Sorrowful Yet Always Rejoicing

There are days when the desire to be cared for and taken care of are so overwhelming that I can hardly function. In the same breath though, the requirement for grit is met with the determination to have it, and the grace of the Lord comes alongside to grant me the strength to press on.

I biked to work this morning knowing that it would rain this evening...but I didn't know it would RAIN this evening. I waited until the hour when weather.com informed me that there would be "showers" instead of "rain" or "rain/wind", which was around 8 pm. At 7:58 I determined this was as good as it would get and I headed out, rain jacket over running jacket, hoodie over helmet, eyes squinting in the rain.

At first it was enjoyable. The slight gust of wind and the constant rain caused reflection on my heritage (supposedly Hembree's are originally from Devon in Britain which is marked by gorgeous coastal lines, and a history of piracy - which maybe explains my adoration of harbors and longing to be on the water but not in it) [side note- I've been doing some minimal {read not so minimal} research and I'm a little obsessed and very much want to go someday], and took me back to memories of spending one night and day in Wales with my sister before we boarded a ferry to Ireland. The wind was mighty next to the sea and we marveled at the power of God demonstrated through the power of moving air.

...But it quickly grew miserable and scary. Cars became troublesome objects to avoid, and even though I was moving extra cautiously there were several close calls - it felt like I was in a video game called dodge the vehicle to stay alive. It quickly became a life metaphor to me (as you do) and my initial bliss was like naivete before life gets hard and then the unexpected threats of the cars were like life's troubles popping up to bring you down. So then hot tears intermingled with the cold of the rain and the sweat that I couldn't feel and the wind blowing against my entire body and I was determined not to cry and spoke to myself that I would not and could not cry in this moment because visibility is quite important while biking, and it worked for several blocks but it didn't last long and my determination gave way to the gravity of the situation and my bottom lip just popped out and quivered and when my bottom lip pops out you know the sorrow is dadgum real (long sentence to be read with quickening speed, fyi *wink*)!

In my crying to the Lord I exclaimed that I may never be rescued in this life and I may never be pursued in this life, but I will be carried - for I am redeemed! I am a child of God. While that does not mean an easy life, it does mean a bought life, a belonging life, and an eternal life.

He carried me home. And even though once through my back gate I collapsed over my bike in heaving sobs I knew He was with me. He'd seen me safely through and He'll carry me home.

1. O Joy that seekest me through pain,
   I cannot close my heart to thee;
   I trace the rainbow through the rain,
   And feel the promise is not vain,
   That morn shall tearless be.
2. 
   O Cross that liftest up my head,
   I dare not ask to fly from thee;
   I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
   And from the ground there blossoms red
   Life that shall endless be.

O Love that Will Not Let Me Go

George Matheson, 1882

Rest & Finding Who I Am

Have you ever turned your ankle while dismounting your bike whilst wearing heels?

Haha, stop laughing.

You may have guessed that I did. Last Sunday.

You can't make this stuff up.

With an engagement directly after church and the habit of always biking to church...and the need to present myself in a certain way at said engagement after church I biked to church and post engagement...in heels.

Now they were just one inchers, and really a merger between kitten heels and wedges, so I felt just fine biking in them. The only problem is that they are pointy in the toe and I was afraid of scraping them on the pavement while pedaling. That never happened. Underestimating my speed at dismount and miscalculating the stability of my landing in said footwear, however, did happen. Were it not for the kindness of strangers in the middle of Chicago I would not have gotten home.

Have you experienced the desire to be at rest when it felt like you were in constant motion? Have you also experienced the desire to be in motion when you are finally forced to rest? All the things one could be doing instead of lying in bed with their foot up... I want to read when I can't read and now that it's nigh my only option...

So I'm thinking. Thinking on the many things that have transpired over the past two months. They've truly been quite wonderful months. I have done many things that have been scary to me. Some of them have been moments of large decision, some...small decisions that I consciously knew affected those that are larger and chose to say yes to the small scary, knowing that it is often the small "scaries" that add up and in turn influence the big "scaries".

I have chosen to be bold and vulnerable. I have been courageous and yet dependent. I have stepped out in leadership. I have tackled things I thought were only in a far off dream, or my distant future, but by God's severe mercy have been here and now.

As someone who has spent the majority of her life recoiling in fear and imprisoning herself in the confining cell of comparison...

Well, for understanding, here's an insight:

If you've ever taken the Strength's Finder Test, you'd know that Intellectualism 

is one of the many options for your Top Five. Having taken the test I was 

shocked to discover that it was my third quality, because I've not viewed 

myself as intellectually smart in a long time. 

I equate being an intellectual as someone who knows a lot, knows well what they 

know, and can articulately explain exactly what it is they know. 

I, however, lack the ability to swiftly craft sentences on the fly, stringing together

 scholarly words (heck even laymen's terms) that communicate exactly what I 

want to say. My brain is always a jumble of thoughts and ideas, questions and 

quandaries, worries and wonders. You know those scribbles of charcoal-colored 

mess that hover over the brains of characters in cartoons when they're frustrated, 

or can't communicate their anger? 

It's like that. 

Or, Oh!...

It's like a ball of yarn - but not one quite so tidy, wound up in nice circles before 

it's begun its use - strewn about the room by the curious paws of 

a playful kitten, the fibers coming undone from the carefully wound chord, then 

swiftly gathered together by the kitten's owner, aghast by the mess silly kitty has 

made, quickly crumpled in a tangled mess, for company is coming you know, 

and carelessly thrown into the yarn basket, where its chords become entangled with 

other strings, strands, and colors from other balls of yarn (the cat has a habit of making 

a mess directly before company) and it takes a substantial amount of time to find one 

strand and follow it, making sense of the jumbled mess of ideas, thoughts, indecision, 

worry, endless possibilities, probing inquiries...influenced by a deep (I mean deep) 

understanding of emotional i.q., feeding, feeling, and sensing the feelings 

and thoughts of others...this is my mind. When I open my mouth I feel as if 

the tangled yarn is revealed, and linear thought just doesn't compute. 

...and the thought that something may go horribly wrong so why try?, I have been training my mind to instead have the audacity of hope. This may go wrong...this truly may flop, and it could be incredibly embarrassing, but what if...WHAT IF it succeeds? What if this small step, which may produce not the best result still presents something good...which then grows to something better.

What if I try?

This new mindset has been incredibly freeing, and I cannot tell you the weight that this freedom relieves.

This freedom sheds death; it sends searching tendrils of hope that push through the weight of dust and soil and reach for the light.

This freedom searches for who I actually am, who in Christ I was made to be. 

So maybe I'm a storyteller. Maybe. And not the best of them around, but maybe my strengths do not lie in retaining facts or figures, spouting facts or figures, debating with the best of them, or even in being able to communicate my own strengths aptly. Maybe there is strength in emotion. Maybe there is sometimes strength in silence. Maybe there is strength in listening and observing, in pondering for days on end, in understanding people. Maybe there is beauty in a narrative, in raw emotion felt so deeply, that it translates into art, into communication beyond words, beyond just now.

Therefore, even amidst the pains of growth, I must find delight and joy in shaking off the dust and the chains that entangle and soar ever a bit more into the arms of my Savior. Further up and further in into the realization of a kingdom coming. A whisper heard in full. And a dream a reality.

Go Back & Wait

A few days ago I was very restless. I tend to get that way when I'm between life stages, or when waiting on something the Lord isn't providing. Thoughts and questions flood my mind, my focus lapses, and I can no longer tolerate sitting still. So, after a day at work where I'd been immobile at a desk all day my insides felt like they might suddenly find themselves outside the bounds of my body. Imagine the headlines...Young Female Explodes at Work; imagine the new statistics: One in 4 billion  Females Explode from Restlessness; imagine the eye witness accounts: "Yeah...uh, (wipes forehead, mouth agape) I looked over and saw her just sitting at her desk...steam was pouring from her eyes like a tea kettle...she convulsed like her insides were boiling...and within 2 minutes and 15 seconds (ironically the amount of time it takes the best of electric kettles to boil water) her colon was splat on the desk and her spleen was over there (hand points, shaking) against the wall."

And close the door on my morbid sense of humor and return with me to the present. Welcome.

When in a state of restlessness I've found that often the best way for me to help relieve the anxiety that accompanies it is to be outside and to move. So instead of taking my usual route home I walked further than necessary to the bus stop on Michigan Avenue. On the way I gloried in the fresh air, lightly laughed at the groups of children gathering in Washington Square Park, smiled a salute to Newberry Library, and delighted at the prisms of sunshine light dancing in chandelier-filled windows, Starbucks, office buildings, and 4th Presbyterian Church. Thanking the Lord for these things, and acknowledging that beauty feeds my soul, I stopped at my designated steel chariot waiting area (for those of you without an overactive imagination - the bus stop) and...well, I waited. 

Being that it was a very windy afternoon and getting colder by the minute, I looked at the bus stop to see when my fair coach should be arriving. The display read 11 minutes. Eleven minutes?!? But that's an AGE to stand here doing nothing. I've been restless all afternoon. I dont't want my physical and mental progress impeded by standing and doing nothing! Ugh!

So I started walking. Oh, I know it was illogical. Walking would actually increase my commute time, and I'd be cold and accosted by the wind in the process. But this wasn't an issue of following logic. I'd be doing something, you see? The physical exertion would help calm my mind, the fresh air would do me wonder, I probably wasn't going to go running when I got home anyway, I could talk to the Lord while walking, and I'd have a great view of the lake and the city to boot. My plan was to walk as far north as I could bear, and then to take a street west to one of the red line stops which would carry me the rest of the way home.

The walk was lovely. Praise songs erupted into worship in my head. Birds were singing (probably). Thankfulness grew with the brisk pace of my steps. I did miss my bike and pondered how this would go much faster if I had Sadie. I grew conscious of how silly I must look in my dress clothes, walking along the bike trail. Then I thought of every time I'd been irritated by people in dress clothes moseying about on the trail while I, the super cool biker had to maneuver around them and pick up speed after passing them. If they are like me, just needing some fresh air and jumping at the only opportunity they would have to get some "exercise" that day, I vowed I shouldn't mentally make fun of them again.

Now reaching a point in the trail where the conscious creative would turn about and snap a photo, I gazed back at the city, my fingers searching my pocket for my phone. This time though, the Lord's voice entered my own thought stream and corrected, "No Kayla, this isn't about the city. It's about Me". Instructing me to keep walking, I did until I reached the juncture where Lincoln Park is adjacent to the trail. "Turn left here." Oh! Okay, sure. "Run up the stairs." I ran the second half. "Take a left at the fork here." Suspicion was growing in my chest. This was not close to a red line station. In fact it'd be closer to return to the station I would normally use, but that wouldn't make sense. I didn't walk as far as I'd wanted. I'd intended to push through as far as I could! Take a couple pictures. Maybe write a cute story from the experience. You know?? Express myself!

But not unlike the Lord when in the middle of teaching his child a lesson, His calm, authoritative voice redirected my steps: "go back from where you came and wait for the bus". Are you sure? I asked, still a little attached to my reasons for this spontaneous adventure. "Go back from where you came. I want you to wait for the bus."

Well...nuts.

Okay.

(About faces and plants feet in the direction from whence I'd come.)

Lord? I mused. This feels like one of those Old Testament prophet stories, where you tell them to do things that don't make sense in order for people to learn things from them...

But once again worship songs flooded my mind and we were walking again, I was enjoying His company, and the next thing the Lord brought to my mind was that He is for me a fortress. I looked to my right and the home standing strong next to me was built like a medieval fortress, made from stone, shaped with round turrets and complete with those square cutouts on the top. I imagined archers with their bow and arrows at the ready, eager to defend a fortress which needed no defending.

Finally, my feet having carried me across the street from the chariot waiting area, that I'd left so impatiently half an hour before to boldly forge my own path and make my own progress, my eyes are shocked with the sight of not one, but three 147 buses. Um, hello,wait! I squirm, internally speaking to the bus, anxious that I'll miss all three opportunities to get home. You're supposed to be more spread out than that! You see Mr. Bus, my traffic light is red, and yours is green, and if you all make it through the green light, then I'm likely to be waiting a very long time for the next bus!
At least another eleven minutes!

Lord? I return to Jesus. This isn't fair. What if I have to wait a very long time now? He replies with a phrase I've heard more often that I'd like to admit: "Do you trust Me?" Sigh, well... I suppose if You could allow three buses to be clumped up in such a fashion, it's possible that one could come quickly behind them and I might not have to wait a very long time. (I attempted to reason out time and sovereignty and their affect on my current situation.) And, Lord? If You don't want me to have any of these buses right now and You want me to wait, I think I trust You then, too.

At this point two buses have made it through the green light, but suddenly the traffic light turns red! My walking signal directs me to GO, my feet bolt into action, and right on time I'm on the third northbound 147 outer-drive-express bus heading home.

Having shared my story with a friend during lunch break the next day she replied, "Boy you really made a big deal out of eleven whole minutes!". But this story was more than a four-minutes-short-of-a-quarter-of-an-hour-wait on a bus. The experience was a metaphor for where I was in life:

In my restlessness I can move forward on my own, thinking my way will be more effective or beneficial, and end up right back where I started. On the other hand I can follow the letter of the law in waiting, obeying all the rules, and not physically moving, but have impatience in my heart, grumbling that waiting is silly. I could do a better job of ___, {whatever I'm waiting for} should have arrived by now.

Doing anything without the Holy Spirit is pointless, and waiting without the Holy Spirit is the same. It is generally riddled with anxiety, fear, doubt, anger, impatience, and lack of joy. When we're infused with the Spirit waiting includes patience that provides peace of mind, and includes trust in the God who sees all and has all together. Patient waiting which trusts our Good Father admits dependence on Him and a lack of foresight that is inherent in all human beings.

We are always waiting on something. Whether it be a dream fulfilled or a bus ride, we are at least in good company (Romans 8:18-30).

There's purpose in the waiting. There's meaning to the journey.

...Just as much as I can enjoy the Lord's presence while walking along the Chicago lake trail with the thought in my head that I'm getting somewhere, I can also learn to enjoy His presence when I'm standing in place and it feels that I'm making leaps and bounds to nowhere.

"...but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength;

they shall mount up with wings like eagles; 

they shall run and not be weary;

they shall walk and not faint."

Isaiah 40:31

"Love the LORD, all you his saints! 

The LORD preserves the faithful

but abundantly repays the one who acts in pride.

Be strong, and let your heart take courage, 

all you who wait for the LORD!"

Psalm 31:23-24

I Wait

It has been over two years since I have typed words on this page. And as I gaze at the name I've given this blog, I laugh a little. Disappointed Hope. For I have been disappointed. And my hopes have not been met.

Frustrated.
You haven't answered me.
Wait. Wait is all You'll say.
And there's nothing I'd like to hear less.
Than wait.

Restless.
My leg shakes and the chair vibrates beneath me.
My gaze is on the sun that shines just beyond the crest of the building before it.
Out of reach.
My arms won't reach.

Stuck.
This place feels familiar.
This place where I'm helpless.
Where I do nothing but throw out queries and wait for your supply.
I'm waiting.
God?
I'm waiting.

A year ago I took an intermission from school. The semester before was pretty devastating. My Grandad passed away and it was a long period of expectation...waiting for him to die. That semester was spent with much anxiety and depression. I was far from my family and could not mourn with them. I felt alone. I skipped too many classes on the floor of my dorm room, crying in the corner, uncertain of the reason for my tears. I slept a lot. My sweet roommates were patient with me, checking on me if I was in bed for too long. I was frustrated with my load. I kept saying, Lord, if you would just change this I think I could do this.

Finally it became clear that I needed to go home. The plan was to leave during Christmas break, get a job back home, and come back within a year ready to finish my degree, at this point now half finished. So home I went, where I slept for a very, very long time, and started a job search.

I found nothing.

Too old to be under my parent's insurance I couldn't work just any job, and having just come out of the Starbucks world which exacerbated my anxiety I politely refused to go back to that life...and the Lord provided nothing. I was angry.

Why did you send me home Lord? You said to go home and I followed! You led me, I obeyed, and You're not keeping Your end of the deal. This simply isn't fair.

Well, praise the Lord He didn't give me what I wanted at that time, because I received something better. One day I woke to a text message from my cousin in Spain: "Hey girl, have you found a job yet?". Noooooo...no, I haven't. "Do you want to come to Spain and help me with the kids?" Excuse me, what?!? This led to a whirlwind of preparations, and within a few weeks, I was in gorgeous northwest Spain where I lived for almost three months, helping and...waiting.

While there I skype interviewed for a full-time job back at Moody. A job which had been mentioned to me before I left...why don't you consider this? Thanks, but no thanks, I had replied, I know what the Lord's doing, and I'm going home. (Presumptuous much?) When nothing in Albuquerque worked out, I had applied, wondering what the Lord could have for me.

I began an apartment search from Spain. I had limited time to find a place to live. I flew directly from Spain to Chicago with one week to find an apartment. God was so incredibly merciful in that week. Midway through my parents offered to come help. They drove 24 hours from Albuquerque to Chicago to drive me around looking at apartments. With a day and a half left before my flight to Albuquerque, the Lord provided an apartment in the second building we toured. Second building. Third apartment. Crazy. I signed a lease and everything was approved by the next morning. I had a home. I remember sitting in the back of Mom and Dad's rental car beaming...joy radiating from my heart...the Lord loves me! He provided!

The next couple of weeks were another whirlwind of preparations...packing, painting furniture, sorting through possessions...essentially saying an official goodbye to childhood, major dependency on parents, and hello to a bigger 'big girl job', living completely alone, and independence. It was another opportunity to step out in faith. This was how the Lord was providing for me.

This was an answer to prayer.

I'm nine months in now and this is SO HARD. I'm working full time, commuting, living alone, going to school part time, trying to maintain friendships, fellowship in a church, and stay afloat with schoolwork, etc., and sometimes it's all I can do to get out of bed in the morning. I feel as if I'm learning how to do something new in every single area of my life. My brain and body are tired.

I recently told someone that the gifts that initially looked like blessings now feel like a curse:

• God provided this job so that I could finish school, but this load is extremely difficult to bear. I can take 6 credits a semester, but I'm currently taking five and preparing for a recital, and let's just say God will get the glory if I am standing on the other side of this semester. 
• Also, if I take a full load of 6 credits a semester I could finish my degree in 3 years. If I can't hack 6 credits a semester and decrease that amount, who knows how long it will take for me to finish. 
• God provided a super cute apartment in record time. But I'm incredibly lonely. Almost a year into living alone I've learned that I desperately need people. Community is essential...and a large contributing factor to community is proximity. 
• As a result of having a full time job and living off campus my circle of friends have changed. I'm no longer around peers 24/7. I'm not around anyone in similar life circumstances. It's pretty isolating. Friendships have changed a lot. I've lost some. I've gained some. They're all just different. 

Are there joys? Of course there are. Is life difficult? Extremely. Is God good? Yes, He is. Does it always feel like it? No, it does not. Even so, is He still? Yes, He is.

I'm working through anger. I'm working through disappointment. I'm working through loneliness. I'm learning to lament. I miss my family. I'm seeking community. I experience rejection. I experience failure. Life isn't what I thought it would be. I push through. I get back up. I am incapable of doing this on my own. The LORD is with me. This story is not over.

I wait.

I wait for His answer.
I wait for Him to fill me.
I wait for His return.
I wait for Him.