After seven minutes

of untangling christmas lights...

MOM:

This is a recipe for frustration.

ME:

You do look pretty frustrated...

LUKE, HOLDING A PIECE OF GREENERY AND NOT HELPING AT ALL:

So, should we take a break and play scrabble?

Dear Mom and Dad (and other people that care),

I really love breakfast.
It turns a good day into a great day.
I found the best morning routine ever. It involves getting up an hour before I need to, reading my bible, getting dressed, eating breakfast, setting an alarm for 13 minutes before I need to leave for class, and crawling back into bed.
It makes all the early morning groggy feelings go away.
I still haven't used those coin laundry machines...
If my calculations are correct,
and I do, in fact, come home at least once a month,
I can last this entire year without using them.
It's a bit of a stretch, but I'm stubborn enough for it to happen.
Lactose-intolerance. Makes. My. Stomach. Hurt.
School work is getting a bit monotonous.
Sometimes I procrastinate... A lot.
Whenever I do, I freak out. And when it's all over, I just have to laugh at myself.
God has a sense of humor-- that's what I've learned in the past few weeks.
For example:
I waited until the day before to write an informative speech
about the effects of caffeine,
got three hours of sleep that night trying to finish it,
was completely tweaking on caffeine as I went to class to present,
aaaaand we ran out of time so I don't get to give it.
Yep.
Whenever it rains here, I am THE most prepared person on campus.
An umbrella + boots + a raincoat + a good attitude.
My umbrella is so gosh-darn pretty, everyone compliments me on it.
Thanks, Mom.
A pair of lovely friends have been plopped into my life.
They're not what I expected,
but they're just what I needed.
My Creator is so much wiser than I.
I bought this bag of candy corn that was on sale at Walmart.
I don't care for pretty much any sweets...
But I'm not gonna lie, candy corn is delicious.
And for some reason I thought it would last me for the entire month of October...
But it's definitely almost gone already.
I spend a lot of time reading.
But only half of that time is reading for classes.
I'm captivated by C.S. Lewis and Donald Miller and Jane Austen.
I can't leave them alone.
Suzanne and I go to the WRC to work out twice a week;
I usually bike so that I can keep reading.
"Exercising your mind and your body simultaneously!"
Our bathroom is very cold. It makes getting out of the shower unpleasant.
Brothers:
Do you have a giant box of legos?
Is your ball stuck in a tree?
Got a Nintendo 64?
How about a thick rope that's 100+ feet long?
Boom: countless hours of entertainment.
I have moments here when I think about how much and why I love you.
Luke-- on occasion, you use words like 'reputable' in text messages.
This makes my heart melt.
Matt-- we would make the BEST brother/sister Doo-wop duo EVER.
Don't you even try to deny it.
Reid-- I remember using Google on your computer once
and I happened to notice that the last thing you searched was "classy."
I can only assume a picture of you popped up.
Andrew-- you always try to solve my back problems
by giving me bone-crushing hugs...
It has yet to work, but I have faith for the future.
Last but not least, you all grow facial hair like grass.
These snazzy gentlemen have pinched, poked, sat on, tackled, made fun of,
and looked after me my entire life.
These tears? The ones I've got slipping down my nose right now?
They're mostly happy ones.
Fall is one of the best-smelling seasons.
The nails on my right hand are shiny, long and uniformly manicured.
The ones on my left (sans thumb) are very short and moderately janked up...
From playing the guitar.
It's always awkward when people I don't really know point it out.
Our bible study is nice. It's simple stuff,
but I feel like I learn more when I'm helping others understand things, anyway.
The leader wrote a comment to me the other day,
"You bring in some great insights (and cross references! I don't know how you do it!) that have really helped our study."
And I...
Well, I guess... I don't know 'how I do it' either?
I don't feel like I'm a particularly knowledgable biblical scholar or anything.
The only thing I can come up with
is that I was raised in an amazing church that preached the truth.
And for that I am extremely thankful.
I've started making paper cranes again.
Out of the pretty paper you two gave me for Christmas.
I love you.
One of the pieces of candy corn was super deformed....
And I haven't eaten it yet. It's just sitting on my desk.
I like it.
I miss my nieces so much it hurts.
I hear Ingrid is a thumb-sucker.
That girl knows what's up.
My dorm room is starting to feel like it's my own. It's colorful. It's cozy.
But I get swallowed up by the repetitive nature of my day-to-day life.
Some days I'm happy;
some days it feels like I'm suffocating.
Some days I laugh easily;
some days I'm ready to come home.
I'm fighting for joy,
but some days it's just hard.

I'll see you all in two days <3
((Can we have gyros?))

Once upon a Sunday morning...

The pastor drives home his point, loudly proclaiming, "JESUS IS OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS!"
And a little boy in the pew behind me, drawing in a coloring book with crayons, echoes in a voice louder than his mother would probably prefer, "Jesus is our righteousness!"
A moment of silence ensues, and there is a smile on my face as I glance backward, hearing the same small voice ask in a quieter tone, "Is that true?"
"Yes!" comes the whispered reply of the mother.
"Oh. Mom? ...What is right us mess?"
"We'll talk about it at home, Caleb."

...there your heart will be also.

Sometimes it's necessary to take a step back

and realize what things in your life you've elevated to the highest priority.

IDOLATRY.

I don't worship false gods.

I don't bow down before a large golden statue of a cow.

I don't idolize celebrities...

But when I put family, school and friendships

before my relationship with God,

even if only slightly,

those things, which were good things,

are now idols in my life.

....Dangit.

"He only sees one thing, he cares for one thing,

he lives for one thing, he is swallowed up in one thing;

and that one thing is to please God.

Whether he lives, or whether he dies --

whether he has health, or whether he has sickness--

whether he is rich, or whether he is poor--

whether he pleases men, or whether he gives offense--

whether he is thought wise, or whether he is thought foolish--

whether he gets blame, or whether he gets praise--

whether he gets honor, or whether he gets shame--

for all this the zealous man cares nothing at all.

He burns for one thing;

and that one thing is to please God,

and to advance God's glory."

- J.C. Ryle

So, where is my treasure?
I've got to continually remind myself:

the things that are seen are transient,
but the things that are unseen are eternal.

2 Corinthians 4:18

†

Dear Mom and Dad (and anyone else who might care),

I'm all settled in my dorm...
There are lots of nice people in my hall.
We just watched a movie with a projector on a giant screen under the stars.
And by we,
I mean hundreds of people that I don't know who also happen to go to UNI.
It wasn't a good movie, so I watched the cosmos instead.
I'm done with my homework.
I get it done early.
My teachers are all normal human beings.
Some of them are even kind.
I couldn't find one of my classes on Tuesday and I didn't tell anyone.
It wasn't my fault or anything; my schedule had the wrong room number on it.
Don't worry, I figured it out. Eventually...
And went and talked to the professor,
to apologize for my freshman-ness,
and see what I missed and how I could be prepared for the next class:
I handled it by myself.
I felt like a grown-up,
and a scared little kid,
all at the same time.
Every morning I wake up a little too early.
So I go to the union and eat a muffin and drink some juice and read my bible...
And I wait for my day to begin.
People smile at me.
I smile back.

It's been a while since I hit my head on my loft.

A while translates into roughly 6 hours.

I clipped my nails today, because I couldn't play my guitar.
Someone tell my nieces that their aunt loves them, okay?

I'm scared to try to use the coin laundry machines.
I stay up later than I mean to every night.
I miss my brothers.
Advice from my first week: if your biggest pet peeve is air blowing on you,
don't live in a place that's SO hot you're forced to have fans on you 24/7.
I've been eating remarkably heathy meals each day.
My love of spinach is accredited to Earl Taylor.
Thanks, bud.
This morning I awoke to discover the astonishing fact that
both my watch AND the clock on our wall had stopped working overnight.
I proceeded to freak out, thinking I had overslept,
only to find my phone, which had fallen on the floor, revealing the time to be
5:38 AM.
Yep.
I've been quoted in two peoples' Facebook statuses this week.
Reading one made me cry...
The other one was:
"We're church shoppin' like it's Black Friday!"
Explanation:
At the end of the week,
I will have gone to precisely 11 church-affiliated events.
Separate churches.
Separate events.
I'm tired.
I miss my house church.
I miss my Mother church.
I miss...
Remind me to buy batteries.
And more tea bags.
And probably some instant oatmeal, if it's on sale.
I went on a run the other day.

My ancient phone has been working well-- I know you were wondering.

The desk lamp I got from Goodwill has a warning about UV radiation.........

Should I be concerned?

Luke: I've had some time to read C.S.,
but I don't know if I'll be done by Labor Day.

My heels hurt when they touch the floor each morning.
Not so sure what that's about...

Today I called my high school French teacher,
and I thanked her for preparing me so well.
Many of the people in my classes can't pronounce basic vocabulary...
I feel like a French wizard--- magically capable of helping them out.
Sometimes I break pens.
Pencils, highlighters, staplers...
Mom... Should I be watering our plant more? How much sunlight does it need?
I miss your morning hugs.
And the other-times-of-day ones, too.
So far I've only made two paper cranes during my entire time here.

I have a terrible feeling that that's symbolic in some horrible way...

I want a best friend.

I want a best friend who lives near me.

I want a best friend who lives near me and loves Jesus.

I want a best friend who lives near me and loves Jesus and shows it.

I've said my name, majors, hometown and grade more times this week
than my junior and senior years combined.
Dad, you know what a feat that is.
... and I have a picture of us
skating when I was 11 years old
framed on my desk.

With Colossians 1:9-12 and "Do good" written by it.

Sometimes I just feel like crying.
You know what I mean?

sufficient is tomorrow's worry

Sometimes I get scared by the things that scare me.

The full potential of that sentence to convey what I'm trying to get across could very easily be lost in the illogicality of the English language.

Let's try again:

I get freaked out when I take a closer look at the types of things that worry me.

Did you get it that time?

There are silly things and there are not so silly things. For example: I worry about the degradation of my cooking abilities via college enabling me to neglect practice. (Thanks, dining hall...) With that one I'm like, "Aiiiiiight: WHY am I actually worrying about this? What's wrong with me? I feel like cooking is more of a riding-a-bike thing than a using-the-quadratic-formula thing. You don't ever have to re-learn it, it just kind of sticks with you."

But then... I worry about being utterly miserable at college because I'm away from my nieces... My family, my friends, those I love and cherish and don't want to replace... And on this I muse, "There's merit here: this is scratching the surface of a potentially huge problem. If I can't handle being away from these people for a few months at a time, what happens when I study abroad? Student teach in France? Get a job in a town hours away? Marry someone from a different state? I thrive on closeness. I'm passionate about my relationships. Am I setting myself up for a depressed life of pining after those I can't hug every morning and sip tea next to while racing to finish the day's crossword?"

I freak myself out, going on these tangents that carry me off until I have sneaky tears sliding down my face, mourning the idea that my nieces will forget me; that I'm not a sufficient friend, sister, daughter; that I'm incapable of helping others; that I'm too silly or too stupid or too selfish; that I'm not appropriately stewarding God's gifts; that I don't know where the heck I'm going in life and, thus, am wasting the time I've been given, floating around aimlessly without direction or purpose---

But, alas. I'm reminded that none of it is true.

And that worry is a synonym for not trusting God's plan.

And I'm beating this dead, rotting horse more than I can believe, but allow me to say it once more-- because in my insecure, doubtful state I need to be reminded so often: God does have a plan. And I am safest in His hands. He has purpose and direction for my life that is better than anything I could ever dream up. And when I'm feeling insufficient or worried or anxious and don't trust Him, He will gently guide me back into His loving arms and show me that He is all I need.

Matthew 6:

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also... Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

The prayer of a dear friend from this summer:

"Grace... I pray you have spent time in intimacy with God today. I pray you dwell in God's house; that you do not simply visit. Do not be distracted. Be genuine, be present, & acknowledge the temporal quality of your worries. Rest in the continued presence of God. I pray you live intentionally, each moment, for God's glory. Trust that He will be faithful, even if you are unfaithful to Him, for that is His nature... Amen"

low-maintenance?

This is the case with some of my closest friends:
I can have absolutely no communication with them whatsoever for months at a time, and when I see them again nothing is different. It is a rare relationship in which I feel compelled to stay in daily (or weekly) contact with someone. I leave for two months each summer and I honestly can't think of a time during that period when I called my parents, siblings or friends just to catch up and say hi. That's the way I am. I like to think of it as low-maintenance, but in reality it's probably equidistant from that and sheer laziness.

I've had brief conversations with two friends about this moderately undesirable trait I've seen in myself. One friend felt exactly the same way I do. People we don't see on a day-to-day basis, we don't feel a desperate need to constantly catch up with them. It's more, "I'll see you when I see you." We're not gonna break off all ties of friendship just because we haven't spent copious amounts of time together within the past three months... Just chill out, errrbody.

Except, the other friend verbally smacked me upside the head. The gist of this colloquial beating was, "Suck it up and put forth some effort." I'm ashamed to say that in the midst of justifying my own lethargy I had never taken into account the very real fact that those relationships are not about me. That might not be what I need out of the friendship, but should my primary focus really be on my own needs? What a great friend I am... Yikes. Even if my friends consider themselves to be "low-maintenance" as well, how am I cultivating the relationships God has blessed me with if I'm content to just sit and put forth the minimal amount of effort to just barely keep said friendships alive? I mean, really. There's a deeper-rooted issue here, and it's about more than the way I interact with people. It's the way I'm living my life. Am I floating, letting myself drift in whatever direction this capricious world  blows me? How is that living intentionally? Our lives have the potential for purpose far beyond the restrictions of complacent American life. I want to leave a real, tangible, lasting legacy. Or I say that... My actions are supposed to reflect my desires. So what do I want, really? Easy, void of responsibility, lounging around and only taking action when it satisfies my selfishness. I'm such a narcissist... How often do I act on the initial premise that something IS about me, only to loose my footing on that slippery fallacy and watch my castle of shiny grace-centered pride crumble to bits? NOTHING is about me.

soli deo gloria

Three and a half years ago, I was real confused. Primarily on this point: my cousin killed himself one January afternoon. For no apparent reason.
"God? Hello? I know you're there, but what the heck are you up to?"
There was a lingering question mark woven into every bit of consolation I received. It's true; we have no idea why crappy stuff happens. It's not God punishing us or anything-- this world is tainted by sin and therefore just kind of inherently sucks at times... A lot of the time. But was that all the comfort we would get, really?
"Your cousin shot himself in the head? Yeah, bummer dude. Isn't this world just the worst? Heaven will be better, just you wait..."
If that was all I got, I'm not sure how far I would have made it... I went to work as a cook at Hidden Acres six months after that, and I kept all that shenanigans to myself. No body wanted to hear about my sad miserable life. I wasn't there to drag everybody down, I was there to encourage the body of believers!
Grace's Flawless Plan #38: Uplift others, mask your own grief because it's just a hindrance to your ministry.
Yep. That went well... Until it didn't, which was almost instantaneously. Sure, it was with astonishing ease that I pretended to be super encouraging happy outgoing bubbly Grace. And then... the freezer was where I went to cry.
"My cheeks are red? Oh, it's nothing-- I was just in the freezer."
I'm an expert mask-designer. I wore them all summer long, until one night I went to chapel and heard the testimony of a counselor named Caitlin. Two years before that, her cousin shot himself in the head. The outrageous parallels between our stories still freaks me out a little bit... Although now I know that she was strategically placed in my life. She comforted and encouraged and gave me scripture and told me about God's love and purposes. God gives us pretty good smacks upside the head sometimes, doesn't He?
"You're trying to go through this on your own? Really? You're my child: run to Me. You need to confide in others who love Me, too. You can't do this on your own. But I'm here, and I'm sufficient."
Amen. For the past three years, that was where my testimony ended. That was the conclusion, and it was good. God places people in our lives to comfort us. We can rely on Him to get us through the hard stuff in this world. Yay God.
That sounds sarcastic or something.. Do I sound sarcastic? I can't express my sincerity: It was huge. I was gently and lovingly guided back to the cross by the strongest, most irresistible force in existence. He pulled me out of the ashes and gave me a renewed hope and trust in Him and His promises for our lives. God is GOOD.
But where my faux-sarcasm stems from is this: I seemed to think I could catalog His goodness. That I could look at each hardship or trial and then scroll over to the resolution column and check off each individual instance where His loving kindness prevailed. 
Hardship:           Cousin died
Resolution:     Drawn closer to Christ.
Amen, closed case, the Lord is awesome.

Uhhhh, no. I don't get to confine the Creator of the Universe to an Excel spreadsheet. I don't get to pretend I'm bigger than Him. I don't get to dictate how He uses my experiences. I don't get to control or plan or even fully understand the ways He works.

This summer I had a camper whose best friend had committed suicide a few months before camp. And I was able to tell her exactly what she needed to hear, because I knew what would help and what wouldn't. I knew what promises of God she could cling to and what scripture would be able to pull her through it all. I looked her in the eyes and told her with all honesty that I knew exactly how she was feeling. 

And I KNOW that girl was placed in my cabin. Strategically. Because my gracious, loving Creator had spent the last three years equipping me, through trial, for His ministry.

By His plan alone, for His purposes alone, to His glory alone.

Don't diminish what God can do. Don't minimize His power or His movement in our lives. I mean, really. Who are we that He even cares for us, that He even chooses to use us?

essence of grandfatherlynessosity

There are tears on my cheeks, and approximately 47% of them are sad tears. The other 53%, I think, are ones of happiness:

I don't want to get into any sticky details at the moment... or ever, really... But this week my hillarious, frugal, spry, Godly, altruistic, 100% Dutch grandpa VerPloeg is going through a messy divorce from a woman who isn't my biological grandmother. My mother, her twin sister and their brother are all major worriers, and so our home for the past five days has been drowning in VerPloegian agitation. It's suffocating me.

But my grandpa walked into the kitchen, where I was hiding, to get away from his fretting children. I patted him on the back and said, "I bet that by now you're really tired of hearing people talk about you..."
"Oh, Gracie, you don't know the half of it."
I gave him a hug.
"Gracie," (he's the only one allowed to call me that besides my nieces, Dallas Bee and Earl Taylor) "I'm not gonna be up and running much longer... But before I go, I think I'd like to see you get married to a nice fella."
"Got anyone in mind? You'll have to find someone for me."
"I'd love to."
"Let me know when he's passed your tests, alright?"
"Sure."
We turn to go our separate ways.
"Oh, and Gracie?"
"Yeah Grandpa?"
"He's gonna have to be Dutch."
"... I think I can live with that."

Sometimes I feel like the guy from Fiddler on the Roof...

What in the world could I mean?

Remember that dad from Fiddler on the Roof? Tevye, that Jewish man with five daughters who all get married in rapid succession to men he doesn't really know or approve of. Yeah... I'm him. But don't take the metaphor too far. Not jewish, certainly not a father of five... Also, not really many marriages, and this is important, the disapproval thing doesn't apply to me either. So in all honesty it's a pretty crappy allusion on my part. Shut up.

I have four older brothers. Brother no.1 met his wife in high school, when I was 5. I don't remember not knowing her-- she's always been around and is definitely like a sister to me. They got married in 2004 and have had two daughters since then (and there's another one on the way.) Brother no.3 brought a girl home to meet us roughly three years ago and she's been hanging around ever since. They go pretty nicely together if you ask me. Which you should, cause I'm the sister. Then there was a drought of new non-Stephenson girls in our lives... My mom started fretting about when her remaining sons were going to find nice girlfriends. She tried match-making-- that didn't work out too well. But then, this year, within a span of a few months, Brother no.2 and 4 both have special lady friends.... Also, in both cases, I'm pretty sure I was inadvertently the first person to know about them.

It's odd watching your older siblings grow up and press onward into their adults lives, only to realize that, most likely, you're headed in the same general direction. I'm not announcing that I'm dating anyone, not even close.. hah.. But the general shape of our lives is shifting in a significant way. It changed when Andrew got married, and  took a much bigger turn when he had kids. We went into baby mode. All the old toys came back out and our home was filled with barbies and princess clothes and all things pink. It was a shock to the system, but we had a clear, new, (usually)predictable direction in which to run. Now, I'm not really sure where we're going.

Being an adult seems so much foggier. You decide everything for yourself, except all the things you can't control... which tend to be vast. The future is so much more unsure when your every move isn't dictated by the fact that you're a student, a child, a sibling, too young to make big decisions or do anything on your own. In reflection, being a kid seems easier because you are constantly told your place. Sure, you fight it, but ultimately you know what you are and aren't supposed to do. They do that to you for almost 18 years--- teach you your place. And then suddenly you realize that the thing you've been fighting for is here; independence. You're an adult and you get to make your own decisions. But the catch is that the past 18 years haven't been preparing you for that...  Not really, not in it's entirety. I mean, my parents and family and people in my church and my teachers have taught me life skills that will definitely be valuable when I graduate to real-life-hood, there is no question about that. I've been tested by increasingly frequent glimpses of adult-sized issues and challenges and I'm being molded by my creator-- I'm sure he's preparing me for whatever is out there... But my new role hasn't been clearly defined by 18 years of practice, and I'm not quite sure I feel ready for it.

What's my place in this shifting reality? I'm scared about my future, about the future of my brothers. It's hard to let God control my life when it's still me making the decisions and I don't know what direction He want's me to go. What's my new role when our lives make cataclysmic jumps into the unknown? When Andrew introduced us to Amy, I'm pretty sure I broke a twig off a tree and started hitting her with it. (Or so the story goes....It's possible that Amy has changed that story over time... But maybe not.) That was my reaction to a new girl in our family. Apparently, I didn't care for it. I didn't have quite as abrasive a reaction to Kristin when Matt introduced us... I don't actually remember-- I'm sure I wasn't at all barbaric. But I don't know, now I'm starting to feel deep down that everything is changing. We aren't kids anymore, and that seems quite obvious, but it has taken me a while to fully grasp that idea. We have responsibilities and challenges and full-scale problems. We don't wake up on Saturday mornings and dump out all the Legos and stay there till mom makes us get up and do our chores. There are more girls in our family than boys. I had never even thought that was plausible.. It was a 5:2 ratio all my life, and now with May baby coming, the girls will have a one-up on the boys. I could potentially have four sisters later in my life. FOUR. Actually, I could have more than that. What if I just marry some guy with like 5 sisters? That's 9.Utterly inconceivable. I don't know how to have sisters, at least not in the way other people do. Amy and I kept tried to have a girl movie night, and we first ended up getting the Kite Runner. The next time, we got Beautiful Mind. And then I'm pretty sure we watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. All really, really good movies. Chick flicks? Absolutely not. I'm not saying all sisters must love girly movies, I'm just saying that some do. And if my potential sisters do... I will have to somehow accommodate that. What if I get a 'sister' whose sense of humor is cryptic to me? Or can't carry on a conversation with the Stephenson mob? We're a tough bunch to keep up with, or so I've been told.

I'm not sure anymore what I'm getting at, other than the fact that life is scary. I don't think anyone could deny that.. It's hard to know what direction to take. It's hard to know who you're supposed to be or what you're supposed to do, especially when stuff doesn't play out the way you thought it might. I think that's true in the Fiddler on the Roof, too. His life took drastic shifts in unexpected ways and he didn't know how to respond. It's tough when you are plunged into a new chapter of life and forgot the instruction manual, ya know? Tough choices come and we don't know which way we're supposed to turn. Thank goodness I'm not in charge of writing my own story..

Have you heard the song Faust, Midas and Myself? No? Some lyrics just popped into my head.

You got one life, one life

One life left to lead 

What direction? Death or action?
Life begins at the intersection

The Maxwell House Church

Uptown church met last night at the Stagg's house on Maxwell St. (affectionately referred to as the Maxwell House Church.) We've been meeting since August and kind of figuring out what our evening meal and gathering time is going to look like. I think everyone is slowly discovering their role, and it's been hard for me to know what part I play in this little community. A tradition has started that before the meal, Charlie asks the leaders of different households to share their testimonies with the group before we break bread and begin eating. The conversation after the meal doesn't have a rigid structure and we have a growing sense of community. There have been things that I've wanted to say but I hadn't found the right context in which to share; I've wanted to share Isaiah 40, a passage that has been particularly meaningful to me; I've wanted to share my struggles with sharing my spiritual gifts... I brought my guitar one Sunday to see if I could practice with another musician after the meeting. But one of the leaders promptly asked me to lead worship, and it was terrifying. It went perfectly fine, but I've been constantly struggling with putting myself out there as a new guitar player and not-a-singer, with how to bless the community of believers and not worry about my lack of skill. 

I said all that to say this:

Our meeting yesterday was amazing.

We gathered before supper and Charlie told me he'd like me to share my testimony and break the bread. I am a little girl. Little girls don't get to play roles like that at church... But this is a house church, so I guess we're blazing our own trails. After the meal we started the meeting and I once again lead worship. When we were done singing, someone felt compelled to share because of one of the lines we sang. I felt like God was actually using me-- He was working through the music to grow our fellowship and bring us closer together. Later, a new mom shared some of her struggles with feeling cooped up this winter and not being able to get in the word due to the demands of her current station in life, caring for a newborn. She mentioned wanting to open her bible and read a passage that really spoke about God's majesty and power, like Isaiah 40. I had to laugh at my savior's insight. When she was done sharing, I picked up a bible and read the passage aloud, though I guess I didn't need it because I memorized it last summer with some campers. We prayed for her and then a few others shared. Caleb went into a more structured group discussion on the use of spiritual gifts in the context of our community-- God presented a perfect situation for me to share what I'd been struggling with. Edification. The group's ideas, encouragement and insight flowed together flawlessly, as if it had been choreographed and tailored to each person's specific needs. And I'm sure it was.

I've never been more excited about church in my life.
This is it.
This is what it's supposed to feel like.
This is what Jesus and Paul and the apostles intended; I can feel it.

mark.

I love that you still think puns are the best kind of humor.

I love that when you're driving, you take seemingly random routes to destinations.

I love that it's always so you can drive past your favorite old building or bridge

I love that whenever I'm sick, you always bring me ramen and seven-up.

I love that we can always agree on what movie to watch.

I love that you would ditch an afternoon of plans to go on a walk with me.

I love that we could sit on the porch and watch lightning for hours.

I love that you think RAGBRAI is better than Christmas.

I love that you always have advice tailored perfectly to the way I think.

I love that we think in exactly the same way.

I love that you would drag me across town just to see an awesome icicle.

I love that we both laugh at the worst times. Together.

I love that you've been taking me on dates since I was four, and that I still haven't outgrown it.

I love that you insisted on taking me to buy every dress I've ever gotten for a school dance.

I love that you are way too protective.

I love that, despite it, you still trust me to make my own decisions.

Tu,
mon père,
est les plus merveilleux,
personne influente dans ma vie.

Et je t'aime.