who made it all.

When people talk about near-death experiences, I’m always like “wow, that’s really crazy” and I don’t really think about it afterwards. I don’t really take them seriously when they say “God saved me.” It’s probably cause I didn’t have a near-death experience until this past week, when I was surfing at Pacific City in Oregon. I’m not the best surfer in the world. I do not “shred”. It’s a big deal if I stand up and stay standing for more than 8 seconds. But I love surfing, the pull of the ocean is wild and magical. And I want to be a part of it. So I never ever pass up an opportunity to go.

Matt Randall (my boss and friend) and I woke up at 4am on Saturday to drive the 6 hours to the coastline where our friends were already waiting. We struggled into our wetsuits, grabbed boards and made a break for the water. I paddled out by myself, caught a couple, STOOD UP!!, and fell down a few times. It was so perfect.  

Then came a lull in the surf, and Lorren Libby, Matt Randall, Jordan Harder and Shawn Wilkens plus little tiny me paddled out. Then came the waves- HUGE ONES. And we went up & over them like a slow roller coaster. The water was freezing and I was glove-less. I watched the guys disappear over the hills of water and I thought “How am I supposed to get back to shore??” because I knew I was way too inexperienced to actually surf back in. I thought maybe I could get myself placed perfectly enough to slide into the white water of a wave break.

But it took me out, hard, before I could catch my breath. The water was ripping me to shreds like I was tumbling in a clothes dryer. All I could think about was my board coming back to smack me in the head and knock me out or a fin slicing my face. It’s hard to figure out how much time you’re under water, because it feels like an eternity. I popped up and couldn't feel the sandy bottom with my feet- I’d swallowed so much salt water I could hardly breathe.

I had just enough time to scream “Maaaattt!!!!” knowing he couldn't hear me before another wave crashed over the top of my head. In the middle of it, I thought “I can’t hold my breath anymore, I'm exhausted…oh my goodness, am I going to drown out here?” Millions of seconds seemed to race by me, while I tried to fight against the water. But again, I came to the surface with another wave coming at me.

I looked at it hopelessly, with the wind knocked out of my lungs, and whispered “Jesus, please do something.”

It took me out just as hard as the last two and pushed me far enough up the shore that I could stand, but it was difficult to walk. My feet stuck in the sand and my eyes were cloudy from the salt. My lungs could not get enough air and my head was pounding. I dragged my board up and lay down on the beach.

What if I hadn’t been able to hold my breath any longer? How could anyone have known I was out there? Or could have swam in and pulled in me out in those monster waves? I don't want to think about it!

So yeah, it is pretty crazy. God and His life-saving business.

accounting is hard.

I drove home today so I could sit in my own kitchen and work on my accounting homework, which I have to take for my last-minute Business Minor & which is also about as fun as hitting your head repeatedly against a brick wall. My parents have been cleaning out our garage and finding all kinds of good stuff- like old journals, pictures and letters from their college days. And while flipping through her poetry journal (how beautiful is she! A poetry journal!) from years gone past, my mom found these appropriate lines:

Never ask of money spent

Where the spender thinks it went

Nobody was ever meant

To remember or invent

What he did with every cent.

-The Hardship of Accounting
 by Robert Frost

The time capsule in our living room

Mom standing on the top of the wall around the girl's dorm at WWU

Baby Bernie!

solid ground.

You were cold as the blood through your bones
And the light which led us from our chosen homes
Well I was lost

And now I sleep
Sleep the hours that I can't weep
When all I knew was steeped in blackened holes
I was lost

Keep the earth below my feet
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak
Let me learn from where I have been
Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn
Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn

And I was still
I was under your spell
When I was told by Jesus all was well
So all must be well

Just give me time
You know your desires and mine
Wrap my flesh in ivy and in twine
For I must be well

Keep the earth below my feet
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak
Let me learn from where I have been
Well keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn
Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn


-Mumford. Below My Feet.

what ships are made for.

The Moroccan border

This is perhaps the most productive week I've ever lived. Everything is officially in my apartment, along with my new roommates. I have been awake at 5:30am every day, and not going to sleep until midnight (that's not healthy, I know). We've had our first massive dinner, overflowing the place with people and the noise that comes along with them. The fundraiser at the radio station ended, and I put in 30+ hours in the last 3 days. This year, I'll be working three jobs (the radio station, the student association ministry assistant, and President of the Amnesty International club)- doing triple duty and overtime along with a full load. Plus, I'm so new at everything. Like a baby. That's what I am.

WHAT A RUSH!

You'd think I'd be losing it, but it all feels alright. A familiar funky anxiety came over me this week. But it wasn't the death-grip on my heart that anxiety usually feels like. It was the kind of excitement that came over me before I left for Spain a couple years ago- 

The feeling of stepping out into the blatant unknown and being ready for a whole lot of learning, loneliness, fear, happiness, joy, growth, and adventure. Here's a quote that could sum all this up pretty well: "A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are made for."

I was sitting in the studio moving some audio files around last night and a song called "The Redeemer" by Sanctus Real popped on the log right as horrid videos of the rioting and protesting in Libya came on the news. And as it went on (it has beautiful lyrics), I felt hot tears in my eyes watching the TV, so I turned the song up in my headphones.

All that goes on this this world- it's heartbreaking. & I so badly want to still believe in God's offer of new life.

If you listen to the song, you'll understand. But for now, here's a video of the band members sharing their stories of redemption. Enjoy.

essentials.

You know how when you go backpacking, you're supposed to pack lightly and efficiently with nothing that isn't essential?

I don't always do that well. Late last night, I officially moved out of my parent's house (again) and put everything I own in the back of the truck (minus a box of clothes & the hair dryer, which I forgot). It's so much more than I need, more than just the essentials. And it's funny that this tradition has been repeated since I was 16 and still every single time, my mom is on the verge of tears when we say goodbye and I immediately start tearing up the moment I leave the driveway. It was like leaving on a long backpacking trip with the kitchen sink and a bike strapped to my pack.

And there was a lot on my mind while I flip flopped around on my mattress on the floor in my apartment (I've upgraded to mattress-a la-floor from the couch in Kate's house): organization, schedules, classes, money, relationships, new jobs, what's happening in Libya, prayer...so I didn't actually sleep well last night because I was making a mental calendar, filling in the spaces with academics, work, more work, and Amnesty club and "climb night", "Yoga morning." and when I'll shower & eat. This one specific phrase kept flashing through my brain: "it's not forever."

get it guuuuurl!

runaways.

My friend Amy is someone I feel so known by. I haven't actually known her for long, but we share an intertwined story- a history- and a passion for the color yellow, adventure, feather earrings, and talking things out. She has a heart that searches relentlessly for God's. 

She spoke for church one morning at camp and what she said totally blew me away. One of her campers had asked her the night before something like "If God knows who and who isn't going to Heaven, why would He keep trying with the people who aren't? What's the point?" Amy replied that she imagined it as this situation: if you had a puppy and that puppy ran into the highway and you knew it was going to get hit by a car because you could see it speeding down the road, would you not be screaming at the top of your lungs, going as far as to run out into the road yourself, in order to tell your puppy to stop and come back? Would you not do that for something you love? SomeONE you love? Would you not be extremely desperate to keep trying to save the thing you love even though you could see the inevitable coming straight for them?

Free choice. And with someone like Jesus standing in front of you, why is it still so hard to run towards His voice?