unedited journal entry, october 11

“so Spirit blow

                                                on

                                                                                   through

Spirit move

                                                              we’re ready for You”

these lyrics keep pedaling through my head, waves that wash against the shore of my brain.

all i know for sure is that i just need more of His Presence. i need to surrender more and more of my flesh and let the Spirit take more and more control. i feel like the majority of my “Christian” life i’ve really missed the boat. there’s a struggle so real in my chest, in my stomach, over my skin, that’s between my fleshly desires

[EAT. BUY. CONSUME. SEE. BE LAZY. SLEEP.]

and the desires of the Spirit restlessly rippling underneath.

[FAST. PRODUCE. RAISE MY VOICE. DANCE. SET FREE.]

i want to obey the Spirit and live against the current but it’s HARD. it’s hard because i’ve become accustomed to living in- and succumbing to- my flesh. my flesh wants to conform with what is comfortable.

but i want more. i know- i am convinced- that God designed me for more than this. do you feel that too?

He wants me to be doing, well, i would say “more than i’m doing now”, but i think that in this present moment, He wants me to be obedient to what He’s already asked me to do.

i’m reading this book by Marco Brunet that talks about intimacy with God and in one of the last chapters, it touches on the fact that perhaps God is tired of revealing His glory to those who break so easily when His glory fills them. people who lack character, those who aren’t in it for the long run, or people who are only are sustained by Him when everything’s going ideally... because when they’re brought into the desert, the pressure gets to them and they crack and break and fall apart. and this chapter closes with how we so desperately need our own personal process of the desert, that breaking of ourselves, so that what God has placed inside of us can take root and explode out, so we are capable of capturing His glory.

as i read that// the words sunk straight into my heart like a stone in still water. GOD HOW I NEED YOU, HOW I WANT TO BE BROKEN my spirit heaves. my flesh cunningly talks back you dont know what you’re asking for, it’s gonna be really painful, don’t go crazy keti stay comfortable, stay in what you’ve always known.

but i can’t.

in 2013 i took a missions trip to a rural state in Mexico, and there the Holy Spirit whispered to me this is it- there’s no going back now.

i can’t go back.

i can’t pretend like i haven’t witnessed His astounding glory and grace this year -- each and every one of my twenty-three years.

i am responsible for what i have seen.

i am responsible for what i have heard.

i am responsible for what i have experienced.

and so are you.

be it just a sliver that which we have seen, heard, and experienced, i know that in courageous faithful obedience there is much power.

and i’m not gonna shut up about it.

rainy heart// (thoughts from may/june 2016)

the sweet smell of rain fills the air and all i can hear are the heavy drops trying to break through the hard plastic roof overhead. i’m eating frozen mango and reflecting on a whole library of events that have unfolded in this past month.

but first i just want to say, i love the way things looks so fresh and cleansed after a rain storm comes through. colors are so much more alive and vibrant.

maybe that’s what we need to come alive - a real good, strong rainstorm that strips us of all the dust and dirt we’ve collected. as the last drops fall, we’re left renewed + awake + vulnerable. we start to feel the cool air with a certain clarity. the sun pierces straight through to our soft layers that rest just beneath our tough exterior. our roots are enriched and strengthened.

i want to write a little bit about my heart, or rather, the perspective i hold over my heart. for awhile now, it’s been hard for me to feel strong emotions, other than anger or frustration. love, joy, excitedness, or even missing someone aren’t feelings i experience within myself frequently. so, for a good piece of this year and the year previous, i’ve been asking God to restore my feelings, restore my heart, put in me a heart of flesh instead of one made of stone. and He has been responding.

it happened the other day. i don’t even remember where i was or what i was doing, but i do remember all of a sudden recalling an image of the scar that runs down my father’s chest- white and straight, like fierce lightning.

when i was only four years old, he had heart surgery to replace a faulty valve in his human heart, and at that age i didn’t really grasp the magnitude of the possible negative implications. 

he came out just fine, but with a very visible scar that would always remind him of that operation.

so when that image came to mind, i said to God (being hyper-sensitive to issues of the heart), “okay well, I’m guessing that’s what You want to do to me, huh? how’re You thinking of doing that?” and the answer that came back from Him made everything in me still:

“you’re going to have to go under.”

go under.

lose control.

be knocked out completely.

let the anesthetic take control.

at first i felt genuinely terrified. my mind start screaming sarcastically “i’m sorry, go under and have no idea what’s happening and not be able to wake until someone else lifts me out of the anesthesia??? nothing could possibly go wrong there...”

//sidenote: i’m much more human than I ought to be and I get much too anxious when I don’t have any control #TrustIssues.//

but after thinking through the idea and considering its currents, i’ve been finding that i want to go under, to fall deep into His Presence and not only let Him operate on and transform me there but to REMAIN there… under the anesthetic of His Presence: the only One who can sustain me, accept me for who i am, love me unconditionally and never walk out on me.

God has been so incredibly good + faithful to me, speaking sweet slices of love to me through all that surrounds me. He says “you say you haven’t seen Me face to face but I keep sending you love notes through those who surround you. those details, those gifts, those words are from Me.”

i know i’ve been missing out on so much of His incredibleness but i want to experience Him so deeply and i know the key to that is spending quality time with Him- in His Presence.

Papá, with all that i am, with all the gifts and talents You’ve given me, with all the dreams deep in my heart that are just seeds right now, with all of my thoughts, will all of my feelings, with all of my words actions footsteps touches, everything that i see, my attitudes, let me REFLECT YOU let me SERVE YOU let me HONOR YOU, great and mighty God!!

underwater

it was a sticky Saturday afternoon, and the four of us were drifting through an abandoned, artsy neighborhood. the outer walls that towered along the broken sidewalk were draped with colorful murals, and i stepped slowly letting my fingers brush over their texture. the faint sound of running water reached my ears and within a few more steps we stumbled upon a little park neatly tucked into the street’s curve. while the others took a seat, i skipped up to the fountain i had heard moments earlier, sinking my fingers into the cool water and bringing the drops up to my neck.

and that’s when i saw her.

her legs were affixed to a metal pipe two inches underwater, her wings slowdancing back and forth to the rhythm of the water’s movement. i couldn’t tell if she was alive but i knew she wasn't supposed to be there. my fingers slid under the cool water once again, tickling the butterfly's legs so she would climb up onto them. she hesitated, remaining fastened to the pipe, but with a little bit of coaxing she carefully climbed up onto my finger and i lifted her into oxygen.

the trees leaning over me were casting much-needed shadows, but i knew i needed to find sun for her to soak in and dry her wings before she did anything else. so i placed her on a sun-drenched leaf, and with nothing else left for me to do, the four of us placed the park at our backs, wandering down another street.


i didn’t really understand what God wanted to speak to me through that two-minute encounter until the other night as i was looking up at the stars in the hallway outside of my dorm.

“that butterfly is just like you, babe. you are clinging so tightly to the wrong thing. you weren’t made to be underwater - you were made to fly. let me pull you up and out into My world.”

listen to me. you were not made to remain motionless, trapped underwater. you were made to fly. God is not an anchor that keeps you still in one place, rooted in fear; He is the oxygen that courses through the air, the unpredictable gust of wind that impulses you to experience new things and fly to breath-stealing heights.


i don’t know how that butterfly wound up underwater or why it was clutching so desperately to that pipe, but i’m guessing that it flew too close to the fountain and fell in, began to struggle, and out of panic anchored itself onto something it thought was sturdy. once the feeling of panic lessened, it realized the weight of the water around it was heavier than expected, so it quit struggling and just decided to stay there.

sometimes we misinterpret an anchor for security, when truly the security suffocates instead of bringing life. 

we know it’s not ideal, but as we grow accustomed to the bearing the heaviness of lies and worries we no longer see a way out and decide to conform with where we find ourselves. 

when God pulls you out from underwater- or rather, when you let Him pull you out- it doesn’t mean that you’re immediately ready to start flying. sometimes you need to let Him take you through that process of sitting in His presence, absorbing His truth and letting Him strip away the lies and deception that you’ve let soak into you for so long.

“sit in My presence,” He says to me. “you were created to fly, but first you need to sit in My presence.”

this is where i’m at right now. sitting in His presence and being reminded of my true identity. 

whispers of south sudan

never in my wildest dreams would i have imagined that one day i would travel overseas to see South Sudan. but last April, that’s just what i did. a year before, in 2014, God had begun whispering into my heart through all sorts of mediums: news, magazines, the ministry, even my dreams. but even three, four months before we left Mexican ground, i still wasn’t sure it was going to happen. our lives could be at risk due to the constant, and increasing, civil/tribal warring. yet as the date came closer, God was opening our vision little by little, showing us that indeed He was leading us straight on to South Sudan.

i was not prepared for that trip. sure, my suitcases were ready, but i kept having reccuring dreams that i was at the airport ready to board when i realized i had forgotten something, and could no longer go. our team of four mission-minded souls began to get together and pray several mornings of the weeks leading up to our departure.

so finally, after nine months of uncertainty over whether i could go due to changing dates or changing safety status, i was embarking on a trip to a country that God had started whispering into my heart a year previous. i could hardly believe it. the four of us quietly left Mexico City at 10:00 am, to arrive in the beautiful, warring African country of South Sudan 45 hours later. 

the flights were long and difficult (at times), but i won’t forget my happiness when we finally stepped out onto the African earth. we’d waited so long for this. we’d spent so much for this. we’d prayed for this. leaving the airplane behind me, the African wind swept over me, welcoming me to another world, embracing my heart and desire and expectancy for all that this trip would hold.

our days there were slow and sweet and rich. we spent time with both the children and the missionary staff, learning a little bit about their stories and what made their hearts beat. it was so different than from when I first visited to Mexico. in South Sudan, almost everyone speaks Arabic, and I was completely lost between all the diverse dialects. luckily, English is becoming more prevalent and we were able to converse with many of the children and staff. 

each child at the two orphanages we visited had only three outfits, the majority of them already ripped and coming apart at the seams. but despite their lack of material things and all the tragedies they had lived through, these children at the orphanage had so much joy. they were so inexplicably happy and so many were eager to learn new things, excited to meet and play with new visitors and share with them and learn from them. they were so different from the outside children in the villages, and the obvious reason was God.

Sunday, one of the most quiet yet beautiful girls

one of the coolest parts of being there was that we had multiple opportunities to share devotionals and testimonies with the children, and we really tried to take advantage of those times. although sometimes stretching with the language and culture barrier, God spoke to us and gave us specific stories and words to share with them each day. i was amazed at how He used us during those times to bring words of hope to these kids living in such a broken country. 

there was one day when i had no idea what to share with them. right before we began walking down the dirt road to the school, God put song lyrics on my mind “Your love casts out all fear”, and just like that,  a devotional began to download in my mind that spoke against being afraid and truly trusting in Him for the victory. the girl with whom i was going to give the devotional told me that God was telling her to share about not being afraid as well. it was something so simple but yet so awesome that God spoke to us about the same topic but in different ways, and as we shared with the kids, i knew God was at work in their hearts.

we spent only one Sunday at the orphanage, and i was amazed that their worship team was made up of pure children. several were playing drums, others dancing and singing. it was so simplistic, stripped raw of electric guitar and complex drumsets, but yet so vibrant and so joyful. God sometimes uses those we don’t see as very capable; He uses them because He sees a willing heart and a readiness to be instruments for Him.

i was impacted by so many things during that trip, and i wish i could share them here. but i think the most important thing that happened to me from the trip to South Sudan was what happened to me when i returned. i actually thought that nothing had happened, that South Sudan hadn’t changed me at all and my life was just gonna be the same. but I quickly realized something. indeed, South Sudan hadn’t changed me. God changed me while i was in South Sudan. i was different. i had more confidence in myself and was beginning to trust God more and pray to Him more. 

i just had this overall sense of being awakened.

it’s like i was underwater before, and all of a sudden someone started pushing me toward the surface. 

in a matter of no time my neck was above the waterline, choking on oxygen I’d never before tasted. my eyes are slowly opening, 

changing aperture and trying to focus on the blurry moving landscape surrounding me.

i thank God for such an incredible opportunity to see life through a sharper lens, putting into perspective the way i live and love for Him. if there’s one thing i’ve learned, its this: it’s not so much travelling to faraway place so that place and experience can change you, but moreso having a heart that is willing to open and be vulnerable so that God is able to come in and awaken you to the life He’s calling you to live.

little monkey

Patricio.

it's been one whole entire year since your sudden arrival into my life; 365 days since my first evening spent with you. i still remember so clearly: it was seven thirty, and we sat down to play with a box of cards in the office, you on my lap, trying so hard to get the cards to fit into the box just right, me resisting the urge to help you, and instead reading the numbers on the cards in English. the clock’s hands pulled closer to 8:00 pm and you were starting to get a little crabby and i didn't realize it was probably past your bedtime. i was so unfamiliar with the world of little ones.

i must be honest, i wasn't really sure i wanted the job of taking care of you. it was kindof uncomfortable and altogether unexpected, having to step into the role of being one of three mama’s. i was nervous and unsure and utterly inexperienced, you truly my first attempt at mothering. i mean, it's one thing to live with teenage girls and have the label of "house mom" slapped on you (which really is more like big sister/mentor), but it's something else entirely to step into the role of caring for a two year old at the age of 22. i certainly wasn't ready, despite the whole female world around me getting married/having kids straight out of highschool.

Patricio, i know you were never truly mine- you were just placed under my direct care for a beautiful short nine months- but to me you'll always be my little monkey. you made me grow in ways no one else could have. you provoked feelings in me that i’d thought were too deep for me, too out-of-reach for my hard heart to feel. with you i began to dream of (and partially live) what life would be like as a mommy: waking up with you in the middle of the night when you were crying or sick, cleaning up poopy diapers (and clothes and beds), coaxing you into the shower when you were screaming in terror from past memories, letting your sweaty little body sleep on mine on the bus or in church, wiping away your vomit from your clothes and mine... slowly but surely i began to spiral incredibly in love with you. and not only that, but i started to understand the depth of my parents' sacrifices for me. i started to scratch the surface of comprehending the breadth of Gods love for His children. God taught me so many things in that season with you, little one.

best of all, He taught me how to love more intensely- He taught me to feel again.

Patricio, how in the world can i sum up how much you mean to me? i love who you are... your laugh, the way you ask for forgiveness, your compassion, how you’re so affectionate, how your eyes start to flutter close when you're on the brink of falling asleep, the way you run and love to play soccer, how you always want to involve others in what you're doing, how the drops of water cling inbetween your eyelashes when you’re in the shower, your little teeth, your dry crocodile tummy skin, the special way you play with your brother, when i ask you to do something and you respond with "okay", how intrigued you are by bugs and spiders but hate getting close to them, how your eyes spark when you get excited, the way you say my name.

all of you, all of the good and all of the not so good... it’s all just so deeply beautiful.

i'm not your main caretaker anymore, but i want you to know that you'll always have me here rooting for you, loving you, believing in you. last March you tipped my world upside down and shook it like no one else ever has before. you made my soul swell with love and my heart ache for my little ones to come yet. it doesn't matter how crummy my day has been, or if i’m in a bad mood... whenever i get to spend even a sliver of time with you, all else melts away and i begin to remember why i’ve turned my life over to Papá Dios.

i am so blessed to do life with you, sweetheart. you are going to be an incredible world changer.

and thank you Jesus, for this blessing and season of growth that i altogether didn't deserve.

the feeding of the five thousand

late one Tuesday night, a sliver of Scripture slipped under my skin like a splinter.

matthew 14:15-21

despite this being one of the first stories we are taught in Sunday school, i’d never truly broken it down and understood it piece by piece. by pure grace, God tugged at the veil that’s so often covering my eyes, and this Scripture was able to sink deeper into me.

i tried jumping into the next chapter, but i kept circling back to that short seven-verse paragraph. it was hard enough to get past verse 19.

so here’s the breakdown:

-there’s a ridiculous amount of people (roughly five thousand, actually) spread out over a hillside, listening to Jesus preach.

-it's getting late, and instead of sending them into town to eat (where there was an abundance of food), Jesus says they should stay on the hillside (where there was nearly nothing to eat).

-the disciples have enough food for perhaps five (if they’re being generous) of the five thousand people.

-Jesus sees it and says “no worries, bring it to me.”

-once it’s in His hands, Jesus blesses it, communicating directly with God and thanking him for the little there is.

-Jesus then gives it back to the disciples.

-the disciples then give it out to the five thousand.

the order of events here is crucial to the impact and “success” (dare i use that word) of the end result. perhaps i’m repeating myself, but let me dive in a little deeper and tell the story the way i understood it that Tuesday night.

-the first thing we see is the juxtaposition of such an immense crowd and such a glaring lack of resources.

-the second thing we note is Jesus’ faith, trust, and beyond-the-moment eyesight, believing their needs would be met.

-the third thing that happens is the disciples obeying Jesus’ command and bringing what little they have to Him. they don’t try to do anything themselves except for quite literally place it in the hands and care of Christ, entrusting the little they had to Him.

-the fourth thing that happens is Jesus blessing the little that the disciples gave over to Him, thanking God for it.

-the fifth thing that occurs is Jesus placing it back into the disciples hands, which is done ONLY ONCE what was needed to be done has been done. that’s when it was given back to them. it was imperative that they did not take it back too early.

-the sixth and last thing that happens here is action. Jesus hands the bread and fish back to the disciples so that they would bless others with it, and not just keep it for themselves to eat. He miraculously multiplies what little they had so that multitudes can be fed.

the one thing that most jumped out at me, and probably because it’s the stage i currently find myself in (in various aspects of my life), is when the disciples bring it to Him and place it in His hands. that must have been so difficult! i’m sure at least one of the disciple’s mentalities was “um, yeah right Jesus. what difference will that make? i’m better of holding on to it and eating it myself.”

and so often we fall victim to that mentality ourselves: balling our fists and clutching our breadcrumbs way too tightly, instead of opening up our palms and letting them fall into the hands of the Creator- saving present scraps instead of sacrificing for a future feast.

bring it to me He asks confidently. give me everything, be it much or little, and i will bless it and feed multitudes.

are you ready to give it all up? do you believe that your present sacrifice will in no way compare to the future harvest?

friends, we must quit clutching what little we have to our chests (as if it was worth anything without God!). we must stop seeing things from such a fleshly perspective. we must reject the mentality that it is better for only us to benefit instead of surrendering what we have in faith that God will do great things with our limited resources.

bring it to Him. 
place all of it into His hands; save not a sliver for yourself, and be amazed at the incredible beauty He will bring from it.

My timing is perfect

“My timing is perfect.”

God keeps repeating that to me, and each time I hear it, i begin to believe it on a deeper level.

the first day of December, a new family of four moved into our room: Lupita, 4; Lili, 3; Javier, 2; and Mateo, 1. with their arrival, two other house moms moved into our dorm as well, taking on the responsibility of being the main caretakers for this family unit as well as for Patricio.

i admit, it was a bit of a drastic change. the dorm dynamic shifted dramatically and if I’m honest, rattled me a bit. i was still a house mom, only with less responsibilities and authority. although it took a little while to get accustomed to,  I’ve been trying to be intentional with the small slots of time I do spend with these five little ones.

and there’s a certain little one in particular that’s been teaching me a lot as of late.

Lupita. the oldest. a little light that radiates everything you’d imagine a four year old girl would- she lives in a world of princesses and princes, would exchange leggings and a flowery blouse for a long poofy dress any day, often puts on pretend makeup, and likes playing mother to the four younger children.

when I spend time with Lupita, i find myself telling her many of the things i wrote in a previous post (letters to my future daughters). and you know what’s the best? hearing the words i speak to her repeated back upon my ears. example: one morning, my friend Liz took her and Patricio to the bathroom to wash their face, and as they entered, Patricio playfully pushed Lupita in the chest. the next words out of Lupita’s mouth surprised both me & Liz: “Patricio, this is my body. it’s a gift that God gave me. don’t touch it. you have a body too, that Papa God gave you! you have to take care of it.” i’m not kidding when i tell you i had to blink back hot tears upon hearing her words.

the way that children believe and behave never fails to amaze me. it’s so much more pure and without pretenses. there are times when I find myself in Lupita’s position but I don’t open my mouth to defend myself because I don’t want to offend the other person. but Lupita spoke without accusing; she was convinced of her words, but without bringing shame, gently correcting. this small moment in the bathroom is such a strong reminder that we are children of the King, and not only that, we need to show others that they are called to be children of the King as well.

little Lupita is such an amazing, giggly, helpful, willing, friendly, intelligent little princess. her dark brown eyes are opening and she is starting to believe these truths more and more each day, but there are other days when she finds herself stuck and struggling in the suction-cup quicksand of her past. there are moments when she says “i am ugly” or “Papa God isn’t really my dad” or “you don’t love me”, and we are working on that. not necessarily by convincing her of our beliefs, but of showing her the Truth.

it makes me think, how it must crush Papa God when we express that what He’s created so carefully with His hands is ugly. when don’t obey His commands or submit to His voice and essentially show Him He isn’t really our Father. when we kick and scream and say “You must not love me, because if you did I wouldn’t be struggling with this!!!”

why is it so hard to believe that we’re beautiful? that we have royal callings? that what we do is important? that God loves us deeper than we can imagine? i think it’s because as we grow up, we start to compare, we start to let our doubts take over, we start to question our identity. we start to see the world through dirty lenses. and it’s okay if we struggle through these things, but the point is not letting them take up permanent residence within us. the point is that, sooner than later, we remember and are reminded of the real Truth. the changes that we suddenly find thrust upon us, despite being difficult to deal with, will be for our growth and our good, and we must rest in the fact that, although we struggle, God is in control, and His timing is perfect.