{RE}discovering Him :: Day 13 - The Wisdom

I am just kind of in awe of this revelation that God has given to me. The wholeness IN Him, taking me, holding my hand, and sometimes even carrying me through this intense season of brokenness struck me with amazing REALness.

HE is with me.

Even when I HATE the process

Even when I think HE hates ME. {which I know He doesn't}

Even when I cry because I think I cannot take any more.

Even when the heart break threatens to suck me into its black hole.

Even then....

He is with me.

Changing me.

Transforming me.

Developing me.

Into His image.

Reflecting His heartbeat.

Shining His light.

Walking in my purpose.

{RE}discovery :: The journeys that we take often seem irrelevant, insignificant, & maybe even irreverent in some ways, and yet the more, the longer, the harder, I cling to Him, I start to become that which moves His heart, brings joy to the world, and surrenders to the One who knows the end from the beginning.

How little people know who think that holiness is dull.

When one meets the real thing,

it is irresistible.

~C.S. Lewis

Previous - Day 12 :: The Broken

Next - Day 14 :: The Coach

{RE}discovering Him :: Day 6 - The Secret

Growing up I often felt like 2 different people.

In Haiti, I was the white kid, daughter of "Bro & Sis" {Frere & Seour} Tom, who lived in the apartment on top of the school & church. I fit in "sort of" but I was different. Although I was born there just like my play mates, my parents were not, so my heritage and therefore advantages were in stark contrast to my friends.

In America, I was the missionary kid, daughter of career missionaries, Tom & Bev Brumbley, spoke a different language, and probably dressed different {although I could have cared less about that}. I was only there a few months out of the year, but I can remember as a teenager having unrealistic expectations put on me by my friends there.

Either way you spin it, I was different.
I never "quite" fit in anywhere I went.
Don't get me wrong.
I always had friends in both places, but it was rare to feel like I fit into a group dynamic.

And to be honest, that reality has never quite shifted.

And again, if I'm being really honest, it's hard.

REAL hard sometimes.

But I really don't think I am alone in this. I know most people reading are not missionary kids or third culture kids, but we have all felt a little or a lot different in some way, shape or form.

My mind wanders to Paul.

Greek & Jew by birth.
A dichotomy of his day.
He could fit into both worlds, and yet he belonged to neither.

But this is what Paul said at the end of his life.

"Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.

I can do all things through Him who strengthens me."
Philippians 4:11-13

Paul found a way to be content in every circumstance and situation.

When he was accepted or unaccepted.
When he was liked or disliked.
When he "fit in" or when he was on the "outs"

WHATEVER the circumstance, Paul says he "learned the secret".

I like that.


{RE}discovery :: I feel like the Father is teaching me "the secret" of walking in contentment no matter if I am happy with my current situation or if the "now" is NOT SO THRILLING. He is in the details!

And I want to be with Him

Previous - Day 5 :: The Lonely

Next - Day 7 :: The Ordinary

To Quit or Not to Quit - That is the Question

After the same woman skied past me on the slopes THREE TIMES, as I lay sprawled on the hill after falling MORE times than I can count, each time inches from the previous fall, I made my decision then and there. I took off my skis put them under my right arm, poles under my left arm and walked down the hill, 3 hours after I started.

I quit.

And no amount of convincing from any of the chaperones or my friends could convince me otherwise. I spent the rest of the day in the lodge, drinking cocoa and nursing my wounded pride & disappointed soul.

Two years later, at the age of 14, I tried again, with "slightly" better agility, but the whole experience of skiing at that point was just one that NEVER ranked high on my list of fun activities. So for years, whenever I found myself at the slopes with friends, I would choose tubing over skiing or boarding ANY day.

Then I met my husband -- a snow-boarding, roller-blading, surfer-wanabe, X-games-lover guy -- and I found myself in Denver, Colorado, on Thanksgiving weekend, a 2-month-newlywed, freaking out because I was "late" and planning to go skiing the next day to be a part of something that my love....LOVED.

So I did what any self-respecting girl would do.

I cried. And I cried. And I cried.

Then I fell asleep, got up the next morning, nervously got ready, and got to the slopes.

And I cried some more.

Now I have to tell you, I HATE crying in front of people. I HATE looking weak in front of people. I HATE failing in front of people, but my fear of skiing, of falling, of making other people fall, of making a fool of myself on the slopes was so great that it outweighed all of those other emotions.

Finally, though, I couldn't take the scrutiny and/or the "I-feel-sorry-for-you looks" so I told everyone to please go on, and I would get myself together....EVENTUALLY!!

I started down some greens, or "bunny" slopes, and of course, fell repeatedly, so I persisted, and kept falling. The air is MUCH thinner in Colorado than in humid Haiti or Maryland, so I found myself, YET AGAIN, sitting in the snow preparing to just give up, when a woman slows to a stop next to me. I think to myself, "Oh, how nice that she is stopping to help me and see if I am okay." That is when she says, "I just want to let you know that you need to watch out. You are in the snowboarding lane."

Okay. Great. Thanks.

So, what could I do....? I got up and tried again.

It felt like an eternity getting down that slope, but something happened to me on the way down.

I started gaining confidence.
I stayed up longer each time between falls.
I think, dare I say it, that I even may have started having a little fun.

{I know....I know...radical, right?}

I never got very good that day but I improved little by little, slope by slope, fall by fall.

The next year, Arno and I went skiing again, and I have to tell you....I was PASSING him on the slopes. {In his defense, on skis, one can be a bit faster than on a board.}



But I learned a lot from those experiences in my life.

After quitting at 12 years old, it changed me. I remember trying a little bit each year to be braver and stronger in the face of things that were hard. In college that meant trying out for every club, meeting, activity, leadership position, etc, that I wanted to be involved in.

In my 20's, overcoming my fear of skiing meant conquering that moment where life tried to define me as a quitter.

In the past couple of years, I have had to make some decisions and choices that have made me feel like that 12 year old girl again, and I have felt a plethora of emotions facing that fear in the face again. In some situations I have fought valiantly & won, and in others, I have fought a felt the sting of loss. Some moments I have face bravely, and others I have "tried" to bow out gracefully.

What I am thankful for is an amazing Heavenly Father who does not define me by my successes and/or failures like I do to myself.

I am NOT a quitter.
I am NOT a failure.
I am NOT washed up.
I am NOT finished.

I AM....in fact....HIS, unequivocablly and irrevocabaly.

We fall down.

We get up.

And the saints are just the sinners who fall down and get up.

30 Days of Hope: Day 21 - It's Hard Being a Grown Up

Hope was easy when I was a kid.


I hoped for a Rainbow Brite doll. On my 6th birthday, my Aunt Paula gave it to me.

I dreamed of being a ballerina one day. When I was 12 years old, I took dance classes.

I longed to around my extended family. When I was 16, I got to live with my Aunt Bonnie for a year while graduating from high school.

As a "grown up", things don't always happen as easily or as quickly. Maybe that is because our requests & desires are MUCH bigger, maybe it is because Mommy & Daddy can't just "fix it" like they could when we were little, or maybe it is God teaching us to depend on Him.

It might be for 100 different reasons, but a big one for me is that the reason we lose hope is because we lose the wonder of seeing life through the eyes of a child. As a little girl, all people, animals, flowers, trees, etc were my friends. I woke up each day with the excitement of the possibility of what that day would hold. I expected all people to be kind & nice & generous. I thought of the world as a place full of adventures to be discovered. I found 1000's of things to laugh over every day.

Then I grew up and got caught up in life, questions, future, money, practical stuff, etc....and sometimes instead of hope, despair and fear become closer companions. So what do we do?

I read this Scripture today on my Aunt Paula's Facebook page (yes...my Rainbow Brite gift-giver):

John 14:27 (New International Version)
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

It has been my mantra for the day. Peace....peace.....peace.......In my grown up world filled with grown up decisions, my Father in Heaven isn't worried...He already has a plan....so I can walk in His peace today with hope for the future.

And SO CAN YOU!!

Here is my prayer for me and for you today:

Romans 15:13 (New Living Translation)
I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Receive His love, His peace, His joy today -- and renew that childlike hope!!