Chicano Park

A year ago I was vacationing in San Diego. During my time there, a friend and I had heard about this place called Chicano Park and all of it's amazing mural artwork. So, while our husbands were at an education conference, we decided to go check it out. We looked up the distance and it wasn't far from our hotel on the marina so agreed to walk. 

Not being familiar with San Diego, and also not being from an urban area, we didn't realize that we would be walking through some areas of town that felt a little unsafe. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea for us to walk there by ourselves, but I am glad we did. Once we were well on our way, I realized it was outside of my comfort zone, but I enjoy experiencing things that are outside the realm of my cultural bubble. We passed through areas highly populated by what I am assuming were homeless men. We passed through areas that reeked of urine. And we passed by a small restaurant that had the hugest line of people waiting to get food. I believe it was called Las Cuatro Milpas. We didn't want to wait in line, but I hope someday if I go back to try it out!

We made it safely to the park and were immediately enamored by all of the amazing artwork. It is a feast for the eyes! I took tons of pictures. While we were walking around admiring the art and taking pictures, I guess we must have looked a little out of place, because I young man who was playing handball struck up a conversation with us. He asked us where we were from and how we found out about the park. He was pleased that my friend was familiar with handball. He said he was glad we came to visit the park, and that he was proud of it, he grew up there and was proud to be from the community. He wanted us to know that even though the area gets bad publicity and that other communities in San Diego criticized it, that it was not an all bad place.

I'm sure this young man had no idea, but him reaching out and engaging us in conversation was the highlight of my trip to San Diego. I was really pleased that he was bold enough to strike up a conversation with two strangers. I am so timid, that sometimes I have troubles striking up conversation even with people who I know. Maybe I'm naive to even be sharing this at all. I love having positive interactions with people who are different than me, ethnically, culturally, politically, religiously. It reminds me that one day, every tongue, tribe, and nation will be reconciled. We are one race, the human race, made up of many different, unique people and cultures and those differences are meant to be shared and celebrated!

To learn more about the historical significance of Chicano Park click here.

Also, I don't usually like to share when I am donating to a charity because I don't like to seem like I'm bragging, but to honor this experience and in hopes to inspire others to help out if they can, I donated to The Chicano Federation, an organization who's "mission is to invest in undeserved communities through programs that build resiliency and promote self-sufficiency." They are currently accepting donations to help those most affected by the impact of COVID-19 in the San Diego-Chicano Park community. 

I'll leave you with some pictures of the amazing artwork all over the park and hope that you are inspired to take a walk out of your comfort zone and help when and where you can :) 

Writing Prompt Challenge Day 1: START

A few weeks ago I participated in a writing prompt challenge on instagram hosted by Hope*Writers
I am proud of myself for completing all 10 writing prompts and I thought it would be fun to share them here! So here is day 1...

Sculpture in photo by Francisco Zúñiga

You don't have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great. ~Zig Ziglar
S T A R T
I spent an embarrassing amount of time brainstorming a caption for this first writing prompt.
Out of 3 pages of non cohesive ideas, the quote above is what I’m going on. (I really need to streamline my process or there is no way I can keep this up for 10 days!) I wanted this first post to be great, but I just don’t feel that it is. I considered not participating, but instead brought my struggle before God. He asked me: “do you want to do it?” And I said “yes.” So here I am. God gave me a desire not only to write, but to write about Him. It is said that a journey starts with a single step. As I embark on this mission to find my own voice through God’s voice, I can’t help but compare myself to Bilbo Baggins; a small person who is in way over their head! How great is it, though, that I have a God who has thoughts way higher than my thoughts. He has gone before me and already knows the road ahead. I hope he smiles on me, and perhaps occasionally giggles and shakes his head as I go about my journey, the way I did when I first read of Bilbo and his adventure. Here I start: not great, but with a heart that is full of hope and yearning to share words that are brave, honest and life giving!

Barbie

Teach Me to Number My Days

I am a worrier. At any given moment I am going around in circles in my mind thinking over the things I have said and done and how they are perceived by others, constantly. Not only recent things, but things from months, or even years ago. I am a people-pleaser. I care a lot about what people think of me and I am bothered by the times I have let people down or disappointed them, or came across as awkward or stupid.

Twice this past week God has pointed out to me, that I care more about pleasing others than I do about pleasing him. The first time came right after I had been in one of those downward spirals. I was listening to a podcast on my way to work. I had thought about turning it off and listing to music, but something kept me listening. Then, right as I pulled into the parking lot, I heard it: "If you feel this bad about unintentionally letting someone down, but not when you let me down, then who are you living for?" 

Boom. Convicted.

"Okay God." I said. "I get it, I'll try to stop fretting over things I cannot change. I'm sorry."

A few days later I was listening to another podcast and the same theme of people pleasing came up again. Whenever I notice reoccurring themes, I pay attention. I acknowledged it and tucked it away for later...

I was praying over cancer this morning. I prayed for God to put an end to it. I prayed for God to miraculously heal people from it. I prayed for God to use it for His glory. As I prayed about cancer, I thought to myself about what I would do if I knew I was dying. I imagined that I would abandon all worries of what other people think and be relentless in sharing about Jesus.

then...

LIGHTBULB.

I realized immediately why God spoke to me about people pleasing: It would take me knowing that I am dying to be all out for Jesus? Right now I care more about what people might or might not think about me than I care about sharing the love of Jesus.

BOOM. CONVICTED.

Earth to Barbie: I am already dying! I am slowly dying a little with each passing second. I am going to die someday, and I could die at any moment. Why am I waiting for a diagnosis to kick things into motion? The bible says this:

Psalm 90:12

Teach us to number our days,

that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

My days are numbered. And the amazing thing is, that God has numbered them. He knew this moment was going to happen, long before I existed. He knew that I would be listening to podcasts this week. He knew that my uncle was going to have cancer and pass away, causing me to begin praying over cancer. He knew that praying for cancer would cause me think about what I would do if I was dying. He knew that in that moment, he was going to tie it all together.

Psalm 139:1-6

O LORD, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O LORD, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. 

As much as it pains me to know that people I respect and admire will roll their eyes as I share my faith, it would pain me more for them to never know the love of Christ, and to know that I didn't share it. I want to be like Jesus's disciples, joyfully proclaiming the goodness of God!

Luke 19:37-40

When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:

“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”

“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

Grace & Peace,

Come A L I V E

The leaves are beginning to turn color. They are drying up, dying and falling to the ground. Usually at this time each year, I feel a piece of my soul dying with each leaf that hits the ground.  I'm usually singing "Wake Me Up When September Ends" as the pain of change takes place. You see, I love the summer. I feel most alive in the summer. I am more creative and more rested. I have more time to spend with my family and friends as well as out in God's beautiful nature. September, however, means vacation is over. September means, the sun and the flowers are on their way out. Everything goes from alive and green to dry and brown, and then (in Oregon anyway) eventually, wet and gray.

Yet, this September something feels different to me. As things slowly begin to die, I find myself thinking over the word ALIVE. "Hmm," I think to myself, "that's not a normal word for September".
Nevertheless, I write the word down above September in my prayer journal.

As I stare at the word in my journal, the song "Come Alive (Dry Bones)" by Lauren Daigle, keeps playing on repeat in my head. I take it as a cue to search for the phrase in my bible app, and it leads me to Ezekiel 37. I don't recall ever actually having read this passage of the bible before now. If you haven't read it before either, I encourage you do so! To summarize;
The prophet Ezekiel has a vision in which God brings him to a valley filled with vastly old and dry bones and God speaks to him:

3 He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”
I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.”
4 Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! 5 This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath[a] enter you, and you will come to life. 6 I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”

If you go on to finish the passage, you will find out that Ezekiel cries out to the dry bones to come alive, and before his eyes and entire army of skeletons turn into flesh. Can you imagine? What an amazing vision.

I no longer feel like a part of me is dying as I head into the fall.
I feel ALIVE.
I am excited for what God will do in the months to come.
Every day is an opportunity to see God at work.
This will be a year of dry bones coming to life.
Starting with me..

Grace & Peace,

Jesus Koolaid, Mean Girls & Word Vomit

This picture has nothing to do with this post, other than that the flower is pink, and "on Wednesday's we wear pink"
It only makes sense if you've seen Mean girls.

For anyone that has read my blog from the beginning (like all 2 of you) you may have noticed that the direction of my blog has changed recently. Well, it has something to do with the whole "Jesus doing something new in me" thing from my last post. In other words, I've drank the Jesus Koolaid and I like it.

For those of you who don't know me, I was raised in a Christian home and I accepted Christ around the age of 7. I've never thought of myself as "lukewarm" Christian, but maybe I was. I have definitely been through hot and cold seasons of my faith and I have been a timid Christian, but I feel like God used motherhood (among other things) in my life to WAKE ME UP. It seems as though this awakening in me happened gradually and all at once at the same time. It's like mean girls--Jesus is Regina George and I'm obsessed with her--I mean Him--and he's not a self absorbed hussy--am I allowed to talk about Jesus and Mean Girls in the same sentence? I don't think so. Father forgive me for trying to be funny with a pop-culture reference (insert laughing emoji, oops I did it again.) 

I recently saw a social media post from one of my favorite Christian writers, Trillia Newbell, in which she shared a conversation she had with faith-based musician and author Michael Card, he said that he "wanted to spend the rest of his life learning about and communicating about Jesus." When I read that I thought to myself, "That's it! That's what I want to do!"

I hope to still share about the things that bring me joy--art, travel, creating, entertaining, home-making, relationships--however, because the thing that brings me the most joy is my relationship with Jesus, all of these things now have His filter over them. I now find myself asking, "how can I bring Jesus into this?" all the time!!

So if you stick around, I hope to present to you interesting content and beautiful images to look at it, but Jesus is where my heart and my attention are! If you read this whole thing, thanks for listening to my unfiltered word vomit!

Grace & Peace,

Breaking out of the Cocoon that is Myself

I while back, I attended a class at my church in which my pastor posed the question:

"Do you have the tendency to 'cocoon' into your 'church' friends?"

At the time, I pridefully answered no. 

Throughout my life, I've struggled to find where I fit in. Even having been raised in the church, I have often felt like I was on the outside looking in.

While I've never turned away from God, I have definitely felt bitter toward the church at my inability to find my niche. I have, however, also been bitter toward my friends outside of the "church" community. I've felt left out, or made to feel different than them. I've always struggled with feeling like there is something about me that is not interesting or fun enough to be apart of someone's "inner circle".

I've been pondering the question lately, and doing some "soul searching" and I had the revelation that the actual answer to this question for me is that I cocoon into MYSELF. I am stingy with my time and I hold back my true self quite often for fear of coming off awkward or stupid. 

As I have begun this journey of cocooning into God, he is working on bringing me out and turning me into a butterfly. 

The more I press into the God, the less I fear, the less anxiety I have, the more bold and creative I feel. I am learning to be my true self, and that true self is someone who is more willing to say "YES!"  and take risks and be more giving of myself. 

Just as a caterpillar becomes new life, a butterfly, Christ longs to do something new in each of us.

Ecclesiastes 3:11

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

2 Corinthians 5:17

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!"

Thank you God for doing new things in me!

Photo credit and inspiration due to my mom, who spent a lovely day with me attending a lavender farm and festival :)

The Thorns in My Side

This past weekend at my church a man down on his luck and high on something came into our church service and shook things up. He talked loud over my pastor's message, was disruptive, acted very strange and caused the other homeless men who attend our church services to cuss him out and then leave part way through the service. 

I was sitting by myself in the back of the church, and this man happened to sit right behind me.

I am an anxiety ridden, fearful, meek, timid, introverted person. 

I am especially afraid of men I do not know who are acting strange and most 

likely under the influence of some sort of substance abuse.

As I heard him speaking out, I refused to look back at him.

If I looked at him he might try to talk to me, he would see me, he would know that I knew he was there. 

I flashed back to a time at another church when a strange man who wandered our town sat right next to me in a church service. He acted strangely too, and I was afraid the whole time. And when it came time to hold hands and pray at the end of the service, 

I moved up a row and left him hanging. Another young man stepped up in between us and held his hand and mine.

I was ashamed.

I was not strong enough to let God conquer my fears and be loving toward this man.

Present day: as our church service progressed, I felt the urge of the spirit call me to pray for the strange man sitting behind me. I felt my heart pumping and when the pastor asked us to take a minute to pray, I stood up and turned around, seeing the man for the first time, I was a little surprised at what he looked like.

I asked him his name and then put my hand on his shoulder and prayed for him.

I prayed that the Spirit would quiet the voices in his head so that he may hear the message God has for him. I prayed over him thinking that the Spirit was going to quiet him and allow us to resume church service as normal.

Well, that did not happen.

But as I sat back down, my adrenaline at it's peak and my heart racing so hard that it literally felt like I was having contractions in my lower back, I realized something.

The Spirit did not quiet him, but the Spirit did something in me: It made me brave.

I was no longer afraid of the man.

I now know his name, and I will be praying for him.

All this to say, I was feeling pretty proud of myself for doing this 

and then a couple of days later...

I ran into someone I really admire as an artist in my local dance community and they asked me if I was still coaching dance team.

Backstory: I was the head coach of a high school dance team for two years, at a pretty big high school with a great athletic program. I could not rally the numbers I needed to have a successful program and after two years of stress and frustration, I resigned. 

I felt like a failure. Something about me was not good enough to make people want to stay and try something new and work for something I LOVED and poured my heart and soul into. 

The question caught me off guard, and I felt awkward and embarrassed as I explained I was no longer coaching.

I know that things didn't work out because God had other plans for me, but my prideful spirit heaped back on the shame for failing at MY plans.

I spent the night thinking about how I had felt so proud over something as small as praying for a stranger (totally not something I should be prideful over) and then an innocent question reminded me of my failure and knocked me off my high horse.

To add to that, Wednesday morning I woke up sensing that God wanted me to fast for the day.

I set out to do it...until breakfast hit and my husband offered me oatmeal and I instantly gave in and thought, 

"I'll try fasting another day."

Today I took a personal day to stay home from work and work on organizing a shelf full of craft stuff and random miscellaneous items that I have been putting off making decisions on so that I could move craft stuff from my linen closet onto that shelf and actually have room for some of my linens in the linen closet. I felt so accomplished when I completed my goal, and then I thought of all the stuff I still have to sort through and make decisions on. Oh and by the way I also spent a lot of my spare time today on social media instead of reading one of the many books I have on my nightstand or getting on the elliptical or going for a walk, and I had to take my son to the babysitter in order to get what I did do done. Cue the mom guilt. I cried after I dropped him off. I know he is safe a cared for there, but I shouldn't be taking him if I have a day off, right? Heat comes to my face and I am physically blushing right now due to shame of all all my sins (this could also be a result of the glass of wine I just had to treat myself for accomplishing my goal today, but I digress...)

Clutter will always be a struggle for me.

Eating healthy and exercising regularly will always be a struggle for me.

Being a good mom will always be a struggle for me.

Pride and selfishness will always be a struggle for me.

Not being afraid will always be a struggle for me.

Thorns in my side.

I am reminded of Paul:

2 Corinthians 12:7-9

"...Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me."

I am reminded of God's grace, and Christ's willingness to stand in my gaps and be my strength when I am so very weak.

Whatever you are struggling with today, I hope you are encouraged to know that you are not alone!

Grace & Peace,