chasing community

When I chose to move to Nashville, I said it was "to chase down community". A year later, I'm still chasing it. From a young age, my closest friends lived far from me. I grew up attending a Christian school, but most of the time my morals, standards, and choices were very different than those of my classmates. (I'm pretty sure the fact I received the "Best Christian Witness" award every year says more about the student body as a whole than it does of me.)

So when I went on my first mission trip at 15, teaming up with teenagers from across the country to serve in Nicaragua for a month, I was blown away to discover others my age who strived to live with conviction and character. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who were passionate about following God, serving others, and pursuing a purpose greater than ourselves. I had found my tribe.

This was long before email and cell phones were commonplace, so we kept in touch by writing letters. We exchanged novel-length scribblings, sharing the mundane and the significant, and we did whatever we could to keep our friendship close despite the miles between us. We sent care packages, we made long-distance phone calls, we planned reunions.

Every summer, my next mission trip only further increased my amazing friendships all around the nation. There's something about the mission trip environment that fosters closeness quickly. We shared intense circumstances in close quarters in a short amount of time, and the friendships that were produced have spanned decades.

Then I moved to Africa at 19, again keeping in touch long-distance with those I was closest to. So in this new season of my life, having returned Stateside and, in every way possible, starting over, I knew I wanted to be somewhere I could be physically surrounded by friends. So I came to Nashville. To chase down community.

It's been beautifully rewarding in so many ways, but it's also been hard.

Community doesn't just happen. Friendships don't just forge (even when there's an immediate connection). It takes effort. It takes intentionality. It takes time, and heart, and risk, and trust. It takes chasing.

And sometimes, to be honest, I grow weary of the chase. At times it feels like an uphill climb — a fight, a struggle — to find where I belong. To discover where I fit. To figure out how to meld my life into a church and friendship community that existed long before I showed up. To integrate into already busy lives and full schedules. To feel part of a tribe again.

Even coming to a place where I already knew people (to some degree), it's still been just plain hard. And while at times my heart has felt disappointed or sad, ultimately I know it's okay. That the struggle is part of the process. I know friendships aren't just bippity-boppity-boo'd into existence. I know the investment — of time, of heart, of the chase — is so worth it.

And so I'll keep chasing, whatever that may look like on any given day. And I'll keep choosing to trust, no matter how hard it gets. The journey, even when long or difficult or unclear, is what matters most.

What's been your own experience with chasing down community?

fresh eyes

When I got the list of immunizations I would need to travel to Ethiopia, I didn't even read them. I skimmed right past that section and moved on to the rest of the informaiton in my prep packet. I don't need to get shots... I've lived in Africa. I haven't gotten travel immunizations since I lived in America and made short-term trips around the globe. Oh wait.

Sometimes I seemingly forget. I'm once again living in America, taking short-term trips around the globe. So I promptly scheduled my appointment. (It's today at 10:30, by the way.) {EDIT: It's been rescheduled for next Tuesday afternoon.}

I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is just a surfacey reminder of how I've been approaching not only this trip, but this entire season of my life. And of how I need to start looking at things differently. Or rather start seeing things the way they actually are.

This Ethiopia trip isn't old hat. This isn't "been there, done that, got the T-shirt".

My life experiences up to this point make me who I am, but they don't negate the current and future experiences on my journey. And they certainly don't trump them.

The faces I'll see in Ethiopia, the villages I'll visit, the poverty I'll witness, the unshakable pains my heart will feel... they will all be new. Familiar maybe, but still new.

I don't want to glance over poverty because I've seen it before. I don't want to overlook those I encounter because I think I already understand. I don't want to ignore what's right in front of my face because I feel like it holds lessons I've already learned before.

Each person I meet has a story I haven't yet heard, dreams I haven't even imagined, and a present-day reality that is just as real as mine is.

Each person has more to give me than I could ever give them.

I want to listen with new ears, see with fresh eyes, feel with a still-tender heart.

So I am choosing to go as a learner, not a teacher. As a listener, not a speaker. As one who holds closely, not at arms' length.

With eyes and heart wide open.

So I don't miss a thing.

Right now, look at what's around you with fresh eyes. What do you see?

coffee talk: friendships

I know there are seasons in friendships. I get that there's a natural, healthy ebb and flow in relationships. But sometimes things just seem to change. I'm not talking about a fight. Or a falling out. Sometimes you just sense a shift... something's different...

So, I'm wondering...

Do you initiate a conversation about it? Or do you wait to see if the other person brings it up?

Does it depend on who it is?  How so?

Or do you just ride the whole thing out and silently let that chapter of  your friendship come to an end?

How do you handle subtle changes in relationships?

Tawk amongst ya-selves.

on ethiopia

I have vivid childhood memories of being captivated by the glimpses of Ethiopia I saw on TV. I remember the long, emotional commercials with the graphic images of starving children. I recall feeling a deep sense of tension in my inability to reconcile the fact that I was watching these emaciated, dying people while sitting on my carpeted floor, eating cereal in my pajamas in front of the TV.

I knew something was wrong with that picture, but I didn't understand it.

I still don't.

Even though I've experienced it the world over.

I had that same sense of unreconcilable tension when I flew to Nicaragua at 14 for my first mission trip. I felt it in Amsterdam when I spoke with people at coffee houses, hearing their stories of love and loss. I couldn't shake it in the rural villages of Botswana. And it lived with me in South Africa, ever present, ever pressing.

And still, I have no answers. I don't understand the disparity in the world. The extremes of affluence and poverty found practically on each other's doorsteps.

That deep place in my heart, affected so strongly by Ethiopia as just a young girl, is about to get wrecked by Ethiopia once again. I'm traveling there next month with Food for the Hungry.

FH is an amazing organization, engaging in community development through child sponsorships all around the globe. I've had the incredible opportunity to work with them for the past six months, helping them set up their first-ever Blogger Mission Trip. It has been such a joy to work with my friend Daniel on the planning and preparation for this inaugural trip. And I feel even more blessed that I get to travel with them as part of the team.

There are 6 of us bloggers going, along with a photographer and several FH staff members. I am blown away by my teammates, and am really looking forward to getting to know them more on the trip. I know I have a lot to learn from each one of them. Meet the whole team on the FH Bloggers website.

I know I'll experience the same no-answers, only-questions unreconcilable contradictions in Ethiopia. I know. And I want to embrace them. To wrestle in that space—with myself, with my heart, with culture, with my questions, with Him...

Some things will just never make sense, but that doesn't mean they are to be avoided. Ignored. Disregarded.

No, they are meant to be run headlong into. Embracing the tension to find the Only One Who Makes Sense in the midst of everything that doesn't.

Will you go there with me? Travel with me by following my journey here, on Twitter, and with the rest of my team... And wrestle with me through the stuff that just doesn't make sense?

Let's look for Him together...