guy.
I just stared and the blood, and then at his face.. carved out in anger.
My lungs stopped accepting oxygen.
And my heart was trying to make up for it by pumping out my blood too fast for my body to handle.
And my eyes began to burn as I fought the tears from showing themselves in front of my boy.

And I sat down beside him, not even thinking about what the "right" thing was for me to do.
I knew I had to get him to give me that piece of glass, but I knew I couldn't force him.

Because I know that force will lead to retaliation, just as oppression leads to revolt. I couldn't take away his freedom of choice, but I also couldn't let him hurt-- not on his own like that.

My voice took on a single form. A quiet form. A gentle form. A form that presents itself when I'm about to cry. And I said, "эащо?" -- "why?"
And he furrowed his eyebrows in his anger.. in his hurt. And he dug harder. And the blood dripped slowly down his ankle. And the only thing he would say was, "така..." which basically means "because." And I tried to give him a piece of toilet paper to wipe up some of the blood. Of course.. he refused it.

And then he got up and began to walk away from me.
I followed him.
I had to get that glass from him.
and he hated that he couldn't lose me.
I didn't chase him. I never made him run. But I wasn't going to let him suffer alone.

Finally he stopped. He turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. He held up the piece of glass. And he threw it as hard as he could. And he held up his empty hands in surrender. A bell began to ring, telling the kids on the other side of the school that it was time to come back inside. I looked toward the sound of the ringing, and then back to where he was standing, but he wasn't there anymore. He was already heading back inside. I stood there, looking around frantically for the piece of glass in the grass. I began to allow the tears to flow down. I had to find it. I had to bury it deep in the dirt. I didn't care if the blood got on my hands. His hurt is my hurt. And I didn't want it to be found ever again. But I never got the chance-- not 2 minutes after being called inside, he was being sent outside by one of the teachers. I wiped my eyes on my sleeves and walked toward him. He saw me, and kept walking away. He crossed the basketball court and I stopped following him. I dropped my jacket, my bags and my lunch on the ground, followed by my body. He was sitting directly on the opposite side of the courts. And I looked down at my lunch and began to eat. My thought process was if he wants my company, at least I'll be around where he can find me. 

And he did.

He crossed the expansive cement and sat down beside me. And he showed me his most recent "work."
 And then the evidence of his other works.
They were many.

I asked him "why" again. And this time, his face was downcast. And he just shrugged his shoulders.
And I decided that since I didn't have the vocabulary to discuss it, that my best bet was to distract him, and cheer him up. So I showed him my homework. He was impressed that I was learning Bulgarian.
And I began to practice with him. Mostly my numbers. We had a lot of fun with that. I purposely messed up to show him that even "grown ups" mess up on their school work. Then I took out my new phone and handed it to him to see. Kids love technology these days. He asked me, "музика?" --"music?" Sadly, I shook my head, "No." But! I had my I-pod. And God bless that little thing. I made his day by letting him listen to it. I showed him some songs I thought he might like. And you wouldn't believe how his sweet little face shines when he smiles. His eyes! Oh his eyes. So vivid, so piercing, so expressive. They soften when he smiles. My heart began to swell. I slowly convinced him to share my lunch with me. He was very hesitant. I know this boy doesn't eat except at school. But he was so worried he would be taking away my lunch. He kept saying, "No, you eat it!" So I ate some, and left out some crackers for him to eat if he wanted, which progressed to some lunch meat and cheese And something happened in this moment. We sort of bonded. And suddenly, all day long, he went out of his way to protect me. I mean ALL DAY LONG. When it came time for snack time, he tried to give me his snack. I wasn't hungry, so I smiled and said "no thank you." He insisted, so I took a tiny piece. But still... it meant so much to me that he wanted to share what little he had. I know what it's like to be hungry. And hunger does something dreadful to you. It makes you angry. It keeps you from thinking rationally. And when you have food, you become sort of.. greedy with it. 

But he wasn't greedy. He was generous. It wasn't just that he didn't want to be "indebted" to me, but it was more like we were taking care of each other. He was just more insistent with me. My little sweetheart. 

I used to regret my so called "special powers."
I thought I was overly sensitive...
overemotional...
I thought I was weak.

But I'm not weak.
If it weren't for this anomaly in me that allows me to feel what another person feels.. I mean to truly feel it,

none of this would have happened. The blood would still be flowing. And he would still have been hungry. And that hunger would have kept him angry. And deep down, my baby would still be hurting.


I'm not so naive as to believe that I took away his pain. I know I don't have that power.  
But, if he was distracted from his hurt, even for just a little bit, then maybe that was just enough time for a little bit of healing to take place.. just enough time for a tiny flicker of light to shine in the darkness... just enough time for something to rise up inside him.... just enough time for Hope, to make her appearance.

To Any and All Nazarenes Who Don't Believe in Dancing:

I would like to take this time to say, that if you could have been where I was today--if you could have seen the eyes that I saw light up at the union of music with movement, and if you could have twirled a little girl in such a way that she felt special, and happy, and loved, perhaps your views on dancing would be different.

Today was my very first visit to the orphanage in Vidrare. I had an idea of what to expect, because there are so many other volunteers who have gone before me, and who had taken the time to prepare me for what I would see and experience. However, I did not want to rely solely on these accounts, because I wanted to take it all in and allow my heart to feel everything--both the beauty, and the brokenness.

We were all so excited, I don't think any of us [Vera, Susanna, Yoni (my new Bulgarian friend), and I] had a good night's sleep! We prepared lunches for the next day, and set alarms for the cheerful time of 5:30am. We got ready and met up at 6:30am with coffee, tea, and breakfast in our stomachs, and headed for the bus stop. While on the bus, Yoni helped me learn some Bulgarian phrases like, "здрасти" [Zdrasti] which means "Hello!" and "как се казвате?" [Kak se kazvate?] which means "What's your name?" Meanwhile, a lovely vision surrounded us in each window as the new morning sunlight embraced the green valleys and kissed the proud forested mountains. I sipped my coffee in between phrases and stole glances of the scenery in perfect happiness, when suddenly, we arrived.

We waited about 40 minutes before entering the orphanage to allow time for the night shift to switch with the day shift. Yoni tested out her card tricks with a couple of young boys from the school across the street, and at 8:30am, we made our way into the orphanage. The first thing I set eyes on, was a black metal gate with little hands stretched in between the bars. We were all beaming. We opened the gates and found ourselves surrounded by children. We greeted them "Hello!" and "как си?" [kak si?] which means "How are you?" We received sweet smiles in return, children grabbing our hands, just wanting to be touched, held, and hugged tightly. One little girl stole and almost broke my glasses. I felt a bit bad about having to take them away from her, but I knew that that sort of behavior can't be encouraged. After our beautiful meeting with around 20 children, we went inside to meet with the social worker of the orphanage. She walked us through the daily routine and answered our questions, and then gave us our tasks for the day: Go for a walk with some of the children (about 20 of them), and come back and play with them until lunch time. This meant that it would only be a half-day for us, but we wanted to spend as much time with the children as we were permitted. The walk was just lovely. It was chilly at first, but that beautiful morning sun decided to embrace us in addition to the valleys. And so, our entourage of children in wheel chairs, orphanage workers in bubble-gum pink scrubs, and children holding hands with one another or of us volunteers, made our way around the little village, talking, laughing, and singing as we went. I have never been so happy.

When we got back to the orphanage, we stayed outside amongst the colorful playground and mingled a bit, attempting to learn names and hold as many hands as possible, whispering to each non-verbal girl, "Вие сте хубава." [Vie ste hoobava] "You are beautiful." I wanted to have 16 extra arms just so that I could sit with each boy or girl and hold their hands and say what little Bulgarian I knew. In situations like this, where there aren't enough people to attend to each child, every. single. touch. matters. Every single word matters! Even when you don't speak the language! Smiles matter! And if you don't think it's true, just look into the eyes. You will always see the difference in the eyes. 

I have no criticisms of the orphanage. How could I? I saw tired women doing their best to meet the needs of each child with the resources available. They were kind and patient with us, and informed us of how to best work with specific children. I know that in the U.S., we do things differently because we have different and perhaps more resources available to us, but it wasn't until the music began that I saw something I've never seen in the states.

One of the older boys brought out a stereo, and began to play some Bulgarian folk music. Well, what is folk music, without folk dancing? The little girl whose hand I was holding immediately began to clap and giggle with joy upon hearing the music, and I took that as my cue to lead her to the shaded patio where the Bulgarian folk dancing began.

It was incredible! If the bedridden children couldn't dance, they certainly enjoyed the sight of others dancing! Us volunteers, the rambunctious older children, and the smiling non-verbal children held hands in a great big circle and ran around and around while one or two of the older non-dancing children clapped out the beat and sang  the words to each song. Even an elderly worker joined in and smiled her wise smile, keeping each step in an impressively graceful way. My sweet little friend did not know the steps, but then, neither did I, so we just laughed and ran around with everyone else over and over again, occasionally regrouping when our circle became 2 or 3 semi circles. I didn't have to know Bulgarian to understand what was happening. We weren't just dancing. We were sharing lives with one another-- a whole different kind of hospitality from the traditional hospitality of the South. Each twirl was not just a physical movement, but a message: You are special. You matter. You are loved. I thought about the elders of the Nazarene Church who have denounced dancing based on specific experiences they've had... and I just couldn't help but think, If they could just experience this, maybe their views of dancing would be a little different. I believe we worshiped God in our dances. Because every movement was born of our love for the children, and in sharing our love with these kids, we were sharing God with these kids. 

I couldn't believe our time was up when it was. It felt like we had only just arrived! We said our goodbyes and headed back towards the bus stop, eating the lunches we had prepared, and feeling exhausted, but happier than we've felt in a really long time.

Please remember us in your prayers. Us volunteers, the orphanage workers, and of course, the children.

We're Here!

Okay, so you have to forgive me for the length of this video. It just.. happened. But I wanted to be thorough because so many people were asking about everything so... yeah. But here you go! Forgive my ridiculous appearance and my pronunciation of "Lebanon" (I blame living in Nashville for that one..). 

 

Hello's, Goodbye's, and Blessings

A Colorful Best Friend Wedding

My Big Brother and I

A Hello-Goodbye party

Visiting the Capitol

My married Best Friends

Another Best Friend Wedding

My 2nd visitation of the D.O.I. and the Constitution

 

My beautiful Mother and Sister 

Well, we're down to just 3 days until we fly out for Bulgaria. I can hardly believe it. There are many last minute things to consider before we leave, such as: what things we could do without, what things we will regret not taking, making arrangements for our arrival in Sofia, modifying our current cell phone plans, and notifying our banks that our funds need to be accessible while we are in Bulgaria. Overall, things are getting done, and friends, family, and mentors are coming through for us in the most incredible ways!

Before leaving for Bulgaria, it was SO important for me to be able to see my friends and family before leaving since I will not be returning to the states for 360 days. I thought it unlikely that seeing everyone would be possible, but I still wanted to try anyway.

Well, as you can see from the pictures above, God took that challenge and reassured me that nothing is impossible. Not all of the pictures are from this summer, but they do show you all of the people with whom I enjoyed happy memories this summer.
 I think it is a real possibility that I would have changed my mind about leaving had I been forced to say goodbye to everyone I love all at once. I thank God for easing me through the goodbyes, allowing time for strengthening with each passing one. 

I feel like I say this a lot in my prayers, but I have never known love in comparison with the love that I have been shown these past weeks. I think of the tears I shed upon saying goodbye to my big brother, his sweetheart, and then my mom, and my little sister. It hurt in a beautiful way. They have supported me my whole life, and what a frail, hopeless creature I would be were it not for their love which has always strengthened me. Then there are those friends who may as well be my own flesh and blood: My Allison and Cody who are now married, and Meret and Casey who were married only a few weeks ago! Jessica M., my "partner in crime" and teaching twin. My beautiful darling Anne who is so wise and compassionate. My childhood friend Nathan who has always believed in me- and his whole family who have practically raised me. And Jd who calms me down when I stress for no reason. I think of my mentors who have poured their lives into my own- Jessica D., who has always prayed over me and shed tears with me no matter how many other workloads she's taken on, Dr. Nate who has never failed to show me the depth of his care- even at random times when anyone else would be unavailable, and Jason who prayed blessings over me in Divine Love and encouragement. Then there's Kathy who thought of me when she learned of the needs in Bulgaria- the woman who works so hard for us even during her time off. I wish I could list everyone who has made all this possible. But just know that if you're reading this, you have already made this possible.

Just the other day while someone was praying over me, I found myself overwhelmed with the following truth:

I am so blessed

And I don't say that lightly or casually. I am so aware of all that God has given me, all that God has provided for me, and all that He has in store for me. I don't know what exactly to expect, but I can tell you that God will break me, and I will get homesick, and I will get overwhelmed, but also that God will make me new, and He will provide for me in ways I couldn't possibly anticipate, and He will continue to be present in my life whether I am aware of Him or not.

And with that, I say take care and farewell my beloved friends. I'll write more from Bulgaria! 

With Love,

Alex

It's the Little things.

This summer has certainly been a unique one. I can recall summers that were long-awaited after months of school, homework, and complicated friendships... of course, each of those summers were never so grand after two weeks of non-productivity. I must have been dreadful to be around, because all I ever did was whine about my boredom and prolong it with my T.V. addiction.

But my, my, my, how things have changed! This past year has been the most challenging of any year in primary and secondary school combined. I completed my Student-Teaching which truly tested me as a teacher, and I can gladly say that it only encouraged my love of the profession and my unconditional love of children. Somewhere towards the end of Student-Teaching--I believe it was the day after Thanksgiving, I received an e-mail from a beloved professor who loves to play match-maker between ministries and students. I thank God for her, because she matched me with a one-year mission to Bulgaria--asking me to take my time before making a decision about whether or not I would go. Well of course I didn't listen to her because I knew immediately. You could say that God had already revealed this mission to me. From that day on, everything became about Bulgaria- Student-Teaching became preparation for the youth I already loved in Bulgaria. Graduation became urgent so that I could go to Bulgaria. Money became a stressful thought because I knew I would have to come up with quite a bit to live in Bulgaria.

After Christmas, my responsibilities at work increased with my new-found "free" (a.k.a. non-teaching) time. I got promoted and worked about 30 hours a week while taking an online class--the only thing standing in the way of my degree.  To my dismay, there was some mix-up in paperwork and although I met all the requirements to graduate, I wasn't on the list of college graduates. Luckily, there were Loving, supportive people ready and willing to back me up, and it wasn't long before I walked across that stage like so many others before me.

After graduation Vera and I were planning a weekend trip to Washington D.C. to turn in all our Visa paperwork at the Bulgarian Embassy (See my earlier blog on March 4th to learn all about what that was like!) That was stressful too because there were so many elements as to what was necessary for the visas and then my FBI background check didn't come in until a week or two before we were scheduled to leave! But, as always, I worried for nothing. Everything went smoothly. (In fact, today 7/11/12, Vera and I each received a phone call from the embassy saying that our Visas were approved and are going out into the mail today!) And as an added bonus since reporting to the embassy turned out to be a speedy process, a tour of D.C. turned out to be possible and incredible. We went to a couple of the Smithsonians and I saw the actual Constitution!!! AND the Declaration of Independence! I was so humbled and overwhelmed that I cried.

Well anyway, since then, I've been with my family in Florida. I watched my little sister graduate from High School. My mom, sister, and I went to the drive-in to see the latest Pixar movie. We even went to the beach together and I enjoyed it! (I'm not usually a beach person unless I'm there at sunset).

All of this is to say, that this summer has been long awaited.. and so much more. This summer has been a time of growing. Growing in God, growing in my friendships, and growing closer to my family. I've come to see that God has been with me all year long (well, truthfully, He's been with me always). But He has been most evident in the little things-- in the pictures drawn by my fourth graders, the email from my ministry match-making professor, the hug from a faculty member when I learned that I wouldn't be in the graduation program, the smile of the representative at the Bulgarian Embassy, and even in the things that we might take for granted... like seeing the real Constitution, or attending a graduation or getting a handwritten letter in the mail. Its little things like drawing dinosaurs on "paint" with your not-so-little sister that have made me see just how much God loves me... how He's always right here shining His face upon me like a Father who sees his tiny daughter for all Her precious possibilities. His presence in these special, though seemingly insignificant moments have made it clear that no matter where I go or what I do, as long as I am turning my heart toward Him, His face will always be shining upon me, teaching me to see these little things for what they truly are: reminders of a God who Loves me, who chooses to surround me with His beautiful Love in both the big and little things.