there is something here.

For families, biological or not.

For the ties that hold us together.  For life.  For having people in it with you.  For finding ways to make peace with those who aren't.  And for grace.
That's what I'm thankful for today.
---

I'm a runner.

I run from things I don't like, from situations I don't know how to handle, from people I'm bad at loving.  There's a reason why I like far away missions trips, visiting out of state friends, and just going.  There's a reason why I can have a bag packed within 20 minutes flat and not look back.

I'm a runner.  And it has made a lot of messes.  I've made a lot of messes.

Thankfully for me, God loves messy people.  I am the least deserving of His grace, but He offers it to me just the same.  But I've encountered a problem with grace and God.  The thing is-

God is not a runner.

He isn't afraid or overwhelmed by things, and He definitely isn't bad at loving people.  If I'm going to follow Him and love Him and claim to know Him, that means I can't run anymore, either.  It means that I have to face things.  A few months ago, I felt Him tugging at me.  Stop running.  There is something here.


There is something here; I know it's true.  There are things here that I don't know how to face, and there are people here I'm bad at loving.  This is my family and this is how things work.  That's it, God.  That's all.  There's nothing else here.

Even in that, I knew I needed to stop running.  So I prayed my heart out and decided not to move.  And you know what: everything caught up to me, and it was incredibly hard.  There were awkward conversations and dragging time and shut doors and heaviness that comes from relationships tied together with tired familiarity.  But I stayed because God was right.  He is right. There is something here, and it's not just all my inadequacies.

It's grace that brings change.  It's kindness that brings repentance.  It's small and slow and hard to grow but it's here, with the tiny roots of something strong.

It's hard conversations that eventually turn light.  It's everything catching up to me and somehow still being okay.  Because as much as I will always love far away missions trips, there's something happening right in my backyard, right in my own family.  And the only thing that scares me more than not running is missing it.

There is something here.

I think it might be healing.

the goodness.

What was the last thing you believed was good?

Really, deeply, throw-your-head-back-and-laugh kind of good?

I find goodness in wonderful stories, strong coffee, and deep friendships.  But before all those things were created, there was a Creator.  And He was good.  In His being, in His center, in His very character.

When I think about all of the things in my life that are good, sometimes I forget fleetingly, that it is His goodness that's behind it.  All of the good things in my life are just a paper-thin trace, an echo of Him.

When I think about good things, though, I don't include myself.  He couldn't have made me good, too.  That's just not possible.  And so I write off my value as some sort of accident, my dreams as some sort of mistake, and my life as some sort of crazy mess when none of that is true.

good.

The same good that I believe God infused into other things.

He infused it in me and you.

And He wants me to live.

He wants me to love other people deeply.  He wants me to stand in the mountains and feel small.  He wants me to open my suitcase and trust Him.  He wants me to write and run and explore and feel wonder.  He wants me to stand by the ocean and know grace because

His plans for me are good. 

Today I took a minute to just sit in the stillness.  In the knowledge that God's plans for me are good not because of what they are but simply because He alone is good.  That thought fills me with more wonder, more excitement, and more joy than I have ever known.

He is good.  With the sunrise and with the sunset.  With an excitement that leaves me breathless.  With a love that never fails to find me.  With the same awe that wells up in my chest on a night fills with stars.  Oh, friend.  In the same things that you find goodness, I hope you find Him, too.

travel light

Dear friend,

It has been awhile.  I've been taking some time to be silent.  To talk to God again.  To tell Him about what's going on inside of me.  And to tell other people, too.  The blog has been on the backburner as other areas of my life have been taking some heat.

I've moved 6 times within the past year and a half; it has been a scattering experience.  My stuff is everywhere and nowhere all at once.  I've lost things and found things and forgotten things and I'm at the point where I just don't care.

 

I'm starting to realize what I truly need to live, and it's not my copy of A Tale of Two Cities, or the pictures that used to hang in my room, any of my clothes, or any of my stuff.  That doesn't make my life.

It's my worn-out Bible and the words of good friends.
It's the richness of laughter and the purpose that comes from doing something that matters.  It's God and His love and the way He never leaves me.  That's really all I need to live.

And all the things I used to carry with me?  They don't matter so much.

I guess I've been learning to travel light.  The things you really need can't be packed.  And the things that make you feel heavy aren't really worth carrying.

You can go place to place and pack up all your memories, regrets, fears, and pain but it's not worth it.  Believe me, I've done it.  And it's absolutely exhausting.  Lay down the heavy things, friend.  It's so much easier to be free.

"We all have our past. We all have our pain. We will all know ghosts from time to time. But if our life is like a building, then we should open our doors to let some people see inside. And into our darkest places - into those rooms that hold our fears and dreams - we will begin to walk together. Friends with hope like candles, telling ghosts to go." -Jamie Tworkowski

There is more I could say, but I'll end soon.  I think we're all on a journey of finding out who we are and why we're here.  This journey is crazy, painful, wonderful, and passionate--but going forward, not falling back--is the only way to live.  As you go forward, I pray you find friends right beside you who help you travel light and lay down your burdens.  I hope you learn how to walk, and run wildly, and climb gently over jagged cracks along the way.

Let people in on the journey.  Invite them alongside you and come alongside them.  It's not about not stumbling, but learning to find your way.  And you'll find it, friend.  I know you will.

Grace to you tonight, wherever the journey leads.

-Elizabeth