A New Adventure

So many feelings.

In five days I will be heading south to California for a new adventure. I do not know everything that is in store for me, but I do know that God is going before me. Over the last few months He has shown me that this is part of my unique calling. He knew my steps before I was born. It is so easy to look at portions of my life as chaotic. But God knows me intimately, and He has been using everything to mold and shape me into the woman of God He wants me to be, and He will continue to use every circumstance in my life for His glory if I allow Him to.

I will be working at a camp in the mountains near Big Bear. Our heart is to partner with ministries in the cities that are working with at-risk teens and give them the chance to come up the mountain to meet the Lord. Let's see what the Lord does!

I appreciate your prayers! If you are interested in supporting me financially, please shoot me an e-mail at ebdawson7@gmail.com

More coming soon....


Sincerely, Beth Dawson

Abundant Grace

We are so very limited in our capacities aren't we? When life grows dark and the temperature drops I can no longer imagine the sun. Sometimes I think my heart is a thimble. It can only hold a few millimeters of pain or happiness.

Well, lately my thimble has been overflowing with difficulty. And in my limited experience I began to believe that life would always continue in this manner. And while God has said clearly in His Word that our lives will be filled with difficulty, He also promised His sustaining grace. And truly, His grace has sustained me through thin and thin. But now the overflow of His grace is dripping tangibly into my life like morning dew and I am overwhelmed.

Of Hope

I used to think I had to create hope inside of me. Hope was an attitude change. Hope was my obligation. When I struggle with hopelessness I also struggle with condemnation.

But that doesn't make much sense. If I am unable to save myself how can I reach deep inside and pull out hope?

What if there are two different types of hope and one of them is a gift? There is hope tied to faith. This is the goal. This is the intellectual acknowledgement that my salvation is secure. And then there is the hope that permeates like spring air.

I can live without it. In fact, I have lived without it for a while. I know the hope that you choose: you know where you're going, the cost to get there, and the fact that no one is going to help you.

When I see other people rolling around in the second kind of hope like it's ice cream, I tend to think that I need to work harder. As if I could achieve blessing. But I know the source of blessing. And I know He does not withhold what is good for us. And then there is the perspective of the first century church: it is a blessing to suffer with Christ.

I know I cannot create hope inside of me. But I can keep my heart from becoming hard by continually opening it to the promises of God.

Suffering and Guitar Strings

I had a rotten day last week. Fortunately at the end of it I got to talk to one of my favorite people. The funny thing is that my conversations with this awesome person have never traditionally been "warm and fuzzy." Sometimes you imagine on your worst days that you will get that one perfect phone call that will make it all better. I never have those types of phone calls with her. Probably because she has her own problems, she can't solve mine, and she definitely wouldn't want to if she could. I guess we're adults. ;)

Our conversations are never predictable. And like I said, our conversations are never the traditional warm, fuzzy type. But I always see the effects of our conversation for the next few weeks. Our conversation tends to go like this: "Life is hard and confusing. What is happening? Should we quit and give up and go crazy? No, we can't do that. We have to keep going. Jesus is faithful, if not in this life then in the next."

I love storytelling. But there have been some negative effects. For instance, the stories worth reading have a struggle between good and evil where good comes out on top. The protagonist may go through trials, but the victory and triumph and restoration at the end is greater. In fact, for a long time I believed that most people would experience about the same amount of trials and successes. (I don't know why I've believed that after all I've seen). Maybe it was naive, wishful thinking. I went through a lot of pain early in life and I kind of thought things would get better. But honestly, I've been on the long haul through muddy water and there's little sign that it's going to get easier. Meanwhile, I watch people all around me reeling in success.

Lucky for me, my amazing friend is my soul sister. She and I are different ages, come from very different backgrounds and live in very different places. But we have been on the same emotional/spiritual journey for the past few years.

Life is not easy. And I know it is unfair. People seem to be allotted very different portions of pain, success, suffering, and joy. I don't know what my portion will be. So far it seems to swing heavily to the side of tears. But I read this story today and found it encouraging. It used the analogy of a guitar string to discuss being a "slave to righteousness." But I felt like it applied to suffering. A brand new guitar string is loose and relaxed. But to fulfill its purpose guitar string needs to be stretched and strung over the fretboard. Then it is plucked and strummed to produce beautiful music.

I like to think all the stretching, strumming, and plucking in my life will eventually produce a beautiful song. But it can sure hurt in the process.

Some William Lane Craig

Free will and foreknowledge.

F.A.T.

FAT Tuesday. That was the name of our high school Bible study/small group night. The acronym stands for Faithful, Available, Teachable. It's a concept that I've been forced to re-examine lately. Although I grew up understanding the biblical doctrine of sin and total depravity, in practice I tend to believe the best about people. It is very difficult for me to this day to understand why someone would refuse to forgive, choose drugs over family, or intentionally inflict pain with cruel words. In the last two years I have had to wrestle with dark questions and face the truth that people often refuse change. No logic, no reasoning, no pleading, and no threats can melt the hardened heart. One of my favorite verse of late has become Jeremiah 17:9 “The heart is deceitful above all things, And desperately wicked; Who can know it? I, the Lord, search the heart, I test the mind, Even to give every man according to his ways, According to the fruit of his doings." I know a lot of people claim to be experts on the "inner man." Are they really? Humans are so wonderfully complex. There are days when I think that I hardly know myself let alone someone else. God is the expert on the heart. He alone knows how to soften the hard heart. The sad truth is that few people are turning to him these days. Over the last two days I have prayed, cried, reasoned, and pleaded with many different young girls about a variety of issues. Very few listened to anything that I had to say. And it was extremely painful to watch them make mistake after mistake and then grow angry and blame God when they felt the consequences. I was recently given this advice: I can't make people change or make them listen. I need to invest my time with those who are FAT (faithful, available, teachable). I know that it is good advice, but part of me still struggles with it. After all, who will pursue the lost and hurting if everyone just focuses on the FAT? (God will). And I am reminded that God's timing is perfect. And I am reminded that many of those teachable people have passed through seasons of rebellion and hard heartedness. God reached them and turned them around. I don't have the answers. I have to remain under the authority and wisdom of my Lord. He is the real expert.

First Snow

Darlin (Christmas is Coming)- Over the Rhine

 

So its been a long year
Every new day brings one more tear
Till theres nothing left to cry

My, my, how time flies
Like little children hiding their eyes
Well make it disappear
Lets start a brand new year

Darlin, Christmas is coming
Salvation army bells are ringing
Darlin, Christmas is coming
Do you believe in angels singing?

Darlin, the snow is falling
Falling like forgiveness from the sky
(Darlin, darlin)
Darlin, darlin

If I could have anything
What would I want this new year to bring
Well, Id want you here with me

Tear these thorns from my heart
Help the healing to start
Lets set this old world free
Lets start with you and me

Darlin, Christmas is coming
Salvation army bells are ringing
Darlin, Christmas is coming
Do you believe in angels singing?

Darlin, the snow is falling
Falling like forgiveness from the sky

So its been a long year
Every new day brings one more tear
Till theres nothing left to cry

Darlin, Christmas is coming
Salvation army bells are ringing
Darlin, Christmas is coming
Do you believe in angels singing?

Read more: Over The Rhine - Darlin' (Christmas Is Coming) Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Strength and Mud

In elementary school, when I still lived in Indonesia, we would have track and field day once a year. We barely trained for it, and I would sign up for races with distances that I had no concept of: 200, 300, 400 meters. In fifth grade I signed up for the 600 meter race. I hadn't been trained or challenged in running. It didn't enter my mind that there was a race they could offer that I couldn't handle. The 600 meter race did not seem unreasonable--until I started it. There were four or five of us all lined up to begin our loop-and-a-half race. The adrenaline was pumping. My competitive spirit was telling me I had to win. The whistle blew and we were off. The pace was faster than I had anticipated- the girl in front of me had rabbitted out of excitement. It didn't take long for the initial excitement to wear off and the fatigue to set in. I began to realize the full distance I was required to go. I began to realize I needed to slow down if I planned on making it across that finish line with any sort of dignity. I began to realize I had little chance of winning. The fun was gone. I remember finishing with disappointment.

Do you ever have those seasons in life when you are faced with challenges? Maybe your first instinct is excitement...maybe you've trained for this. For me, the "spiritual adrenaline" sets in. I begin to list off what God has brought me through in the past. I quote Romans 5:3-5 and determine to suffer in a godly manner. I don't break easy-I adapt well. When I was sixteen this nice couple tried to teach me how to wakeboard. I spent most of that sunny day getting dragged through the water. I never made it up. But I would hold on forever, until the last minute, taking the punishment in the hopes that a miracle would happen. In my deepest spiritual battles I tend to duck my head, hunch my shoulders, and hunker down. I tell myself that this is a season. I tell myself that the sun will come back and I can get back to living my life.

But then there's that moment when I'm almost two years in...two years in and eleven months deep, and I realize that I've changed. Someone stole my shoes, so I decided to walk home barefoot...but now I've been walking for five days and my feet are calloused and hard. It scares me a little bit. Because right now I can't see myself objectively. I know that this long storm has deeply affected the person that I am, but I can't quite tell if it's for the better or for the worse. And what if it's a little bit of both? I thought this would be an experience I would go through, not an experience that would go through me. What if I spent so much time in this dark season looking ahead to hope, and looking behind for comfort, that I became neglectful of the choices I was making day by day?

I am afraid. I feel like Jeremiah when he gets lowered into the cistern and sinks into the mud. I said I would follow you anywhere, God...but I feel pretty miserable in this mud. My idea of calling and sacrifice were different than Yours. I never would have called myself into this mud.

Psalm 84:5-7

Blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
Whose heart is set on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baca (weeping),
They make it a spring;
The rain also covers it with pools.
They go from strength to strength;
Each one appears before God in Zion.

And God reminds me: "You have set your heart on pilgrimage, Beth. You are passing through this world. I am your strength. I will turn all of your weeping into springs, which bring life." 

If God truly caught all of the tears I cried this year I think He could water the Sahara Desert with them. And maybe He has. But I seem to be living on a different continent.

The Salvation of the Lord

“Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will accomplish for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall see again no more forever. 14 The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” Exodus 14:13-14

That was a promise given to me about two months ago. The thing is, my eyes aren't so trustworthy. There is an account in the Bible about the blind man who Jesus heals. His first impression of people is that they are trees walking around. Even if we see, if our eyes aren't trained to understand what we see, we will interpret it wrong. 

So many times, God works in my life and I do not see it. Not properly, anyway. This promise definitely came true in my life in the last month, but not in the way I thought it would. My eyes do not understand what they have seen. For the Lord delivered...eventually. And I certainly had to put my effort in. I had to get up every day and put faith in Him. I had to be patient and loving and strong until He changed the hearts of the people around me. 

Through this time though I had no doubt that the Lord was fighting for me. The spiritual battle was evident. I just couldn't understand how He let it last so long. The one thing I learned was that "holding my peace" was a choice I had to make. God would have delivered one way or another. Whether I tore myself apart in anxiety or held my peace was up to me. I think I hit somewhere in the middle. I'm hoping this will help me to grow. 

Lions Den

She's stopped screaming. She came out of her room with her angel face back in place and asked politely if she could come get her clothes from the laundry room. She's de-escalated pretty well for now. And then she says to you, "Beth, I need to talk to you." This is the moment that you think, oh good, she's going to apologize for busting out in the middle of prayer with cuss words and inappropriate references. When you took those ten minutes to patiently, lovingly, and gently correct her, she finally listened. And then as you sit her down she asks you, "Do my bones stick out?" What? Really? Yes, really.

I don't know why the Lord picked me for this job. I'm terrible at it. I don't want to see them stealing cake from the walk in, or passing notes to the boys, so I'm a terrible staff member. And I actually expect them to listen to words and change. I look at this girl: she has more hate in her pinky finger for the girl who called her 'braindead' than I think I have ever felt for anyone. But that doesn't mean she is more guilty than I am for not loving my brother.

I get so angry: not at the girls, but at the lies. They scream at me, defending their right to be bitter, defending their right to lie, defending their right to use vulgar language. They don't want change. They want comfort and safety. And I get angry that they only listen when they're getting their own way. I get angry at their hypocrisy and selfishness. I don't want to be a parent. I don't want to keep disciplining behavior when they have such major heart issues.

I'm tired of going home crying. I'm tired of feeling exhausted. But the road stretches on before me. Do I back down? Do I quit? Do I take on their burdens and failures? They are so very good at pushing off all of their pain onto anyone who will take it. And I have become so accustomed to taking other peoples' burdens that it is not a good combination.

God, I know you have a plan for me- a plan to use even this in my life. But please don't come too late. I am waiting for the dawn. I trust in your Faithfulness, but doubt my own strength. I don't want to turn back before the end. I want to fight bravely until dawn.

Sometimes I feel like this is a den of lions to me and a fiery furnace: but even if He doesn't save me, I will trust in Him.

What 2013 Taught Me

1. My relationship with my sister is very important to the Lord
2. How to biblically counsel without quoting scripture.
3. God's Provision looks different than what I think.
4. How Juvy Court works.
5. Hiking large mountains (like Mt. Whitney) is just as spiritual as I always knew it was.
6. How to drive a motorcycle ;)
7. My Maker is my husband.
8. I am responsible for the children He has given me in this season
9. There are wonderful people in Idaho.
10. The Hand of the Lord is strong upon me.

Dear 2013,

I had a hard time with you. You looked nothing like I expected. But the hand of the Lord was strong upon me. And I know that in His Prescence is fullness of joy. Goodbye 2013. I hope I take the lessons I learned and apply them.

Dear 2014,

Selfishly, I want to wish for wonderful things! But I am learning that God's good for me is better than my own. What I want in this year is this: "And Samuel grew, and the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground." 1 Samuel 3:19

If that could be said of me at the end of 2014, I would be overjoyed. There is so much in my life that I cannot control. There is so much that I really don't need to be content and joyful. What I need is the Lord to be with me.

It Is What It Is

I know this is usually used in a negative context: a phrase of resignation, surrender, or disappointment. I am not using this phrase in that context.

It is what it is...only I don't know what it is. God knows what it is. What do I mean? I can't keep track of my own life. I certainly can't plan it.

Right now I feel like I am just along for the ride. I never expected this job, or this life. And yet this is where God brought me. He has a plan for it. I am trying to understand it. Until then I just say humbly: it is what it is.

The speed of my life has increased threefold. I think it is good for me. I find myself always on the go, working and investing in relationships, and taking time for personal interests. But I wonder how I got here overnight. It will take some time to adjust to the new schedule, to distribute the new burdens in a healthy manner.

Somehow whenever I'm busy I feel like I can never catch up. I think my soul is a quiet pond in the mountains. When I'm forced down stream, it gets uncomfortable until I reach the next large body of water.

But it's good for me. I just need to find the balance of prayer, and rational detachment with my new job, and still having hopes and dreams on the side.

I feel a little guilty that this blog is so vague...but I think I'll need some more time to adjust to my new schedule and see my new life from a different perspective. There is a lot to process. Right now I am just getting up every morning (with hope and joy) and tackling whatever comes that day.

And God continues to give me promises:

Isaiah

60 Arise, shine;
For your light has come!
And the glory of the Lord is risen upon you.
2 For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth,
And deep darkness the people;
But the Lord will arise over you,
And His glory will be seen upon you.
3 The Gentiles shall come to your light,
And kings to the brightness of your rising.

What a beautiful promise. 

My Bitterness, God's Faithfulness

When you read through the Bible, there are many different responses to God's callings. Gideon asked for confirmation...over and over again. Moses put forth his doubts. When the angel came to Mary and told her God's plan for her life, her response was faithful submission. What about me? What is my response to the Lord's calling on my life?

I think it varies depending on the situation. Some times I respond quickly and with joy. Sometimes I surrender in humility. Sometimes I fight back. But this most recent change in my life shed a lot of light on who I am and how God speaks to me. The truth is that all the major decisions in my life, the major steps of faith God has called me to have a certain pattern to them.

I was offered a job recently--one that I didn't expect; one that I wasn't sure fit into my plans. And in my process of bringing it before the Lord in prayer, He spoke some very clear things to me:

"But you, son of man, hear what I say to you. Do not be rebellious like that rebellious house; open your mouth and eat what I give you.' Now when I looked, there was a hand stretched out to me; and behold, a scroll of a book was in it. Then He spread it before me; and there was writing on the inside and on the outsdie, and written on it were lamentations and mourning and woe...So I opened my mouth, and He caused me to eat that scroll..." Ezekiel 2:8- 3:2

"So the Spirit lifted me up and took me away, and I went in bitterness, in the heat of my spirit; but the hand of the Lord was strong upon me." Ezekiel 3:14

Every major step of my life I have met with bitterness, in the heat of my spirit. I have cried and I have struggled, but always the hand of the Lord has been strong upon me. The peace found in obedience only comes afterward. But every time the Lord has moved me where He needed me to be.

It's a humbling thing to admit that I have a pattern of resisting God's plans for my life. Ezekiel was told what his ministry would be: lamentations, woe, and mourning. A rebellious people who would not listen to him. A people who would bind him with ropes. Jeremiah is known as the weeping prophet, but Ezekiel's ministry wasn't a piece of cake, either. He laid on his side for a year, and didn't have much choice in the matter! His wife died and he wasn't allowed to mourn her. He had a tough ministry ahead of him, and God was straightforward about it from the beginning.

God knew Ezekiel would have a hard time with a few things. God also knew Ezekiel's name before he was born: "God strengthens." Even during his calling, every time Ezekiel falls on his face, the Spirit lifts him up to his feet.

I am Ezekiel. God is patient with my bitter spirit and my resistance. He restrains me at times in my life, in order to empower me to do His will and keep integrity. He allows loss in my life and uses it to teach other people. He has sent me to a rebellious mission field where there are a lot of hard hearts that may not listen to me, and yet I am a watchman declaring truth to them.

I took the job. And God has arranged everything in my life. And even through the changes, the challenge, the frustrations, I feel so incredibly known. I am learning to do ministry in a new fashion, under a very different leadership team than I am used to. But I feel so confident that God knows my strengths and experience and I am accountable to Him. He has plans for me here.

God is faithful, and He is truly the author of my life. I want to change so that I submit like Mary when God presents me with a step of faith, but I am confident and secure that He loves me anyway, and He will gently get me where I need to go. He makes no mistakes with me.

Reunion with the Mountains

It is 4:39 pm. Google says the temperature is 38 outside. I step out of my room to get a glass of water and peer out the kitchen window again. It's all still there: the Payette river has turned a darker color from the turquoise it was earlier. The mountains are still there, their peaks enshrouded in the fog and clouds hovering over the whole valley. The trickles of white snow on top are just the beginning for the winter.

Now tiny flakes of snow are dancing madly through the air as the wind whips around the valley and the herd of elk that used to be chilling in the large field behind my house are now grazing down by the river. Mountains, rivers, snow, fog, elk. Heaven.

Yes, friends, life has changed for me. I live in the mountains now. As excited as I am about that fact, I will need your prayers for the winter that is coming!!

The light is fading now. I set up my room as much as possible. There were nails already in two walls and I was so glad I brought two of my paintings. Two of my sarongs are serving as curtains for now. The mountains out my window are farther away, but still gorgeous. I just turned on the mattress cover heater that my dad got me (spoiled ;) ). And I'm already thinking: I can't wait until I wake up in the morning and get to see the views again!!!

Here I am. How long will I be here? Will I survive the winter? We will see. ;)

Kindness and Grace- Lessons from Job

A caution sign that I spotted in the shower this morning: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE

Three words that change the way you handle an object. Three words that should change the way you treat a person. How helpful it would be if we came with warning labels.

I have a confession to make. I am a fixer. Part of this I blame on my "communal-oriented" culture. My personal philosophy is that the group is more important than the individual, thus the group dynamic is more important than the individual, thus if there is an issue with one person, it has to be resolved before the group can return to equilibrium. Fix it. Find a solution. Restore balance. But this isn't always the most helpful approach with people in pain.

I sit down with a girl who starts explaining the issues she's struggling with, and my gift of discernment can't help but start listing off cause and effect. I want to explain to her that A is causing B and producing C and if she stops A, or initiates D, then B and C will be resolved. I want healing for her, resolution, peace, joy. But you know what it feels like to her sometimes? "You are a bunch of moving parts, making bad decisions. You need to replace this part with a new one, and change." True? Maybe. Helpful? Maybe not.

I know what it is like to show people my pain and have them give me directions on how to get out of it. It's the "nail in the forehead" dilemma that drives men up the wall (see the humorous video on youtube). Here's what I think I am communicating to the girl with the nail in her head: I care about you, I want you to be free of pain, I'm going to help you fix this. The funny thing is, saying those words would be a lot better than listing the immediate solution. Because when people give me simple solutions, I feel like I am a box on their checklist. I feel like I just took my car to the mechanic and he's staring at me like I'm an idiot because I haven't changed my oil in years. I feel belittled, condemned, and that everything about me is wrong.

"To him who is afflicted, kindness should be shown by his friend, even though he forsakes the fear of the Almighty." (Job 6:14
This has become one of my favorite verses, especially when doing ministry. Yes, sometimes people need to hear the truth. There is a time and a place for rebuke and difficult exhortation. But read verse 15:

"My brothers have dealt deceitfully like a brook, like the streams of the brooks that pass away, which are dark because of the ice, and into which the snow vanishes."

I don't want to be like ice water. "Your gentleness has made me great." (Psalm 18:35)

My job is not to create repentance, soften a hard heart, or fix the situation. My job is to show compassion. ALWAYS. Always. Always. Always. Gentleness and kindness to the afflicted. The Holy Spirit will do the convicting and the changing.

It hurts to be afflicted and receive stern words from your friends. I don't want to be that person.

Painting Hope

Confession: driving at nighttime turns me into the best of contemplatives. Or maybe the worst? I think it has something to do with how dark it is in Idaho. And when the fall weather comes creeping in, it fuels my brain like manure.

Sometimes in the half hour drive home I see my life in an entirely different light. As if I've been walking around with poor eyesight and I finally put glasses on.

Life is not a formula. There are no twelve easy steps to success and happiness. Sometimes I think life is not even chronological. Life is a painting, full of color and strokes, shadows and blurred lines and brilliant representation.

So what does my painting look like? It sure looks a lot different than I thought it would. I think I've been painting in grays and blues for the past ten months. I've been building layer upon layer but nothing is taking shape. But that doesn't mean that my painting is not advancing. The most important thing I have learned about painting is that sometimes it takes a lot of muddling to achieve my vision.

When I don't paint, it is because I don't have hope. And in my life I can't move forward if I don't have hope.

Fall

October 9th. Fall swept in like a chalkboard eraser, cleaning the slate that was summer. I had been preparing myself: making lists of the joys of fall, pulling out my fall wardrobe, and entering those enthusiastic conversations with 'fall fan clubs.' Can't wait for fall!

But fall played dirty this year, and I don't appreciate that seeing as I am a newcomer and all. It hit like a sledgehammer with a storm system from the west coast, making me shiver, catch cold, and cry for the death of the fairy tale that was summer. Okay, maybe summer wasn't a fairy tale. Those last few weeks of perfect weather sort of were. Bad form, fall. Bad form.

October 9th. The sun came back out on October 5th, as if repentant for its inconsiderate behavior and my heart has slowly begun to recover hope. The trees are definitely turning now--glorious shades of yellow, red, and hot orange. I don't mind a chill in the evening. And after the storm system and bout of sickness, I am counting my blessings. I think it was all intentional: douse the new girl with icy water so she's grateful for the tepid shower. I don't like tricks like that.

I'm reminded of a story I read in middle school about the wind and the sun. They made a bet about who could get the little boy to take his jacket off. The wind howled and blew and the boy just hugged his jacket closer. The sun warmed him with gentle rays and there was no more need for the jacket.

Expediency and force aren't all they are cracked up to be. It is so easy to want control. It is so easy to try and bend things to my will. Sometimes I feel like my culture is handing out free hammers and raising its children to use it as their favorite tool. No one answering your knock? Keep hammering until you get their attention. Did that nail go crooked? Bang it back into place. Can't get the pearl out of the oyster shell? Smash it into pieces. But you can't make anything grow by hammering the earth. And no hammer can mend a wounded heart.

It is my conviction that gentleness and patience are far more powerful than the force of a hammer. No matter what I do, I cannot change the weather. But the weather is here to change my life. I can resist it and be miserable, or be patient with it and learn.

Fall always gives me the feeling that death is approaching. Not all seasons are seasons of rebirth. But I think sometimes that the four seasons give one of the clearest parallels to life. If we could choose one season and dispose of the rest, how many people would choose spring? Or summer? We want success in our lives. We want newness, rebirth, growth, and sunshine. We can deny pain in our lives. We can deny failure and cover it up. We can control what others see of our lives. But we can't control the seasons. Up here, in this world, everyone is passing through fall. It's a change in life that we all have to deal with, whether we love it or not.

Hello fall.

Hope For a Tree

I step on grass, I root out weeds
Smog and dust and war and peace
Branches grow, spreading leaves that fall in the snow
Where do they get their hope?

Eyes of greed, and stomachs of need
Axes and fires and pain that bleeds
Do roots so deep smell water
It doesn't flow but it seeps

Seeping water can you find your way
to this broken tree so bruised and bent out of shape
Someone once told me that at the scent of water
old roots that'd gone dry will sprout leaves
That's why I believe there is hope for a tree

I know a life, it might be mine
It laughed and it cried and it broke and it tried
But the water was sucked outside
And I thought that hope died

Someone once told me that at the scent of water
old roots that'd gone dry will sprout leaves
That's why I believe there is hope for a tree

The Nature of Fear

I read a book once where these people wanted to master their fears so they would go into a simulation and face them. The only way to get out of the simulation was to "conquer" the fear, or get your heart rate down. I think most people had fifteen or sixteen fears. Some had less. All I could think about was that if I lived in that world, I would spend hours in that simulation. Because I am afraid of almost everything: spiders, lions, monsters, bigfoot, rejection, abandonment, snakes, drowning, social interaction, public speaking, you name it. They are all things that have haunted my nightmares since I was a child. You may think I'm being dramatic. I'm pretty sure that I'm really afraid of all those things. And more. But I also happen to be something of a masochist.

When I was younger two of my biggest fears were falling to the earth, and falling into the sky. I used to have dreams that I was floating up into the sky and couldn't stop myself. I would float up past the swing set, past the trees, past the airplanes, desperately trying to grab hold of something. Then I would wake up. The funny thing is that one of my favorite things to do was fly with my dad. Oddly enough, an airplane seems to balance between those two forces of gravity and upward pressure.

My dad would give me the controls and have me climb to 5000 feet. I would pull the nose back, everything inside me screaming that this was the end of the world and I would never be able to get back down again. It was worse was when he told me to level off and I would push that yoke forward and watch with a sick stomach as the nose tilted forward. Even worse was when he told me to descend at 1000ft/min and I had to push that nose even further down, toward the ground thousands of feet below us. But what was worst of all was when he decided we should do a little stall. Cut the engine. Point the nose down. Recover. Do CPR on Beth because she stopped breathing.

But I kept going back for more. Because I was determined to love flying, in spite of the fears. I was determined to face the fears.

And of course my dad never had to do CPR on me. I don't think he ever knew how afraid I was. Because when I am afraid--really, truly, desperately afraid--I don't cry, or scream, or grimace. I stare, blank faced and catch my breath. It's like my ultimate defense mechanism. Maybe I think that if Fear doesn't know that I am afraid, everything will be okay. The downside is that no one else ever knows I'm afraid, either. Well, that's not entirely true. I switch it up a bit, and sometimes I do react a little bit. But on the big fears, I usually don't.

It's a strange way to live life: forever walking a line between deadly fears. Never retreating for long. Only hiding to catch my breath before charging forward again. I don't know if it makes me brave, or stupid, or masochistic. I do think it makes me stronger.

And sometimes it just makes me tired...

Put That in the Textbooks

Perma-phobia. The innate and subconscious fear of permanence.

Yes, I'm fairly confident I just made that word up. Yes I believe it is a legitimate fear, not only in my life, but in others. Yes, I believe the naming and defining of this fear can bring healing and awareness. What am I talking about?

There are several nights from my short college experience that I remember very vividly. There was certainly a sense of adventure and 'newness' when I first moved into my college dorm. I was entering a new chapter in my life- a new subculture, surrounded by young people my age, all living and studying together. There were new skills to learn, new experiences, new people. I whole-heartedly embraced the new academic style: different classes several times a week, attendance at my discretion, scheduling at my discretion (in general). I jumped in and began the adapting process. But I remember it wasn't long until that feeling came back. There would be these nights, maybe every couple of months, or even weeks, when I would feel the indescribably, almost undeniable urge to run for Mexico. I had no particular attachment to Mexico. I had been there before, and enjoyed my visit. But I didn't speak Spanish. What I wanted was a third world country. What I wanted was change.

It didn't stop there. Even when God called me away from college to serve in a ministry that I loved, I still experienced these fits of passion that told my subconscious, "You need to leave. It's time to move on. You need to get out of here." These episodes might last anywhere between a few hours, to an entire week. Symptoms included: melancholy, googling foreign exchange schools or mission agencies, looking up ticket prices, and or looking up old friends.

I moved to Idaho about seven months ago now. And despite the change and newness, I have passed through several of these "episodes." The most recent occurred just a few weeks ago. A great and terrible feeling gripped my soul, telling me with urgency, "It is time to move on. Take a leap of faith." Sometimes it makes me want to lash out at my environment in anger--I feel like a trapped and caged animal. But this time, as I was talking to God about everything in my life--the calling He has for me and the circumstances He's placed me in, I finally felt like I received illumination. I know that TCKs (Third Culture Kids) often experience restlessness, and the desire to move. I know this about myself. But this was deeper. That is when I came up with the word "permaphobia." Because the truth is that it is more than just a "desire to move." There is this deep, innate, subconscious part of me that kicks in and directs my decision making--sometimes without me even realizing it. It is when the status-quo stays consistent for too long. It is when people make statements about my life in terms of "six months from now." It is when my life looks stagnant.

I brought this up to a good friend and she gave me this advice: I think it is one of the best things about you. You just need to learn to channel it. When you get that feeling, seek out new experiences where you are at.

And I know that she is absolutely right. I feel a sense of freedom, now that I have defined this wild part of myself. And I want to be proactive about taking her advice: being wise with where I am at, and what I am involved in. I can find newness and change where I am at.

I am not ashamed of my permaphobia, but nor do I think it is something to be envious of. It may be something I always struggle with, but it is definitely a part of who I am. I think it gives me the strength to cope with change. It's funny though...I have always considered myself able to roll with the punches. Super flexible. But there is a kind of change that I love and a kind of change that I am afraid of. I am afraid of permanent change-like when my childhood home changes beyond recognition leaving my memories the only proof of my early life. But with God's grace, I will learn how to handle both with grace.