Jesus and the Journey

  I wonder how the disciples were feeling on this day thousands of years ago. Their teacher, confidant, closet friend, the one they left everything for, had just died the most brutal death imaginable. I cannot fathom the weightiness of today. On a seemingly silent Saturday.  I imagine they felt fear. Fear that they would be next, that if they did not hide, the Romans would do the same to them as they had to Jesus. I am sure that they were terrified. Flinching at the sound of every passing movement. Wondering if they would be found or killed. Probably too afraid to light a single light in the room. Sitting in the quiet stillness. Fear leaving them frozen in place.  I imagine they were also disappointed, confused, angry, utterly sad, and at a loss for words. This had been the man they thought would save them. Who would come in and overthrow the Romans, so that the Jews would be free from their reign. Now, he was dead. The one they had shared countless meals with, walked hundreds of miles

  No one loves to be humbled, if we are being honest. I have put off writing this post because I hate to admit when I've missed a God moment in my life. But I confess, I did.  A month or so ago, I was on the hunt for a new TV stand for my apartment. I walked into the thrift store and it was like the lights fell perfectly on a beautiful credenza, looking for love and a new home. Score! Just what I was wanting. And truly, it didn't need much work. I was so excited, I left to consult with my fiance, with full intent of coming back to rescue that beauty.  But, we had a counseling appointment to go to. I spent the drive telling him how beautiful it was, how perfectly I thought it would fit in our soon-to-be home. He said we could empty out the car after our appointment and go pick it up, which only built up my excitement!  We got home, emptied the back of my car, and drove to the store. I nearly sprinted to the back, dragging him along by the hand. Low and behold, as we inched close

  When I was a little girl helping my dad on the farm, days after it rained were always not my favorite. Don't get me wrong, I love a good rainstorm, and Lord knows we need it right now in the Midwest. (Pray for rain, pray for the farmers today)  But it was always so hard for me to walk in the thick mud after it rained. I was slipping and sliding and trying to keep from falling down in the mess. I would find myself knee deep in what felt like concrete sticking to my boots (and sometimes my legs - yuck!) It would take all my strength to put one foot in front of the other. It was just so hard to move. And if the cows planned to run out of the gate while my back was turned, I stood no chance in getting there in time 😂 The mud on my boots could get so heavy. My legs would be so tired after getting done with the chores, and those were just the normal tasks we would do day in and day out. They seemed much more daunting when wading through what felt like wet cement.  Sometimes life gets

  One of the greatest analogies for life, I learned drawing with my counselor. I came into a session, depleted, trying to be all things to all people and falling short once again. I was exhausted, discouraged, and left questioning what to do now.  I told her my life feels like a garden. I till the soil, plant the seeds, water, fertilize, and watch, as beautiful flowers and hearty produce grow before my eyes. I nurture my garden and try my best to care for it with consistency and compassion. I pull weeds as necessary, because they seem to come up no matter how hard I try (any gardeners out there can testify to that!)  But in that moment, as I explained this to my counselor, I began to mention people who were coming into my garden, telling me what I should and shouldn't plant, how I should be taking care of my plants, and some even coming and planting whatever they deemed fit. They were leaving things uprooted, dirt heaped on the little stone walkways I had placed beside my garden. 

  If you know me at all, you know that I love to be barefoot. Some people find it weird or off-putting, but there's something about the connectedness that I feel to my surroundings when I am experiencing it all - even with my feet. Plus, who likes the confining feelings of socks and shoes? (I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but BARE with me ;) That was a completely accidental play on words, but it fits!  When I was growing up, my feet were a big source of insecurity for me. There were those who made fun of me for having such big feet. They would call me names or comment on their size (when in all honesty, they are completely proportionate with the rest of my body and if they were any smaller, they would make fun of them too). I have since started to realize that there are people in every season of life, that find enjoyment in making others feel small or less than. I confess I have been that person before, and I'm sure you have too. But, that is a story for another day. In high s

  I've been back in the States for nearly three weeks now. It is crazy how the time has flown. If I am being honest, it already feels like life in the Czech is a distant memory. Coming back here has brought with it lots of different emotions to process - and placed me in positions I never imagined coming home to. But, there will always be things in life that we don't see coming. I am learning with each passing day that I am less and less in control of my life than I would ever let myself believe. Yet, that isn't a bad thing. Because the less in control I have, the more control God has.  I wanted to speak of the faithfulness of God in my return home.  The attack on Ukraine happened on a Thursday. I had awoken to the tragic news, but felt like there was nothing in the moment that I could do but pray and go about my day as normally as possible. When I was at work that night, I was receiving calls from others in the States or friends in the Czech, asking about my safety, talkin