Let that be enough

My phone beeps. I pick it up, slide my bandaged finger across the screen, and open a new email.

Financial Services.

Your payment is ready to be viewed...

A couple of checks sit on my desk, crisp and ready to be deposited. Their little white boxes mention a series of numbers that I have crunched, stretched, saved, and sweat for - but there is so much more to them.

Written on these two muted blue checks is a beautiful fulfillment; it tells me "The Lord has provided for you yet again. You are done, sweet child. You have finished the impossible. Take these and remember Him."

My year of private schooling will be paid off in cash, minus a small subsidized loan.

I do not understand God.

He is so good.

I have been blessed with such a beautiful life; I do not know how I failed to see it for so long. He provides for me who can give nothing. He protects me who is just one in seven billion. He loves me who is so unworthy.

I was listening to my iTunes today and came across Switchfoot's Let That Be Enough. Some of the lyrics really stuck out to me today.

"I wish I had what I needed to be on my own...

And all I see, it could never make me happy.

And all my sand castles spend their time collapsing.

Let me know that You hear me.

Let me know Your touch.

Let me know that You love me.

Let that be enough...

Yeah, who am I?

Just a kid who knows he's needy."

This is such a fitting prayer for the season of life that I am in. The Lord has blessed me with jobs that allow me to provide for myself and be on my own; He is creating a new life within and for me. Dependence on Him brings so much freedom.

But the more He provides, the more I am realizing just how much stuff I have. None of this matters. I have a disgusting amount of shoes, tops I have not worn in years if ever, jeans that I have long-forgotten about. I have beautiful things while others don't even have food. I build up my storehouse, my resume, my sandcastles and in the end they mean nothing. In the mean time, I am simply shrewdly stockpiling, scoffing to the world saying "You do not deserve to be blessed in the ways I have."

I am a glory stealer.

I am a thief of justice.

A hoarder of goodness.

I deserve none of what I "own" and do not have the right to keep it for myself. I do not want these things, these checks or clothing or books to be what I base my joy on. It is mine to give, not mine to keep.

I know that I am needy, oh so needy. I cannot do a thing for myself without the hand of God - that is all I am, a little girl completely dependent on a big God.

I simply want Him to be enough.

"But goodness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that."

1 Timothy 6:6-8

With each passing day, I find myself thinking more and more in terms of that which I never thought I would or wanted to be - a missionary. The Lord has a hold on my heart.

Playing mommy

If I may, I would like to brag for a moment.

At APU and the church as a whole, we spend an awful lot of time talking about "community". It's the word that gets a lot of grumbles from the annoyed, eye-rolls from the self-righteous, and rubs the wounds of the lonely or burned.

So what do the majority of Jesus groups do to solve this problem and create community?

We have another potato salad luncheon after church. The families fill up a table to themselves, the old widows sit in a circle just like they do on Monday mornings when they sew quilts, the single young adults gather back together as if they were still in high school.

Notice there isn't a whole lot of inter-mingling. There aren't many new relationships. We eat our cold baked beans with a plastic spork only to head home without any new numbers or names.

And we pass it off as "community".

It makes sense why the phrase has a bitter connotation.

But today I saw something beautiful.

A sweet friend of mine was outside earlier tonight helping me find a cat (don't ask - explaining this will require its own post). After about twenty minutes and without a furry friend, we headed back to our dorm. She started walking slowly. Her back began to lean over and she clutched her stomach, breathing deeply through her cringing mouth. Her face was red and splotchy, her body appeared to sway, her eyes glazed over. I held my hands out, anticipating catching either her fainting body or a nice stream of vomit. I was hoping neither would happen.

I got lucky - neither did. I helped her upstairs and brought her to her room. She thanked me and said she was fine, she just needed to lie down. I made sure she had water, told her to call if she needed anything, and let her be - I wouldn't want to be watched as I wretched my guts out, either.

A short while later I got a text requesting Saltine crackers and some Sprite. I looked through my food stash and offered her the animal crackers and Cheerios I had.

So this began my hunt.

You would think Saltines and ginger ale would be a staple. They are. In houses. Not in college dorms.

I sent out a mass text requesting the goods and got the same response from everyone - no, sorry. I called a great guy friend of mine and asked if he would escort me for a walk to the grocery store down the street. He said to meet him downstairs in ten.

That's community.

Then I realized it was past 11pm on a Saturday night. After a thorough Google search, I accepted that nothing was open.

He called me back a few minutes later. How is she? Have you taken her temperature? How serious is it? Can she hold down anything? Do we need to make another (yes, another) ER run? He had made some phone calls in search of the crackers and soda.

That's community.

I packed a goodie bag of animal crackers and cereal, poured some Sprite I had long forgotten about in one of my (many) canteens, grabbed my (rather large) box of medical goodness and knocked on her door.

I pulled out my stash of GI medicines , offering her an array of choices (you can never be too prepared in Mexico). I first offered her a couple of medicines that would help her nausea and knock her out at the same time. She declined and said she couldn't be in a deep sleep because she had to wake a friend every few hours. This friend made the first ER trip and hospital stay of the weekend after a skateboarding accident (sigh, boys) and had suffered a concussion. Did she want someone else to call him for her? No, no, she wanted to be there for him.

Although she was vomiting her brains out, she was still willing to make sure her friend was okay. Although she was in the hospital until the wee morning hours last night and was back again today as soon as visiting hours began, she was still willing to sacrifice her sleep.

That's community.

After drugging her up on my non-sedating medicines, I went back to my room to let her rest. A bit later I got a phone call from another sweet friend. "Are you with her? How is she? I'm downstairs, can you come let me in? I have some things for her."

I went down to the first floor, opened the door, and found four beautiful friends with ginger ale and stomach medicines in hand.

That's community.

We gathered around her bed, loved her, laid hands on her and prayed.

Then God smiled.

Joy

I have been given a new name, Dani Joy.

When I lay in the cool grass, warming myself in the sunshine,

When I sit in the dirt in Mexico, greasy, hungry, and exhausted,

When I am up until midnight making lesson plans for my children,

When I carve time out of my schedule to meet with those wiser than I,

When I sit on the city bus next to a lady who needs a smile and a prayer,

When I am surrounded by beautiful people of all walks of life during dinner,

When I cry out and receive a loving friend to pray for me without question,

When I go to chapel annoyed, tired, bored, with a million things to do, yet find Him,

When I am broke, unable to pay my upcoming bills, and trust in Him to provide again,

This is joy.

I had an interview today with the MO office. The sweet girl I met with asked me about my life, who I am. I told her of what I brat I was, of how I was a Saul, of how I was puffed with pride, of how lonely and hurt I was. Then I told her of Jesus,

The One who called me to California.

The One who told me to trust Him in all things.

The One who has promised to work for my good.

The One who continues to amaze me and change me.

The One who loves me and sacrificed everything for me.

I told her about the Jesus that I promised to give my life for.

She asked me why Mexico; what made me want to go?

I told her of my previous thoughts I had towards the culture, of how I had been raised with this idea that Mexicans were bad, dirty, job-stealers, drug lords, perverted.

But God told me to go. I went. He changed everything.

This is to be the story of my life. Call. Go. Change.

I cannot be called until I listen. I cannot go until I trust. I cannot change until I humble.

I cannot be filled until I am emptied, built up until I am broken down.

He fills me with such a great joy, I cannot explain it. Some may think I am "faking" because I need to prove to those at home that I am succeeding. Some may think I am putting too much hope in the move and in my school. Some may think I am just an overly excited freshman who finally got out of the house.

This isn't it. Not even close. I am overflowing with joy because of the God that I finally decided to follow, no matter the costs. He broke me down and left me with nothing, only to bring me to this place of blessing. He is good, oh so good. The friends, the lights and sounds of LA, the mountains and beautiful weather - sure, they make life a bit sweeter for now. The real transformation, though, is the willingness to say yes.

Yes, I will move to California.

Yes, I will take this job offer.

Yes, I will declare that major that leaves me poor.

Yes, I will go to Mexico.

And dare I (finally be able to) say? Yes, I will move to Mexico, or any other place, if that is Your will.

Halfway through the interview, the girl paused and asked me what my middle name was. I told her Marie, thinking it was an odd question. Her partner laughed and said "I was expecting Joy or something." The smiled and said, "I was thinking that, too". Then I also smiled, grateful that others had already given me this name and God has blessed me so much to make it true.

Two Cents

I am in the midst of my first real experience of the crippling anxiety over paying the next bill.

I mis-crunched numbers so many months ago.

I worked less hours than I had anticipated.

I took a five week sabbatical for the holidays.

I did not account for trips to Mexico, "I just had to have it" purchases, and unforeseen visits to the doctor.

Today I sit with a measly $64.62 in my bank account, fully cognizant of my next bill of $545 approaching in a handful of days. Today I crunch numbers that refuse to reach the destination that I so desperately desire.

Satan scoffs in the background, chanting in the back of my head, "I have tried time and time again to tell you this was a mistake. Now look - you are broke, too poor to even buy a plane ticket home after you drop out. You will never make it here. How will you multiply your bank account ten fold by next week?" Fear grips my stomach as he mocks me, giving me a million reasons why I have failed.

Then, God's still voice breaks through, confirming what I already know. He firmly whispers, "This is the plan I have for you. This is where you are meant to be. Have you little faith? I have provided for you time and time again - this day is no different. Follow me, and I will give you everything you need to succeed in My plans."

Thus far the LORD has carried me. Thus far He has met all of my needs. Thus far He has blessed me beyond belief, assuring me that this is where I am meant to be and this is what I am meant to do.

I stare at my near empty jar of Mexico Funds, posters line the campus about the upcoming trip south, dear friends and teammates chatter about their calling, my phone blows up with curious enquirers. All I see is the small, thin letters that say "$49" and shake my head. Do I spend my last few dollars on this trip?... Do I spend these last few dollars on God? On what He has called me to do?

My eyes became blurry as I sat on the trolley, comparing by bill to my bank statement. $100 short. For the first time in my life, I could not pay my debts. I had exceeded what was provided for me. I headed to the MO office prepared to write a check for the mission trip I took part in seven weeks ago - at least that was one less person to owe.

I saw the director, a man who has been a wonderful counselor throughout my foreign ministry experience. I have been nagging him for a job for some time, giddy and excited about Mexico and what God is doing. Frustrated and scared, I asked him again for a job - half kidding, yet half hopeful. His face got sad, and he reminded me that all positions were full but he would contact me if anything changed. I pleaded, "Well fire someone!" while a group of workers who have become dear friends laughed; the mood was lightened over a rather desperate matter.

With a look of concern, he brought me into his office and we together went over my finances and job situation; he sent me a series of emails with links, talked to a few others in the office, and encouraged me to keep trying. He walked me out of the building, continuing to edify me with every step; on the sidewalk with the crunchy leaves on the ground, the sun shining, and the cool wind gently blowing, we prayed for a miracle of provision.

As I walked away from the MO office, my dear counselor said "If you're supposed to go to Mexico, we will make it happen."

God promised to provide.

I headed back to my dorm, my humanness still afraid, but my spirit hopeful. I headed down the sidewalk, continuing to think and pray. I was halfway to my residence hall, cutting across the parking lot, when I suddenly paused (much to a driver's frustration). I remembered the money from graduation and Christmas that I had hidden; my "secrete cash stash" that had been set aside for emergencies... emergencies such as this. Filled with glee and relief, my heart pounded again - but this time with joy and gratefulness as I raced upstairs with a un-containable smile.

There was just enough to finish the bill.

God had provided. He had fulfilled His promise.

I know that this is a lesson in trust. I know that this is part of redemption and sanctification. It's humility, it's faith, it's reliance on His grace. I have no idea where the money for the next payment will come from, but I thank my God for giving me everything I have needed and will need; I am incredibly rich. I am blessed to the core with my provisions of food, a warm bed, clean clothes, an education, and beautiful friends.

Where there is His will, there is a way.

Ten year plan, revised edition

I made a decision today that may will change my "Ten Year Plan" (which I have abandoned) and the life I thought I would lead.

I am working towards establishing California residency - which according to every online article I read could be incredibly hard for me, even if I do meet the requirements. But God has a plan; He has not missed a chance to remind me that this is my new life. This is my new "normal". He has plans for me here, in LA county, at least for now.

This residency will make logistical things a whole lot easier around here - no more shifting papers back and forth across the country, having to show multiple ID's, explaining to bankers and offices why I want to do such and such but do not have proof that I live here. In this state, proving who you are is very important. Maybe Florida will be in my future again. Maybe North Carolina. Maybe Kenya. Maybe Mexico. I don't know. But I do know that wants me to stick around a bit in the 626.

I am finding myself okay with not knowing.

I have been wrestling with this idea since January of last year, of making California my home. God is good; He has lined everything up for me. My job. My classes. My finances. My rides.

My biggest fear was the adjustment to a place where I did not know a single soul; He has that covered, too. I have met some amazing people that I am so blessed to know. He has provided me with a circle of adult mentors who take time to lead me and guide me; some meet with me at a set time each week, some share in the mundane moments of life, and others are my go-to during times of homesickness and decision making.

He has given me a beautiful group of friends who I love and adore. We simply do life together - we are a community. We borrow each other's muffin tins and vacuum cleaners, study in our pajamas until we pass out on the library floor, bring cough drops and a magazine to the sick among us, break bread together, and simply knock on a door to kill some time. We are in this together - whether it is finals week and I haven't showered or gotten out of sweats in two days, or we are celebrating birthdays and the winning of awards. It is a beautiful thing, campus life.

I have been at school for only four months, yet it feels like four years. I am completely comfortable and joyful. People think I am kidding when I say I love my school, but it truly was the best decision I ever made (besides following Jesus). God has taught me so much over the last few months and has finally granted me the strength to abandon my "Ten Year Plan" for a much better itinerary - His. I won't know where I will be next year or what I am doing tomorrow, but I do know that He will show me each step I should take. Like a foggy mist, I am only able to see the next step or two in front of me, trusting that I will not trip over what is unseen.

Right now I am in the midst of prayer about a decision that will drastically change my life. I have this horrible fear that God is calling me to be part of a certain ministry more often, if not full-time. My humanness thinks that this is terrifying, because it will completely destroy everything I once thought of as normal and place me in all sorts of risks. If this decision is within His will, though, I know I will be okay. I have an overall sense of peace and I sense Him maybe preparing me already for some of the difficulties that will come if He calls me.

Until then, pray with me - we are in this together.

Top 11 Moments

My last two years have blended together in a rush of college searching and selecting, my baby sister being born and growing, finding a place to stay, and my continually recovering from my illness. I feel like I have grown an incredible amount, but the same struggles are still lingering. But God has "blessed my socks off" (I have recently learned that this is a very Southern phrase) and I am incredibly grateful for the things He has done over the last twelve months. He is too good to me. So here are my top eleven moments of 2011, the parts of my life that blessed me the most (in no particular order).

1. Seeing Baby Girl turn one.
Her birth was one of the most magical days of my life. I was blessed beyond words to be such an important part of her life; she encouraged me in so many ways simply by being. She has taught me so much about Jesus and the mind-exploding idea of Him being a helpless babe. She has taught me a love comparable to our Father, powerful and unconditional. Baby Girl brings me joy, shows me beauty, and teaches me a whole lot of patience. There is nothing more amazing than meeting a child on the day of her birth and being with her again a year later. We celebrate her life because she is precious, important, and loved.

2. Finding out Baby Two is on his / her way.
Need I say more? This, though, is bitter-sweet. My heart breaks knowing that I won't be in Baby Girl's life as much as I desire, but my heart also mourns over knowing that I will fly east to meet Baby Two only to return home to the West a couple of weeks later. This relationship will be much different, but I know God has something up His sleeve.

3. Being graced with such an awesome "Mexican Family".
The word "family" in my vocabulary has for so long been referred to as the "f-bomb". I try so hard to find this kind of love, yet once I have found it I am in a battle with myself to accept it and continue to struggle to reciprocate the same love back. It's shrouded by fear, lack of trust, and weary records of wrongs - all things that Jesus has told me time and time again to leave at His feet. He has blessed me so greatly with an "east coast family" that loves me even when I so surely doubt and question it. One of my biggest fears when moving out west was that I would have this giant gap in my life that a family should fulfill. For the first couple of months, I felt a bit like a single newly-created Sim; with no previous lineage, I simply appeared on the earth with no "blood ties". God heard my pleas, and sent me on a trip to Mexico where I developed beautiful relationships with some even more beautiful people. I now have six "brothers" and "sisters" (who I look nothing like), a crazy "uncle", and two loving "parents" who are happily engaged. Together, we share "Family Dinners" every Thursday night at 6pm. I look forward to breaking bread together every week, for a chance to slow down and allow so many different lives to come together to be authentic.

4. Committing to APU.
This was probably the hardest decision of my life - yet also the best. I am so incredibly happy at APU. I am poor, but I have all I need and a God who continues to provide. I have no long-standing relationships, yet a handful of dear friends whom I cherish as if we knew each other all along. I am tired, overwhelmed, and stressed, but I have been given a beautiful support system that is always available. I love my classes. I love my professors. I love my community. My humanness tells me that it was a mistake, that there are better schools, that I need to go home. Despite this, I am reaffirmed over and over that this is where I am meant to be. Where there is peace, there is the Spirit.

5. Trustee's Weekend.
It was here that I met some of the most amazing fellow students. It was here that I knew (though struggled to accept) that this was my place. God knew what He was doing. I can honestly say I would not be at APU if it had not been for Trustee's Weekend. I had thrown away all of my information about the school, certain that I would not be going there. When we plan, God laughs.

6. Getting my IB Diploma.
I sold my soul to IB and all I got was this lousy diploma? This required blood, sweat, and tears - literally. I promised myself I would hate this stinking program forever... and then I realized what a rock start I am.

7. Graduating high school.
The cry of my high school life was "GET ME OUT OF HERE", pounding on the windows that felt like bars on a jail cell. Enough said.

8. Always having a roof over my head.
Save the Miss America Pageant answer, this was exceedingly important (and miraculous) for me. There were many days when I feared I would be sleeping in my car. Bouncing around from house to house was hard enough, but securing a place to sleep for the night was sometimes even harder. God is good, though. He provided every single night and saved me from bitterness that I could have felt towards people who did not step up. He has reminded me that I am not the judge. Luke 12: 22-34 has been the anthem of my life for the last two years. The God who cares for the ravens will care for me, for I am more valuable to Him than simple birds. He has promised me that when I seek His Kingdom first, He will care for the rest.

9. Going to Mexico.

I could talk all day about this. I ordered my passport before moving out west, certain I wanted to travel to Mexico. I signed up for the first trip I was able to go on and my life has been changed forever. I was blessed with a team of nine other students who have become some of my dearest friends. My heart was broken in a beautiful way, showing me that so much of what we have is about geography - where we were born, who are parents are, what opportunities are around us. Growing up in Florida, I had always been told (whether passively or blatantly) that Mexicans were "dirty"; some adults in my life even went so far as to tell me that they are "pigs" and that I should never date one, for surely they will take advantage of me. The patriot in me was fostered around a perception that this is our land, these are our jobs, and anybody who tries to share in our goodness is the enemy. Mexico changed all of this. It is poverty like you would not believe. It is corruption, violence, and illegal activity that we would shudder at in the States. It is a forced way of life in a land where there are few other opportunities to provide for your hungry family. Mexico has shown me the other side of the story, giving the people we hear about in degrading statistics a face and a heart.

10. Having amazing jobs that I love.

I fantasized all through high school of having a ministry job. Within the first month of living out west, I had one. Life is too good. I am still in awe of the goodness I have received.

11. Moving to California.

One of the best decisions I have ever made. Period.

Okay, there's eleven, but I still have some more things I'm grateful for:

12. Celebrating a year of recovery.

This was a quiet celebration with myself, Jesus, and a few close loved ones, as much as I felt it should have been one I was sharing with my community. But alas, teenage girls are high maintenance enough, and ones that are horribly ill are just too much for most people to handle. My sickness is gone and I am in a period of what I hope to be a life-long remission. Praise God.

13. Being blessed with an incredible amount of scholarships.

I should not be in college - all of the statistics tell me so. Good thing I don't listen to statistics.

14. Finding a place where I feel like I belong.

See blessing 3, 4, 9, 10, 11. I have found peace, joy, and a sense that the place I am in now is exactly where I should be for this season of life.

15. Using Spanish often.

Being bilingual in such a multicultural area has been one of my greatest assets. I speak in Spanish every day without fail and find myself "defaulting" to Spanish with increasing frequency, even when I am not in Mexico. It has become such an amazing ministry tool, allowing me to create and maintain friendships with a people I have grown to love.

16. Re-evaluating my relationship with myself, God, and others.

My move has allowed me to re-evaluate my life. I am free to process, meditate, and pray without the influence of people who feel like they know me. This has been an incredibly healthy experience, spending time alone with Jesus to discover who He created me to be.

Mary

I find myself every day finding a moment where I think, "Wow, God. I am here. California is my home. I am an adult in college. We made it." Even though it's been three months, I am still amazed by the grace and mercy I have received. It should not be this way - I should not be in a private university in Los Angeles County, surrounded by friends and mentors. I should not be finding myself joyful in the chaos and (if lucky) silence of living in community, functioning without a car; healthy on multiple levels; working my dream job and getting paid for it; living, eating, studying, sleeping, fellowshipping on the same piece of property. Heck, I should not even be alive.

Yet I sit here typing, slightly annoyed by the loud voices and laughter coming from the hall. I miss my quiet, yet somehow it is here where I have found peace. God is teaching slapping me in the face with a lesson on giving and receiving grace. Rather, I am to be filled with joy, knowing that He is seeing His children loving and laughing together in the hallway. Love means nothing if it does not include love of yourself, others, and God.

I feel like God ripped away all of my distorted delusions about love, trust, grace and forgiveness that I harbored before I knew His Son.

He left me raw, helpless, internalized, with little faith in goodness.

Maybe this is why I came out here.

Perhaps I ran away from the yuck, from the hurt, from myself.

Yet God has shown me that I can run from my sin, but I cannot hide. I have brought with me the same fears, the same temptations, the same pride, and the same lack of forgiveness that sucks the life out of me more than anybody else.

He is doing a work in my heart, allowing me to reflect and meditate on my past. It is when I open myself up to His challenges that I am best able to discover Him and discover myself. Wrestling is painful, but a necessary part of healing and maturity. Yet we are to remember that there is a place in us that no man can ever touch; it is sacred, for your and God's enjoyment alone. It is in this place that we are fully able to surrender ourselves to Him.

I feel like God is ripping away all of my distorted delusions about love, trust, grace, and forgiveness that I harbored even while I knew His Son.

He is leaving me raw and vulnerable, strong and confident, with faith in His goodness.

Maybe this is why I came out here.

Perhaps God drew me towards His love, His mercy, His promise, His Son.

All things rise by a winding staircase. Maybe God had to pull me out of my environment to give me perspective; He is the wonderful mystery. I have room here to think and reflect. Creating this new life on the other side of the country has allowed me to take a hard look at who I really am, who I really was, and who God wants me to be.

May I be Mary, strong enough to say "I am the Lord's servant, may your word to me be fulfilled," (Luke 1) when I am scared to pieces that my bills won't get paid, that I am being too vulnerable, or that I am being sent to Mexico. May I make my commitment without knowing where I am going or how I will get there. May I be Mary, blessed enough to have the Lord's presence overshadow me.

For all of this, I am blessed.