full, filled, filling.

Where to begin with the past few weeks?  I have learned close to a million new spanish words.  I have held a sick three year old with hair so thin she looked like she was balding.  I have consumed the world's best coffee on a hammock in the morning.  I have slammed a truck door on my leg so hard it left a wound that looks like I was attacked by a stray dog (and that's the story I'm going with, actually). I have travelled through the colorful streets of Managua at night and seen poverty sleeping alongside the highway in small tin houses, on cardboard sheets.  I have eaten plate after plate of rice.  I have processed through sin and brokenness with Americans who could not believe some of these things exist.    I have played Marco-Polo with some of the best kids on the planet.

Sometimes I sit down to write all these things to you and I find myself at a loss to capture even one sliver of it.

Because there is just so much here.  There are so many stories I could share. They could be titled That Time I Met Bryan in Tipitapa, That Time I Prayed and God Answered, That Time Our Bus Got Stuck In A River Of Mud, That Time We Made Poop Jokes Before Eating Pupuseria, and on and on and on.  I have been here for several weeks and have several to go, and I feel so full already with learning and laughter and growth.  But most of all, I feel right stuck in the middle of God's plan for this world, for my life, and for the people I meet.  And that, sweet friends, is a pretty darn good place to be.

I feel myself full in the mornings, and being filled during the days, and I find myself knowing that God will continue to find space inside me to do the extra filling He needs to do -- this abundance comes through in different ways, in strange ways where I can feel Him filling me up as I ache and feel void of hope, when I am homesick or when I wonder about my usefulness.  In fact, I find in those moments where I am aware of all that I am (and that the world is) lacking -- those are the times when He chooses to pour into me exactly what I need.

And so here I may not have time to blog much and share the little details of my journey with you, but know that as you pray for me (which I know so many of you do, and for that I am eternally grateful) and for the people I get to know in this place, there is joy and grace abundantly given in response.  I can feel it settling down in my bones because of you.  What I am experiencing here, in one of the poorest places in the world, is nothing short of abundance.

Good time

I am home for a week before I head back to Nica for the rest of the summer.  And because when I'm over there my ears are full of Spanish reggatone songs I can't even begin to understand (but do genuinely love) I get a little homesick for some quality (and by quality I mean trashy) Amurrican pop music.  This one is so good that when Doogie picked me up from the airport last night I made us listen to it three times in a row.  Crank your volume and solo-DP it up! :)

la luz

Yesterday we drove in the early night down the gravel road that leads into the heart of Casa Bernabe, an orphanage where many of my favorite children in the world find a home here in Nicaragua.  There are fields that follow you along this drive, square plots of land where unknown vegetation is planted and grows up beneath the hot sun. During the day, you may be able to guess at what is growing there - plantains, young trees that will bear some sort of fruit.  But in the night, when a darkness falls, unhindered by street light, it looks more like a sea of tall grasses, vast and very quiet.  

Last night this field I pass with frequency looked as if it were sparkling with fire - hundreds of lightening bugs were hovering right at the grass line, blinking on and off like flashes of glitter in the sun.  It was a gorgeous sight: in a still blackness we could follow these lines of light all gathered in a similar space and all their own, and we could sit and watch, amazed at their volume.  

When we come here to love, we do it in small ways - we braid hair after English class, kick a soccer ball, hold a hand, make our shoulders sore and tried from piggy-back rides.  They are small things, and alone they can feel small, and the glow of them might to our eyes seem dull and incomplete.  We can grow sad that they are small, until we remember that they are love, 

and when we know that, we know that each of these things are glimpses of something bigger, 

we can know that each hand we are holding is a blinking light in a dark field, floating in a sea of glitter, illuminating a kingdom where the blackness is forgotten and you can stop and stare at the beauty, only able to think of the light.  

one reason I can't wait to have children:

so that I can teach them to dance like no one is...filming it to post on the youtubes for the whole world to see.

joy and chaos

hi, strangers.  I haven't blogged in awhile, have I?  each time I sit down and look at the computer screen to post something my mind just feels a little overwhelmed and like I have too many thoughts and not enough ways to say them.

life is strange right now.
Last weekend I got to celebrate my twin brother during his graduation from college. and although I technically graduated in december, my ceremony is this coming sunday, making the whole thing really feel official.  A few days after that, I will move from the house I live in with some of my favorite friends in the world and from the city I treasure in more ways than I can list.  I will walk away from the place where for the past four years I have been transformed and sanctified, educated and loved, challenged and stretched in really awesome, beautiful ways.  I will leave and head off into the next season, which currently is one big freaking question mark.  and that is my life.

I have no wisdom really, or even many complete thoughts on how to get through this weird transition that I and so many people my age are currently experiencing.  but, in typical fashion, as I was reading my bible this morning, I was hit by something that is true and that I have needed constant reminding of recently -

and that is joy.  joy in the middle of complete mysterious chaos.

In Ecclesiastes chapter 8 it says, "And I commend joy, for man has nothing better under the sun but to eat and drink and be joyful, for this will go with him in his toil through the days of his life that God has given him under the sun." 


I don't have a lot to say about that, other than that is pretty serious, isn't it?  To say I COMMAND joy, not suggest it or request it.  To say that we have nothing better on this earth other than joy - that is a big deal. The bible doesn't take it lightly.    


and so that is the challenge: joy. joy in excess, joy in the face of mystery, joy in the face of endings.  because there is nothing better for me under the sun.


and so I will pursue it with all I've got.  

from death to life

Tomorrow I will stand up in front of a crowd of high school students and tell them that they are loved so much that Jesus rose from the dead for them.

This is the fourth time I've gotten to share the incredible story of the resurrection at the Young Life club I'm a leader at, and each time I have found that the event becomes more and more magical to me.  And it has also felt increasingly real.  In light of everything we know to be true about the world, Jesus rising from the dead makes very little sense.  And at the same time, it allows everything else about the promises of God and of his great love for us to make the most sense in the world.

I haven't posted a poem in awhile, but today I was in a writing mood and I wrote this one thinking about my great joy for the resurrection and for the magic and glory and deep love that goes along with it.

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I have never had coffee

with or shook the hand of

someone who

will have no ending

and when I think

of all the beautiful buildings

I pass sometimes in cities

unfamiliar to me,

where I might dream of someday

making a life

for a short while,

I am reminded that they will fall,

or someone will take a cat of nine tails

and beat them into concrete dust,

splinters of wood,

and start something

new there that will also

fall eventually. 

I have considered often

how little this world

loves me

because of how little it

can stand up to dying,

and of how all these things

will make me miss them

someday,

or of how they will fool

me into a hope

that I can keep them,

and that is something

that always breaks my heart.

And so it sounds

strange to me,

the type of strange like

the colors on a patch

of wildflowers I see along

the highway, and wonder how

they exist there, and why they are

so beautiful,

to comprehend how much

it means you love me

when you didn’t end –

     and how you are like the dust

of my imagined fallen buildings

rising up again,

bearing all our stories

and footsteps

and closed doors

and quiet whispers

which stretch down each dark hallway,

and how you will hang a silent banner

across every arch

and entrance of that building

and it will say

“I love you this much.”  

letting go

In Anne Lamott's book "Grace (Eventually)", Anne describes a moment when she was trying to explain the concept of "letting go"-giving up your worries to God- to a group of 3-5 year old boys.

not the easiest crowd.

She describes it to them brilliantly though; she tells them that the process of letting go is like holding on to a bunch of pens during snack time. "What if, when we go in for our snacks, someone offers us a juice box, and I won't let go of the pens even though I am thirsty?"

I just think that's so insightful and simple - that sometimes we hold onto burdens or fears that we just don't need to keep anymore. Especially in light of the fact that we are thirsty and in need of a Savior, who can satisfy us only when we let go so we can pick up a grace that is sufficient and satisfying.

photoboth sesh with your dog at 10:30 on a monday night

#normal

a reason to love blogs

“There’s something sacred about reading a blog post on someone else’s site. It’s like visiting a friend’s house for a quick meal ’round the breakfast table. It’s personal — you’re in their space, and the environment is uniquely suited for idea exchange and uninterrupted conversation. In many ways, we should be treating our blogs like our breakfast tables. Be welcoming & gracious when you host, and kind & respectful when visiting.” – Trent Walton

(via Shiflett)

sanctuaries

Yesterday I was walking around my favorite spot in Charlottesville (TJ Parkway...there are trails up to Monticello or Carter's Mountain, views of the gorgeous VA mountains, and the promise of many puppies being taken on walks there, so it's pretty wonderful) and thinking about how it is important, to have places you can just get up and go to and feel like nothing in the world can touch you.

Whether or not it's a comfy rock on the edge of a river or the comfy corner spot on the couch in your living room, I think we should build sanctuaries for ourselves in life. We should have that place where we can go and seek God in a silent and beautiful place and strip off our days and our worries and just rest. Or where we can pray and seek and struggle off on our own, in our own little spots of wilderness where we are amazed at how beautiful the world is and how blessed we are to be a part of it.

Finding a sanctuary is a good thing. And being brave enough to go there to encounter that version of yourself that is totally void of your masks and worldly fronts - that's a good thing too.

does his new song prove that all things get better with age?

Justin Bieber - like fine wine or cheese? Or like that Thai food that was left forgotten on my fridge shelf and grew psychedelic mold? You decide.

My housemates and I are in the throes of deep philosophical discussion about his new sound. I personally find this new single "Boyfriend" to be catchy...thoughts?

Taylor Swift likes to sing about cars

exhibit A "so baby drive slow, 'til we run out of road"

and B "I was riding shot gun with my hair undone..."

and C "I watched you laughing from the passenger side"

and D "I see your face in my mind as I drive away"

and E "he's got a car and you feel like flying"

and F "you're in the car on the way to the movies"

and G "I hate that stupid old pick-up truck you never let me drive"

and H "and we drive and rive until we found a town far away..."

and I "he opens up my door and I get into his car"

and J "just a boy in a Chevy truck"

and K "there in my rearview mirror disappearing now"

and L "oh I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night"

...just in case anyone was wondering.

on direction

I think one of Jesus' favorite things to pull out of his sleeve is to give us really simple answers to really complicated questions.

For example: Thomas asks a question of Jesus in John 14 that I think is really complicated. He says, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?"

I read that today and immediately thought that Thomas must have been giving a prophecy of my current prayers, which sound a lot like, "Jesus, I don't know what you're doing or what you're going to do, and I have no idea what the next year of life will be like...so how am I supposed to do anything? How can I do anything when I don't know the way?"

Here's how Jesus responds to Thomas.

"I am the way."

To which I want to say, "really, Jesus? That's what you've got? To the big question of what to do with my life and where I should live next year and what paths I should pursue and all my cries for knowledge that I just want you to freaking give me so I don't have to feel like I'm walking around blindfolded in the dark? You don't have anything more?"

And he doesn't.

Of course, in the context of that passage there is much more happening. Because the way Jesus is headed is toward the cross, which ultimately is a very complicated place he begs us to come and die. But for the sake of what I was feeling today, and I think also for the sake of a doubting Thomas, that answer was very simple.

We are not called into knowledge. We are not called to be able to draw out a map of where we are headed with perfect precision and clarity. We are called only into the depth and length and height and breadth of the love which is Jesus Christ, who is all the road-map we need.

a poem from last week's Nica trip

Eye-level

Flying home from your country

our plane is horizontal to the moon,

which has never happened to me before

in this way, feeling eye-level,

that something would kneel down for me

which was already almighty and placed

where it belonged,

but it makes me think of my knees

pressed against the floor of your church

out in the hottest, dustiest middle of

nowhere where I looked at you,

our eyes resting along the same horizontal plane,

and told you that you meant something,

and that your life was bigger than you

had been told it could be,

being so young and so hungry all the time,

which can make someone feel small.

Your name, which sounds like "honey"

said with a laugh or marbles in your mouth,

is sticking to me, even as the moon

flees from the window of this plane

and is not almighty enough to stick

around like you will,

or that moment when you wrapped arms

around my waist, I kissed your hair,

with my eyes falling across the perfect space

to see the glue hanging from your skirt pocket

and held you, nine-years-old,

so young and so hungry

that I felt less than a speck,

and very small.

a productive night at home

you may have seen this video causing a stir among Justin Bieber fanatics (which is TOTALLY not us...I'm talking about other people)

we decided that a good use of our time would be to recreate it.

for your viewing pleasure:

I GOT MY DIPLOMA

Proving that I did in fact graduate from college, my diploma is all rolled up inside this little white tube (I forgot to take a pic with it before putting it in there. whoops. guess you'll have to take my word for it)

Somehow this makes me feel both very happy and also very much like having a panic attack.

WAHOOWA!

on wearing crowns

"Hold fast what you have, so that no one may seize your crown" - Revelation 3:11

(how awesomely beautiful is it, that even when we feel sick or broken or fragile or lowly, Jesus looks at us as someone who is already wearing a crown? Even at my ugliest, I am royally marked by a Father who loves me....and that is pretty freaking incredible)

6 songs, new & old, that are great.

currently on repeat in my life:

1) Poison & Wine - Civil Wars ("you think your dreams the same as mine")

2) Table for Two - Caedmon's Call ("Well this day's been crazy, but everything's happened right on schedule, from the rain and the cold to the drink that I spilled on my shirt")

3) Love Love Love - Of Monsters and Men ("You love love love when you know I can't...")

4) Drive By - Train ("Just a shy guy looking for a two-ply Hefty bag to hold my love")

5) We Owned the Night - Lady Antebellum ("The wine spilled on your dress and all you did was smile")

6) You've got the Love - Florence & the Machine ("Now and then it seems that life is just too much, but you've got the love I need to see me through")

IT. WORKED.

remember this soup incident? Well, I got a very nice letter in response to my complaints, along with TWO coupons. and the best news? I can buy Kid Cuisines with those pups. HOLLA!!!

(this is the face of victory)

and I blame....

you know what sucks?

When something is utterly your own fault and you can't blame anyone else. It's the worst.

here's a shout-out to some things I hate....all of which originate from the sorts of bad habits and/or stubbornness that eventually comes back around to kick you in the knees.

1) when you really want to watch Pride & Prejudice, the Kiera Knightely version, and go to the DVD box only to find it missing.....then realize you were the last one to watch it....and the last one to not put it back.

2) running late to drive somewhere far away and turning on your car to find the gas tank on empty.

3) craving a scoop of peanut butter in your banana smoothie, opening the cabinet and seeing that you left the empty peanut butter jar in there, and that's all you have. (I mean, the trash can is a whole two steps away).

4) the smell of that Italian Wedding soup you forgot to toss out 3 weeks ago.

5) Splinters (I guess you can't really blame the wood for those. although I'd like to)

6) the resulting nausea from eating that Valentine's Day brownie when you thought you weren't full enough yet (you were)

7) the resulting nightmares after thinking you are brave enough to watch a scary movie by yourself. (you're not)

8) the resulting bruises after you think your rain boots are dry enough to give you the traction to run down the stairs (they're not)

sib poem

for my twin brother, on the day after we turned 22

When we were on car trips

to Florida we would build

walls from our pillows –

great, monstrous forts

to keep our sides apart

until we’d call truce

for a movie or game,

and sit together in the quietness

similar to all that time

before time began for us,

or life began,

before we breathed it in together.

When we were around

that same age there was

a thunderstorm at night

when our parents were away,

and Nana was taking care of us.

When the power went off

and the thunder was roaring

through the foundation of our home

the three of us sat in the basement

stairwell and I could be alright

with my fear, because we were

both afraid at the same time,

in the same place.

What is more than that

is that expression I admire

that you wear so often,

from the start and even

when I saw you a few

weeks ago – that grin like you

want to breathe in the whole world,

And let it dance behind your eyes,

Or wind it up like a clock and let it

Tick and run while you take it all

In and love it down to its core.

Jesus ______ (verb)

I have prayed for a long time that I would know what love is - that I would be better in touch with the type God created and less in touch with the type we've made for ourselves in this world.

Let me tell you what I mean by that.

I was reading through my journal yesterday and found a note that I'd written saying "the name of Jesus is often followed by a verb."

Jesus blessed.

Jesus taught.

Jesus commanded.

Jesus healed.

Jesus washed the feet of the disciples.

Jesus knocked over the tables.

Jesus invited.

Jesus wept.

Jesus died.

That's it - the very definition of that little word we like to doll-up and sentimentalize and paste inside glittery red hearts - love is a verb.

Within the past week I have seen love feed 300 meals to children who have kept hunger in daily company. I have seen love pick up a mud-covered, filthy three-year old with only underwear to wear and gather her in its arms and kiss her cheek. I have seen love hold its hands out to a child jumping into a pool for the first time in his life. I have seen love sob at the sight of poverty and abandonment. I have seen love drive to the middle-of-nowhere, Nicaragua and seek out a little girl who had cried out for fuller life, and then I watched love bring her home. I have seen love dream up plans for better futures. I have seen love shower words of encouragement as often as they are needed. I have seen love send people to places they may have never imagined they might be. I have seen love draw people closer toward their own salvation.

Love is not weak. It is not a pretty idea to keep inside. It is strong and steadfast and it fights. It is almighty and active. It is powerful. It can hand out forgiveness and grace and it can make things new. It does things. It is not stagnant.

Don't settle for the type found in Hallmark stores that costs $2.99 and the time it takes to sign your name. Seek love to its richest degree, seek the type that will shake you by your shoulders and force you into action - and you will find a Healer, a Teacher, a Warrior, a Pardoner, and a Savior.

guest post: when Jesus was tempted

Dear Blog readers, I have the pleasure of introducing a friend & fellow-blogger, Adam Sylvester, who was so kind as to write the following guest-post for my blog. Enjoy! (oh and check out his blog by clicking right here!)

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Matthew 4 tells the account of when Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. There is a wonderful lesson to be learned from Jesus through the three temptations that took place.

The 1st is about satisfying the flesh: "If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread." Although that was probably appealing since He was hungry, Jesus gave a wise and spirit led response (like always) and referenced Scripture to give Himself a strong footing against the devil. At this point you don't get the sense that Jesus was very flustered.

The 2nd temptation is an identity issue: if you really think God loves you then you'll do something works-based just to make sure He does. "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down." Satan knew (and still knows) that Jesus is the Son of God but he wanted Jesus to question His identity. Jesus uses Scripture to resist the devil's lies and again doesn't seem anxious or out of sorts.

The 3rd temptation is different than the first two. "All this I will give you," he said, "if you bow down and worship me." Up to this point, Jesus had been calm and reserved but this time the devil crossed the line. Worship someone other than my Father? Give His glory to someone else? Based on Jesus' reaction I bet he could have vomited just at the idea. "AWAY FROM ME SATAN! FOR IT IS WRITTEN: 'WORSHIP THE LORD YOUR GOD, AND SERVE HIM ONLY."

I think Jesus' actions say something like: "You come after me, fine. You try to convince me I'm not loved, I can handle that too. But don't you dare suggest I would worship ANYONE BUT MY FATHER."

No wonder the next line says, "Then the devil left him".

Another verse that comes to mind is: "Flee from sexual immorality". (1 Cor. 6:18) When not to flee? When your beloved God is being mocked. And He won't be mocked.

the customer is always right

Last semester, Rachel bought an ice cream that claimed to be "bursting with chocolate chip cookie dough". To our horror, it did not live up to that expectation. Due to its shocking lack of delicious dough, Rachel wrote a complaint letter and as a result received a coupon for a free gallon of ice cream of her choice.

This is American Consumerism at its finest.

After this thrilling victory, some of our housemates got a little complaint-happy. Tonight it was my turn. See the letter below that I wrote with help from Rachel's original letter. Fingers crossed for a lifetime of free soup!

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Dear ConAgra Foods,

I am writing about my experience with your Healthy Choice Cheese Tortellini Soup. The picture on the container makes your product appear as though it is full of delicious cheese tortellini. I decided to choose the Healthy Choice brand over other brands because the product was marketed in a way that made me fully confident that it was going to be satisfying and full of tortellini. I returned home with my purchased soup and eagerly anticipated eating it during this cold winter season. However, instead of being filled with warm and delicious cheese tortellini, I was shocked and disappointed by the amount of pasta inside. I found only a small handful of tortellini in a very bland and unimpressive tomato soup. It was not at all hearty as the can led me to believe. Out of all the soups in the soup aisle, I chose Healthy Choice because of the good reputation of the brand and the promises of the picture of cheesy tortellini on the front. I am disappointed that Healthy Choice did not live up to my expectations nor the advertising claims. I hope to see a change in the future and my 9 housemates and I will all be extremely hesitant to purchase anything from Healthy Choice again.

Thank you for your time,

Emily Morgan Thompson

-----------------------

pictures I am considering including in my letter:

1) this soup left me on a roller coaster of emotion.

2) this product is nothing to write home about.

3) this product did not leave me in Soup Heaven.

gummie vitamins

My mom recently gave me a bottle of gummie vitamins for adults (the real vitamins are just really scary and big, ok?). They are delicious. They should seriously make these things less yummy because I'm afraid that one day I will overdose...they are just too tasty to stop eating.

I felt slightly ashamed for a little while about taking my daily dose of Vitamin D in gummy form. It's a bit childish isn't it? But the more I think about it, the more this seems appropriate for me.

I own several pairs of matching pajamas. I think baby animals are the greatest things in the world. Wizards of Waverly Place is quality television in my mind. I laugh uncontrollably at all types of potty-humor. I seriously contemplated bringing back the pigtail look the other day as I was brushing my hair.

Basically, I am a seven-year-old girl.

I was thinking today of how we live in this world where we are told to grow up quickly, to act and to look confident and mature, to know what we want, to go after it full steam, and to listen to all our worries and fears. And in all of that, our childishness is lost. We start caring more about being a mature adult than being joyful and excited about all the details of living - which is something kids could teach us to do a bit more of.

so you know what? I'm going to take my two strawberry-shapped vitamin gummies today & not care if that makes me seem silly and immature.

There are worse things than refusing to grow up.

passage on poetry & memory

"A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking...as if the pleasure were one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing. [No one can say it] better than I could say it in a poem. What you call remembering is the last part of the pleasure, [as is] the last part of a poem. When you and I met, the meeting was over very shortly, it was nothing. Now it is growing something as we remember it. But still we know very little about it. What it will be when I remember it as I lie down to die, what it makes in me all my days till then - that is the real meeting. The other is only the beginning of it. You say you have poets in your world. Do they not teach you this?"

-C.S. Lewis; Out of the Silent Planet

silence

My mom told me once that she thinks the mark of real love is when you just want to be in the same room as someone else, even if you're not talking. She said that you know you love that person when you just feel grateful that they exist, and you get happiness from sitting with them in total silence. Their presence gives you joy enough.

Silence, if you think about it that way, is a pretty good expression of love.

Because when we talk, it often means we want something. Or we want to give that person something by way of communication. And when we listen, we're often hoping we hear the right words. Or we're trying to get at some meaning or explanation or truth.

But when we're quiet, it isn't about getting or giving anything at all.

Which is why today, when I picked up my journal to write and tell God all about the things I was thinking and wanting and hoping to learn, instead I just closed the cover, sat down by the fire and said Jesus, I love you and I'm grateful you exist.

And then I didn't say anything else at all.

not yet

I stood in the middle of a street in downtown Atlanta this New Year's Eve and watched fireworks explode right after the stroke of midnight. In all the noise and smoke and sound I was thinking of several things - that I was entering 2012 as a woman more aware of God's mercy and love than the year before, that my favorite part about fireworks is that anticipation of not knowing if the show is over or if another burst of color will ignite over your head, and that I had truly no idea what the coming year is going to look like in my life.

And in all those thoughts marching around in my head and all those people cheering and hugging and welcoming in the new year together, I also thought about a verse that has comforted me tremendously through the past few months.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and Sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it, but one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead," -Philippians 3: 12-13

I am a person hard-wired for reflection and for wanting to spend time processing through the past. But this often means that I get stuck there, and instead of anticipating future joys, I find myself rehashing all my old pains and failures.

But this New Year's, with those words of Paul humming through me, I found myself thinking about the truth. And it is that Jesus died, and that the cross tramples every past transgression or hurt. They are buried in the dirt, and it is not my job to dig them up and carry them around. My job is to acknowledge that they were, that they are not anymore, and that God has both used and forgotten them in my life in order that I may enjoy the freedom of being loved by Him.

Because I do not yet, as Paul was saying to the church in Philippi, grasp the full extent of who Jesus is and of how much love was displayed for me when he came to earth and died. There is still work to be done in me.

This New Year's, I am deciding to be grateful for the things the Lord has already done in me, but to also remember that there is so much more coming. My story is not completed. And so it would be silly, wouldn't it? To think mournfully at all about the past, when Jesus is thinking about my future, and is taking care of it? It would be silly, to rest in fear or apprehension or regret, when Jesus is working to reveal his glory in my life, of which I have not yet taken hold of in full. Someday, but not yet.