my happy place

The semester has sunk it's teeth deep in my life. The colorful scribbling in my planner prove the rigor of a scholarly and social life. With junior year comes serious talk of the future. My classes blur together as I wade deeper into my major. Everyday I'm hit with words of community, relationships, growth, and authenticity until my head spins. I find myself in junior life crisis as I begin to question what the hell I'm doing. It's in these moments that turn into days of apathy, frustration, doubts, and business that I long for my happy place, for a sanctuary. Days like today.

So I ran away, well drove actually, to my happy place. I wrapped myself around a warm mug and drank in the wonders of a coffee shop. The coffee shop playlist floats in my ears as clattering cups and bits of conversations are occasionally interrupted by the sound of an espresso machine. I look deep into my hazelnut latte in hopes the foam would give me a clear sign, and I'm whisked into my day dream.


For a few years now I have joked about my love for coffee, but coffee is never really to be joked about. One day I even decided to create a blog titled the same as my make believe coffee shop. So as I hide away with the foam of my latte cooled in the bottom of my cup I day dream of the shiplapped walls that run perpendicular to the exposed brick. I arrange then rearrange the wall of funny sayings like "just brew it" and cheesy Jesus and coffee quotes. I imagine the eclectic arm chairs and reclaimed pew booths  filled with regulars and new smiles studying for their next test and catching up on life's events. Then I see a familiar face of a young woman searching for a sanctuary, momentarily escaping the pressures of life as she
pecks out a blog post.

I'm shaken back to reality as the waitress asks if I'm done with my drink. With a smile and a nod I think to myself, I'm done for now. Today, the one cup has sufficed in restoring a little clarity back into my life, grounding my soul in the things I know to be true. I will continue my studies and my social engagements as I find joy in both, but I won't quit on my day dream either.

16 Thoughts of Reconciliation

Today my feet reconciled with my socks. Rain washed over campus in waves inviting me to wear my (slightly more pink than I would care to admit) rain boots or as my favorite South African professor calls them, wellies. This decision warranted the need to pull out my sock draw and pull out a pair of tall warm socks. Of course the pair laying on top was none other than a pair of purple and grey fitted smart wool socks that had made the 155 km pilgrimage with me. In the month since I have moved back to school more than my dirty socks have surfaced from my summer spent in Santiago, Spain.

When I think of Joy, this is what I see.  

I first must ask for grace.  Grace as It has taken me this long to write and grace as I continue to find the words to share. Here are little pieces of stories.

Siesta time is beautiful time of daily rest, I now take the sabbath seriously.

Just because something has healed, does not mean that I do not have scars.

Scars are marks of the stories of life, some are joyful, all are painful - mine and yours.

We need people. Even independent people, like me.

A little bit of home can be found everywhere, Midwest nice can be found anywhere.

This earth is not our forever home, but I must take care of it, public transportation is a blessing.

Trying new things does not mean forgetting the old. I ate amazing food, mint chip gelato.

Rhythm is soothing and brings beauty to the mundane.  My steps were like music.

Being strong and courageous does not mean that I know everything.

We are not running a race, I get to take each step at my own pace.

We often miss what is right outside our windows, I almost forgot about the cathedral some days.

Drama is unnecessary for living, its a cultural choice I can choose not to participate.

Service is a state of living. I can make the choice everyday.

Help can come in many forms, for me it was two walking poles.

Living for God is sacrificial, but nothing that we have was ever ours, my call to ministry is a gift.

We truly are never alone, the wisdom, encouragement, songs, and stories that those who I love speak are forever in me.

As I pulled each sock over my freshly healed feet this morning I whispered prayer and hoped for the best. For the first time when I took off these socks I was not in pain nor greeted by new sores. My feet have the marks of a pilgrim that may last forever, but they have reconciled. I face new challenges each day as I try to integrate my experiences into daily life, reconciling old habits with new thoughts. Everyday I am in the business of reconciliation as God slowly brings heaven to earth through his people-us.

I have lots of stories to share, but there is no greater story than the one God is continuity to write, one of reconciliation. Ask me, seek me, and I will tell and listen to your story as well, over a warm tasteful cup of sweet joy. It's a date. This was just a taste of the stories and I am excited to see where my feet take me next.