Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving. 

Has it really been a full year already? 

This season, as many people, I've been contemplating thankfulness and blessings, and I have so much to thank the Lord for. I have seen His hand in my life so powerfully and so intimately this year, and I have watched Him pour out blessings upon my family and me. This has been a richly favorable year for us in change and growth and love and memories.  

But in the midst of so much I could thank the Lord for, a group of senior citizens taught me how much I also take for granted. 

Last Saturday morning, I awoke with no official plans for the day and another weekend to myself what with my parents still gone on their cruise. So I decided to give a few hours of my Saturday to serving. I was severely tempted to stay in my warm bed and sleep, but I was convicted. I'm the girl who wants to move to Hawaii to serve in outreach. But I won't even wake up early and sacrifice three hours of my weekend to serve in my own hometown? So I woke up earlier than usual, picked up my usual Saturday morning chicken biscuit and hugged my coworker friends, and I drove to Downtown Atlanta. To the Atlanta Dream Center. 

I had never been to the Dream Center before but when I was younger, my church used to take a group down there to serve. I was out of my comfort zone there. Drastically. I never go to Atlanta, much less on my own. I never serve with urban ministries and outreach to low-income areas. And I didn't know a single soul there. I hadn't even submitted an RSVP for their Adopt-a-Block event like I was supposed to have. I just showed up. My inexperience even would've gotten my car towed had it not been for the kind volunteers who informed me that I had parked in an unacceptable space: once in a tow zone, the other blocking a florist shop driveway on the street. 

Something was there though. The tall buildings looked old and dingy and dirty. Graffiti wouldn't have surprised me. The roads were not in the best condition and iron bars were on the windows of the Dream Center. Parking for the Center was right in front of the ministry buildings or I otherwise would've felt wary of walking far alone. Overhead the sky was gray and clouded, casting the urban area in a cold pale light. 

And I felt something there. I felt a darkness in that place as soon as I stepped out of my car. I didn't feel in danger from anything in the physical, but I felt something imminent and threatening to me in the spiritual realm. Something that I feared might manifest itself in the physical.

I looked up at the buildings around me and an eeriness overcame me to realize that inside those buildings, in the backstreets of the heart of Atlanta, women and young teenage girls were selling their bodies to men every single day, either by choice or by slavery. There was a darkness to that side of the city that few people saw. It made me shiver and cringe. 

The people from the Dream Center were kind and welcoming to my joining them even though I hadn't submitted an RSVP. I signed a waiver, which I didn't read but which I assumed essentially claimed that if I got abducted or assaulted or injured in any way, it wasn't the organization's fault. The church was cozy and inviting, and we gathered all together into a warehouse-looking room for a brief time of worship. 

But I still felt in my spirit something there, and it terrified me. It made me want to jump into my car and drive away from that place as fast as I could. Something, or should I say someone, didn't want me there. 

I turned to spiritual battle, and I prayed against that evil spirit of darkness that I felt surrounding me. I prayed against it. And when I closed my eyes, I saw a vision of myself surrounded by a bubble of light. Against that bubble of light pressed a wall of darkness, trying to drive the light back. 

I realized that sometimes we'll never know how bright a light really is until it's placed in the darkness. You can't see the influence of a candle glowing until you see how far its realm of light extends into the dark. And my spirit was strengthened and encouraged because I realized that I had a Light to shine and a gift for shining it effectively to those around me.  

That heaviness and darkness I felt left, and after the worship, I joined two young ladies- students at the school there- and an elderly woman in going to visit a group of senior citizens. 

Lija and I rode with Jordan to the high-rise home where the seniors lived, arriving some time before Miss Ruby did. Many of the elderly were shut-ins and looked forward every week to the Atlanta Dream Center volunteers' visit. We gathered in a circle with a group of about ten black elderly Christian men and women. I won't lie, as a Caucasian-Puerto Rican in a society that is so quick to create racial tension, I felt culturally stretched from my comfort zone. But it was good. I needed that. I might feel like a minority often in Hawaii. 

We read Scripture together and taught on meekness and humility. We brought them food- bread and pies and fruit- and new toothbrushes. We shared about our weeks. We introduced ourselves and shared something about our lives. 

We went around the room sharing one thing that the Lord had done in our lives that week that we were thankful for. 

And the seniors' thanksgiving all had a common thread: they were thankful for life. They were thankful for health and for a sound mind. They were thankful for another day that they had woken up and were given the opportunity to live. 

And it challenged me. It challenged me of how much I take granted the simple things that matter the most. Like food on my table. A roof over my head. A family and good friends. A car. A job. 

Life. The very essence of breath in my lungs and every morning I awake, the chance to see another day dawn with the colors of the sunrise.

I initially questioned my calling to serve with the impoverished when my eyes had seen reality for the first time that morning. I had questioned fearfully what in the world I was doing, going to Hawaii with a desire to minister to the homeless. But by that afternoon, I felt so fulfilled. I fell in love with the sweet seniors, so welcoming, so accepting, so loving. I enjoyed the group I served with and I formed a new friendship with Lija over sipping apple juice together back at the Dream Center before I headed back into the suburbs. 

I had gone to serve and to be a blessing. But I was blessed. Tremendously. 

And this Thanksgiving, I'm challenged to give thanks for the simple things. 

To give thanks for the beautiful gift of life and for the precious gift of Christ's blood on the cross that I may have life and eternal life abundant.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." John 10:10

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 6:23

Fear Not

The first two weeks after receiving the happy news that I had been accepted to the Kokua Crew were difficult for me. 

Because the truth was, I wasn't excited about going. 

I should've been. I mean, I was going to Hawaii for three months! Who wouldn't be excited?!

Everyone I spoke to was excited for me. They asked me if I was excited and I told them "yes" because it was partly true. So many people congratulated me and shared well wishes on my going and encouragement for my time there. 

But I struggled to feel their excitement for me. 

Because for me, it was bittersweet. More bitter than sweet. And it was terrifying to me.  

I fell asleep one night while writing my thoughts and my feelings, and the emotions flowing through my mind and heart in those two weeks is captured beautifully in this raw and unfinished expression:

"Life. What an odd journey this thing is called Life. How strange it is. This gift, this cycle, that the Lord has given each of us for our time here on this earth. 

I've been introspective lately. Maybe that's what happens when you're entering a transition season. 

Transition. How strange it is too to realize that I'm entering a season of transition. Of moving from one place to another and building a new life even if only for three months. 

The truth is, that word scares me. Transition. The truth is, I'm afraid of moving to Hawaii. That's why, when so many people around me are telling me that it'll be like a vacation, begging me to take them with me, reminding me of what a paradise Hawaii is, sometimes I stay solemn and silent. Because it's very easy to say that until you're the one moving away alone from everything and everyone you know. 

While I'm in Hawaii, life will almost come to a stop for me. I'll be busy serving, I'll be in a gorgeous new place, I'll be meeting new people and making new friends. 

But life won't stop here at home just because I'm not here. And that realization struck me with full force last weekend. While I'm gone, life here at home will continue rushing on as speedily as ever. And I wonder how much I'll miss. 

I'm going to be different when I come home after those three months. I know that. But life here at home will be different too. My niece is going to change so much and learn so many new things while I'm gone. My sister's house will probably look different. What milestones will my friends cross that I won't be here to be a part of? Will they make new friends while I'm gone? Maybe begin seeing someone special? What family outings will I not be included in? What places will my parents go that I'm not with them? Another teacher will be teaching my preschool class at church. Another employee will be filling my responsibilities at work. It will be the new normal for my parents, having my bedroom empty.  

Right now, I have so many people supporting me. Congratulating me. Making me promise to share pictures. Praying for me. Telling me that I'll be missed. 

My family and my closest girlfriends will always miss me and think of me and pray for me. I know that. But what about the others? I ask myself. 

I know how it goes. There's so much support and enthusiasm in sending off a person to a new place to serve the Lord. Prayers are lifted up on their behalf daily. Encouragement is sent often for the first few weeks. Then it slowly begins to wane. Your name becomes lower on the prayer list. The messages of encouragement become less frequent and more scattered. Your absence becomes still noticed on occasion, but your presence no longer leaves an ache of missing. Enthusiasm fades- it's your passion, not theirs- and life goes on as normal with its usual routine and usual tasks day in and day out. 

For all but the person who left.

I don't want to be that person. I'm terribly afraid of being that person. I'm afraid of being forgotten. I don't want to be forgotten. 

I think of transition. Transition of when I come home again. I don't know what scares me more: moving to Hawaii or coming back. Life will have changed and continued without me. How does anyone leave everything he knows for months at a time and return, slipping right back in among his old friends, his family, his old home, his old church. You can't. 

Thinking of coming home again after being gone makes me feel lonely. Lonely and misplaced and lost and left out. It makes me question where I'll fit any more. And I don't like that feeling. Where will I belong?

A year and a half ago, January of last year, I thought I could imagine what those feelings felt like. What emotions you experience. Now I know that I had no idea. And maybe unless you've moved to Hawaii and come home, you can't know. I'm not sure."

This was reality.

This is what was on my heart. I cried in those first weeks. I felt so alone and I feared being misplaced and lonely. I feared the unknown of going to a strange place. 

And that's when October 1st, the Lord spoke to my heart. 

It was late at night. I was lying in bed alone in the darkness of my bedroom, staying up until one or two o'clock in the morning because I was scheduled to work a short later shift at my job the next day. I was blogging when the thought came to my mind to search YouTube for any videos about the Kokua Crew or about YWAM Kona. 

To my delight, I found a few videos. One of which was a campus tour video a DTS (Discipleship Training School) student had made several years ago and another video made showing how one group of DTS students had spent their free weekends in Kona. 

http://youtu.be/WZWv1ckUmwM 

http://youtu.be/9-6U23D1Fo8

And as I watched those videos, something came over me. A feeling of peace. Of familiarity. Of belonging.

Of excitement. 

I was taken back to two and a half years ago. To the summer, fall, and winter of 2013. Back to when the Lord first turned my attention to Hawaii and drew my heart to that place. From the very beginning that May 8th, 2013, I had longed to go there myself. It had felt familiar. My heart belonged there. 

And somewhere in the process of that becoming a reality- of becoming so distracted by work and by the busyness of my life and by my finances and by focusing so much on the fear and anxiety- I had forgotten those feelings that I had once felt.

Those videos reminded me. The Lord brought me back to that moment in time when I knew that I needed to go to Hawaii. He reawakened that excitement and fervent passion that had become buried until it burned again so brilliantly in my heart. Until I fell in love again with the calling He was drawing me to. 

Because what was I so afraid of? I'm not going to a strange place, He reminded me. I'm going home. 

Georgia will always be my childhood home, the place where I grew up. It's the place where my family is. It'll always be the answer to the question of where I'm from. But for the past two and a half years, it hasn't been home to my heart. My heart has been in Hawaii. 

Much like two people can fall in love through an exchange of letters, learning about each other before ever meeting, so I've fallen in love with this place as I've learned about it. And now I'm finally going to meet it. I'm going to finally see it with my own eyes. I'm going to finally experience it for myself with all of my senses. 

Georgia will always hold a piece of my heart. But I don't belong here anymore. It isn't where I belong. It isn't where I'm meant to be right now. My heart calls home that group of islands far off in the Pacific Ocean. Hawaii is my home now. 

I'm going to be working full-time, forty hours a week, Monday through Friday, sure. But even in the midst of serving, I'll be with the Lord. Basically, I'm going on a three-month retreat of spending time with Jesus in one of the most beautiful places on the face of the earth. I'm going to a place where so many people only dream of going and would give so much to see for themselves. 

And for me, my heart's gone before me. This is not a strange place I go to. This is Hawaii. My Hawaii. This is Home. 

My Home. 

I'm going home. 

What am I so afraid of? Where the Lord leads me, I will follow. Where He stays, I will stay. I have nothing to fear. 

He knew the plans He has for my life before I was even conceived. None of this has taken Him by surprise. While I was still in my mother's womb, He looked at me and said "This one's going to Hawaii." That blows my mind. 

I'm so excited to meet the new friends He has for me over there. I'm so excited to serve the people He has for me to serve there. I'm so excited to sit at the Banyan Tree cafe and write letters and blog posts for my family and friends back home. I'm excited to linger in the 24/7 prayer room in my free time, my own personal IHOP (International House of Prayer- my special place here at home). I'm excited to find my own new special places there to get away for quiet time and prayer. I'm excited to learn the new things He has planned for me to learn and to grow in the ways He plans to grow me. And I'm so excited to stand at the edge of the ocean and be overwhelmed time again by His magnificence and the depth of His love. 

(And I'm excited to leave behind this cold Georgia winter weather! ;) )

I'm excited to discover why of all of the places in this big wide world we live in, He's called me to the little state of Hawaii, United States of America. 

And why in the world me.

A petite, Puerto Rican-Caucasian, twenty-one-year-old young woman who has never been anywhere outside of the mainland USA. 

Why me?

And why now? 

I'm excited to find out. 

"Pray then like this: 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.'" Matthew 6:9&10

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them." Psalm 139:13-16