The Significance of a Moment

How often do we find ourselves pushing moments into one another, rushing, speeding, striving to get to the next, better, important moment later on? How often do we pause and try to describe a moment as it happens, try to feel it, drink it in and savor it, like one savors a bite of something delicious?

A writer's job is to describe, to put the reader into the moment, so the reader can truly feel and try to experience what the writer is attempting to convey. I suppose I would consider myself as a writer, but one that is still learning the craft. But I will try.

Do you ever have a moment that seems to hold significance, but you're not sure why? You try to understand it, to feel it, and to describe it so you can remember it forever, but it eludes the words you try to use. It seems you are on the edge of inspiration, of understanding something truly profound, but it sits on the tip of your brain, on the edge of description.

I was driving, and I was blown away by a feeling  I still can't quite grasp. I can describe the fireflies I saw across the road, appearing like tiny sparks of fire, extinguished in moments. I could describe the deep scent of the earth that has just been tilled and wind mixing together through my window, a promise of rain in the air. My words can try to paint a picture of the last rays of a summer sunset, the purple and pink mixing in with the deep navy that creeps in to slowly envelop all other colors. The feel of the wind moving my hair about, its sound competing with the song on the radio.

Yet I can't describe the wistful feeling that all of these things brought me, the wildness that seemed to well up in me as I smelled the earth and wind, or the bittersweet feeling I got as the sun set on another day. I can't truly describe what happened, or how I felt, and why it drove me to cry out to God.

But I will try.

For these moments must be savored; described with our inexperienced writings and our insufficient words.
Because if we ignore them, these moments will be lost, and we will miss the brief communion with God that they bring.

Hanna Elizabeth

Judging, or Not...

Does anyone else ever worry about what others think about you?
Wondering what that glance across the room meant, or what that person who is of a certain age, or ethnicity, or religion, or culture, or size, or...you name it really-must be thinking of you right now, based on your appearance, possessions, body shape, or outfit?

It's a habit that is easy to pick up, and exceedingly hard to break. I have struggled with this for a long time, and it is difficult to keep my mind under control. From this worry comes a projection of others. I start to put people in boxes, thinking about who they must be, and how they must think-based on how they look, or act, or what generation they are from, or who they affiliate themselves with.

I'm sure everyone has heard someone say something similar to this:
"Those (insert collective group name here) are (insert negative comment here) and they are all like that!"

Consider this: People are people. People are individuals with their own private lives, and no matter what the differentiating factors between you and them, they don't fit into your created box. People of a certain type don't always, or even typically think and feel a certain way.

People are people, and each human being must be treated as an individual.

In reality, it only hurts me to put others in boxes, stunts my perception and understanding, and limits my ability to do my most important job-love others.

What does it look like to love? That will have to be delved into another time.

My first job is to shake off my misunderstandings about others, and seek to see each person as a unique individual.

If I choose to do so, I might just make some lasting friendships, and learn a little something along the way.

Hanna Elizabeth

About Self-Care and Home Care

The other day, I was feeling very exhausted. My muscles hurt, I felt weak and weary, and my heart was broken over five different things at once.

So, naturally, since I was frustrated with myself, I decided to clean my bathroom.

....yeah, I don't know how that connects either.

But as I was scrubbing a month's worth (or more...who's keeping track?) of stains from my toilet bowl, cleaning the sink until it shined, and sweeping every bit of dust off my bathroom floor, I began to start to feel...better.

So I started another task, doing my 2 week's worth of laundry, sorting clothes...and I felt even better. 

So I washed my (only two days worth, give me props, people!) of dishes, wiped my counters, cleaned off most of my kitchen table, and put thing away.

By the time I finished, I started to feel...actually...glad, and a little proud of myself.

Finally...and I hesitate to share this gruesome detail....I  shaved my legs that hadn't seen the light of day since last August...

...Don't tell anyone....

After all of this was accomplished, I sat down to dinner I had cooked, and watched a show on Netflix...guilt free.

So why does all this matter anyway? 

Well, as I scrubbed that gross ring on my toilet bowl, I started thinking about an article that I had read a few weeks ago about self care. It was titled: This is What 'Self-Care' Really Means, Because It's Not All About Bubble Baths and Chocolate Cake. You can find the link to this great article here:

https://thoughtcatalog.com/brianna-wiest/2017/11/this-is-what-self-care-really-means-because-its-not-all-salt-baths-and-chocolate-cake/

Yep, I have really existential and deep thoughts when I scrub my toilet bowl. Maybe I should do it more often.

I realized that self-care is sometimes about caring for your home, and making it an enjoyable place to spend time. Sometimes making yourself feel better is a matter of washing dishes and cleaning your sink, or putting away clothes and cleaning out your backpack. 

Self-care can be things that make you feel better about where you are, as well as who you are.

Also, if anyone knows how to get those pink rings off of my toilet bowl, I'd welcome some suggestions.

What I Learned From Watching Someone Else Teach

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to watch my best friend teach.

She teaches 3rd, 4th, and 5th grades various subjects in a small school.
I teach Kindergarten, so you can imagine the differences in our classrooms.

Here are some things I have learned from that experience.

• If you respect your students, they will respect you.
• You have instant camaraderie with a 5th grader if you ask him what's for lunch today.
• Jenga blocks can be used like dominoes.
• The analytical prowess of an 11-year-old is impressive.
• 3rd grade girls surpass the maturity of 5th grade boys by about two years. 
• 5th graders can be a lot quieter than Kindergartners.
• There is hope for my Kindergarten kids to become focused, quiet 5th graders.
• All kids love Jenga blocks
• All kids love to play
• There is an exponential amount of knowledge from Kindergarten to 5th grade.
• They CAN SIT STILL! :)
• experiments with gum are the best! 
• Apparently 5th graders are resourceful at finding out you have a boyfriend.
• Apparently 5th graders are able to find their teacher's boyfriend's address online.
• Again, 5th graders are very resourceful people.
• I'm so glad I don't teach 5th graders who ask invasive questions.
• My best friend may be one of the most patient people I've ever met.
• She is definitely the most patient person I know.
• 5th grade boys are really good at pushing the rules. 
• 5th grade boys might also be some of the funniest kids I've met.
• My best friend is one of the best teachers I know. :)

A Joy Inside My Soul-Stories of Summer

Applications...friends...tattoos....paperwork...finances...

100 things cross and re-cross my mind as I work inside my favorite coffee shop in my new town...soon to be my old town if these plans worked out.

Caught up in my human concerns, it isn't until the darkness begins to seep into the windows that I look outside to see the storm approaching. Black clouds creeping slowly over the sun, showing between the buildings, a feeling of danger suddenly overtaking the once cloudless sky.

Shoppers hurry a little faster through the historic downtown streets, looking up nervously in case the clouds empty themselves prematurely. 

My heart beats faster and my Joy grows. That little thrill of danger, the quick flash of lightning excites me. I've decided that I could be a storm chaser if this teaching thing doesn't work out.

Suddenly, the deluge begins. 

From dry to streams in the street in 3.5 seconds, and shoppers run for their vehicles helter-skelter.

People begin leaving the coffee shop, young ones darting out as quickly as they can, older ones standing under the eaves longer, waiting for a slackening, a slowing of the downpour before they try to run--a little slower--to their vehicles. 

Others enter, parking as close to the door as possible, attempting to use umbrellas as they get out of the car, only to have them soaked and pushed sideways by the wind. Families come in, laughing as they wipe the wet from their faces and find a place to get comfortable. 

A grandmother pauses with her three young grandchildren. The kids discuss how fast they'll run, excited at the possibility of getting wet and dodging raindrops. The grandmother contemplates pulling the car up, but with a resigned sigh says:

"Well, I guess we'll just get wet." As they leave, three have beaming faces, while one is less enthusiastic. 

I pause my observations. Is this how it is supposed to be? When did that grandmother forget the Joy of running in the rain? When did the older ones stop taking risks, just doing, and darting out into the storm without a second thought?

At what point do people stop choosing Joy in ordinary circumstances? 

Was there a point when that grandmother began to view storms as unpleasant, a nuisance to the natural progress of life? 

What about the older ones, as they hesitate to take a risk, waiting for an opportune moment as the rain streams down the eaves? Is this something learned, or did it happen gradually, as they got older?

Risk taking, choosing Joy in the small things, I think they're all connected.

I didn't used to be someone who took risks. 

Calculated, well-thought out, work-the-way-I-planned risks? Yes. If you can call those risks at all.

Choosing something new where I didn't know the outcome, and jumping off that ledge with Joy? Never. 

My 15-year-old self would be scandalized at who I am today.

But because of the risks I've taken, my eyes have been opened to the Joy that a rainstorm can bring. The dark clouds are more exciting than scary, and the cliffs I jump off of don't seem quite so tall.

There are many days where I hesitate to jump, and my 15-year-old self begins to scream at me to stop. 

Then I shake her words from my head, and I remember that I don't want to go back to who I was.

I don't ever want to be afraid to dart into the rainstorm, or jump off of that cliff, no matter how high, as long as the Lord is whispering to me to follow Him in that direction, my Joy and fulfillment will surpass my fear.

The rain stops as quickly as it had began, and the Joyful sun peeks through the clouds.

Hanna Elizabeth 

Baseball games and spittin' seeds-Stories of Summer

Tonight I went to my very first baseball game!

Now, before you ask...yes...I'm 24...and seriously...I've never actually been to a baseball game before.

Sheesh people, it's not like its the great american sport or anything...

Anyway, my first baseball game, a fourth and fifth grade game, and I couldn't have been more excited. I'd been looking forward to it all day long, and I had the full experience. 

Close your eyes and imagine a little league baseball field. bases are loaded, and the kid up to bat is swinging with all his might to hit that hard white ball that whizzes at him, 15, 20, 30 miles an hour from a good pitcher. The smell of popcorn wafts from the concession stand, parents are cheering and giving directions from the stands, and you're spitting ranch flavored sunflower seeds as far as you can. 

Then, very softly at first, the rain begins to fall. Of course you brought your umbrella because you should always bring an umbrella to a baseball game. Or...your friend told you it was going to rain...

Soon the rain is coming down in bigger splatters, dripping off your umbrella in little rivers...and the water begins to pool in the spot your are sitting.

But the kids play on, so you stay, standing up to watch, and save your rear from a thorough soaking.

As I stood there, just as you've imagined, my friend Beth and I became aware of something amiss in this idyllic scene. Between the cheers of the parent, one mother seemed to be struggling. 

"If you don't hold the umbrella right here, the stuff is going to get all wet!" She exclaimed to her five-year-old, exasperated. "Why are you rolling your pants up? You're going to get cold!" On the game went, any silence on the field punctured by the mother's frustrated attempts to control her child and still watch the game. Every time he ran off to play, she was calling him back. Every time he brought her something to show her, he was told he should be watching his brother play. Worried about the blankets and chairs, and how to properly hold the umbrella, this mom seemed tired. 

I will not pronounce judgement on this woman's parenting for this small thing. I have no idea how her day had been going, or anything about her life, other than the fact that one of her sons plays baseball.

Instead, my best friend Beth raised the question that has become the topic of this long-winded blog post.

"Do the things that your mom values become the things that you value?"

For example, if your mom values the furniture, and doesn't allow you to sit on some of it, what does that tell you as a child?

If your mom cares very much about what other people think, do you carry that burden as well?

Or, if your mom often scolds you about whether your clothes get torn, or your chair and blankets get wet, how does that change the way you view things? 

We don't keep all of our parents values. Depending on our willpower, and our own ideas, we will often shrug off the things that our moms tell us are important. Which is why you have kids who haven't cleaned their room in months, even though mom tells them every day.

But the deeper question becomes, what do I, as a person who has influence on young kids now, and who will be a parent one day, want to communicate to my kids? 

When I think about what I want my kids to know is important, I know for sure, it isn't stuff. It isn't what other people think, or whether they get good grades in school all of the time, or what people say on social media (that's a full blog post for another time), or whether they get wet in the rain.

It's Jesus, and people. 

I want my kids to care about what Jesus thinks, and I want them to care how they treat other people.

Does anything else truly matter?

Hanna Elizabeth

 

The Call of the Lord

To say the Lord has been stretching me lately is an understatement.

These last two weeks has forced me to rely on Him more than I ever have in the past.

In the last 4 days, I have moved 7 hours away from most of the people I know, including my immediate family, moved in with a couple I had never met before, and started a job in a new town that I don't know how to navigate yet. 

For a once timid girl who never thought she'd leave her hometown, and at one point had plans to buy a house next door to her parents, this has been quite the change. 

This, admittedly, is both what I wanted, and have felt the Lord's calling to do for almost a year now. 

I have also been feeling uncommonly overwhelmed, and have been driving my own pity train off the cliffs of insanity for the last couple of days. (kudos if you understand that last reference) 

Because of all of this, and because I could too easily turn this post into a pity party of epic proportions, I am instead going to list the things I have been thankful for today.

I am thankful that I have a car that can help me explore town, and get lost every day.

I am thankful for the friend that called me yesterday, excited beyond words, to tell me about the cats she met at the humane society. She brightened my whole week. 

I am thankful for the friend that has been texting me all day with witticisms and funny questions about men I might find in this small town. 

I am thankful that you can get from one end of town to the other in 10 minutes or less, so I'm almost never late.

I am thankful for the coffee shop I'm in right now. Impeccable coffee, friendly staff, and only open until 5:30 Mondays-Wednesdays. This is truly a small town, and I kind of love it. 

I am thankful for the conversation I just overheard, about a man who hasn't payed his taxes "since the year after Obamacare came out." Enough said.

I am thankful for the couple I'm staying with, who have an evil cat, but who couldn't be more welcoming and kind.

I am thankful for the kids that I've gotten to work with over the last week. From the little girl with bright blue eyes who told me "by the way, I think you're beautiful", to the one who growled at me, and the little one with a cold who asked me to hold her hand every time we went somewhere. I'm so incredibly blessed that I get to work with kids all day. 

  

I am thankful for my family. The ones I didn't realize I would miss this much when I moved. It's been their support, a phone call or two, and the "good morning sunshine!" texts that have helped me feel loved..

I am thankful, so so very thankful, for my best friend Beth, who has been my rock when I've been a mess all week, supporting me, listening to my pity party, and, in true best friend fashion, telling me to suck it up when I've gotten too irrational with my worries.

I'm sure I could list a dozen more, given enough time, but it boils down to this:

I am thankful for the the guiding hand of the Lord in all of this.

Amidst all of my irrational worries, fears, and loneliness, I know the Lord has got me. He has called me here for a reason. While I can only begin to glimpse that reason now, He will show it to me in time. 

Do not fear, for I am with you. Be not dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you, and give you help. I will uphold you with my victorious right hand. Isaiah 41:10

Thank you Abba.

Hanna Elizabeth

Tis so sweet

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus

Just to take Him at His word

Just to rest upon his promise

Just to know, thus says the Lord

This song has been one of my favorites for a long time. The version I listen to is so upbeat and fun, and I love the idea of trusting in the Lord, and how sweet a reward it is, when I know He has got me in His hands.

Sometimes, trusting the Lord is easy. 

I trusted Him to provide a place for me to stay in my new town, and He answered that one in three days.

Oh, wait, that was actually a week of waiting, and I was pretty worried about that for a while...

Well...I trusted him to....

Ok, scratch that. Trusting the Lord is difficult.

This week has been heart wrenching at times. Every day at the chapel, on my knees, sometimes weeping before the Lord, asking him, why? why?

My heart was filled with fear, overwhelmed, and a little angry.

How could he mess everything up? I'm not ready for this, I'm not emotionally prepared, not physically prepared, I'm not even spiritually prepared! I cried to Him. 

6 hours, and my plans were changed.

My perfect, tidy plans of moving that I've prided myself on, and that I worked out the the most minute detail. 

To quote my best friend "Hang on a second, while I laugh with God at your plans."

My first mistake was having tidy, supposedly set in stone plans in the first place. 

I left no room for the Lord to change them, fix them really, and so when He did, I played tug of war for a little while. 

If you've ever played tug of war with God, you know how that one ended.

As I've reevaluated, adjusted, and changed my course to fit the new plan the Lord was putting in front of me, the only two things I could do were to mope, and feel sorry for myself, or to trust Him.

I tried moping for a while, but I'm pretty sure He just chuckled a little bit and kept going.

The only thing I had left to do was trust Him, and start walking through the door He opened for me.

And lean on Him for strength. 

Another friend gave me a perfect analogy for my week.

"It's like you're on a path, and the only part of the path you can see is the small place in front of you that your lamp is shining on. I think your verse this week is Psalm 119:105-Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path."

She was right. 

Here I was, stressed out and overwhelmed because I couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, but that was all I needed to see. That was all He wanted me to see, so the only thing I could do is take only the ones illuminated by His lamp.

So yes, when it is all said and done, it is so sweet to trust in Jesus. Sometimes the sweetness doesn't come until after I trust him with my whole heart and ALL of my plans. 

Maybe, as I get better at trust, it will get sweeter earlier. 

Hanna Elizabeth

Home

Home
How does one word invoke so much peace?

It's amazing what one little word can do. Ask a total stranger on the street about their home, and watch their expression change, soften, and lose its careworn appearance. 

My Ideal house has a wrap around porch and enough room
for 8+ kids, a husband, and a dog named Murphy. 

No matter where it is, the type of home that makes people relax and smile involves comfort, love, warmth, and care. A place where others will be welcomed and treated like family.

Yet even with all of these things, and more, there will still always be conflict, hurt, pain, fear, and anger. Even in good homes, we are all still flawed and empty, yearning for something more to fill us up.

Yet ask anyone, and they will tell you that they yearn for a  place to call Home, even if they've never experienced it before. 

So where is our true home to be found? With the people we love? Of course.
Having a soft bed? In the most beautiful house we can find, with a four car garage and a big backyard?

Not so much.

Our eternal home, of course, is in heaven, but on earth, things are a bit trickier.
Our earthly home is where the Lord leads us, sustains us, guides us, grows us, and brings us to his presence. Whether that be the furthest reaches of Africa, or in your hometown in the Midwest, that is often up to Him.

Where is Home?
It may be better to ask,
what is home?

Hanna Elizabeth

Insects buzzed around me as I sat in the tall grass, drinking in the beauty of the sunset.
Beams of light spewed forth from the sun as it sank, and shot forth onto the mounting thunderheads in the north east.

The sticky heat had been oppressive all day, and the living ached for the coolness of the breeze.
Yet still the sun sank, and the sky grew more vibrant as the clouds turned from pink to purple, against the stark blue and orange hue of the sky.

A tree which had given up its will to live sat creaking in the wind, lamenting its fate, as a large crow alighted on it.

As the sun's beams continued trying to pierce the growing mountains of clouds in the north east, the thunderheads stubbornly refused to yield their bleach white color.

As I continued to watch the battle between sun and clouds, even as the sun began to retreat, a third, darker element gradually came into view.

Thin fingers of suave grey from the south began reaching in the sun's direction
as flashes of light told me the bigger story may lay behind me.

The fingers of darkness continued to reach out to cover the light, and the flashes of light to my back became faster.

The puffs of cool breeze which had been absent all day began to replace the heat, and suddenly, every insect was gone.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.

This thought enveloped me as I watched the impending storm creep across the sky.

This is going to be a big one I thought, as the clouds continued to darken and spread.

The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.

Its insistence made me pause. Why did I so often become afraid of the darkening clouds, seeming to block each light beam in its path? Even if it looks bleak, why should I not trust?

The rumble of thunder in the black sky behind me gave me a sliver of fear.

The thunder and dark clouds seem so frightening in our own lives, but what happens after each thunderstorm?

The Sun comes out.

Jesus, please do not let me forget your constant presence, even when the dark clouds build behind me.

Hanna Elizabeth

Fear, and What to Do with It

I'm moving in four months.

Even to write that seems foreign to the little girl who had her life all planned out for the town she grew up in.

I was the kid who always had the answer to that classic question "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Grow up, graduate college by 22, meet and marry a good Christian guy who was tall, dark and handsome, and settle down to teach 3rd grade in my hometown and raise 3 kids.

Perfect
Idyllic
and boring.

Here I am at 24

Single
Almost finished with college,
and about to move to a new state to teach preschool.

The Lord is funny with His plans, isn't He?

Yet even as I've prayed and thought and prayed some more, realizing that this is truly my desire, Fear begins to creep in.

I'm so afraid that I'll hate it. That I'll miss my family too much, and regret my decision, that I won't make any new friends, or that I won't find a church family as wonderful as the one I have now.

I'm afraid of losing touch with my friends back home, that I'll be bored in the little town of 14,000 when I grew up in a city of 70,000. I'm afraid that I won't be able to make enough money, that I won't ever meet my Romeo who I've been waiting for.

Even though I've grown and changed, and the Lord has given me confidence and independence, a thirst for adventure and new things, and a great and mighty Love that I know will not let me go,
Deep down, I'm still that fearful little girl who had her life planned out, and who couldn't bring herself to talk to strangers.

I wonder why I'm really so afraid. I mean, the Lord tells us 365 times in the bible not to fear.
Fear should be something I can pray against, and it will magically go away.

Right?

"Fear is necessary for us to be courageous." A wise man told me the other day.

Every time I think of it, these words brings tears to my eyes, because there is so much truth, and so much relief in that one sentence.

I don't have to fight the feeling of fear which grows whenever I think of leaving.

All I have to do is act in spite of it, and follow where God leads, and He will do the rest.

Hanna Elizabeth

Good Good Father

Why is the Lord so good to us?
That's a silly question you might say.
He's good to us because He's good and kind and loving. He's good to us because He is, as the song says, a good good father who takes care of us.

Yes, but there's more. The Lord is so good to us, that He takes care of our needs, gives us our desires, and grants us blessings abundantly.

What has been striking me, is how often he saves us from Ourselves.

When we want something so badly, that relationship, that promotion at work, or even the approval of others, and the Lord says simply.
No
What ensues can be a mixture of whining, complaining, frustration, and bitterness.

How dare God tell me no! Doesn't He know that this thing is going to make me happiest?

We fume for days or even months on end like a petulant child tugging at God's sleeves, continually asking Him to grant our requests.

Then one day, we wake up, look behind us, and realize that the one thing we've wanted all this time, wasn't actually what we needed-or truly desired

Realizing that I got what I truly needed, instead of what I wanted is a humbling experience.

As I hang my head in shame as I look back on the many times that I've been guilty of these things, my gracious Father lifts my face gently, so that I can meet His gaze.
"You are forgiven. Trust Me and move forward with boldness"  He says, His voice like soft thunder.

He forgives me, refines me, and irons out the wrinkles one by one.

We have a good, good Father.

In Christ,
Hanna Elizabeth

The Power of a Smile

I've been wondering how many times a day I smile.
I have two jobs this summer, one at a credit union, and one at a tutoring agency, so I have plenty of opportunities to smile.
As I've been considering this, I am beginning to realize there's usually two very different responses to a smile.

When I'm tutoring, 99% of the time, a kid's first response is to smile back. I think it's part of being young and un-jaded, and it's one of the millions of reasons I want to spend the rest of my life working with kids.
It's also a reason I wish I could go back to being a kid.

One of my favorite quotes

Psychologically, our automatic response to a smile is to smile back. Yet even before our facial muscles react, when we receive a smile from someone, our brain releases endorphins (the chemical responsible for happiness and Joy) into our brain. A returned smile creates even more endorphins, and a connection is made between two people. It is actually healthy for you to smile! 

Then there's the second response, which I get more often: The un-reciprocated smile. Otherwise known as the Dead-Eyed-Stare-Straight-Ahead Look. The look you get often when you're in customer service. 

Maybe that person has had a hard day. 

Maybe they are upset about a problem they're having.

Maybe they just don't like to smile.

Whatever the reason, this type of reaction can be a little deflating.

Personally, I see it as a challenge. 

Once I get this type of reaction, I try to make it my goal to get that person to smile. Sometimes I'll ask them questions, tell a silly joke (puns are my favorite, and they're usually effective), or just be as genuine and kind as I can. 

And you know what?

85% of the time, it works, and they're smiling at the end of our conversation. 

My smile gives them Joy, and their smile gives me Joy. 

It's a win-win.

Maybe trying to make people smile isn't your cup of tea, but what can you do every day to try to spread a little Joy?

Hanna Elizabeth

Embrace the Broken

“We have no more food in the house. I don’t know if I’m going to have supper tonight.”

The shock of this statement washed over me as I listened to this little boy show me how sheltered and blessed I really was.

You really begin to question your priorities when you hear these words coming from a kindergartener.

How can we not become crushed by the weight of the world’s problems? With all of the pain, heartache, and evil in this world, how should we respond? My first, albeit unhelpful response is to become overwhelmed and discouraged. How can I possibly solve these huge problems? I have taken to avoiding the news now, because I struggle to handle the vast amount of suffering I am exposed to.

But as this little boy in a local school quickly taught me, there are few places I can go to escape exposure to suffering.

We as Christians do this frequently-try to escape the world. We have our Christian bookstores, Christian schools (or homeschooling) Christian radio stations, and have exclusively Christian friends. We can even go to Christian-run establishments to shop, find Christian movie review websites to find out exactly what questionable materials are in each movie we expose our children to. In the United States today, one can essentially live inside a self-made, Christian bubble to a large extent, shielding oneself by and large from the outside world and the suffering and evil that is its trademark.

But is that what we are called to do?

Jesus didn’t eat with the best people, and isolate himself to be with the people who went to church.

He ate with the tax collectors and sinners. He ate with the worst of the worst.
His disciples? Men who worked with fish for a living, who had little money and less decorum.

He hung out with the broken, and ministered to their needs.

I can turn off the news, go to my Christian establishments, and hang out with my Christian friends, but if I’m actually going to follow the example of this Jesus I talk so much about, I need to be in the world.

I need to understand suffering, and embrace those who are broken.

I need to Love everyone around me.

My heart sometimes breaks for the children like that little boy whose next meal depends on a bag of food from school.

In response to my breaking heart, my calling is to be the hands and feet of Jesus to these people.

To use what resources I’ve been blessed with to step outside of my sanitized Christian bubble.

I need to embrace the broken, hurting, careworn people around me who are crying out for all the love I can give.

Musings on Musicals

Today, I was listening to several different songs from various classic musicals, and I began to wonder...

What is up with people who don't like musicals? I have met a handful of these interesting people in my life, and I must say, the best reason they give is that "no one goes around singing like that in public."
Your point being....?

Yet, in order to allow these realists to jump on the musical bandwagon, perhaps we should normalize impulsive leaps into song in our daily lives.

Now I will admit that a few people I know do this anyway. But how much more exciting and joyful would life be if more people spontaneously broke into song (and perhaps dance) as they completed mundane tasks?

To begin this trend, I issue you, my readers, a challenge. At least two times this week, I challenge you to break into song during your daily routine. You don't have to sing well, or even on key, just start to sing. Monitor how it affects your mood, the days circumstances, and your overall joy this week.
You won't be disappointed.

Hanna Elizabeth

Love God, Love People

Hello, my name is Hanna, and I am an over-analyzer.

Hi Hanna

But I have been realizing lately, that some things just don't need to be analyzed quite so deeply.
Some truths are simple and straightforward.
For example,

What are the two greatest commandments?

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:37-39

That's it.
Love God with all of you, and love people.

Neither of these are always easy tasks, nor are they simple, I mean, how do we Love people who we don't agree with for one thing? How do we love people, even if they've done something terrible? How do we really love God, for that matter?

Ok, so evidently this isn't as simple as I originally thought. Meaning, that analysis is needed again.

But since it's late, and I have a fourth grade field trip to attend tomorrow, I will leave my readers with a little bit of mystery.

How do we Love God, and Love people?

What does this look like?

How can we as believers do these things every day?

Hanna Elizabeth

Comparison is the Death of the Spiritual Life

It has been nearly a week since I have even looked at my blog, but not for reasons you might think.

No, I wasn't really too busy, I have had some great opportunities to write, and some thoughts I felt were worthy to share. 

But as I sat down tonight to write, I was inexplicably filled with a desire to avoid it yet again.

Why? Perhaps a bit of laziness. It seemed like such a daunting task waiting for me.

Mostly, though, I have been wondering about other people.

I read several different blogs, and I have been reading quite a few well written books lately. And in the same way that I hesitate when I write stories, or when I consider writing books someday, I sometimes hesitate to blog.

Does anyone really read this? I wonder. So many other people do this better than me. My thoughts aren't really that original, someone, somewhere has (blogged, written, fill in the blank) the same ideas as me, and probably done it better. What if people don't like what I'm writing?

Does my voice even really matter?

As the voice of doubt whispers in my ear, I begin to compare myself to those around me.

"Comparison is the death of the spiritual life."

I'm not sure who said that, but it's my best friend's favorite saying, and it comes to mind every time I start to compare myself to others.

Every time doubts and fears creep into my mind.

It's true. When they told you in elementary school that you should be worrying about yourself and not the kid next to you, they were right. When your mom said to your ten-year-old self that it doesn't matter what your brother did to you, you need to think about what you did, she was right. 

There's a reason why God tells us "But let each one test his own work, and then his reason to boast will be in himself alone and not in his neighbor." Galatians 6:4-5.

I could add, or a random person's blog, or compare your own writing to that of great authors...or fill in the blank with your own comparison or doubt.

Because when we compare, we begin to lose sight of what really matters. 

What matters is that the Lord put you and I on this earth for a specific purpose. 

To glorify Him in all that we do. 

That may be blogging and teaching for me, or being a firefighter or working in a crisis pregnancy center, or being a rocket scientist for you, I don't know. 

"So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 10:31 (emphasis mine)

As I write this, I am reminded of a few important things that should be remembered as comparison and doubt rear their ugly heads. 

I am a child of the living God, the one who breathed the stars into existence.

I am loved infinitely by Him, and created by Him with gifts talents for a specific purpose.

I was created to glorify Him with the gifts and talents He has given me.  

So when I compare myself to others, it's like comparing a giraffe and an orange. Both have different uses. 

You probably wouldn't want to juice a giraffe, and an orange would be the last thing I would want to eat leafy greens off a tall tree. 

It doesn't matter what other people are doing, or how they are doing it.

It matters what you and I are doing with the talents we are given.

Soli Deo Gloria

Hanna Elizabeth

His Presence on the Prairie

Have you ever had an ache for time with the Lord?

An itch to go somewhere peaceful, completely alone, and bask in his presence?

It is a curious, driving feeling, something that can't be explained unless you've felt it.
Some go to chapels, a special place at home, in their cars.

My favorite place is on the prairie, under the stars.

The twinkling clusters of homes, nestled into the prairie swells. The endless sea of grasses, stretching for miles, rolling along uninhibited by more than a few trees planted in windbreaks.

My favorite part are the lights. Not from the cities, for we have only a few, but the ones overhead.
The red twinkle of mars,
The big dipper,
Orion's belt,
and the benevolent, cool face of the moon, illuminating the dirt roads and peaceful fields.

The trill of crickets calling to find a mate,
the rattle of cicadas doing the same,
the rustle of some ground dwelling creature passing through,
even the occasional coyote band,

The prairie is never silent.

And who can forget the wind? Always the wind.
With no trees to slow it down, nothing hinders its journey through the prairies. Sometimes fierce and wild, biting our faces, roaring through with a blizzard or a rainstorm as its companions.

Other times, rarer times, it is soft, kind, pleasing your ears with gentle rustlings as it moves through the dry grasses, caressing your skin as it swirls around you.

Although some complain that it never stops, we miss it when the grasses are still.

There has always been a touch of mystery to the wind. Gentle, Angry, Howling, Soft, the wind is never quite tame or predictable.

"The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit." John 3:8

The wind reminds me of the Holy Spirit in some ways.
Always present, softly nudging our consciences in the right direction, as we sometimes begrudgingly listen. Occasionally It overwhelms us with its power.

And sometimes, It is silent.

And when It is silent, we miss It. Our hearts seem still.

Sometimes we panic, trying everything to get It to come back, or sink into despair, thinking that we'll never hear it again.

But always, always, in the right time, It returns, a still small voice. guiding us, leading us to communion with Him.

The prairie is where I feel closest to the Lord...My own personal chapel.

I like to imagine God walking through the grasses, like He did in the Garden of Eden. Walking beside me, or simply sitting with me as I bask in His creation, His Joyous presence.

I think the prairie, is best enjoyed on a day where you can stand, face to the gentle wind, and let Him soak into your heart.

The presence of God is the most overwhelmingly beautiful thing one can ever experience. 

Seek His presence, wherever you are.

He will not disappoint.

Hanna Elizabeth

Finding Joy in the Little Things

It was going to be one of those days.

Not fifteen minutes into my morning, and a pit formed in my stomach. I could feel a migraine coming on.

No! I gritted my teeth and fumed internally. I have so much to do today! Please Lord, not today.

For me, a migraine can often be an all day misery. that leaves me sicker than a very sick dog, and in bed with the covers over my head, sleeping off multiple painkillers, home remedies, and unable to stand the sight of light.
This is it. So much for getting up early. The fatalist in me had elbowed its was past my Joy, Strength, and Positivity. Then Frustration took the wheel It doesn't make any sense, I've been eating well, sleeping well! Why did it have to be today when I'm so busy?

Definitely not the idea start to my morning.

Three hours and several home remedies and painkillers later, and the stabbing pain finally subsided.
I dragged my groggy, still frustrated body out of bed and begrudgingly thanked the Lord that it was over so quickly.
An hour later I was off to the third day of my tutoring job, minus the migraine, but still a little cranky and worn out.

I should have called in sick, I'm not prepared for this. But, here I was, at work, too late to turn around now.

Finally, my shift was over. Looking back, the shift wasn't too bad, and the kids did very well, but at the end of the day, I was exhausted.
As I began to clean up the materials from that day's lessons, I suppressed a sigh of fatigue, picturing my bed at home waiting for me.

Suddenly, I noticed I had a visitor. One of the kindergarten students I had tutored the day before had skipped over. Her long red curls were in a tangle, and her bright blue eyes watched my every move.

I couldn't help but smile as she greeted me, and then she leaned in with a conspiratorial look.

"I wish you were my teacher today."

With a gentle step forward, Joy took the wheel from Frustration, and all of it became worth it.

The Lord always knows just what we need to remember the important things in life, and to rediscover the strength in His Joy.

Hanna Elizabeth

Confidence in Him

I didn't really want to write this post.

In fact, I got halfway through last night, and almost decided to scrap this whole thing.
Why?

Fear. 

Fear of being real and truly authentic, and discussing the problems I have in my own life. Fear of what people might think, even if that is the four people that may read this blog.

Then, as I was looking at my emails this morning, this one came up:

We love seeing the confidence that arises in the children we serve as they begin to truly believe they are beautiful, valuable and loved. This girl in India radiates pride as she wears her very best traditional clothing for a special occasion.

Ok Lord, I hear you loud and clear. 

Maybe this post is for someone who struggles with their self worth and confidence.

Maybe this post is just for me, to get my thoughts out.

Whatever the case. Here goes.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Growing up, one of my mom's favorite mantras was "people can tell when you're confident."
She was right. When you see someone who is confident and comfortable in their own skin, it seems to exude from them, produce a healthy glow or something of the sort which tells the world "I know who I am, and I know what I am: beautiful, attractive, intelligent, fill in good quality here."

Yet it goes deeper than that.
A person who is truly confident also knows their worth.

People who are confident know that they are worth getting to know, worth loving, that they should be valued and treated with care and kindness.
They show this confidence by treating others in the same fashion.

I stepped into my bathroom to get ready for an evening out. Nothing crazy, just going out with friends. But as I stood in front of my mirror, I felt this crazy fear begin to well up inside of me. How did I want myself to appear tonight? Confident, of course, but I also wanted to appear knowledgeable, modern, interesting, like someone who is worth getting to know.
And I had no idea of how to achieve that look.
Was this piece of jewelry working with this outfit? Would this shirt match my headband?
On and on it went, and the fear slowly began to take over.
Finally, as I walked into my room for another change of jewelry, it hit me:

I can only be who I am.

Even if  I appear to be a certain person, put on tons of makeup, do my hair a certain way, wear certain clothes or jewelry, in the end, it doesn't matter.

You can only hide your true self for so long before it starts to show.

I struggle with confidence on a daily basis. Confidence in my appearance, confidence in my teaching skills, confidence in who I am as a person. The Lord has grown my confidence exponentially and I am much more comfortable in my own skin than I used to be, but sometimes, I let His Joy become overshadowed by the fear of who I want to become.

Tonight, I looked up verses that had to do with confidence. I was sure there was at least one in there that would tell me that why I should be confident in who I was.
It is true that there are numerous verses which tell us our worth.

But every verse about confidence I found had one thing in common: Confidence in Christ.

Note: bold emphasis in these verses is my own.

1 John 5:14: This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.

Ephesians 3:12: In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence.

Hebrews 4:16:  Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Jeremiah 17:7: But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him.

Philippians 1:6: being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Our confidence...my confidence, should be in Jesus, his sacrifice on the cross, and that He will carry me through.

Knowing that I can both approach Him with confidence, and have confidence in Him, means that I can have confidence in myself.
Because He is who He says, I can have confidence in who He says I am.

That I am valuable, beautiful, and loved by Him.

He created me...He created you, to be a certain way, and to know your worth.

Because when we know our worth, and have confidence in who the Lord created us to be, we can begin to glorify Him more.

And that is the truest Joy one can have.

Hanna Elizabeth