Ending Chapters Archives - The Messy Middle

Don’t you ever fear forgotten, for you simply can’t be lost

Years ago I awoke one morning to an email from my oldest niece, Emily, with the subject line Math Fairy I Need You.

Dear Math Fairy,

I am in desperate need of your help! I wrote a poem about math to help you understand my feelings towards it. Hope you enjoy it :-(.

Through our exchange, I learned Emily has a poetry notebook in which she processed and expressed life.

(You can read the poem about math and my poetic attempt to speak her heart language here.)

When her Grandma Smith died, she wrote the poem that was used at her memorial service. It was so fitting that we used it for Dad’s service as well.

This year Emily is a junior and several good friends are seniors. Ah, the messy middle, where joy and celebration are bedfellows to sadness and loss. Is it any surprise she’s written poems about the goodbyes? Though often poems in general are over my head, these land squarely in my heart because I, too, over the years have said unwanted goodbyes.

I believe Emily’s words will help you. She’s started a blog and shares her poetry. It is with permission and pride that I share two here:

Goodbye
by Emily Smith

today I began to say goodbye

to a friend who’s off to bigger

and brighter things soon

I’ll still be stuck in this sandbox next year

come and visit—you can

play among the endless sands, too

for while I know my time will come

it’s not today

and now hurts fresh

as I feel softly brushed away

less than a year you’ve beat me

in the race to see the world

send a postcard

send a package

I’ll be here, waiting by the window

most days

staring at the birds outside

flying free

so goodbye

dear friend

don’t forget to write

~~~

Just Remember
by Emily Smith

This poem is dedicated to two of my closest friends who graduated last week. Best of luck, chicas, and remember that you will be loved and missed.

When you feel the world darken,

when it’s hard to hold the light,

just think upon this promise–

someone will always hold you tight.

You may be many miles away,

in a place far out of reach.

But remember that you’re treasured

with a love that’s hard to teach.

If they can’t hold you in their arms,

they’ll hold up a picture frame.

Someone will savor memories sweet,

they’ll hold close your face and name.

Don’t you ever fear forgotten, for

you simply can’t be lost.

After peoples’ bonds have grown

the pain becomes too great a cost.

I won’t pretty it up, my friend,

life is complex and full of twists.

But don’t deceive your honest heart:

you will be loved and missed.

~~~

Which line stands out to you? You can follow Emily’s blog Musings of a Logophile.

P.S. Stay tuned! Guess what time of year it is? Not only graduation season, it is also time for the annual Summer Reading Challenge! Later this week, the challenge will be shared! Be on the lookout for a few new options. Can’t wait!

Ending Chapters, Faith, Personality

Turning 50: When the odometer on your life turns over a new decade

I see my life as a series of peaks with each peak representing ten years. It could be because I am from Colorado, famous for mountains and snow, or it could be this time of year in the Northern Hemisphere, but I see these peaks blanketed in beautiful powder snow.

When a new “zero” comes around, I picture myself at the top of one of the peaks. I am able to see the decade behind me and the picture my footsteps made the in the snow. Step-by-step 30 becomes 31 and 32 and 33 and the years pass until my final step on that peak is taken.

Often I have a different perspective when I look back and survey the decade behind me than I did at the in the middle of the steps I took. Parts are fun to review, others, frankly I care less about with time; on occasion, I can see how good came out of seasons that I never could have anticipated good when I was in the middle of them.

Then I turn and look at the fresh snow before me—the next decade I will live. I wonder how my story will continue? How will it change? What do I hope to see as I look back when I reach the next peak?

Not all of my thoughts are deep. I wonder if this will finally be the decade that my beloved Denver Broncos (American football) and Kansas Jayhawks (the most amazing university in America) will each be champions in the same year. That, that my friends will be a year to behold!

I do not have any clear memories of turning 10 or 20. Age 30 found me celebrating in Chengdu (China) and I rang 40 in by “making” my community in Beijing come to a murder mystery dinner in the midst of all the busyness of the holidays. I remember turning 30 and 40, looking back at my footsteps of my life in the snow. In many ways, my 20s and 30s were nothing like what I had anticipated when it came to specific plans I thought might unfold. But in ways that matter, they went “according to plan” – grow, invest, enjoy, laugh, befriend.

I reached another peak last week. I am at the beginning of a fresh decade. The landscape of white in front of me. It is my year of jubilee. I am 50! (and I am 50? What in the world!)

I am aware that my dad only saw two peaks beyond where I stand. I am not guaranteed to see even that many.

You are also at the beginning, maybe not of a decade, but of a fresh year—be it in the Church Year or the calendar year. The snow is freshly fallen and you have yet to take many steps.

The theme last week at Velvet Ashes was “fresh,” what freshness do you need as you travel through 2018?

Do you need in your home, in your work, within yourself:

Fresh peace

Fresh hope

Fresh love

Fresh faith

A fresh sense of anticipation

A fresh perspective

A fresh mindset

A fresh understanding of God himself

A fresh relationship with your health

A fresh understanding of what it means to serve cross-culturally

Fresh joy!

Fresh communication skills

Fresh cultural insight

~~~

“Then He who sat on the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new.’” (from Revelation 21)

Behold.

Savor that word. Let it roll around on your tongue. Behold.

Though this verse is about the new heaven and the new earth, we know God is in the business of making all things new. As you stand at the mini-peak of this new year, behold! God can give you fresh hope, fresh love, fresh joy, fresh long-suffering.

What do you need God to make fresh in you and your life? I said that my goals are to “grow, invest, enjoy, laugh, befriend”—what are the overall goals of your life?

A version of this first appeared on Velvet Ashes. Image by Karen Huber.

Ending Chapters, Learning lessons, Looming Transitions

Nature’s Classroom: Do I Contradict Myself?

My friend Mikkin belongs to a local Mothers of Preschoolers—MOPS—group. Last December she invited me to share on the role of holiday traditions can enhance your family. Well let’s just say I was memorable, but not because of my subject matter.

I made an absolute fool of myself during Christmas Carol Charades.

Screaming Away in a Manger!!!!!!!!!!!! was a small window into my competitive side.

So, when Mikkin texted this summer asking if I would return and speak on how parents can help their kids with transitions, I lept at the chance to make a new impression. And since I wrote a book on transitions, maybe they would realize I was not a lunatic song screamer, but a calm rational adult.

My plan worked, at least enough. I got a bit over-excited a couple of times. But can anyone blame me? When I think of what is at stake when it comes to transitions, the amount of transitions woven into normal life, and how with a little bit of intentionality they can equip their children for life . . . I start to think of the generational ripple effect for their kids if they learn to navigate and process transitions, well the voice in my head said, “Sweetie, calm down.”

I did. But transitions are back on my radar.

Saturday Shelly Miller, author of Rhythms of Rest: Finding the Spirit of Sabbath in a Busy World, spoke at an event in Denver.

We had met on line when I first became a blogger, but we are now, “in the flesh” friends. During the event, she had us go outside and spend five minutes writing down what we heard and then five minutes writing down what we heard from God.

I highly recommend you try it. Listening with your ears prepares your soul to listen to God.

Unseasonably cold, I braved sitting outside and sat by bushes that were in the process of changing color.Take a moment and scroll through these pictures. Using the lens of transtions, what do you notice?

Even within ourselves, we will transition at different paces.

One leaf may be mostly green, but then the tip was bright red. Another leaf was green except for one section. Or the leaf that the edge was red. Lessons from leaves.

It’s true isn’t it? When I moved back to the U.S. I found my place at the gym before I found my vocational place. I felt at home cheering for the Broncos long before I felt at home in the church. Even now, parts of me are not the same color. Yet like these leaves, maybe my own beauty is enhanced by allowing the seasons to be what they are. By seeing that one being can hold more than one story. And that God does not write binary stories. This or that. No, his specialty? The messy middle.

Ending Chapters, Faith, Messier than normal

Unlikely Containers Holding Your Story

Years ago, standing in our parent’s basement one of my sisters wondered what it would be like to deal with all of our dad’s paperwork. While not a hoarder in other areas, every piece of paper the man had touched through his life, he kept.

In that moment, the Lord gave me this insight: All this paper is more than paper, it is the container of your dad’s story.

Tax records going back decades were not kept in case of being audited. No, they were kept as a record. A record that said, “I was here, I took care of my family, I held a job, I gave to my church and charities. I invested myself in what matters in this world.” I can tell you this is not what my tax records mean to me because I do not keep my story in tax records.

Oddly, though a non-car person, my story is held, in part, by the cars I have owned.

As a college graduation present, my parents got me a car. It was love at first sight! She was a red Dodge Shadow and had an air spoiler and a strip down her side. In sixth grade I was cast as Margot Lane in a radio play about The Shadow; so, her name was Margot.

My education program was completed with a year of student teaching and graduate classes. Margot drove me out to Perry Middle School in rural Kansas. We had our first near death experience along those roads. She drove me to South Junior High where I learned to love teaching Algebra. And from South Junior High we hurried to the University of Kansas where I taught ESL to students from around the world as I completed my Master’s Degree.

During the summers we spent hours together driving home to Denver. And then hours apart as she sat in a parking lot while I taught English and fell in love with China. After several years of teaching in Kansas and summers in China, Margot watched as my dad helped load a U-Haul to take my worldly possessions back to Denver to live for two years in my sister’s basement.

Dad headed off to Denver and Margot and I hit the road for a detour through Wichita. A dear friend had donated a kidney to her brother and I wanted to visit her one last time before I moved to China.

Because I was only going to China for two years, it seemed silly to sell her. So I didn’t.

I do not know where my story would have been stored if I had sold her. I am also not sure when she became the keeper of my story. All I know is that she did. Every time I returned to the U.S. she was there to drive me around and provide me with a sense of independence.

In the blink of an eye, nine years passed.

I returned to the U.S. on a study leave. Margot and I were united again. And again she drove me to school, to visit friends, to speak at churches. She heard me sing and bore silent witness to the tears I shed in the months leading up to another goodbye.

In the blink of an eye, three years passed.

I returned to China. My beloved Margot sat once more, waiting for me.

Whenever I returned to Denver, she was there. She provided me the gift of coming and going at will. But then one summer, it was obvious that Margot was aging and the time had come to do the unthinkable.

No one would have paid her true value and I could not bear to have her underappreciated. I called the local rescue mission and explained I had a car to donate. We set up an appointment for me to turn over the title, I had only one stipulation: You cannot take her until I have left for China. I cannot bear to see her drive away.

The pain cut so deep, it went beyond reason. I might have given my left arm to be able to keep her. And that’s when I hit me.

Margot held my story.

I loved living overseas. I thrived. But every now and then as I aged the twinge would come when I thought of siblings and peers who had houses and cars and other “normal” markers of adulthood. I had a passport full of stamps, yes. But I had nothing tangible to point to that indicated “Here is an adult. Here is a ‘real person.’”

Margot had been with me through my 20s and 30s. She was the one constant in a sea of change. While I lived a more nomadic existence, packing up after each year in China (another story for another time), at age 30 having life rhythms I had had at twenty, I would say to myself, “Don’t worry, I am a real adult, I own a car.”

Last week all of this flooded back.

Four years ago I moved back to the U.S. and bought another car. Much to everyone’s shock, after insisting on only buying red computers, red this, red that. She was blue. As a Honda Fit it seemed only fitting that she be called Fiona.

Cutting to the chase, she was pummeled in a colossal hail storm in May. Last week she was deemed totaled. This had not occurred to me when I casually dropped her off the end of August. On the phone with the insurance who went over the details and what I would be paid and steps I need to take, she casually asked if I needed to get an any personal items out of the car before she was reclaimed at the repair place. Of course I do you idiot. (Only part said out loud.)

I still own nothing but a car as a sign of adulthood. And now that which held my story for the last four years, is no longer mine.

My story will go on. God at work in and through me, to be sure.

But I am left wondering who will keep the story now? And why can the cost of the call sneak up? Will Fiona’s new owner know what she is capable of?

Love, Amy is on sale today for only $5 on Kindle because Love, Amy reminds me of Margot. It is a privilege to share these stories.

It may not be taxes, paper, or cars, but in his mercy, God uses ordinary things of this world to help hold your story. What is it for you?

A version of this first appeared on A Life Overseas.

Community, Ending Chapters, Faith, Grief

Where have you been re-storied?

Language can be so fun. Take the word “restored,” for instance. My friend Mary DeMuth has started a podcast where she interviews people and talks with them about how God has re-storied them and in the process restored them.

Just think, isn’t that what God does with all of us? I’m sure as you look back over your life, you have parts that you wouldn’t have chosen or did not go the way you expected. Yet God is at work.

Take heart! You join a long line of people who have been re-storied.

Joseph, sold into slavery, spent time in prison, abandoned for years is re-storied and placed in a position of influence.

Naomi who asked to change her name to Mara—Bitter—after her famine forced her and her family to relocate and then her husband and both sons died in a foreign land. She was re-storied through her daughter-in-law and new life.

David, killer of Goliath, friend of the king’s son, threat to the king spent years dodging an irrational enemy was re-storied again and again. David’s story does go on and on, doesn’t it?

Hannah, butt of the joke in a land the prized motherhood, mocked in her own family was re-storied with the birth of her son Samuel.

Amy Young, who thought she would retire in China, now living coatless in Denver. The last bit is a bit of an inside joke you’ll get if you listen to the podcast :). Last fall Mary interviewed me for the Restory Podcast and the interview went live this week.

You can listen to it here. It was my first podcast to participate in and as I listened to it, two thoughts came to mind: I’m sorry I speak a little fast at times :). I get very excited! And on cue, I cry talking about children. I can’t help it. Children are worth crying over!

If you are in need of a little bit of encouragement, take heart, God is in the business of re-storying. It won’t always be fast (or fun), but it also usually isn’t all bad either. Guess what, it is the messy middle.

Where can you see God re-storying you?

Amy

P.S. I’ve listened to all of Mary’s interviews and she has really interesting people on (other than me, hahaha! Okay, I’m interesting too.). Enjoy listening to the other interviews too!

Book, China, Cross cultural, Ending Chapters, Faith

Looming Transitions is HERE! {4 ways you can help}

I’ll admit, for a while the question, “When will your book be done?” made me a bit sheepish. After sharing a goal or a dream, on the upside you get cheerleaders. On the downside, if you’re not really doing much you get to be shifty again and again with, “Oh, I’m working on it.” (Hypothetically for four years. I’m just saying.)

Go ahead, ask me. “When can I buy your book?”

I’ll try not to smile too big when I say, “Today!!!!!!!”

Box of LT

Looming Transition is on Amazon (both Kindle and print) and at Createspace. I earn slightly more if you buy a print copy at createspace, but if you’ve got a good gig going on with Amazon, guilt free buy from Amazon.

LT is intended for the 4 to 6 months before moving to or from the field. I firmly believe that is a key window that can make your transition easier or harder. Notice, I said “easier,” not easy. You get it.

I’ve never launched or sold a book before and I feel a bit like I’m saying to you, “Do you like my baby? Will you, my people help raise her? Will you stand with me in the good times and hard? Will you still like me even when she disappoints or does stupid things?”

And all the people said, “We will!”

You might wonder, That’s great, but I’ve never done this either. What can I do? Here are four ways you can help with this raising of Looming Transitions:

1. Celebrate! Of course I hope this book sells decently because I truly believe it will help those in transition, but if this books sells and I have no one to share it with, what have I gained? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What is worse than watching sports by yourself and having no one to high-five? Nothing. Okay, there are worse things, but in that moment, it’s pretty low.

I’m high-fiving you! Woot, woot! If you weren’t here, there would be no book. I did it. You encouraged me. We did it. Let’s enjoy this moment.

2. Suggest or give Looming Transitions to someone you know who in transition to or from living overseas. The best way a book sells is through word of mouth. If you tell them and they know you, they are much more likely to buy it.

3. Leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. It does not need to be five stars (though if that’s what your heart is saying, go with your heart!). Amazon is funny, she just likes to see the amount of reviews. The more reviews (even three or four star), the more she will say, “Hey, maybe I should tell other people about this book.”

4. Tell someone about Looming Transitions. You know tons of people I don’t know. You know people living in Sweden or working at this church or for that organization. You know you neighbor’s cousin who is moving to Brazil or your former coworker who is entering his last semester on the field. You know mission committee members and pastors and counselors.

This includes sharing on social media. Thanks for all of the shout outs!

You might be a blogger who would like to interview me or write a review of Looming Transitions (I can offer a copy as a giveaway). Who could you tell about this book?

///

Three final thoughts:

If you want to buy Looming Transitions in bulk, use the contact form below and I can work with you on a discounted rate.
As a small gift to those in transition, I’ve made these graphics that go along with ideas from the book.
I find authors who only talk about their books tedious. We get it, you wrote a book. How about living a life too?! My bias, I know. On Friday I’ll share a bit of the journey of this book and wanted to warn you incase you fear that every post is going to be about this book. It’s not. My plan is to mention it at the beginning of each semester and maybe share if something interesting comes up.

Because today is a day of celebration! Leave a comment and on Friday I’ll draw one of your names and you can give this book to someone you know—yourself included :).

As we launch this book and wait to see how God will use it, I want to end with the benediction I gave at the end of the acknowledgments:

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Grace and Peace,

Amy

Contact form for inquiries as to me speaking to your group about transitions, buying bulk orders, or your thoughts on the Broncos’ chances in the Superbowl.

Ending Chapters, Faith, Relationships

Eleven Gift Ideas For Boys Ages 10-14 (PDF printable)

Over the course of the last year I’ve heard myself say more than once, “I’m quite taken with boys ages 10-14.”

SCRATCH THAT!

I’m quite taken with knowing we can do something about the discrepancy when it comes to Operation Christmas Child and the lack of boxes for boys.

In case you’re not familiar with OCC they gather millions of packed boxes of Christmas gifts. People over around North America have prepared boxes filled with gifts for either a boy or a girl in the age categories of 2-4, 5-9, or 10-14. Can you guess which kids got the most boxes? Of course you can, because you’re no dummy. Girls ages 2-4 and 5-9. And I get it. I really do. All that cute girl stuff!! Who wouldn’t love to get one of those boxes?!

A boy age 10-14, that’s who. OCC is driven by the generosity of thousands and do their best to distribute what they have. But if you only have girl boxes for 2-4 or 5-9 year-olds, what can you do?

Last year you were as taken with boys ages 10-14 as I was. A humble movement started for the boys.

Do you recall how after writing the first post, my sister Elizabeth, Niece #1, and I spent four hours at the Operation Christmas Child warehouse in Denver helping to check and package boxes for OCC? An hour into in Niece #1 called out to me, “Aunt Amy.”

I paused, it’s not really a big chatting job and I was lost in thought about how I tend to romanticize semi-hard labor and then my nails break and my back aches I wonder why all parts of serving aren’t as glamourous and fun as shopping for children and making festive images for blog posts to get you and me off our butts. But I digress. “Yes dear one?”

“I’m packing a box for a boy next year. It’s been an hour and I’ve seen, like two. Two boxes in an hour.”

She added with her wry teenage smile (and the fact that she’s a much calmer personality than me and thinks I’m prone to hyperbole. WHAT? Me?!), “You are very persuasive.”

Can we please have a moment of silence, since asking you to tattoo this on your forehead might be going a bit far.

I told her, it’s not that I’m persuasive, it’s just so damn heart breaking to see girl box after girl box. OK, I didn’t actually cuss at my niece, however, the discrepancy is from the pit of hell.

You know I love math. So, if Eden was a processing plant for Christmas boxes, there would be 50% for girls and 50% for boys, with roughly 16.7% for each age bracket.

To picture how completely out of whack the numbers are, based on our rate of packing 342.8 boxes an hour, and two of them being for boys ages 10-14 … that is .005—half of one percent. Boys ages 10-14 aren’t even one-percenters.

Put simply, one out of every two hundred boxes is for a boy age 10-14.

But the Kingdom of God is now. Here. Today. The Kingdom of God is in every box for boys.

As we said last year, people are good, but might not know where to start. My friend Katherine made the list of 11 ideas for boys into a PDF. Just print it off and take it to your church or work. Help people understand how under-represented the boys are but how easy it is to help them!

Here is the PDF: operationchristmaschild-boyideas-high

Thank you for being as disturbed as I am. Just now I cranked those numbers and I’m sitting here a bit shocked. This is not right. I am deeply distressed and have already sobbed in the quiet area of the library, trying not to make noise. But change starts small and it grows. Jesus has his eyes on those boys and now He’s got our eyes on them too.

If you’re a regular around here, you know I have truly never done this. I have never asked you to share a post, but would you please share this one? I want as many people as possible to feel empowered to buy gifts for boys.

“But while knowledge makes us feel important, it is love that strengthens the church.” (1 Corinthians 8:1 NLT)

Let’s love on the boys.

Amy

If you’ve never seen an OCC processing plant and you’d like a tour of what happens to your box at a packing plant,

Community, Ending Chapters, Faith, Messy Middle, Relationships

This is a special weekend for The Messy Middle

This post is a like a braid with the three strands weaving together.

Strand one: The Messy Middle

Earlier this week, this blog celebrated her 4th birthday! If you’re like me and think WHAT?! I thought she was three years old, have we really been doing this for four years? Yes, yes we have. Life has a way of sneaking up on you, doesn’t it. Here is my first post — part of me wants you to click over and part of me is a bit embarrassed with my writing ability at that time and would like to pretend I’ve always been awesome. (I see some family eye-rolling going on!)

I wrote about spending time in the Beijing Airport with a teacher whose mother had died and wondered when I’d get that type of phone call. Oh four years, you’ve been good to me and you’ve been hard. I love how the phrase “the messy middle” has taken hold and many of you use it too. It’s where we live, isn’t it?

(For those who count, this is the 490th post!)

Strand two: meeting people

I am flying today to Washington State to attend a writer’s retreat. One of the hosts is Kimberlee Conway Ireton author of Cracking Up: a postpartum faith crisis. I won a copy on a blog giveaway about two years ago and loved it so much I contacted Kimberlee to tell her Cracking Up was the Velvet Ashes book club book for September 2014. She was the first author I’d reached out to — since then I’ve also befriended Kay Bruner, Robynn Bliss, and Carolyn Jourdan.

You know how you have a dream and wonder if you’re nuts? I longed for a book club for cross-cultural servants but didn’t know if I was the only one who wanted to talk about books, ideas, faith, and how the all come together in life. Kimberlee’s book and participation in the book club was magical for me. She showed up and was so kind, and open and honest. So, when she publicized she was hosting a retreat, I knew I needed to see her in person and thank her. When it turned out the retreat was near this blog’s birthday (and an away Broncos game), it sealed the deal. Were it not for this blog, I would not have met Kimberlee.

Were it not for this blog, I wouldn’t know many of you. I’m so thankful you’re here and we can, in a weird cyber way, journey together.

Strand three: continuing friendships

A two-sided coin of living overseas for so long is that I know many wonderful people who now live far away from me. It’s a beautiful pain for my soul.

I want this space to also be a place where we can share together in the messy middle of life.

In May I interviewed my friend Katherine who I’d know from my days in China. She was pregnant with her second child and had been given a terminal diagnosis for the baby. Katherine and Jeff chose not to terminate and instead would accept what God would do, knowing God is not a genie in a bottle. Yes, they believe deeply in his ability to heal, but knew most likely this would not be such a case.

They live very near where my retreat is going to be! I know :)!!! So, when we first planned for me to visit, you can imagine what we thought the visit might hold.

Arabella Grace was born in August and is a living miracle. I get to spend time with their family doing wonderfully normal daily life — complete with a doctor’s visit and shots for both girls! In preparation for my trip, Katherine wrote: This one is excited to see you. How incredible that you actually get to meet her? This was not what we were thinking when we first discussed this trip…

It is incredible.

It is hard to put into words what this space has meant to many these last four years. Earlier this week I read in 1 Corinthians 8:1 “Now regarding your question about food that has been offered to idols. Yes we know that ‘we all have knowledge’ about this issue. But while knowledge makes us feel important, it is love that strengthens the church.”

You know I love knowledge and reading and learning, but love strengthens the church. Thank you for making The Messy Middle a place of true strength —strength based on love.

Grace and Peace,

Amy

Ending Chapters, Faith, Family

What Happens When We Stop

“As long as I kept moving, my grief streamed out behind me like a swimmer’s long hair in water. I knew the weight was there but it didn’t touch me. Only when I stopped did the slick, dark stuff of it come float in around my face, catching my arms and throat till I began to drown. So I just didn’t stop.”

This is from The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver and is spoken by Orleanna, the mother, after the death of her youngest, Ruth May.

Can’t you picture her grief?

Only when I stopped.

That right there is worth pausing over. Only when I stopped did it catch up with me. So I just didn’t stop.

We are a culture of non-stoppers. Just keep moving, no matter what.

All of us (individuals, marriages, families, organizations) need to start a mini revolution of creating space to slow down so that the grief and can catch up to us. Grief over changes in our families, end of summer programs, influence in the workplace, preparing a child to go off to college, grief over the thousands of small deaths woven into normal life. Our lives demand so much motion. But our souls demand stillness. And how scary stillness can be because then grief can catch us.

Recently I went rafting with friends and was excited to be on the water. I grew up rafting with my family and my dad loved to raft. Standing in line for the bathroom I just started to tear up. As long as I was moving, filling out forms and getting the gear ready, I wasn’t even thinking (or aware) of Dad. But darn a full bladder … and just standing there with nothing to do in the immediate. And the grief caught up with me.

Motion isn’t the problem. Movement is good. The problem is when we self-medicate by filling our lives to the brim and don’t allow grief to catch up with us.

I asked a friend to list all of her losses and nearly 40 filled the page front and back; she could have gone on, there was no paper left. She said it was depressing at first, but by the end she felt validated in her sadness and a bit lighter.

I’ll admit, part of me hasn’t decided whether to hit publish or not on this post. It’s more fun to talk about books, Zumba, or (and this shocks me that I mean it) women’s soccer. If I talk about grief will I become know as “the grief girl?” I do not want to be her. But I also know that Brene Brown is right when she says we can’t numb the hard emotions without numbing the good ones.

Niece #1 found out a dear friend is transferring schools. The summer interns I work with have only one week left in the program. A project comes to an end. A child will leave for college. Another mother prepares to go back to work after maternity leave. The better we grieve, the better we live.

So I slow down and let grief (not just of my dad, the last five years have been a season of loss after loss) catch me. Some days nothing sticks, some days I’m surprised what’s there.

Grief is messy, isn’t it? But the truth is so is joy and patience and goodness, I just prefer their mess.

As you’ve read there, feeling any nudge to slow down and let grief catch you? Where have you slowed down this week? What happened when you did? It’s not only grief that catches us :)!

3 Helpful Tips When You’re New To A Situation

You know when you create something–be it a food item, the perfect photo, or a flower arrangement–and everything clicks. You stand back and think: I made that? I made that? I made that! Boom. You’re proud and a bit shocked. Well, that’s how I feel about the post below that I wrote for Velvet Ashes this week. Just telling you the truth. I like it and it makes me smile. The theme of the week has been “Tips for your first year” on the field. I hope you like it half as much as I do, boom.

How’s it going being tipsy this week? Oh we Christians, we’re a riot to hang out with! Tip #1, she who laughs first at her own jokes laughs alone. Well, guess what, the joke is on you. That is not really one of my tips. Ha ha! Though laughing is a good tip for most phases of life, isn’t it?

The insights this week are ones to bookmark and share with folks you know in the future who will be moving to the field. M’Lynn reminded us of the realities of team and expectation those new to the field might have for them. Lauren gave first year senders and goers the freedom to go slow. And Hannah gave insights for twenty somethings.

And now I will state the obvious: your first year is memorable. Whether you’re a TCK going to the field as an adult or this is your first time to actually live on foreign soil longer than a summer project, you will remember your first forever. Here is another bonus tip from my first year: do all that you can to avoid group flights. If you are with an agency that sends a herd of people together to the field, it’s mostly to remind you hell is real and what you’re doing is important. It’s also a secret test if you’re willing to pay the cost. I’m convinced of this.

In all seriousness, you are crossing a line. To this day I think of my life as BC/AC. Before I moved to China and After I moved to China. When did I first go to China? Three years BC. When was my first niece born? Six years AC. Probably it will be the same for you. Your life will be marked by this year. With that in mind, I do have three tips for you:

1. Welcome to the emotional edges. Chances are you are going to experience more highs and lows this year than you normally do. For some, you will camp out on the high side feeling exhilarated, flooded with joy at the sights, sounds, and conversations. Or feel genuine awe and wonder at small miracles you used to take for granted. Electricity? A washing machine? The internet? A care package? Could life be any better?!

For others, I’m sorry to say, you might find this year being one of severe loneliness and disappointment in yourself, locals, teammates, and God. You might be awash in hopeless over how big the task is and how little you are or in shock at things now that you can’t imagine will devastate you.

In agony, a person new to the field told me over the phone, “Amy, I just don’t think I can team with them. This is so unacceptable. I don’t know what to do.” I couldn’t image what her teammates were doing that stole her joy when she couldn’t wait to get to the field. She was undone by teammates drinking Coke at a meals. U.N.D.O.N.E. by it. We returned to this conversation over and over throughout her first year.

But for many of you, you’ll be a mix of both. The highs are high, enjoy them. You are blessed to do what you do. But the lows are low. I wish I could spare you. When you feel them coming, don’t hide them out of shame. You’re normal. Get people praying for you and be gentle to yourself. It’s okay to be low. It’s not fun, but it’s okay.

2. Know you’re going to change. How can you not when the traffic is different, the views of women is unlike back home, even standing in line (hello, how different can it be? Um, very.) is unlike anything you could imagine. You might be exposed to poverty in ways that will ebb at the edges of your soul or live in a land that is so “beyond God” you don’t know where to start. You might see your home country in ways that make your heart beat with pride or make you feel shame and embarrassment and confusion.

Here’s the other thing about the ways you’ll change, you may not see the depth of it for years. Some changes will be small in terms of effecting who you are as a person. Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things how you cross the street? No. But in other more significant ways, you might find you are no longer as in sync with your home culture. This call comes with blessing and loss, doesn’t it? So, for better or worse, you’re going to change and grow. As will your friendships, your marriage, and your parenting.

3. Enjoy! If you happen to be with cynical old-hands, please ignore their grumpiness. I admit, over the years it got harder and harder to be thrilled with new teammates reporting on using a squatty for the first time!!!! (The exclamations were them, definitely not me) down to every little detail. Your bladder was full, you were desperate, it smelled, urine came out, you lived. I’m very impressed.

This is what I’m talking about. Ignore me.

My first year was pre-internet, pre-Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Wechat, Skype. When I returned home for a few weeks after my first year, I brought with me five full photo albums with about 1,000 pictures (Okay, there were WAY more because I glued pictures into the front and back on the wasted blank pages.). I couldn’t wait to share my life with friends and family. I’ll never forget this comment:

We get it, you ate food.

Well now. But you don’t get how exciting pudding is from a care package! Or did you see how round those tortillas were I rolled? What, you don’t like a close up of the cooked eel?

Enjoy! Take pictures of whatever you want. Be excited over . . . everything. Be moved by how much bigger and amazing God is than you could have imagined. God said, “Taste and see that the Lord is good, happy is she who take refuge in me.” Do.

If we were sitting down chatting over a cup of chai and you ask me what I’d suggest for the year, that’s what I’d have for you. Welcome to the emotional edges. Know you’re going to change. Enjoy!

Oh and we’re glad you’re here. Truly.

What do you think of these tips? What would you add?

*****

P.S. If you’re reading this on a mobile device, I added a plug-in this week that should make reading easier. What do you think? Like it? Or want me to go back to the old way?

Image designed by Karen Huber