Last night it was my friend's first anniversary since her husband left her... That whole situation which broke out in November has been a tremendous issue of the heart for all of us at college this year who knew them (they studied with us our 1st and 2nd years). She and I went out to get her out of the house (it's hard for her to go out in the evenings as she has 3 girls on her own now) and we saw the beautiful and fun 'Mama Mia'!! I've been waiting to see this show for YEARS. I got the soundtrack when I was 15-- and loved it-- and have been wanting to see it on the West End but haven't been able to afford it (Someday God will give me the delight, but for now I'll be more than content with seeing the beautiful film!). So, I was pretty excited when I found out there was a film version coming out :)

I loved it. I fought the urge to sing along all the way through :) Ali says she's never seen a cinema audience clap at the end of a film before :) I'm going to see it again with another friend on Tuesday (we have some free tickets).

I thought as I took it all in in sheer delight about how romantic lives are scoffed at. The lead character, Donna, led a romantic life. The story is set on a little Greek island where she and her daughter Sophie run a stunning old holiday villa. It looks like a paradise-- white stone, blue shutters, aquamarine water glistening in every shot. I won't give it all away, but basically, it made me think about the extent to which we have the freedom to live romantically, adventurously, radically. Why do so many of us shy away from such a life? Because we want the security of the 9 to 5 job in the town or at least country where we grew up so we can have the nice car, the eventual place of our own, the attainable 5 year plan? Why? Why are these things important? Are they really, when the Word says our lives are but the blink of an eye but what comes after is eternal? And when the word says that the most important things in life are actually loving God and loving others?

"The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive..."

"What a joy, what a life, what a chance!"

"...You make me feel,
you make me show what I'm trying to conceal..."

"I have a dream
A song to sing
To help me cope
With anything
If you see the wonder
Of a fairytale
You can take the future
Even if you fail...
And my destination
Makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness
Just another mile..."

-- lyrics from some of the Mama Mia songs

So, I was reading John 13:1-17 today (go on, go look it up!!) and thinking about how it would have felt to be one of the disciples and have your teacher and your Lord down there with a towel at his waist washing my feet. How deeply humbling that He, Whom I would have known by then was the Son of God Himself, would get to his knees before me, cup my feet in his work-worn hands, and tenderly wash from them the dust of the day. I would probably be as aghast at the idea as Peter who declared in shock, "You will never ever wash my feet!!" But I hope that when Jesus said, "Unless I wash you, you won't belong to me, " I would also respond like Peter and immediately exclaim, "Then wash my hands and head as well, Lord, not just my feet!"

I love the way Jesus taught things. As His dark night of the soul drew near and he knew he had only a small amount of time left to instill in His disciples lifetimes worth of teaching before He entrusted them with His church, He got down to his knees and spoke in actions which are more powerful than words. They spoke about love, servanthood, humility, setting an example for the ones who love Him to follow. The same sort of things that His death, His whole purpose for coming to earth, would portray. "And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have wahsed your feet, you ought to wash each other's feet. I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you."

I was thinking about what it means to belong to Him. A question in a Yancey book I just finished really jumped out at me the other week. It asked simply something along the lines of, "Do I live like I believe God is Who He says He is?" I long to live like I believe Him. It is the overriding purpose of my life. I belong to Him, I'm marked as His, now the rest of my days will be lived out attempting to actually live like I believe He is Who He says He is, and belong to Him. For me that means leaving behind things like the normal view of security, learning to trust God for... well... everything, not just boldness and courage, but food and shelter! It terrifies me. I don't know if I can do it, and I often live like I don't believe He can do it either.

Yet somehow I know that at its core this blink-of-an-eye life is about loving Him and loving others. Whatever that takes. 

The Greek word for "Servant" means: A slave, one who is in a permanent relation of servitude to another, his will being altogether consumed in the will of the other... one bound to serve. I think this is what it means to be His.

God, make me a washer of feet...

"It takes true humility to arrive at the conclusion that His work, will, and way in our lives is always preferred over our own, no matter how it may sometimes seem."
-- Beth Moore

"A strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey, but a woman of strength has faith that it is in the journey that she will become strong." 
I guess this is a bit of what my faith looks like right now. Not there, but going to be someday by going through whatever it has to go through right now... 

I went to see Prince Caspian tonight with the volunteers from college (That's 3 Lithuanians, 2 Koreans, a Brazillian, and a fabulous Italiana!) and though I've never been much of a Narnia fan (I read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe when I was in the 3rd grade, but couldn't be coaxed to read any of the others because fantasy just doesn't appeal to me much), it stirred me.

Things have changed in Narnia since the last time Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy were there and some of the animals have gone wild. There's a moment when Lucy is laying on the ground with a lion towering over her about to pounce, and she doesn't yet know for sure whether it is Aslan or a wild lion. My thoughts whispered to me, "Not safe, but good." The one Lewis concept I have taken to heart more so than anything else I've ever read by him is the image of God as Aslan, a majestic lion, not safe, no, not safe; but good.

And it struck me that somewhere down the line, I decided God should be safe. It doesn't make sense to me because I knew better than that, but somehow on a level lower than my concious thoughts, I expected that His idea of good in my life would be the same as my idea. That makes everything safe and secure because God is good, right? So His will is good and all will be well. Well... His will IS good, all WILL be well, it's just a matter of surrendering my own definitions of those words for His...

Funnily enough, His unsafe-but-good nature has been one of the most attractive qualities about God for me in the past. I have a deep thirst for adventure and a love of spontaneity and a distaste for pat answers, classifications, and boxes. I love that He's a colour outside the lines kind of guy, unpredictable, wild. I suppose I equate it with passion, and I feel passionate about passion :) But it's one thing to dwell on His unsafe-but-good nature when it comes to making life decisions and following Him into unknown situations because you know you can trust that all He does is good for you. It's another thing when that unsafeness means having to trust Him through disappointments and hurts so thick you can't see the light out the other side. Then I resent the unsafeness, and maybe the goodness too because it means I have to find a way to trust Him despite the hurt because I can't just chaulk it up to Him being a bad God. 

I don't know when I stopped loving this about Him, but I'm starting to appreciate it again.

"Nothing is certain, but I'm certain of You...
All that's true, I find in You.
The more I drink of Your Word, the more I thirst for You."
-- Telecast

 
(The original 5 third years, Marge, Abbie, Paul, me, and Dave + Tim, the hilarious and lovely first year we've adopted )

The main group of us third years-- the ones who had stuck together as friends from the beginning-- had been planning since the middle of May to celebrate the finish of our dissertations by camping on the famed Cornish coast. Things were so busy and stressful in the last few weeks that it was just impossible and we pushed it back and back until finally, 2 weeks after graduation, we all met up again (plus Tim!) and headed for the beach....

(Gwithian Beach, Cornwall)

 Pieces of my heart come home at the sea.
I l.o.v.e.d. it!
And the few days we'd looked forward to for so long-- days of finality and completion and accomplishment and friendship-- passed in the blink of an eye...

The boy who broke my heart was there. We're good friends and the show must go on. I was in such a funny place of being desperate to use our last few days together to their fullest while not actually acknowledging that I saw them as having to do any more significantly with him than with the other dear people on the trip. But being near to him drives me to distraction. He doesn't have to do anything but just be himself and I find myself struck to tears. I had to keep sneaking off on my own for a few good cries and talks with God. I was desperate for some finality in all this. I knew instinctively it may be the last time I ever see him, but I hardly let myself think of it. I just love him. I just love the man. I love how he focuses on setting up a tent, I love his jokes, I love his laugh, I love how he offers me his coat when I'm cold, I love how his deep brown eyes fix on the person he's talking to, I love the sound of his voice and I loved the sound of his groggy morning voice :), I love how I can almost see the wheels in his mind turning as he walks down the beach, I love how he still trusts me and confides in me even after all this, I love how he stands up for me against Tim's teasing :), I love how he asks how I am expecting an answer, I love his pasty white skin at the beach :), I love the way he walks, I love not having to stand next to Amanda and interact with him!!!, I love standing in the sea with him at sunset..., I hate not knowing how much of my heart I can share with him and feeling a fake for holding so much back, but mostly,
I hate how he can't love me...

(he and I watching the heavenly sunset with the waves lapping against our ankles)

I was hoping we might have a chance for a finalizing chat. Kind of a last time ever to bring any of this up and then a putting it all behind us. One night we ended up sitting on a bench above the beach to watch the sunset before anyone else got there and he was sharing about some struggles and then he asked outrightly, "Leah, are you happy?"... I deferred, naturally, to the weird transition of leaving college and all, hoping to lead into where my heart was for him, and then Tim showed up, followed by Marge, Abbie and Paul. So... the moment was lost. But he was being very tender toward me those few days, kind of looking out for me, asking after me from the others when he didn't know where I was, buying me glasses of wine, saving me from spiders, practically forcing his coat on me when we were shivering by the sea... He is such the kind of man I want to spend my life supporting and loving and believing in. But I must let go of believing in this one now, because he doesn't want to be THE man.

I know people fall in love all the time.
I know people have their hearts broken all the time.
I know there is nothing new under the sun.
But it's new to me.

The last night we were all sitting by the sea eating a tea of fish and chips and Tim asked about when we would be leaving the next day. Paul suggested 'Never' and I agreed most heartily. Marge interceded that we might stay forever but she would be leaving on the train at 10:30 the next morning so I said something like, "I still want to stay forever, but I don't want to be all alone in that big cold tent all the rest of my life." because she and I were sharing a tent and I was freezing each night! The rest of them carried on with banter but sort of under his breath He said to me, "I wouldn't wish that upon you, Leah." And it seemed so significant somehow. As if he were referring to more, attempting to speak a peace between us about the whole situation... 

As soon as he and Tim went up to the campsite to fetch the champagne I had to excuse myself, rush down a beachy path, sit amongst the tall sand dune grasses, and cry and cry and cry...

A little later we all went down to the beach and toasted one another with champagne. As we were clinking glasses I looked up to find his eyes really intense on me, as if wanting me to feel how he was toasting me. I ducked mine, sort of caught off-guard, then wished I hadn't... Still a bit emotional, I rolled up my jeans and left the rest to walk a little bit into the sea and he came up beside me and I should have spoken to him then. I wonder if he was expecting to. Instead we ended up talking about our families and about the stuff he's struggling with being back at home and about some of my difficulties in communicating with my mom. He seemed a bit low-key the rest of the night... I wondered what was going through his mind. Only now do I know that he was kind of looking for a final chat just between us too.

(Us in the sunset again)

Goodbyes the next day came upon me suddenly. We all hugged quite quickly and when he wrapped me in those arms I wanted to curl up there forever. He said simply "I'll really miss you, Leah" and all I could manage was "you too". He drove off in Abbie and Paul's car toward Salisbury and I went with Tim to head back to Gloucester and I tried so hard not to cry for Tim's sake but it was a losing battle. He's the first man I've ever loved and it struck me too late that I may never see him again. I didn't say a proper goodbye...

 
(Me, Dave, Marge, Abbie & Paul toasting our graduation at the beach) 

I can't yet envision a life that I don't share with these precious people.
And though I am blessed beyond anything I could have dreamed, transitioning past graduation and onward into new life is hard, and I feel tired in my soul.

 I'm just expecting God to break through here-- because He has to. I don't see any other way. I feel desperate for Him to purify this heart and set it completely on Himself... So, He will. I think He must do. I want to live in His flowing fields of freedom with a sort of glow of His radiance that draws others in to Him. This is the "spacious place free from restriction" that He's taking me too. It's just that the journey there is very long and hard and wearying.

I'm so thankful He is hope.

(Marge, me and Abbie)

"I love. I have loved. I will love."
-- Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

Graduation was sad.

It marked the end of a life I loved.

I took off to travel the UK with my Mom and her friends the next day so hardly got to digest what this means.

I only know that when he texts me saying he's surprised at how hollow it feels to be away from Redcliffe, I've already cried the tears surrounding the concept.

I think one is meant to feel some grand sense of achievement. When I stood up at the front of that sweeping cathedral with my graduating class, I bit my lip and cried tears. They flooded my gaze most of the day.

Lord God, hold my hand.

This place has been my home, these people my friends, my family, my teachers.
It is so very hard to say goodbye. Harder to imagine what I have without this place in my life.

But then I look up at the shining face of a great big God who lets me call Him Papa,
Provider,
Saviour,
Friend,
Lover,
Purpose,
My strength,
My hope,
My sustainer,
My joy,
My very own...

I spent my first week away after graduating in the Cotswolds with my mom and her two friends who came over for my graduation, and I struggled with keeping a happy face and a good attitude so as not to spoil their trip. In the evenings back at our timeshare, this Romancer God would beckon me out to the rose gardens below the window I shared with my Mom. Faint though it was, with all the selfishness whirling about within me these days, I heard it. And I cried on His shoulder and praised His name.

He will awaken the dawn. He will sing the sun to rising. He always does.
He will dry away my tears. He will bottle them forever.
And I will greet His dawn with my arms wide open.
I will put my hope in Him through the darkest nights.
Because His new dawn is risnig. I won't miss it for the tears in my eyes.

I have been blessed to the point of pain.

He gives and takes away.
Blessed be His name.

Last night some friends from my first year of college came to visit! I was attracted to them instantly because they had a small baby close in age to my niece Abby who I had just tore myself away from to move to England. Her name was Grace and she became my special baby for the year.

She's now a busy and clever 3 year old!! And it's very surreal to see the reality of my three years here shining out of her adorable face...

Grace and I in my first year  

Grace and I in my third year

After their year at Redcliffe, they moved away to do mission in Mozambique, making their own mud hut on the grounds of an orphaned boys' home. They transitioned beautifully and really let God make them a home there. Jo's prayers were soon answered when they found out they were having another baby! But due to complications, Ezra came 2 1/2 months early!!! He spent the first few months of his life in hospital in South Africa, where the family all migrated for a few months, then as soon as he was strong enough, they returned to the UK to fight for their little boy's life. Jo tried to describe the size of his little legs as a newborn and could only compare them to sticks covered with skin...The doctors said he would suffer extreme brain damage, blindness, deafness, cerebal palsy, the whole works.

But today, 6 months old, he is healthy, happy, and whole! I enjoyed him so much. The damage to his brain is minor, making him appear a little bit like a down-syndrome baby. He is soo responsive and happy and joyful! He giggles and baby-talks and smiles and smiles and smiles!!! It was very special to meet this little one, and to cuddle such a miracle...

me and baby Ezra

And after they left today I realized I felt very inspired. Missionaries amaze me. They do. The stories they have to tell, the testimonies to God's faithfulness and care they have to share, the love they can exude, it just inspires me. This family is only awaiting the doctor's say-so in about a year before they hop on the first plane back to the Mozambiqan wilderness, back to the orphans 3 year old Grace calls her "little boys", back to the life God has called them to and they are living with joy, despite great hardships...

I want to live to be such an inspiration.