The Camp

Our group drove in a single vehicle, carefully maneuvering the narrow streets. The slush-like snow coated the landscape, giving a dreary appearance and making driving a challenge. I'd volunteered to accompany a humanitarian group to a refugee camp in Eastern Europe to learn what was happening in this part of the world and how I could help, and honestly I had no idea what to expect. I wondered what I was getting into and thought about the apparent futility of human effort. Millions of Syrians were fleeing their homes with no set destination or definite means of survival. The term "refugee" had almost exclusively come to mean Syrian refugees, and it seemed that everyone was talking about it and few were taking action. I had no idea what to do myself, but I felt I had to do something.

The Russian essayist Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote, "To live without hope is to cease to live", and I wondered when exactly we humans lose hope. Is it when we see the debris and flames out the window, knowing it's just a matter of time before we pack our belongings and leave? Does it happen as we hug a loved one goodbye, knowing we must leave town while they must stay? Does it happen when we try to escape across the border for the third time and are turned away? How does hope find its way to the brokenhearted and misplaced?

 I was roused from my musing as our van pulled into the cement parking lot in front of the camp. A handful of youth kicked a ragged soccer ball, backing away as we walked up to the building I was acutely aware of how out of place we seemed and wished I had dressed more plainly. Evan*, the leader of our group, asked for the camp director, and a few minutes later the robust, eager man walked up to us and shook hands with us. He talked with Evan for a few minutes in a language I couldn't understand, and then Evan turned to me, saying, “He's asking if you could play your violin now.” I looked down at my hands, cold and stiff, and stuck them in my pockets to warm them. 

The director led us into the building, a weathered gray-brown cement complex. I tried to ignore the peeling paint, moldy corners, and merciless cold. As we passed the staircase, water dripped down the cement and pooled at our feet. “They're scrubbing the bathrooms upstairs,” the director said. I shuddered at the endless possibilities for sickness given the lack of health care, immunizations, proper nutrition, and immunity, especially during the cold winter months. We turned several corners into a large gathering room, bare except for several stacks of plastic chairs. While the rest of the volunteers arranged the chairs in rows, I tuned my violin and warmed my hands. I glanced out the window and watched the clouds break and sunlight gently hit the cold cement floor, dust particles dancing in the rays of light.

Turning around to face my audience, I caught my breath at the number of refugees in the room. The older men stood in clusters closer to the doors and the women and children sat quietly in plastic chairs. I caught the eyes of several little ones sitting with their mothers. Their faces were so beautiful, I thought. Full of promise and innocence despite the hardships they faced so early in their lives. I took deep breath and lifted the instrument to my shoulder, closing my eyes. I played melodies of yearning, of desire, of forgotten times. I played lilting jigs and dances. I played Middle Eastern tunes I'd heard from a movie. And then I heard clapping. Looking up as I played, some of the listeners were standing and clapping to the music. More joined in, stomping their feet to the rhythm. I smiled and picked up the beat, thrilled to have engaged the audience. Children shyly left their seats and danced. Did I catch a smile in their eyes?

 I cannot say for how long I played, but it must have been an hour at least. I didn't want to stop and lose the moment, the suspension of time. The union of cultures, the togetherness. With full hearts, my group left the refugee camp later that evening after distributing relief items. The clouds had broken and a handful of stars glimmered in the night sky. It seemed that I had touched infinity in the moments while I played for the refugees.

This isn't about heroism in humanitarian work or how great the West is. Perhaps I would never feed enough hungry people, or help them find their loved ones, or fix their documentation issues that prevent them from crossing the borders into new countries, new lives. While all these are vital parts to alleviating the crisis, there is a beauty in simplicity and sometimes even the smallest contributions have great impact. What the music did for their spirits is beyond my knowledge, but I dare not forget their glimmering eyes.

s u n r i s e s

As we grow older, our childish sense of wonder tends to fade - if we let it.

How do we preserve an understanding of the importance of sunsets, ladybugs on wet leaves, or a bedtime prayer? The little things that infuse beauty into ordinary moments? How do we teach old eyes to see anew?

On the first page of my favorite book, "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint Exupery, is a drawing of an elephant swallowed by a boa constrictor, or just a drawing of a hat, however you choose to see it. The author writes that as a child he showed the drawing to adults, who never saw it as more than a hat. As the story continues, Exupery gives the reader the choice to accept and learn from simplicity and beauty or to label the book as as fairy tale and move on.

As I re-read this book, I am reminded that the more busy and pre-occupied I become, the less I can see beauty and wonder.

But let's talk about sunrises and sunsets. 

"First this: God created the Heavens and Earth—all you see, all you don’t see. Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. God’s Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss. 

God spoke: “Light!” And light appeared. 

God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. 

God named the light Day, he named the dark Night."

Each sunrise, then, is a reminder of that first sunrise. Darkness into light. 
This is why I chase them. This is why they never grow old. Each sunrise reminds me that God created all things in the beginning and graced this world with luminescence and created the sensory-neural connections in my brain so that my eyes may behold. Call it energy, call it an electromagnetic spectrum, call it a scientific phenomena, it's still a miracle. 

And what about sunsets, what story do they tell? Some of them are magnificent and dramatic while others are gentle and quiet. They remind me that seasons come and go, and there is no day so terrible or night so dark that will not see the light again. God alone gives us grace to endure and new eyes to see.

Mindful

{As I proofread this post, I realized the irony of starting with a photograph that appears to have been taken through the window of a moving car. I just want to mention that the car was stopped, for those of you are wondering!}

Something I’ve given thought to recently is being mindful, not just the awareness and consciousness of the present but also the people around me and the circumstances God places in my life. 

Mindfulness is a buzzword in psychology, and though it tends toward relativistic thinking, I believe that being engaged in the present is something that our culture, myself included, isn’t spending enough time doing. With the many distractions and tuggings in a million shattered directions, we forget. 

Not just to-do lists and quizzes in class the next day. 

We forget to think. 

We redirect our thoughts. 

If there’s something we don’t want to think about, we don’t – there are countless other distractions. We try to ignore the unanswered questions and pain and hollowness inside, hoping that if we don’t notice it then maybe we can pretend it isn’t there. I’m not just talking about non-believers. Christ-followers experience the sweeping consequences of sin that leave the heart aching. 

But why? If you’ve given your life to Christ and are living in obedience to Him, why in the world is everything so broken? Bodies, families, relationships, trust, belief? Why in this world?

Why are the screaming crying prayers late at night, asking God for hope, seemingly answered with silence?

Didn’t a broken body hanging from a tree suffer enough for all of us?

Suffering for Christ’s sake, being burned at the stake for refusing to deny His name, this serves such a powerful purpose. A life sacrificed to the Lord is beautiful though laced with sorrow and pain. But the quiet suffering from day to day? A dying friend, a chronic illness, a broken marriage? 

What if a sacrificed life isn’t only martyrdom or dying for the sake of another? Could it be that living for the sake of others, enduring difficulties, and living for the sake of Another makes a sacrificed life? 

I came upon these berries a few weeks ago, nearly hurrying past on my way to class. If you don't stop now you never will, I told myself.  They are beautiful, the scarlet berries contrasting the green leaves. They make me think of bright red blood, and I suddenly remember Isaiah 53:5, "But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."I need to stay mindful of the Cross. Of the reason why my life has a purpose and is redeemed. Without the Cross, there is no remedy to the pain and suffering in the world. Without the Cross I am not reconciled to God. Without the Cross no hope exists. At the Cross there is forgiveness, overwhelming grace, unrelenting love. Jesus' redemptive sacrifice has canceled the sin-debt and brought us into fellowship with God. For this there is wonder and thankfulness and worship. I don't fully comprehend, and my life does not always reflect, but I rest in the truth that Jesus is more than enough. There is hope, not just at the time of the redemption but throughout all time including the present, and every drop of pain in this life does not compare to the glory to come.

Not only is there grace for every difficult circumstance, but there is also an opportunity to bring glory to God and grow closer to Him while growing in endurance and character. "But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."  - 2 Corinthians 12:9

Portraits

Getting back into the habit of writing and storytelling has meant slowing down the fast pace I usually abide by and trying to notice more. I love listening to music when I'm driving the 35 minutes to and from the hospital, but I started turning off the radio and listening to the silence as I watch the world rush by in blurred colors. I create a space in my thoughts for new ideas, and as they appear in my head, I remember key words that I can later write down. 

I've also been trying to find a balance between taking photographs to hone my skills and realizing when I need to put the camera down to enjoy the moment. Somewhere in between, I am able to take the best photographs. It happens as I hang in the balance between mindfulness of preserving a moment and capturing the essence of my subject. 

I'd like to introduce two of my dearest friends, two people who I have high respect for and who have seen the worst of me and loved me anyway. 

Audra: I met Audra in my freshman year of high school, and I remember thinking how composed and kind she was. I, being the new kid in the class, was much more reserved and quiet than I am now, and I appreciated Audra's warmth of heart to make me comfortable as well as her warm chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin bread she brought as an after-school treat for my class. Even when I left the program the next year and we attended different schools, our friendship continued to grow. We have always been very honest and open with each other, and sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself. She has a tremendous heart for people, is beautifully independent, speaks her mind, and is a creative and bright person. 

Klara:

Klara was an acquaintance I met many years ago who turned into a best friend when I randomly called her one summer afternoon when we were 13 or 14 years old. We played a game of Monopoly (yes, a whole game) and baked cookies and that was the start of an amazingly fun, quirky, meaningful friendship. Klara and I have always been close friends, but we really got to know each other on a deeper level when we started college in two different cities. We were growing and changing so much as people and becoming more honest with ourselves, and as we shared with each other our goals and fears and faith, she has been such an encouragement and example to me. She reminds me to be goal driven but also people-focused. Our conversations are sometimes outright hilarious and silly, and other times we talk about raw, difficult issues that challenge us to make a difference in this world we live in. Klara is a teacher and inspiration, and whenever I need a reminder of why this fight is worth it, we talk and she reminds me of truth. 

Hiking Trip

 

Catching Up

Summer caught up with me long before I caught up with it. Isn't that what always happens? I have only a few days before I return to school to finish my senior year, and I'm suddenly realizing that seasons close upon us not in the shutting of a book but in the gentle turning of pages as by the breeze. I look back not in a sad, unsatisfied way, but with a happy and contented remembrance. 

Last week, I went on a run to the waterfront to see the sunset, and as I paced my breath with my footsteps, I thought about the essence of time. How we let it control our lives (even though that is a mirage of sorts) when in fact it has been given to us.  I am a student and I know too well how quickly life can become hectic with busyness. I wake up early for classes, spend a whole day going from one lecture to the next until dinnertime, eat quickly, and spend the rest of the evening immersed in projects and homework. Can this be avoided? Not really. I must attend class and complete coursework. And yet. 

I can control in what manner I use my time. I can cut out unnecessary activities, avoid distractions, and take ownership of my day with effective scheduling and management. But not just that - I decide the frame of mind in which I go about my day. By recognizing my time as a gift from God, it is both mine and not mine. I am a steward, entrusted with something so precious that no amount of gold can buy it. Psalm 90:12 says, "So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom." I know I am guilty of neglecting this truth. I have spent too much time on unworthy pursuits, but I believe that with the grace of God I can give my time back to Him and follow His leadership.  

Traveling and exploring with my friends and family has been a highlight of the summer. We have discovered rooftops and bell towers and battlefields. We are explorers, pioneers. Over the last few years, my life has changed radically, and I have learned to love the overgrown path over the beaten road. I have learned about war, how to survive, how to rebuild. But most of all, I have learned to trust. As my pastor once said, "If we listen to God's voice and obey Him, He is going to work in us things that will shine through all eternity". 

I am so overwhelmed with the goodness of God. In the darkest moments of this summer, His presence was with me to guide and comfort. In the most beautiful and blessed moments, His signature was there. Every single second of every day, I want Him to be my foremost thought, and His presence my one desire. None of this - school, work, internships, relationships, violin, art - is about me. It never has been. There is a King, with eyes like flames of fire, who desires a people devoted to Him. He sacrificed Himself to redeem mankind and bring eternal life. He sits in Heaven now, interceding on our behalf. When life becomes confusing and I wonder what my purpose even is, I come back to Micah 6:8: "He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" 

And Ephesians 1:11-12, which says, "In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory."

 My grandmother gave me a lovely book called "Illuminated Prayers" by Marianne Williamson. It is full of beautiful, spirit-lifting prayers that are illustrated in the style of illuminated manuscripts. One of my favorite prayers is, "May my body be a temple to your Spirit. May every cell be filled with light, the radiance of You. May my mouth speak only what You would have me say. May my legs walk only in the directions You would will. May my hands carry forth Your work in all I say and do."

This is my prayer.

Sweet Potato Fries

The photograph above depicts one of my favorite places - a corner in the kitchen by the window. When I have been home this summer, I've indulged in cooking meals and experimenting with recipes. There are few things as delightful as walking out back to my garden, picking the herbs needed for a dish, and making something to fill the kitchen with irresistible aromas. I haven't written a food post in quite some time, so today I'd like to share one of my favorite summer recipes: crispy sweet potato fries!

I'm a big proponent of simple, healthy, well-spiced meals, and last year, my family discovered a fabulous recipe for sweet potato fries. I personally think this is more a ratatouille dish than french fries, but the name doesn't matter terribly. Whenever I crave a light midday meal, or something quick for a picnic, I prepare this dish. It is delicious and gourmet without being expensive or complicated. 

Ingredients:

5 large sweet potatoes

1/3 cup virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon rosemary leaves (or according to preference)

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 large onion

Preheat oven at 350° fahrenheit, and oil 2 baking pans well with olive oil. 

Wash and peel the sweet potatoes, and cut them into slivers (see photo above). 

Peel the onion and slice it into slivers (about 2 inches long, 1/2 inch wide).

Sprinkle potato and onion slices with rosemary, salt, pepper, and olive oil. Using hands, toss vegetables in the oil/spice mixture until well covered in oil/spices. 

Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until slightly toasted. Gently toss vegetables every 10 minutes to ensure that all layers are exposed to heat evenly. When finished, the vegetables should be slightly browned at the edges, with just a hint of crunchiness. It is easy to over-toast, so be sure to turn the vegetables every 10 minutes. 

Note: Home-grown spices are always preferable, as they are superior in flavor and healthiness, but fresh herbs can be found in the salad section of most groceries. 

There is beauty in simplicity, in cherishing moments. For me, preparing food is a way to invest love into something I must do every day. Turning the mundane into the magnificent...isn't that what the heart opens up to? Make dining a delightful experience even on the most ordinary day by using all your senses and enjoying the moment. Open your window to let some fresh air in. Choose your favorite china to eat in, and maybe even light a candle. 

Summertime

And so summer begins, loud and happy, sweet and colorful.The heart must see what the eyes may not - that God is always good. I have been blessed abundantly, and hope that I shall find more ways to bless others and love harder.

Recently I had to make a decision about work this summer. I had several solid job offers to consider, each of them attractive and with unique advantages. Usually deciding on summer work isn't a big deal, but for me, there's a little more to it since I am a rising senior (looking for open doors when I graduate), I want to be challenged as much as possible, and I have some family considerations as well. In the end, I went with my heart/gut feeling, deciding on the position which I believe will let me spend the most time caring for people. I'm going to be working with special needs children and adults, and I'm smiling just thinking about it. It's not as glamorous or prestigious or well-paying as some of the offers I turned down, and a few people have asked me if I'm crazy, but guess what? I don't mind at all. What is all that anyway? And maybe I am crazy, maybe I am not thinking "practically", but I most definitely am not missing out. It's quite the opposite.

Monastery

There are stories everywhere. Today I found one in the deep, lovely mountains and the crystal river that meandered through the gorge, sometimes morphing into a lake, sometimes becoming a plunging waterfall. You see, I was in search of a monastery, and I accidentally found two. Well, sort of.

Note my poor choice of attire for the occasion. Anyway, I'm going to share the monastery photos later, with their own photo story. Trust me, it is a tale of its own. Today...

The trail started at the base of the mountains and most turbulent part of the river, with some traveler lodges and a bridge spanning the water. I fell in love with this little red house perched on a rock all by itself. I really don't understand how it balances.

The trail managed to wind through the mountains while traveling alongside the river/lake at all times. It felt like a combination of The Great Wall of China, Hadrian's Wall, and Loch Ness. At one point the river forked off and the left branch disappeared into the mountain, while the right branch merged into a dam. I was struck by the contrast of shimmering water and corroded cement. It looked a little like a geode cracked open, center shimmering, plain rock surrounding.

The mountain air was a refreshing contrast to city air. Lungs expand, oxygen exchanges, life continues. This air has a crisp, cool quality that leaves you expectant at the end of each breath. Even if survival did not require you to keep on breathing, you would.

Be Still

After finals week ended, I spent a few days catching up with friends, catching my breath. I felt an urgency to find quiet and rest after a productive, busy, exciting, yet scattered and fragmented semester. It's amazing how the human soul is wired to need order and peace, to resolve disorder and discordance.

 "Be still, and know that I am God." Be still, even though your heart is fearful and the tension in your chest feels like it will explode. Find the stillness and you will find Me. Though you are pressed on every side and everyone around you sings the anthem of racing time and deadlines, be still. 

And in quiet, I feel peace. I know that it is all a vapor, this life. A vapor that lasts a minute, and then is gone. 

And yet. The brevity of time gives it meaning. I'm home with my family for just a few weeks, but we can carve out our own little eternity. We are given all the time that we need. And for this I am thankful. 

Passionate Existence

A question I've been asking myself a lot lately is if I'm passionate enough, and passionate about the right things. Really, passion is caring a lot about something. Being willing to go to great lengths for whatever it is you're passionate about. Make sacrifices and work hard and - this is key - get other people on board. While it's good to be a lighted candle, igniting a flame in others can be even more powerful. 

Recently, I've been doing a study in the Bible about zeal, passion, and calling. It's clear what the greatest commandment that Jesus gave us is: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." Jesus wants His people to love Him and serve Him and obey Him. Love Him wholeheartedly, relentlessly, and with abandon; serve Him joyfully with everything we have; and obey Him unquestioningly and devotedly. But what does this look like every day?

King David wrote in Psalm 73:25-26, "Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." 

Paul the Apostle proclaimed, "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God" (1 Cor. 10:31). And in Romans 12:11, he says, "Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord."

In Deuteronomy 4:29 is the promise, "But from there you will seek the Lord your God and you will find him, if you search after him with all your heart and with all your soul."

This afternoon I roamed a quiet forest with some friends. It was so still that it felt like intrusion to explore. In this strange forest were several woebegone structures that must have been homes or sheds years ago. Now they're empty, dilapidated, and unused. All we found was creaking doors and shattered glass. 

I don't want live life my own way and end up empty and unused. I want my heart to be moved by what moves God. I want to be passionate about what He is passionate about. I want to think eternally, and fix my eyes on Him. I want to be a tool in the hands of the Master. In the words of a friend, if we're honest, what other way is there to live?

Smallness

 Lately I've been thinking about the brevity of time and suspension of countless stories of individuals throughout history. I love that we have stories, we are stories. I love that there are people all around us whose lives and legacies I will never know, both past and present. 

It gives a healthy feeling of smallness.

 I catch eyes with strangers in the store or stand with them in line or pass them in the halls, but don't know what lives they lead. Past faces and laughter that inhabited the same places were once very vibrant and real. I get this sense of interconnectedness with the people around me and the stories of the past. We're all humans with more things in common than not. 

I know that some of these stories would break my heart. 

People who are hurting and broken and needy, desperate for a way out but not believing it exists. 

So much heart pain and soul pain. 

Whatever I do with the rest of my life, I want it to involve serving people and helping them find a way. There is always a way, The Way. There is an answer to everything, even though we may never find the answer in this life. 

My desire is to inspire gifted and innovative thinkers to use their talents to improve the lives of the millions of suffering and underprivileged around the world. I believe that it would be a powerful thing if artists, designers, architects, musicians, engineers, etc. used their skills to contribute to finding solutions for global needs - serving the poor, combating poverty and hunger, bringing innovative and simple medical insights to the unreached villages. 

We have been blessed to bless others.

 I've been having lots of good conversations about the kingdom, calling, and channeling vision over coffee lately. I just love connecting with people and being authentic and raw with each other, sharing our hearts and seeing what God is doing in each other's lives. In the midst of life at its messiest and busiest, it is so important to stay focused on what matters for eternity.

"He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" - Micah 6:8