breakfast, coffee, walks, and tragedy.

There are a few things that I especially love to do with my close friends: going out for breakfast, going out for coffee and quality conversation and taking long walks, especially semi-late at night, even if it is really cold. I have a few friends that I share breakfast with on a semi-regular basis and its splendid. I've gotten to do all three things in the last few days and it warms my heart. I had breakfast with some amazing women this morning, for example, at 3rd coast which is quickly becoming a favorite place (I've been there 3 times in the last week and a half). I also had an early thanksgiving dinner today and Maureen and Abbie's. I always come away from their house amazingly blessed, I can't even explain it except to say that within the walls of that apartment the love of Jesus is experienced in a way that I have yet to experience elsewhere. Tonight I got the double blessing of riding home with new friends, Jeremy and Julia, precious people. I hope I get to spend time with them again sometime at least semi-soon.

I just got some hard news from my mom about people who are, in many ways, closer than family to me in Portugal: my "aunts" and "uncles" during my five years there with relational threads that run deep and will continue through the rest of my life. I won't go into detail but I feel as though my world has been shaken. Its a strange sensation because I'm now so far removed from it all being here in college but at the same time still feel so deeply, intimately connected to it. I feel as though the roots I put down there, the roots I still, to some degree, feel like I have there are in completely different soil now than when I left. I'm not sure what to do with that reality. Part of me mourns the loss of it all and part of me just wants to shrug and say that's life and I have a hard time reconciling the two. I guess that this is just the beginning. The whole process is only going to continue and get more complicated as I get older. Times and realizations like these make me all the more glad that there is more to life than what my eyes can see or my heart can feel.

its that time of year...

Its that time of year when people pull out their hats and scarves and wool coats.

Its that time of year when I officially can't wear flip flops anymore because my feet will freeze.

Its the time of year when its so cold that it makes your eyes water and then your eyelashes freeze shut, a truly absurd feeling.

Its that time of year when my hair freezes because its usually still wet when I go outside.

Its that time of year when it gets dark outside at 4:30pm here in Chicago.

Its that time of year when the only things left on most of the trees are little red berries.

Its that time of year when my glasses fog up when I step inside.

Its that time of year when almost every warm drink has peppermint in it.

Its that time of year with magical evenings of snow flurries.

Its that time of the year when Christmas lights and decorations are strewn across the city trees and lamp posts.

Its that time of year that big, fake, evergreens are placed in front of huge windows and decorated beautifully.

Its that time of year when 93.9 has Christmas music playing non-stop.

Its that time of year that I pull my boots out.

Its that time of year when people seem to become warm inside, I think I've been getting a lot more hugs lately. :)

Its that time of year that I especially think of my family and fun traditions (Chris, mom, It snowed here for the first time a few days ago and I so badly wanted to eat dinner by candle light! :)

Its that time of year when Ange and I do our 1000 + piece Christmas puzzle. (I guess its been a few years...)

Its that time of year that my mom makes her amazing cereal/M&M mix, russian tea cakes and chocolate covered pretzels.

Its that time of year that I remember all the festivities in Lisbon and realize that they're still going on without me and I'm missing them...

Its the time of year when everyone gives each other ferrer rocher chocolates, bolo rei, and those amazing chocolates in the shapes of sea creatures, I'm somewhat sad that I can't remember what they are called.

Its that time of year when I eat way too much chocolate and five bolo reis sit on top of our fridge untouched because no one likes them.

Its that time of year that the castanha venders are lining the streets.

Its that time of year when Lisbon's Christmas light displays beautifully illumine the city.

Its that time of year when the malls are PACKED and not quite worth going to unless its before noon.

Its that time of year when the biggest Christmas Tree I have ever seen is put up in Belem.

Its that time of the year when I miss Portugal the most.

Its that time of year when I would willingly eat an entire bolo rei (fruit cake) if it meant I could be back there again.

Maybe next year. For now, I get to enjoy the winter beauty of Chicago: carraige rides, snow, leafless trees, and my amazing and beautiful friends.

one week from today

I'm thrilled! One week from today I will be in Iowa having a mom day. It will be the first one in a long while and probably the last for a while too. We're going to spend the day together, probably doing a little bit of Christmas shopping and just talking, having "cokes" like old times. I can't wait.

good morning, winter.

Its been snowing, (more like flurrying, I guess) around here. Its beautiful but the cold, grey skies are settling in. This kind of weather always makes me pensive and nostalgic. I keep thinking of Portugal and longing to be living in my sweet memories. Cobblestone streets, ancient churches, castanhas, cafe, two-hour long lunch breaks. It seems further way each day...

A large part of my extended family was together for my cousin's wedding this weekend and I wished so badly that I could have been there. I guess the bright side is that I will see them in almost two weeks for Thanksgiving. I'm looking forward to that. It will probably be the last time for a while. I never know. But its coming, and for today, that is enough.

Disturbed

Her face will be forever etched in my memory. I see her whenever a homeless person asks me for money or a beggar pleads with me for food. I don’t know her name but I will never forget her sunken face, gray wiry hair, horrid odor and dingy, red coat. The stale stench of the urine-stained subway tunnels and platforms takes me back to the moment I first saw her.

I was eating dinner with my two sisters, their husbands and my boyfriend when she approached us. Moments earlier we had been arguing about the plates of food we had left on our table and who was going to eat them. My brother-in-law had cringed as he sipped his green, organic juice. “I don’t know who would ever want to drink this,” he had said. He sipped my sister’s water and left his neglected juice to the side of the table. We continued bantering about the left over food, all but forcing my boyfriend to eat it.

She had shuffled by a few times, and had hesitantly glanced our direction each time she had passed. I was pretty sure I had seen her on the building steps as we left the subway station. Now she was walking toward our table sheepishly. Her frame was fragile and her eyes were hollow, her posture humiliating, her odor overwhelming.

“Can we give her the food?” my boyfriend asked. None of us really spoke but shifted the plates from in front of us, setting them on the edge of the table where she stood. Her eyes fluttered as she courageously asked my brother-in-law for the remaining sips of his juice. He looked at me for a translation and handed her his cup, compassionately silent as she removed the straw from the cup and gulped down the liquid we had all been too disgusted to consume.

While we exchanged minimal conversation with her, sharing our scraps, the manager of the restaurant stormed outside to the patio where we were dining on the cobblestone and yelled at her in Portuguese. My sisters and brothers-in-law looked to me and Brad as we tried to speak above his yelling in this woman’s defense. She wasn’t begging, we had offered her the food and she wasn’t disturbing our dinner. The only thing disturbed was the concept of compassion and love in my heart. As we watched the woman limp away at the urging of the manager, I held back the anger and tears and translated the conversation for my family. We said very little as we walked around the city the rest of the night; it looked vastly different.

learning who i am... or maybe who i wish i was?

This was my response to a friend's post, a poem about who she is. She ended with the question, "Who are you?"

I'm a citizen of heaven alone,
no other home has left me completely satisfied.

I'm a jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, and pony-tail kinda girl, most of the time. Every now and then I go back to my European cultural experiences, minus the heals.

I like blueberry muffins and espressos con pana sitting at the window of an upstairs coffee shop with a good, intellectually stimulating book, watching you walk by on the street below as I turn the pages. Oh, I can't forget the fireplace in the corner.

I want to see you succeed, but I'll love you even if you don't. In fact, I'll love you about an hour after I meet you, maybe less if it's an especially great day.

I'm an optimist but like to keep realistic expectations. I love to laugh and smile but still take life a little more on the serious side. I've been told I'm witty and feisty and in certain contexts I think I'm ok with that.

I like talking with intellectuals, sipping black coffee, dark plastic framed glasses, and i like to leave a conversation mulling over what has just been said. I like to sit down three hours after the conversation and journal my new thoughts on the topic.

I care deeply and once you're in my heart, you better get comfortable because you won't be going anywhere for a while. Its pretty tough to shake me (whether that is good or bad is up for interpretation.)

I feel your pain and confusion, sometimes even if you haven't told me about it. I wish I could take your pain away for you but I've learned that I can't and trying won't do either of us much good. But I will certainly hurt with you because hurting alone is one of the most painful things in the world.

I love people but I love Jesus more. and if the two conflict, it's hard but most of the time I'll choose Jesus.

I like DARK chocolate, and peanut M&M's but you get more regular peanut M&Ms for your money than dark chocolate ones. (unfortunately, cuz the dark chocolate ones are AMAZING!)

I like maps and globes and languages and would like to visit every country before I die.

I hate eating meals by myself. I'm under the conviction that meals are an experience to be shared with someone.

I have a high regard for integrity and living above reproach even if it means you don't like me very much.

I have a strange obsession with the word and concept of HOPE. my Hope in the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe is the only reason I'm still alive today.

fresh laundry, change and hope

I can't believe it has been a year since I have written here. Oh well. As the semester comes to a close, I find myself torn between the excitement of the promises of summer with all that lies ahead and the inevitable sadness that comes at such a time when one thinks about everyone leaving for the summer and the changes that will take place; things will never be quite the same. The changes I'm anticipating seem even greater this summer because I won't be coming back to the same floor and essentially the same life that I have had the last two years. I'll be moving to a different floor and assuming the life of an RA. Don't get me wrong, I'm really really really excited about it, but it definitely will be an adjustment.
For now, I'm just trying to make the most of the rest of the semester and look forward to the amazing women that I get the privilege of living with on Smith 7! In the midst of everything that is changing, there are still some things that remain the same, not in boring way but in a consistent, comforting way. Things like friends, (the friendships will change, I'm sure but the ones that matter most will always be there in some shape or form), SDR food, the community here, the fresh laundry smell from the W Chestnut apartment laundry room that I pass on my way home from work, my job, really unpredictable bus schedules of the CTA, construction on the brown line, and, on a more serious note, the love and grace of a Father without whom I'd fall apart.
So, the changes aren't bad, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little apprehensive about embracing all of them. Hope is still alive, though ,and that is an amazingly beautiful and priceless gift. Through hope, I'm moving forward.

Dia 25 de Abril

Yesterday was Portugal's independence day. It marks the day that Salazar, their last dictator, fell. There are streets, pracas (squares?), a bridge, and other things named "April 25th" in honor of the day he fell from power. It marks a turning point in the Portuguese culture and the lives of the people individually. I thought about it yesterday and today and i want so badly to see such a revolution take place again, a spiritual day of freedom of the darkness, the depression, the hopelessness that encompasses them. I want to stand in the square at the entrance of the city and see it filled with people singing praises and praying not to Mary but to God through Jesus Christ. I want the people to know the jubilation and liberty I have experienced in Christ. I want them to be able to say that they count everything a loss (14 months salary every year, their children, their wine, their food, their education, their careers) compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus as Lord.

Hope? Significance? Purpose?

I'm currently writing a literary analysis paper on "Gooseberries" by Anton Chekhov. One of the reoccuring themes of Chekhov's writing is the pursuit of ultimate happiness and satisfaction. His characters search in everything, from sex to taking care of someone to gooseberries plants and never quite find what they are looking for. They find moments of contement, moments of purpose and meaning. But yet still something is lacking. The quest of the characters is a reflection, naturally, of Chekhov's own search for significance and satisfaction, which to the end of his life only tastes in fleeting incriments.

As a Christian, a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, I know where ultimate contentment, satisfaction and purpose can be found. I hope in the fact that I no longer have to search for significance because my meaning rests in one who will never change, my heart is secure. The picture above is from a cathedral in Portugal in a city called Fatima. People from all over Europe make yearly pilgramages there to pay tribute to the Virgin Mary and seek some sort of reconciliation from their current offences. They crawl on their knees for miles and burn meter long candels in search of deliverance and forgiveness.

I'm both rejoicing in the hope that I have right now, and sitting here heart broken for the people crawling on their knees in search of the very hope that I have. I guess the next question I ask myself is, what am I doing with my hope?

Affections?

After reading through old conversations and journal entries and flipping through pictures of former affections, my heart is full of a mixture of odd and confusing thoughts and sentiments, questions to be sure. What happens to the passions of the previous seasons of my heart? Are they soley for that portion of my life or will they again be resurrected? Why are there some things I just can't seem to shake? Why do certain thoughts, memories, people, loves, aches, tears, smiles linger in my mind both haunting and comforting my soul at once? How much more can my heart take? Will everything come back to life again?
My thoughts have turned to the resurrection, remembering the signicifance of Christ's resurrection and the hope it holds. We too, as Christians have passed from death to life. But what does that mean, exactly? What am I doing with that truth?
Stir my affection for You and You Alone, Father. Fill me with the hope of your Resurrection, your Life, not only 2,000 years ago, but today in me.

Engaging Culture

Well, I have a few minutes before my house is filled with excited single teachers for whats been named, "Jack Bauer" night. They come over every Tuesday night to watch 24 with my parents. Its been so amazing being back home for a couple weeks. I can't even explain how liberating its been. I think I reached a place at school where I just let myself get so busy and somewhat cynical about being there. Time away has been good. I've had tons of time to reflect on what exactly I'm doing and why. I'm reading through Romans and its been phenomonal (sp?). To read the words of Paul to the struggling Romans. I feel like I am right there with them sometimes. I've become so concerned with meeting the invisible expectations of school, church, ministry, and spirituality that I lost sight of what it was all about. I'm at Bible College but that doesn't mean I'm perfect or even that I have to pretend I am. Its liberating to remember that. As I've been able to look back over the semester I've seen how little by little, I let my passions slip by. Somewhere along the line I became apathetic, I turned down the volume of my heart beat for the lost and broken so much that I stopped hearing it at all. I stopped seeking hope, I stopped pursuing, I stopped feeling for those around me. But over the last couple weeks I've been thinking again about the people around me. I've noticed things about them, how they react, what they value,etc. I have this goal of being a student of people, and in talking to my mom about it I realized that though I strive for it to be a good thing, there is also a flip side. For, in being a student of people, it can quickly become being a judge of people, silently condemning them with my secret thoughts and assumptions. Being a student of people can easily be born out of selfish reasons, corrupt motives. I don't want to be a student of people for my sake and I don't want it to become about the people themselves or meeting their needs either. Though both are great things, I think they remain great only if they stream from a river that flows to and from the heart of God for His glory. I don't want to serve those around me to serve them, I want to serve them because I am ultimately serving Christ. I see all this in the Apostle Paul in Acts 17. He speaks of becoming all things to all people, he engaged and studied the culture of the region he was in. His reason? So that he could affectively proclaim the message of the truth of God to the people. I want to engage my culture in such a way. I don't want to withdraw from it, I don't want to integrate into it, but I want to engage it and be a student of my culture and the people in it.
1 Corinthians 9:19 "This means I am not bound to obey people just because they pay me, yet I have become a servant of everyone so that I can bring them to Christ..."

A Dollar Multiplied

He placed a cd in the holder attached to the sun visor above his seat and a single dollar bill fell to his lap. In his unique “Tobias” way he looked at me in the rear-view mirror and handed the bill to the backseat into my hand.
“Watch God multiply this,” he said with a slight grin.
At first I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not but then he proceeded with his story.
“God will provide. He will multiple that dollar and will meet all your needs. He always has, He has promised to and He will never go back on His word.”
My sister chimed in with more words of encouragement, “ It won’t always be easy, you won’t understand how He will provide, but He will. You have to believe and pray in faith that He will. You need to give your tithe at the beginning of the month with trust that He will make ends meet when the last few days roll around.

Since that car ride on the way to Target, God has provided and multiplied that dollar in ways I couldn’t even have begun to imagine. Two jobs fell into my lap at the beginning of the semester. I was hired at New Balance and by a psychologist who was paying me $20 an hour, an amazing blessing, an incomprehensible demonstration of the provision of the Father.

Not long after, I quit the better paying job because it was stressing me out and causing anxiety that I could not continue living in. I wasn’t sure if my hours at New Balance would be enough to pay my bills but I knew I couldn’t keep the other job. I quit, while at the same time asking God what on earth I was doing. My heart was full of doubts and questions that I felt horrible for asking but was unable to forget.

My birthday came a few days later and I received cards and gifts from family and friends. A couple days after my actual birthday, I found a check in my mailbox from some close family friends. God was reminding me once again in my moments of doubt and questioning that He is Jehovah Jireh- the Lord who provides.

As I continued to work at New Balance, I got steady hours and was making enough to keep up with my school bill and other expenses. Not only was it a job that was paying my bills, it was a job I greatly enjoyed. I have grown to love the people with whom I work. They look out for me and treat me with great care and respect. They have all become treasured friends.

By the time thanksgiving break rolled around I was more than ready to get off campus and away from the hectic juggling of school, work, ministry, church etc. I waited anxiously to find out if I had the time off work or if I would be staying on campus to work. I could have used the money, but wanted so badly to go to Iowa and be with my family. I got the days off, and my gracious boss gave all his employees a $25 gift card to Jewel, a definite blessing for a college student!

As I made plans for Thanksgiving, the question came up of how I was going to get from Chicago to Des Moines, Iowa. There was a train I could take, but I really didn’t want to fork out $75, not to mention the fact that I didn’t really have it to dish out. But once again, the Lord provided. One of my friends told me he was going to Des Moines to be with his host family and was getting a ride with one of his buddies who lives there. He said they might have an extra seat if I needed a ride. A week later I was stopping with them at the World’s Largest Truck Stop on Interstate 80.

I came back to school after Thanksgiving Break and went back to working and preparing for finals. I had already made my December payment before going on holiday, anticipating shopping with my sister the day after Thanksgiving for some much needed winter clothes.

In the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas Break, things got slower and slower at New Balance. Not many people want to buy running gear in the winter. With fewer customers, we all received a few less hours each week. I started wondering how on earth I was going to make my January payment for school, but God remained faithful. I made little payments slowly throughout the month of December toward my January bill. On my last day of work before heading out for the holidays, I walked in to the store and my manager handed me a card. “I was instructed to give this to you,” he said. I was surprised by his formality, because things are pretty laid back, we are all somewhat like a family. I wasn’t going to open it right then, but at my co-workers’ urging, I tore at the envelope. I pulled out the card and opened it. As I did I am pretty sure my jaw dropped. It was from the owner of the store, whom I have only met once and talked to over the phone on occasion. In the card was a $50 bill: a generous Christmas gift from him and his wife. There was no particular reason they gave it to me, and it wasn’t something they were doing for everyone. But it made it possible for me to put more money towards my school bill without completely draining my account. When I called to tell my mom, she informed me that she and my dad wanted to finish whatever was lacking for January.

For break, I have spent time with two precious families who have gone above and beyond “hospitality.” I visited some of the most gracious people I have ever met in Oklahoma and they took me in and showered love, blessings, and wisdom on me. Now, I am here in Iowa with my sister Christine and her husband Jason and the two cutest kids in the world. I cannot become to express how much they have done for me. It is beyond words. I feel so unworthy yet so grateful. It was a privilege to be with this part of my family for Christmas this year, it has been a while. They have willingly opened their home and shared their groceries and resources with me. It is a gift I will never be able to repay. They know that full well and have shared with me none the less, in the spirit of true generosity and love.

God has taught me over and over again, that whether I have much or little money, I need to be generous with what He has given me. I am learning the fine line between giving generously even when I don’t know where the next check will come from and foolishly managing my money. The important thing to know is that the money isn’t mine, it is God’s. Just like He has used so many people to help meet my needs, so He wants to use me to help meet the needs of others. He has blessed my life tremendously, providing for my every need and I am disappointing Him if I do not in turn bless others with His abundant grace.

Matthew 6:31-34 (NLT)

“So don’t worry about having enough food or drink or clothing. Why be like the pagans who are so deeply concerned about these things? Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs and he will give you all you need from day to day if you live for him and make the Kingdom of God your primary concern. So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

living

I am determined to live more this semester. No, this isn't a new years resolution, though I am realizing how it sounds like one. But I have been reflecting on the past semester and realized how little I lived or at least how little I let myself enjoy life. Through transitions and changes and personal stuff, I got really bogged down by, well, myself, I guess. I want to live, not merely survive. I want to breathe deeply, not gasp for air. I want to swim not simply keep my head above water.

questions...

Sometimes I wonder, am I finding myself, or losing myself? More often than not, I feel like I am discovering who I am not, and not who I am.
So, here I sit tonight wondering, "Who am I?" "What am I doing?" "Where am I going?"

Peace on earth...

Christmas Decorations are going up everywhere! It is so exciting! Starbucks, caribou, even Joe's (Moody's campus coffee shop) have their holiday drinks. Green and Red seem to have taken over. The lighting of Michigan Avenue was last night, I wasn't there but I hear it was pretty. The weather is getting colder, I'm not sure I'm ready for winter. haha In fact, I know I'm not. I still need a winter coat and according to my colleagues, I need a good pair of boots to survive the snow drifts and bitter cold. The holiday spirit is somewhat comforting, I can't wait until next Wednesday when I'll be on my way to Iowa and I will be able to sit in front of the fire place with my sister, brother-in-law and my adorable little niece and nephew!
This "warm-spirited" time of year always makes me think and reflect. I have been in the States now for four months! Its crazy! On one hand, it seems like I have been here for merely months, on the other hand it is hard at times to recall life before Moody. I find myself amazed each day when I think about where God has taken me and what He has allowed me to experience. All this is summed up in a melting pot of feelings when I think about the possibilities of what God has in store for me in the coming weeks, months, and years. Sometimes it scares me, fear of the unknown. Other times, it frustrates me, I have a hard time walking into "darkness"-moving forward not knowing where I am going. Over all though, I think I am pretty excited to see how God continues to mold and shape me. I've learned a lot about myself over the last four months, the main thing being that I didn't know myself half as well as I thought I did. It is so easy to let myself be defined by the people I hang out with, the clothes I wear, the style of my hair, the books I read, the things I believe. It is a daily struggle of mine to remind myself that none of these things define me, the only thing that does is Christ.
This post is pretty pointless as far as any deep and though provoking statements, its a simple summary of my random thoughts. :) May the peace of Christ fill you. Don't settle for the fake "peace of the season." Mint Mochas, Eggnog lattes, ambiance lighting, the relational closeness that seems to come around this time of year may all leave you warm and fuzzy on the inside, but I guarantee that all those feelings will fade away in a short time. Instead. Let us seek the only peace that lasts, a peace that surpasses all understanding, the peace of Christ.
blessings to you all,
charity joy