It started with some bread.

It started with a baguette that I got at Meijer for $1.74 plus tax and didn't eat before it went too stale.
I decided, while my parents and I were trying to gnaw through a few pieces, that I should try to make French Onion Soup. I should buy another baguette at Meijer for $1.74 plus tax and make French Onion Soup.

Yesterday was the day. I bought the bread last week while Dan and I were buying ingredients to make dinner. I decided that it was time. For the first time in my life, I was going to make, and eat, French Onion Soup. That's right. Until yesterday I had never eaten French Onion Soup.

Dan and I went shopping Tuesday night, after stopping to make sure we didn't buy anything that we already had at my house. I could hear my mother's voice in my head saying "Why did you buy that? We already have plenty here." So instead of buying six onions, I bought three. Instead of buying chicken broth and beef broth, I used what we had. I did need to buy cheese, wine, and butter.

I spent about two hours making the soup, but it was ridiculously simple.

You're going to need a soup pot that can fit at least two quarts of liquid. Start heating in over low heat.

Throw in a stick of butter. I used unsalted because that's what I prefer to cook and bake with. It allows me to have more direct control over the amount of salt. I use salted butter in my frosting, but that's not really relevant here.

Once the butter is melted, add your onions, salt, pepper, and thyme. I used four sweet onions. Three of them were about the size of a baseball, and the fourth was closer to a softball. The recipe I used called for two pounds or six medium sized onions. I probably could have used more, but it ended up alright. If you want to make it and you use this recipe, do what you want. It depends on the flavor you're looking for and how long you want to spend waiting for your onions to cook down. I'll talk more about that later. I sliced mine about an eighth of an inch thick, because my knife skills aren't stellar unless I'm cutting tomatoes. Thinner probably would have been better, so I'll probably be buying a mandolin before I make this soup again. The kind that slices vegetables, not the instrument.

You'll need about a teaspoon each of kosher salt and black pepper, and probably ten sprigs of thyme.

Once all of that is in the pot, stir to coat the onions with butter. This will also help the seasonings stick to the onions evenly, which just looks better for the pictures.

 This is what they looked like when I first started cooking them. You'll want to stir them "occasionally," which for me meant every five minutes or so.

 The recipe I started with said to cook the onions over low heat until they were "deep golden brown and very soft, about 30 minutes." I cooked these onions for an hour. They got very soft and translucent, but I wouldn't say they were deep golden brown. But I'm really over it, because I was getting impatient.

 Heads up, onions release a lot of liquid as they cook. Don't worry about it. It will slowly disappear into the air, making your house smell like onions for several hours. Like, I think my house still smells like onions more than twenty-four hours later.

 While the onions were cooking, my lovely handsome assistant grated some cheese for me. Apparently, Gruyere is traditional, but Kroger didn't have enough smaller chunks of it and I didn't want to spent $67 on about a hundred pounds of cheese (hyperbole). I ended up with Gruyere, Havarti, and Farmer's Cheese. A delicious combination. Also, that's about the amount of thyme I used. I think I added a few more sprigs. (I really like the word "sprigs.")

The next step is to sprinkle one tablespoon of flour over the onions and stir and cook for a couple minutes. I think this serves as a thickener, but I didn't actually see much effect.

Then add one cup of wine. Here is my major departure from the recipe. It called for dry white wine. I obviously used red. Decide for yourself. And if you wouldn't drink it, don't cook with it. (Which speaks to the quality of wine you should be using, and the fact that if you have a sensitivity to alcohol, you shouldn't cook with it. It doesn't all "cook out," like everyone on TV but Alton Brown will tell you. The amount of alcohol will decrease, but it doesn't disappear. Anyway.) Cook this mixture for a few more minutes.

You will now need four cups of beef broth or stock and two cups of chicken broth or stock. You could probably swap out the chicken and make it all beef. It's up to you. I think. We had homemade chicken broth in the fridge, so I'd say we win. The soup doesn't look great at this stage. I was concerned about how much liquid there was in comparison to the amount of onions. Dan told me to relax, which is nearly impossible for me to do while I'm cooking, but he's cute so I tried. I took out about a cup of liquid, let it all simmer for about half an hour, and added it back in. It was pretty much perfect.

And now for the baguette. (Were you worried I'd gone through all of this and not used the bread that made me decide to make the soup in the first place?) Never fear. It takes me a while to make a point sometimes. 

I don't have bowls that I want to put in the oven, so I made croutons, of sorts. That cheese went on slices of bread which went under the broiler until the cheese melted and turned just a bit brown. I really wasn't paying attention to how look it took.

The finished product. It was sweet, oniony, cheesy, delicious. I'm proud of what I accomplished.

So there you have it. A food post. French Onion Soup, complete with pictures taken by my iPhone.

Things have happened in my life.

I haven't written a Life Update Post in a while. Mostly because I've been living life. I've been posting less about my life anyway. Stuff shows up on Instagram, which links to Facebook and Twitter. That's pretty much how people find out what's going on. But here are a few stories:

1. I taught Sunday School for an entire school year. I spent nearly every Sunday morning from September 15-May 25 with the seventh graders at Grabill Missionary Church. I couldn't handle it at first, then I learned to love them, then we tolerated each other for a couple months, then we all got along pretty well, and then it was over. I spent Wednesday evenings with those girls, too, and they are my favorites. These kids are wonderful. I miss them. I am so excited to spend a few days with them at CDYC next week, even if they might spend the whole time accusing me of using heroin. Yeah, that's something that happened.

2. I turned 23. It was a pretty good birthday, starting with flowers from one of my seventh grade girls and ending with a Skype date with My Friend Katie who Lives in China. Yes, that's how I refer to her when I'm not talking to her. The hours in between included a lunch of steak and mashed potatoes, an afternoon of napping and watching "The West Wing," and a visit from some wonderful friends who brought me healthy foods, flowers (more about that later), and a Dan Smith. A couple of impromptu songs were performed, raspberries were eaten, and I may have shed a few tears of joy.

3. Our Tuesday Night Bible Reading has made significant progress. We finished the Pentateuch, jumped through a few Epistles, and went back to Joshua. We're now in 1 Samuel, unless they finished it the other night. Spending my Tuesday evenings with this group of people, reading Scripture, discussing the text and life and food is such a wonderful part of life. I am continually thankful that I get to be part of Team Awesome.

And now,The Abridged Story of Dope (If you're anything like me, you probably don't actually want to read this. I like this guy a lot and I need to write about it.):
4. Toward the end of February we were reading Exodus. After that night's reading, a few of us had an extended discussion of the few chapters including the Ten Commandments, Moses going up Sinai, the Golden Calf, etc. We were trying to figure out how many times Moses when up and down the mountain, where he was on the mountain, and how long he was there. We kept going back to Exodus 19, which has become a bit of a running gag. I was sitting across from Dan Smith. The taller one. The one who has two middle names.
A few nights later, I was sitting across from him again. We talked for two hours that night.
A few weeks after that, I was in New York. Dan texted me all that week, helping me process the trip, asking good questions, praying for me. He was great.
He was the one who brought me the flowers on my birthday. He was the one who ate half of the raspberries he brought me.
On the Tuesday after my birthday, he turned my invitation to a high school play directed by My Friend Stephanie who Teaches English into our first date. Same page? Same page. Cool.
We went on four dates, plus a non-date casual hang out that ranks among my favorite nights.
And then we were an official couple.
The past two months have been so unexpected and wonderful. We have been through some difficulty and some serious conversations and some tears and some laughter and some frustration and some awkwardness and some family time and some Putt Putt and some generally great time together.
I promise I won't talk too much about this, but I really enjoy telling stories and I really like this guy. So he'll show up occasionally.

5. I'm slowly starting to look for a new job. I'm not sure what kind of work I want to do. I'm just ready to move on and try something new. I'd like to start in September. I'd appreciate prayers or job offers. I'd appreciate a lack of pressure. Thanks.

And that's all I have to say about that.

I wrote about New York.

As I begin writing this, we’re at the station in Rochester, NY. It’s about 10:00 on Saturday morning, and we’ve made it halfway through our journey. And I’ve slept through most of it. I think a lot of the kids have, too. The thing is, most of the my fellow travelers wake up at the same time every day and have normal schedules. This meant that I was woken up at 7:30 to news of $10 pancakes. I do not understand the ability to have that much energy and excitement at such an early hour. There seems to be a pretty even split in our group. Half of us are either still sleeping (or almost sleeping), and the other half are up and down the train, laughing, and playing cards. I decided to start the process of updating you, although you won’t be reading this until we’re in the city. This train doesn’t have wiFi. What’s up with that?

Our group of thirty-eight must have been a sight to see boarding the train around 2:00am. In the church basement, it doesn’t seem like such a big group. Spread out on the platform, though, we started to get an idea of how it’s going to be for us walking through the streets of New York City. These kids better be ready for some lessons in “we discipline you because we love you and don’t want you to get hit by a taxi driver who is just trying to do his job so GET OUT OF THE STREET, NOW!” Okay, maybe that’s just me. But city drivers are not to be messed with.

I look out the window and see bare trees, dry, brown grass, a few houses, and the last bits of snow turning into huge puddles. In a few short (eight) hours, these will be replaced by skyscrapers, people, slushy corners, cars, lights, noise, and the energy of city life on a Saturday night. And, according to my weather app, a 90% chance of rain. Welcome to the city!

I hear there’s a stop coming up that’s long enough for us to get out and stretch our legs for a few minutes. I’ll end this part of the post now.

We’re about an hour and a half from Penn Station. We’ve been traveling through New York for most of the day, and it has been beautiful. Between small mountains and old buildings, we have not been lacking for scenic views.

At the moment, it’s raining and I’m listening to Rend Collective’s newest album, The Art of Celebration. There’s a song called “Burn Like a Star,” and I think the lyrics in the second verse speak perfectly to our desires for the work we’ll be doing this week:

“Send revival, start in us.

Set Your holy spark in us.Send us out in resurrection power.History’s about to change.We are rising once again.Send us out in resurrection power.We are aching for the real thing;hearts are open wide.Hope Swanson

Burn like a star, light a fire in our hearts.”

I can’t pick a favorite song from the album, but these words are my prayer for our team over the next few days. We want God to use us in ways that we could never predict or expect or ask. We want Him to do things in us and through us that we could never dream of accomplishing. We want to be His hands and feet and voice and heart in the middle of a city that, for the most part, ignores Him. We want to support and encourage our brothers and sisters who are seeking to change the city. We want to partner with them in ministry and in prayer. We want to be open to whatever is going to come our way on this trip.

So far, everyone has stayed safe, healthy, and excited. Almost everyone has gotten at least a few minutes of sleep, and I think we’re all looking forward to getting off of this train, eating dinner, and getting settled.

Please be praying for our children’s ministry and youth conference tomorrow, for Michael as he preaches.

We love you and miss you.

Good night.

Good evening! It’s Monday and we just got back from a day of walking through the city. Lee has asked if I could tell you all that he says “hi.” So, Lee says “hi!”

Yesterday was incredible, almost unbelievable if I hadn’t been in the middle of what what happening. My team (also known as Greg’s Team) and Kelley’s team left at 8:15 for Iglesia Evangelica Misionera Brooklyn. We sang with them and then a man came to the stage and read Psalm 51 and spoke about it. He spoke passionately about how we are washed clean by the blood of Jesus. I studied Spanish in high school and started as a Spanish major at Bethel, but I’ve never been very confident in my skills. I was understanding about half of what they were saying and singing, and it helped to have the lyrics up on the screen.

After announcements a man came to the stage and started talking about and to us. He asked the band to start playing one of the songs again, and said that we needed to sing in Spanish. He said that God might be calling us to be bilingual. At that point, I was already feeling like God was nudging me in that direction. Then he called Kelley up to the stage and asked him to hold his arms up. We were singing and moving and worshiping. Then he called Dave Jofreda to the stage and the three  of them danced and jumped. Rhonda Bollier was the next to be called up, then Dylan Carlyle, Rob Voirol, and Nancy Souder. When each person came to the stage, he began to speak to them, prophesying over them. Most of it was Spanish, but we heard a few words in English. It was such a powerful display of the Spirit. (There’s more to this story, but I don’t think I can be the one to write it.)

Then we went downstairs with the kids and Kelley’s team led the children’s ministry program that we’ve prepared. Many thanks to Janna Worthman for her prayerful preparation of a fantastic program that was adaptable depending on the audience. Kelley’s team did a great job and the kids had fun. It was awesome to be able to watch another team work.

Our two teams left together and split so that my team could go to Roosevelt Island. Christina Getz was guiding us all day and took us to their apartment to rest for a while. We got our Starbucks fix and spent about an hour getting to know Christina and enjoying their view. Roosevelt Island is in the middle of the East River between Manhattan and Queens, and you can walk across it width-wise in about a minute. Their apartment has a view of both boroughs, and the roof is incredible.

The church where our team presented the children’s program is a brand new church plant on the island. It’s called Hope Church Roosevelt Island and they officially launch next week. When we arrived on Saturday night the four adults on our team met with Jeff and he told us that the kids probably wouldn’t have any church background and that we’d have to adapt our program and start with explaining what a disciple is and what the “good news” is. We had a brief moment of panic, but we spent some time in prayer with the rest of the adults and went to bed feeling much more at peace about the whole thing. After what happened in the morning at IEMB, we were ready. We knew that God was with us and would use us and speak to us and through us.

We walked to the church building, which is a beautiful old brick building. The sanctuary is classic: stained glass, hardwood floor, cathedral ceiling; gorgeous. Our space for children’s ministry was about twice the size of what we anticipated. We talked with Amanda, one of the pastors, and she helped us get set up. We prayed together and headed upstairs for the first part of the service. I immediately felt at home when I heard Mumford and Sons playing through the room. When the next song was “Second Chance” by Rend Collective, I knew I was in the right place. (Not that there was any question.) I met a few of the kids, we stayed upstairs through music, and went back down with the kids. There were about ten of them, and four of them were the pastors’ kids. (So much for no church background.)

These kids were AWESOME! They participated, they knew one of the songs, they danced, they answered questions, and they talked to us. We had a great time with them.

We made our way back via the tram and subway, rejoined Kelley’s and Lee’s teams, shared some stories, and stayed up way too late talking.

I’ll write the story of today in the morning, and maybe we’ll get back on a normal schedule. I started writing this post this morning and was almost done when Jeff came in and told us that it was time to go. And I’m emailing this to my dad tonight, but it probably won’t go up until tomorrow morning. So you might get three posts in a day.

It’s Tuesday morning. I’m sitting on my air mattress, which deflated slightly overnight, sipping coffee and listening to the girls get ready. This is the point of the trip when we all know each other and like each other well enough that we’re still being very loving and kind. But it’s the fourth day that we’ve spent together, and this is often the time when we are tired enough that our usual filters start to deteriorate. We start reacting without thinking. We start getting a little bit snippy. Please pray specifically for this need. Pray that we would continue to care about each other’s hearts. Ask that God would give us a double-portion of patience in these last few days.

Yesterday was extra exhausting. We got to sleep in a bit, but it sure didn’t feel like enough. The first thing on our agenda after breakfast was a devotional from a man from Pakistan. There are some legal issues involved in this situation, so I’m not going to write too much. Suffice it to say that our eyes were opened to the need for knowledge about other religions, especially Islam. We cannot demonstrate their need for Jesus if we don’t demonstrate an understanding of what they think they have. Did that make sense? I hope so.

After that meeting, Jeff took us on a prayer walk through the city. This probably wasn’t quite like the prayer walk you’re used to. Jeff has a deep love for this city. He said to us “till the city that never sleeps meets the God who doesn’t either.” That’s why he’s here. That’s why he works with people who are planting churches. That is the desire that God has placed on his heart, and he wanted us to get an idea of how to pray the same way he does. As we traveled through the city, we would stop and Jeff would point out a landmark and talk about how he uses it as a reminder for prayer. We went to Times Square and he talked aout how New York is the city that never sleeps and that Times Square is the crossroads of the world.

Our next stop was lunch from Chipotle (yes!), which we ate in Bryant Park. After we ate, we gathered and Jeff pointed out the Bank of America building, representing greed. He challenged us to think not only about obvious kinds of greed, but the greed in our own hearts that keeps us from sharing what we have to offer (money, skills, love). As we stood there, he pointed behind us to the library. He talked about all the knowledge that building stands for and our responisibility to use that knowledge well, and not to depend on it. We walked from the park, to Grand Central Station, which represented busyness. Jeff asked us to think about things in our lives that take up time that we could be spending doing other, more meaningful things. We walked from Grand Central to the United Nations building. Each time we walked, we were to be looking at people’s faces, really looking at them, looking at their eyes. We were asking God to show us how to be part of their lives. We were praying for people differently than we usually do, I think. We were supposed to notice places, and think about how to use them as reminders to pray for what is going on in people’s lives and hearts. When we get home, ask us about what we noticed and how we’re praying for the people around us.

After the UN, where we prayed for peace, we made our way to the Staten Island Ferry, which is widely accepted as the best view of the Statue of Liberty, and it’s free. When we got back to Manhattan, we took the train to the tram and took the tram over to Roosevelt Island for dinner. Then it was up to the top of the Getzes’ apartment for the best and windiest view of the city. Inside, we heard from Kelley’s friend Josh Lee, who I’ve been hearing about for six years. Josh has a desire to bring the Gospel to kids in poor neighborhoods, who don’t have any idea what it means to be loved or cared about, because their parents aren’t providing that for them. It was so cool to finally hear from Josh. And Kelley finally rapped for us. We also heard from Kristin Bollier, who graduated from GMC and Leo in 2008. She’s living in the city, working in the fashion industry, and learning to be intentional about finding community. She hit hard on our need to surround ourselves with people who can support us and encourage us and challenge us. It was so good to see Kristin and hear her heart and what’s going on in her life right now.

That was yesterday. It was a good day, and I hope you get a chance to hear from some of our team members. Ask us questions. We have stories to share, and we would love for you to get an idea of what we’ve been doing.

We’ve made it to Wednesday. It’s our last full day and it’s going to be a long one.

I’m typing between bites of Honey Nut Cheerios. It’s 9:27, and we’ve gathered for breakfast. We’re in the room where most of the girls are sleeping. Air mattresses are stacked on tables, luggage is pushed to the edges of the room, several of my belongings are strewn across a table.

Yesterday (Tuesday) was a long day of walking.

Half of us spent the morning at a senior center on Roosevelt Island, while the other half did community research in Astoria. I went to the senior center and spent about an hour listening to a woman named Paula talk about her children and grandchildren. The woman hardly took a breath, and it was freeing. I didn’t have to come up with questions for her or things to say about myself.

We ate lunch with the people there, and then Monique and I went with a woman named Perdida to help her clean out a shelf and throw some stuff away. She put a few things in a bag and offered them to us. She went back to a room and returned with an armful of clothes that she wanted to get rid of. She kept telling us that we should keep the stuff, because she didn’t want it to go to waste. 

I think everyone at the senior center had a good time and talked to some interesting people. I haven’t heard much from the people who did the community research, so you’ll have to ask them about it.

After our morning activities, we met at the 9/11 Memorial. I wasn’t sure what to expect from myself emotionally. I remember a few details about that day: sitting at the kitchen table, eating a Pop Tart, watching the news, wondering along with the hosts what what going on in New York, watching a plane make its way across the screen and sky and into the tower. I remember cars lined up at gas stations. I remember watching the news in the afternoon, because nothing else was on because nothing else seemed to matter. I was in fifth grade, ten years old. I didn’t realize at the time that everything had changed. I didn’t realize that fear had taken over our country.

As I slowly walked around one of the Memorial Pools, I read names. I thought about these people who got up and went to work or boarded a plane. We hear stories of people who woke up late and missed their usual train, or who happened to have a meeting scheduled and rescheduled for somewhere else in the city. The people whose names are on that memorial didn’t have stories like that. They went through their normal routine. They did the same thing they did every day, but that day was the worst day. That day changed our nation and their families forever. On the far side of the first pool I noticed two names that were followed by “…and her unborn child.” That is when the tears finally fell. I thought about those children who would now be teenagers, the same age as my Sunday School students. Those children who were spared from a world without peace by such an act of violence and hatred. Those children who were victims along with their mothers and thousands of others. It was a tragedy that was felt throughout the world, the effects of which we are experiencing every day.

It’s now 12:44am on Thursday morning. I got interrupted this morning, and have been talking and getting ready for bed since we got back. Fellowship seemed to be more important on this last night in the city, so I’ll give you two days in one post.

It feels like we spent the day on our feet or on trains. After breakfast, we set our room back up so it would be ready for us tonight. We boarded the train to the World Trade Center stop, ate lunch at Burger King, and got on another train to take us to Newark, New Jersey. We met Pastor Tulio at Emanuel Missionary Church. This was the church where Michael preached and his team did their children’s program on Sunday night. It’s a beautiful old Russian Orthodox building that has been updated on the inside. They’ve added lights, painted, and generally brightened the place. It was such a welcoming space, even without people.

There’s a playground across from the church where we did a modified version of the children’s program. Kids were running everywhere, parents were watching, and our students were amazing. They talked to people, they played games, they laughed, they led well. I was a very proud youth leader.

I’ve been so impressed all week. Parents, you have done well. These students are helpful, loving, thoughtful, smart, brave, patient, encouraging, funny, and fun to travel with. We’ve all had our moments of frustration, but we’ve pushed through them all. We are at the end of our time here, and we still like each other. You should be proud of your children/parents/siblings/spouses/friends/GMC family. Thank you for supporting us financially and in prayer over the past few months. God has been faithful to provide everything that we’ve needed, and even more than we ever thought to ask for. Our eyes have been opened to the needs of the city, and our hearts have been softened to the needs of Grabill/Leo/Fort Wayne.

We’re looking forward to being home on Friday morning. Not just because we get to see you and tell you our stories, but because we now have a better understanding of our mission to our hometown. Get ready, Grabill. We’ve been to New York City, and we’re bringing back the love of Jesus.

Spreadin' the news.

A week from now, I'll be writing from New York, New York. (Two weeks from now is my 23rd birthday, but that's not what this post is about. Probably. I've only just started typing.)

We will arrive at Grabill Missionary Church at 10:00 on Friday night, say good-bye to our families, meet for about an hour to talk about last-minute details and pray together, and head to Waterloo, IN to hop on a train. We'll be on the train for about sixteen hours, across Ohio, through Erie, PA, across New York and Massachusetts, and into Penn Station around 6:30 Saturday evening. (Amtrak's Lake Shore Limited, in case you were wondering.)
Edit: The route actually splits in Albany. We will not be traveling through Massachusetts. Obviously, I'm VERY good at geography.

We'll spend the week partnering with ministries that just need a little encouragement. We're not there to take over, to change routines, to overhaul what's already happening. We're there to show and be shown that the Body of Christ is a worldwide network of brothers and sisters who support, pray for, love, and care about each other. We're there so that our students can build relationships with kids just like them who live in a city where 3% of the population identifies as "Evangelical Christian." We're there to share burdens. We're there to participate in what God is doing in the city.

And I am PUMPED!!

Sure, there are things about the trip that are not going to be what I signed up for. I learned that very quickly, went through a few weeks of being disappointed, and got over it. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

I've been thinking about packing today. We had a meeting after church that lasted until 4:30. We met with our various groups (Travel Groups, Ministry Groups, Small Groups), we Skyped with Jeff Getz from NewYorkIsCalling, we practiced getting on and off subway cars, we prayed, we laughed, and we started to realize that this trip is happening next week. I realized that I should probably start thinking seriously about what I'm going to take. I bought a new back pack a couple weeks ago. After lugging a suitcase around Great Britain and Czech Republic, I decided that several days of subway travel, two long train rides, and lots of walking and climbing stairs would be easier with a back I can strap to my back and mostly forget about. (Valuable items will be close to my body and not in easily accessible outside pockets. I'm not stupid.) I'm packing light when it comes to most of my clothing (Undergarments are the exception. Always pack more than you think you will need.), toiletries, and other personal items. I'll have a variety of personal care items (feminine products for the ridiculous number of girls on this trip, antacids, bandages, melatonin supplements, extra toothbrushes, etc.), and plenty of snacks for the inevitable late-night hunger attack (Dad, do you have any VIA I can take?). And, of course, I'll have a Bible, journal, and book for the reading that accompanies the late-night hunger attack (Till We Have Faces, by C.S. Lewis.). I'm leaving enough room for a few souvenirs/gifts/bagels. Mostly, I'm challenging myself to only take what I'm going to use between Friday night and Friday morning. I've never really been able to pack that way, but I'm determined to be successful for this trip.

Whew. That was a big block of text. I don't do that often.

This week:

• Reading Acts: Kelley asked us to start at chapter 13 and read a chapter each day. (Paul's missionary journeys.) I'm going to try to read the whole book. I've done it before. I'm pretty sure I can get through 28 chapters in a week.
• Packing: This will require lists and repetition and lots of double checking. These are things I genuinely enjoy doing.
• Spending time with friends and family: I am starting to connect to a wonderful group of people. Hanging out with them for the past two months has pretty much changed my life. I enjoy things now. I don't hate my job. I talk to people who are my age. It's a pretty amazing thing.
• Cleaning: My room is a disaster area right now, and I just haven't really done anything about it. I don't want to leave it this way.
• Preparing in every way I know how: I'll be trying to sleep as much as I can, adding a few squats to my daily non-workout, and being more careful about what I consume. I'll be reading Acts, praying more intentionally, and seeking the Holy Spirit's guidance and protection. I'll look at various maps of the city to try to figure out where we'll be going when we get there.

I'm so excited for this trip. I'm excited to see our students experience the city. I'm excited to meet Jeff and Christina and their kids. I'm excited to meet the people we're going to be working with. I'm excited to spend time getting to know the students and adults I'm traveling with. I'm excited to see everything that God is going to do in us and through us and around us while we're there.

I'll be writing throughout the week while we're there, but probably not here.

Please pray for us.

Joining the Conversation: A Single Woman at Twenty-Two

No one asked me to write this post. I'm guessing that most of the people who write these kinds of posts had people asking for them. We just get frustrated with all of the other voices and feel the need to share our own thoughts. That's what the Internet is for, right? So here it is. One more blog post about marriage, singleness, and life in one's early twenties.

I'm 22. I'm single. Like, completely single. Like, I'm not sure that I even have a crush on someone. Marriage seems like a near impossibility. And that's okay.

No one is telling me that I need to get married. Sure, I have an uncle who asks me whether I'm dating anyone. Sure, my seventh graders sometimes ask me why I'm not married. Sure, it seems like half of my graduating class was engaged or already married. But no one is telling me that I need to get married.

For every post in favor of getting married young there is one listing all of the other things I can do as a single person that I couldn't do if I had a husband.

And I'm over it.

I get it. Those who write in favor of getting married young are proud of it. They admit that they've had some problems, but they're glad they chose to get married before they had established credit or gotten high-paying jobs because they are happy and in love and have learned so much. Those who write in favor of staying single through one's early twenties talk about all of the adventures that are possible when there's no spouse to answer to because they are happy and not in love and have learned so much. Congratulations on your overwhelming joy. It probably has very little to do with your marital status. It probably has much more to do with who you are as a person. You made a choice. You are happy with your choice. And you wrote about it. Hooray for you.

(I'm sure that's what you're thinking about this post. Yeah, I know. It's my blog and I get to write what I want. You don't have to read it. I don't have to read any of the posts about marriage/singleness. No one asked  me to respond to those posts. Seriously, if you don't want to read this, go away. I don't need your approval.)

I'm in my early twenties and I am single. Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I feel lonely and sometimes I'm just alone. Sometimes I'm not alone and I'm okay with that. Sometimes I'm not alone and I just want to get away from everyone. Sometimes I love my job and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I love living with my parents and sometimes I wish I could move out. Sometimes I watch chick flicks and they make me wish that I had a boyfriend who would surprise me at work with flowers and sometimes I watch "30 Rock" and think that Liz Lemon is my unmarried-until-forty hero (except for the desperately wanting children part).

I'm young and single and that means whatever I want it to mean. I know that I'm not ready for marriage. I don't know that I ever will be. I don't know that I even want to get married. And that's okay. A lot of people my age aren't ready for marriage. A lot of people my age are happily married. Live your life. Get married when you're ready. Or don't get married at all. Don't turn marriage into the highest achievement in life. Live the life God gives you. Make decisions based on what will glorify Him.


I'll admit that I don't always do that. My life is not perfect. I'm not always happy with what I'm doing. But I press on. I push through. I trust His grace and love.

Here is a list of twenty-two things I've done in my life. I'm not proud of all of them.

1. I left the country before I graduated from high school. I went on a mission trip to Jamaica. It was incredible and I saw God show His power and mystery in ways I couldn't have expected.

2. I have seen every episode of "Lost." Twice. I didn't give up in the last couple seasons when things got weird and they started reaching.

3. I killed a cactus. His name was Caspian. My parents got him for me for Valentine's Day one year. I really wanted a cactus, it wasn't some cruel joke. He fell to his death when I knocked him off the corner of my bed frame during my sophomore year at Bethel. He was replaced last year by Hildegarde.

4. I went ten years (2003-2013) without throwing up. I quit drinking orange juice after the 2003 incident and gave up Reese's Puffs after last spring. I didn't like orange juice anyway, but I miss that chocolate-peanut butter goodness.

5. I went on two international trips (Great Britain in 2011 and Czech Republic in 2012) during my four years at Bethel. I learned that the parts of my personality that make it difficult to be an American (shyness, hatred for small talk) actually make me perfectly suited for life in Europe.

6. I earned a college degree. I can't say that I was a great college student, but I graduated with honors. And I am thankful for the faculty, staff, and students of Bethel College. They taught me much and showed me God's love and grace.

7. I was kissed by a guy I had known for approximately two days. It was a church camp relationship during the phase when I described myself as "desperate." I can laugh about it now.

8. I watched two friends get put into a cop car. That is a story that doesn't need to be told in any more detail.

9. I was a bridesmaid in my brother and sister-in-law's wedding. They got married when they were twenty-three. They'd been together since they were seventeen. We all knew pretty quickly that it would last. And it has and it will.

10. I completed several knitting projects. One of them was a scarf that took about five years to finish. It wasn't even fancy.

11. I started teaching seventh grade Sunday School. It's not easy, but I love it. Most of the time.

12. I maintained a blog throughout my time at Bethel. I got really honest sometimes. This was a place of confession, ranting, literary criticism, and storytelling. There are plenty of posts here about how I have felt about marriage over the past several years. The way I approach this subject has changed as I slowly discover more about myself. It was once a goal. Now it's on a list of possibilities for my future along with grad school and moving to England.

13. I lived in an apartment with three other girls one summer. I wasted a lot of money and time. I was alone a lot. I'm not exactly proud of everything that happened that summer, but I was forced to face God in new ways and some great things came out of that time.

14. I lived in a freshman residence hall. As a senior. With a girl I hardly knew. We made it through some crazy ups and downs last year. I wish I'd handled some things differently. I wish I had been a better roommate.I wish I had loved well.

15. I finally embraced the song "The Little Drummer Boy." I used to loathe this song without really thinking about it. But this year I realized that it's not about a kid who's not talked about in the Bible. Come on, Church. It's about bringing God whatever we have, because He accepts us just as we are. Get over it. If you're going to get picky about one Christmas song that we sing in church, get picky about all of them. Because the Bible doesn't talk about the angels singing, either. (It's possible that I get frustrated with Christmas sometimes.)

16. I got a job. It took me over twenty-two years, but I have a real job with taxes and everything. Sure, it's part-time and I make minimum wage. But it's a job. And I have no reason to be ashamed of it. It meant that I was able to buy Christmas presents for my family this year.

17. I bought a ukulele for my 20th birthday. I learned how to play some songs. I led the Bethel College Alma Mater on various occasions.

18. I discovered that I'm not great at maintaining relationships with people I don't see regularly. I still don't know how I feel about that.

19. I lived alone in my house from Friday until today while my parents were traveling to Wisconsin and Minnesota. I spent time with a friend on Friday, made cookies on Saturday, spent Sunday trying (unsuccessfully) not to throw up, took down Christmas decorations yesterday, and made soup and pizza today. I didn't freeze. Pipes didn't explode. I probably lost a few pounds. It was a great few days. I'm glad  my parents are home now.

20. I have read The Chronicles of Narnia all the way through more than once. I'm not sure that I've read any other C.S. Lewis books in their entirety, though I was assigned to do so in college. Like I said, I wasn't a great student.

21. I spent less than $100 on clothing in 2013. It's the only New Year's Resolution I have ever kept.

22. I gave my life to God. I asked Jesus into my heart. I began the most important relationship in life. I became a disciple. That's what matters.

I don't get to decide when people get married or whether it's okay to get married at a certain age. I'm glad I'm not married now. If my life had gone differently and I was married, I'd be glad I'd gotten married. It's not my goal. It's not where I want my focus to be. So get married young or don't. Please don't act like your way is the way it should be for everyone. I know that not everyone should live the way that I do. Except for the following Jesus part. I think that's supposed to be something that everyone does.

That's my voice. Take it as such.

Learning to love seventh graders.

Every Sunday morning I spend an hour with the seventh graders at Grabill Missionary Church. We usually have a a group of about 15 students, and I have two high school students who join us to offer a different perspective (and to help with crowd control).

I am amazed at the amount of energy these students have at 9:00 on a Sunday morning. Apparently, the worries of a thirteen-year-old aren't enough to cause a lack of sleep. Of course, I usually don't get home from work until around midnight and then spend about an hour planning my lesson for the morning. This doesn't exactly leave adequate time to rest up for the surprisingly exhausting hour of teaching.

An average Sunday School hour includes about ten minutes of hang out time in the basement, ten minutes of chatter when we finally sit down together (including announcements, reviewing the latest movie, and various distractions), half an hour of discussion (which really means 15 minutes of talking about what I've planned and 15 minutes of other conversation), a few minutes for prayer requests and prayer, and then as soon as I say "Amen," they scatter. I wait around to make sure they all head upstairs in time to find their parents to go to the 10:15 service.

Last week (10/27) was one of my worst teaching experiences ever. There was an almost complete lack of focus, there were students who answered as I was calling on someone else, there was endless chatter. I felt helpless. I didn't know what to do. I tried to bring them back to the topic. I tried raising my voice. I tried sitting silently until they figured out that it was time for them to do the same. I tried the "respect" speech. Eventually, I told them that I was frustrated and that I hoped they would come back the following week ready to listen and learn.

When they scattered, I looked at the one high school student who was there that week and we just shook our heads. We tried to make sense of what had just happened, and decided that we'd move from the circle of couches to the chairs that we use on Wednesday nights when the whole group is together.

I wanted to go home and cry. I was so ready to just tell the youth pastors that I couldn't do it anymore and that they needed to find someone else to take over these hooligans. We had a Newcomer Lunch that day and I told one of them that I "hate seventh graders."

I felt like the worst youth worker. There were moments during the summer that I felt like a failure at my job, but this just hurt me to the core. I thought I was a teacher. I thought I would be able to do this. I committed a year to these kids, and I wanted to be faithful to that.

I talked to my dad about it, like I do about most ministry-related issues. He suggested that I simply re-teach the material. I liked that idea. It meant that I would just have to review it and come up with some different examples and ways of explaining the metaphors. (Jesus is the Bread of Life, Light of the World, and the Good Shepherd.) It meant that while I was at GOMAD with Senior High Campus Life this weekend, I wouldn't have to think too much about Sunday School.

Ha! That's funny.

I thought about my seventh graders all weekend.

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It's as if they are showing you the way."

The "Don Miller Character" says that in "Blue Like Jazz." I'm not sure whether it's in the book, but it's in the movie. It caught me the last time I watched it, because it's so true. I don't think Don was talking about junior high students, but that's how it worked for me. At least, in part.

One of the volunteers who had been recruited to join Leo for the weekend works with junior high students. I told him that I taught seventh grade Sunday School and he told me that he loved junior high. I was confused and convicted. I had spent so much time complaining about my crazy kids that I had forgotten that I was supposed to love them. I had forgotten that they aren't just a group of wild, distracted, talkative children.

They're children of God. And simply because they are people, they deserve my love. They are valuable. They are fun. They have real questions and real struggles. They need to learn, whether or not they want to. They deserve my time and attention, my lesson preparation, my care.

And I decided that they deserved my honest explanation of how I was feeling about them. So on Sunday morning I stood up on stage in front of my students and told them that I had wanted to give up on them. I told them that I had been frustrated and sad and angry and confused. I told them that I loved them and cared about them and wanted them to learn and understand how much God loves them. I told them that I wanted us to all come together on Sunday mornings to focus and be serious.

We talked through Psalm 139, which was not part of the curriculum we're using for Sunday School now. The night before, I read the Psalm to the Leo students who attended GOMAD. I love it. I wish everyone would believe it as Truth. That everyone would believe that God loves us, made each of us carefully, thinks of us, searches us, never leaves us, sees us. It's so important to know and truly believe those words. I wanted my seventh graders to hear those verses. I wanted them to even begin to understand what it means to be loved by the God who created the universe. It's difficult to convince anyone that he or she is worthy of this kind of love, but it's especially frustrating for teenagers who are facing all kinds of pressure and are in a developmental stage that predisposes them to self-centeredness, comparison, and a lack of self-esteem.

I want to be one voice that represents love. I want to be one person who won't leave. I want to be one "adult" who encourages but doesn't allow them to get away with everything. I want to love them in the best way I can. I want to let God love them through me.

I am so thankful for that guy who helped me see that seventh graders can be loved. I'm thankful for a God who is love. And I am thankful for my crazy, out-of-control, loud, obnoxious seventh grade students. I love them. I like them. And I'm glad I have them this year.

I hope they're glad they have me.

Calling in sick.

This post will include complaints, honesty, and increased self-awareness.

I woke up with a headache this morning. I hate it when that happens, especially when I know that it's the kind that's only going to get worse if I try to continue with my day as planned. After twenty minutes of wrestling with the idea, I called my boss and told him what was going on. He said he's open for me and find someone else to cover.

I hate letting people down. I want to be everything for everyone, as far as my standards will allow.
I'm discovering that it's impossible, exhausting, and destructive. I spend 30 hours each week at work giving to my bosses, co-workers, and customers. I spend four hours each week preparing/teaching/co-leading Sunday School and Break Out Group. I spend two hours each week with students at Campus Life. I'm allowing myself to be drained, and I'm not being refilled quickly enough.

I'm finding that it's easy to be dragged down by the bad attitudes at work. It's easy to fall into the patterns of complaining, sarcasm, and laziness. I wanted to shine a light at my workplace, to change it for the better, but I'm allowing it to change me. And I don't like it.

I don't like coming home feeling like I can't do anything right. I don't enjoy dealing with frustrated co-workers who don't care about their jobs. (If any of you are reading this, don't act like this is new or secret information. And I know I'm not innocent here.)

I needed the break that today offered. I needed the extra sleep, not only to relieve my headache, but to give me some distance from last night. It was a busy night and we felt understaffed. There was tension that no one was trying to hide, we were all on edge, I cried, things didn't get done, and somehow we were $10 short. I usually enjoy most parts of my job. I don't mind busy nights, I can put up with the trash talk, I can delegate. But I had the strongest urge to just walk out and never come back.

At one point, one of the drivers said something about me needing something to energize me or something. He was thinking something along the lines of coffee, but it was at that moment that I realized that my life is out of balance. I'm giving without taking. I'm feeding without being fed. I'm the Yes Girl. And it's not healthy.

I need Christian fellowship with my peers. I need deeper intimacy with God. I need to allow myself to remember that I'm loved for more than my ability to do my job, to teach, to hang out with students.

I'm loved because I'm His daughter. His creation. Not for what I can do. Not for how many times I agree to do someone a favor. Not for wearing myself out trying to be the perfect employee or volunteer. Just because of who He is.

In summary:
-Work was difficult last night.
-I am allowing myself to be depleted.
-I can't do that anymore.
-I love my job and want to do it well without turning into my identity or the way my worth is determined.
-I need a Sunday night Bible study with people my age. (Any suggestions?)
-God is always good and I am always loved, even when I don't feel like either of those things is true.
-My headache needs to go away because I need to go to the bonfire tonight.