The Shirt I Wear Inside Out

Hello long-lost Blogging audience,

Tonight I can't sleep and I started writing this blog in my head so I decided to come back from the blogging world dead and write it out for people to actually read.

A few summers ago, I got a hand-me down shirt from a dear friend. I liked that it was black, I needed a black t-shirt. It was super comfy. It fit me well which is always a win so I decided to keep it. The only thing was that it proudly read across the front, "Everything boys do, girls can do better." At least, I think that's what it says. I don't agree with that on a couple different levels, the first one being that it's prideful to boast and I don't need any help being proud. My mom fixed my problem by suggesting I keep the shirt but wear it inside out. I can't remember exactly what the shirt says it has been so long since I saw it right side out.
Why am I writing about this tonight?
Tonight was the world premier of the Disney Channel Original movie, "The Teen Beach Movie." One of the lines that was said several times through out the movie by the main girl was, "Girls can do anything boys can." Now, in her case she was talking about surfing in the 1960's, but every time they said it I cringed because that's a message that has been shouted at girls since before I was born and it's a lie.
Before you think I don't believe woman can do anything except stay in the kitchen and have babies and  that they shouldn't work outside the home or be pastors or leaders in any way, please know that that's not true. Believe me, I grew up with someone close to me believing that and it hindered me a lot until I realized he was wrong. Yes, women can have jobs and work along side men but not simply because they want to be better than men. If God wanted us all to be like men, or better than men, He would have made us all men. There would be no women. He had the chance to keep the entire population of the world made up of males who were made in His image. But something was missing, so He made women after His own image. Together, we create something good. Men and women.
I understand that we get hurt by men. We get shoved down, talked down, put down and looked down on and that's not right. But we need men in this world. Not to be better than them, but to work along side of them. And the best thing is, men are great at certain things and women are great at others. It takes a very special kind of man to handle a screaming baby. But hand him to a woman, there's a natural instinct to mother and nurture the little one. Then there comes a day when that baby is older and the voice of a father speaking life, destiny, direction and encouragement will make all the difference in whether that boy finishes high school or that little girl keeps her virginity.

We need fathers. We need husbands. We need sons. And we need to know that together we made something that was "not good" into something that was good. That good thing happens when men are confident in who they are as men made in the image of God and women are confident of who they are as women made in the image of God.
Part of being a woman who is confident is knowing her worth. She knows she's worth more than being with a guy who constantly disrespects her or only uses her as an object. She knows she can accept the honor and attention of a man graciously and respond in purity. She knows she can work hard and work long and lay herself down for the good of others without losing who she is or giving up the dreams God has put into her heart. She carries the fragile yet strong feminine heart and blesses the men in her life for carrying inside of them the brave yet tender masculine heart, both made in the image of God.

And that's why I wear my shirt inside out.
Love,
Me

2 years.

How do you write about the loss of something that hit you so deeply that it still affects you to this day, two years later? How do you write about the joy? The pain? The love? The confusion? The victories? The loneliness? The miracles? The little things? The big things?

March 25th, 2010 I landed in New York with everything I owned and a broken heart.

Just a few days ago I found a secret place and spent some time talking to Jesus. I had been having a good day, loving my team and being in Wisconsin but I had reached the point where I needed to be alone. I needed to talk to the only One who had never let me down. These past couple weeks God has been taking some of the most painful memories I have from the move and transition and telling me how He felt about them. Showing me where He was as I walked out of the air-port onto American soil, as I laid on the bathroom floor at 2am crying, as I sat in church and saw everyone hugging and laughing and loving and ignoring me. Last year my song was the faithfulness of the Lord. This year it has been how personally God sees my pain and the hard things I go through. I broke down and cried as Jesus whispered, "I cried the day you went home and you found out you had to leave because I knew that your heart was going to be broken and so many lies were going to come against you. I felt that pain with you."

After talking and crying, I was fine and rejoined my team. That night we shared testimonies for a bit as a group and after two other people shared one of the leaders turned to me and said, "Baylea, I want to hear your testimony."

I don't think people who have never gone through loss fully realize the significance and the healing that comes when you get to share your heart and your story with people who listen. I had resigned myself to carrying my grief alone and quietly this year as I would be traveling until today and I didn't want to force myself onto people who didn't want to know. That just makes it worse. And then I was asked to share with my whole group. It was a gift from the Lord. I shared few details but I cried as I talked about the pain and I cried when I talked about the faithfulness of God to my heart and how He had been showing me His extravagant love for me.

I have come so far since those early days in Kansas City. I thank God for His perfect leadership and in my next breath I pray, "Jesus, let me go back soon. I want to go home." And one day, I will.

Jesus,
You love me so well, better than I could even imagine. You have been so faithful, so good, so kind. You have been so worth every step of the way.
Amen.

Best Friend. All of them.

Dear Blogging audience,

I'm writing this post with one of the best people in the world next to me. This is the girl that I said goodbye to last the night before I left Morocco. We cried as we clung to each other and tried to make the moment last forever. We both knew that as soon as we let go, she was going to leave and I wasn't going to see her again for... a very long time. After we got to America, I replayed the hug over and over, trying to squeeze any type of comfort out of the memory. After a few months, I gave up because those arms that had held me so tightly the night we said goodbye were so far away and I couldn't feel them. I remember my last Sunday before we left for America she wasn't there. She had been gone all week and had been gone the day I found out we had to leave. I wanted to hug her so bad. To talk to her. After church I went to youth group and had to leave in the middle to see someone else. When I went back at the end to get my little brother, she opened the door and I literally fell into her arms because I was so surprised and relieved to see her.
It was almost two years to the day when we finally saw each other again. She was road tripping with some friends and they were on their way to visit someone else and were going to drop her off on the way. We'd known about this weekend for weeks but I had refused to let myself get excited because the crushing weight of unfulfilled plans was too much to go through. Again. This time, however, it was going to happen. She had texted, "fifteen minutes!!!!!!!!" and my stomach was twisting with anticipation. I was watching out the window for the head lights, looking at my phone every two seconds to see if she had texted, my heart jumping with excitement. Then there was a car. It slowed down. Oh my goodness, it was her. I opened the front door and looked out but I couldn't see who was driving because it was night and the headlights were still on. Then, the driver's door opened and the driver stepped out and I knew it was her. I shrieked, ran out into the drive way and met her half way as she was running towards me. We hugged as tightly as we could and two seconds into it, her shoulders were shaking and there was a lump in my throat. This time there was no impending goodbye but we didn't want this hug to end either.  The longer we hugged the tighter we squeezed, trying to get as close as we could and fill up the places that had been empty for what seemed like had been eternity while we were apart. They were the same arms, the same shoulders, the same girl... Finally, the wait was over.
We let go of each other and laughed, tears in our eyes but our hearts were literally flying. I didn't realize my legs were shaking until I got her inside with her bags and her friends had left. She was mine for 2 days and 4 nights. Reality became too good to be true and I didn't know how to believe it. On one hand, it was so easy to have her here. It was so natural. Our rhythm was still there for talking late into the night, sharing our hearts, watching children, loving Jesus, laughing....

I tried to explain to my friends here at school how I have two best friends and my two best friends have two best friends and we're like a best friend triangle. Actually, there are more than that. It's like a star of David, all connected with different points. Is that normal? So even with my best friend here, we both missed our best friend. Is it not normal to have to wait for 2 years to get all of my best friends in "one place"? (Praise God for Skype) Is it not normal that even after those two years, we still had that same deepness and trust there? Even after not being able to share our lives regularly, we shared our hearts with the same honesty and laughed at old jokes and new jokes and said, "I miss you!" over and over and over. Is this not normal? This is the definition of best friend for me.
I realized how much my heart ached for those friends to be in my life again, all in the same youth group and just a taxi ride away. Where our every day lives involved all of us and we couldn't wait to talk to each other and tell everyone what had happened because we were family. Now we're all at a point in life where we don't have to share all our stories with each other because we live in 3 different states and three different countries. We are all (with the exception of one) in university with new wonderful friends and new houses that we've never seen and new places that we've never been to and interact with new people that we don't know. Our new friends became our new sources of verbal processing and, this is just me, but I stopped getting on skype and facebook chat because it was too hard to say, "I miss you." for the millionth time and still have no reunion to look forward to. I couldn't handle it. But there were still there in my heart.
Sometimes I miss the freedom I had with those friends to just be myself all the time and not worry about how mature they did or did not think I was. I miss showing up on their door step saying, "I just wanted to talk." and being welcomed in for the rest of the night. I had a tooth brush at my friend's house. I regularly ate supper with my pastor's family without being invited. Whenever one of us was doing something, all the rest of us were asked to join in because life was better with our family of peers. We knew each others fears and weaknesses, our battles and what we loved the most. Of course, we had those that we were closer to than others but it was impossible to say, "I need you more than any of the others." because I needed them all. They all needed everyone else. That's why when people started leaving, we all began to unravel. Just like you can't take one thread out of a sweater without the whole sweater beginning to fall apart, that's how we were. Knit together by life and Jesus. We didn't fully know how blessed we were to have what we had until it started crumbling away in our hands and there was nothing we could do to stop it. Thankfully, the bond is still there. It's just stretched from South Africa to British Columbia with many stops in between.

(later)
So, my best friend just left. You know, the one that was here. I was able to hug her goodbye and know exactly what day I was going to see her again and that day really isn't that far away. But my heart still aches because this weekend I was reminded of something I forced myself to forget- How easy it is to be with my best friend. There were no tears as we hugged, no shaking shoulders or eyes clamped shut against reality. We were smiling. But the second the car drove out of my drive way, there was an emptiness. It wasn't overwhelming like it used to be but it was still there. I was just barely able to comprehend that my best friend was with me when she was whisked away again. I wasn't planning on crying but I did. Suddenly my crammed bedroom felt empty and I thought, "Oh God, do I have to go through this process again?"
This doesn't mean the peace or the joy are gone. I'm not going to go into a tailspin and get depressed about not having my best friends. I have Jesus and He has been so much more than enough. He has also been so kind to bless me with weekends like this one, with people He placed in my life. He loves that I have more best friends than I can count on one hand and that we still feel like a family. He loves fellowship and community and people being together and loving each other. He delights in the fact that I can share my heart with my friends honestly and feel 100% safe. He knows that I have a history with those friends that far outweigh any other friendship I've had before or since. And it's pleasing to Him! There was joy in His heart for me as I talked and laughed and went to school and ate and worshiped with my friend. It blessed Him to know that my heart was absolutely glowing with happiness. Not only did He place these people in my life, He gives me love to love them with and rejoices over me when I get to be with them. What a wonderful God!

Love,
Me

Gut-wrenching sobs

Dear blog audience,

for those of you who don't know me, I'm a crier. I have no shame in my tears. If I'm upset, I cry. If I'm sad, I cry, if I'm lonely I cry, if I'm being touched by the Lord I cry, if I'm happy I cry. Sometimes it's only a couple tears and me getting choked up. Sometimes it's a longer time of tears where I need to be alone and feel what is in my heart. Rarely is it gut wrenching sobs. 

I think the first time I actually sobbed from the pit of my stomach was in 2009. The Fes Youth Group was having an all night prayer meeting and someone said something about how almost everyone in the youth group was going to be leaving. There were only two people in the room that had no plans to leave and one of them was me. I looked at the other girl and we shared a sad smile, knowing that we were the only two gonna be left and then I melted on the inside. The next thing I know, I'm covering my face as I feel my insides coming out as I sit there sobbing (loudly). My friend Derik wrapped his arms around me and I don't know how long I cried, but I think that was the first time I really let myself mourn the fact that so many important friends of mine were leaving. I had cried before and I had felt the pain before, but this was different. This shook the very core of my insides. That of course set off all the girls and soon we were all just a puddle of crying girls (And boys) as we prayed over each other. 

There were a few times that I cried like that again when we left Morocco. Most of them were by myself though. Alone on my bed, smothering my cries with my pillow. locked in the bathroom at 2am so that no one else would hear me, in an empty house laying on the floor because there was just no emotional strength to stand back up. The cries and the tears came from deep inside and I could feel the pain so strongly. It was actually physically painful in my chest. 

Well, it's been a while since I have had a session of gut-wrenching weeping. For one, I have had so much of my heart healed that the pain isn't as strong. And I find so much more comfort in Jesus. I've had tears and times of really feeling sad but nothing that touched the inside of my so deeply that the only way to let is out was to open up my emotions and cry with everything inside of me. Usually you can't plan these times either. They come because of something that someone says, does, implies... Something triggers your emotions and they just all come out. (unless you are emotionally constipated.) As you know from before, I've been emotional since school started this semester but I really haven't had anything bothering me that I felt like I just needed to cry it out. 

Someone once told me that I was very in tune with what my body was saying. Whether that is true or not, I totally missed this one. I went to service last night because I had an off night before I start babysitting for another family on Friday nights. During worship and ministry time, some friends and I began praying for each other. First it was just so that the Holy Spirit would increase, we prayed for healing for a couple of us and then the Spirit of Prophecy fell and we began to speak words of life and calling and destiny over each other. Lies were broken off, strongholds broken off, chains were broken off and we did this for an hour or so. God seemed to be highlighting one person at a time and so everyone would pray and prophesy over one person and then God would highlight the next one. I hadn't been highlighted yet and we were praying for someone else when my really good friend Kelly turned to me and said, "You are the daughter of God's joy. You are like His first born, His favorite one." from there she went on to say that it was so important that I keep interceding for the safety of the children at Village of Hope. I've never told anyone the burden in my heart for those kids and how I think about how many children in that area where they are get sexually abused and how I think about that they are now seen as orphans and not children with families to keep them safe. How protected will they be from being trafficked and sold into prostitution? The mountains where I used to live is known all the way on the Northern coast of the country for it's brothels. Those words that Kelly spoke over me, not even knowing how right on she was, made me cry. A few tears and a couple sniffles. But at the end she said, "I pray that you'll find a husband that will say to you, 'Hey, let's go on a trip and just go back and see those kids.' and that you would find a husband that would want to travel with you and take you places."

That's when the sobbing started. 

Now, I think about my husband a lot. A good portion of my day is spent praying and pondering about this man that is still a mystery to me yet already so connected to my life. I ask God about him often, just wanting to know more about this stranger whom I will marry. I am not anxious, but I am antsy. I fully trust the will of God concerning my love life (I mean, come on. He is the author of the greatest love story of all time.) but my "biological clock" is ticking. I'm excited to be a wife. I'm excited to have a family. I'm excited to fall in love with a broken and redeemed human. I want it to happen! What kind of person would I be if I didn't have the desire to be romanced? But I have my heart set on waiting for the moment that an upstanding young man talks to my father and says, "I don't want to live without your daughter." 

That being said, it surprised me how deeply the things that Kelly spoke over me went. I mean, yes, right now God has been speaking to me about a future mate but when Kelly began saying, "You're afraid this is going to happen and that your husband will be like that..." I felt something from the pit of my stomach cry out and say, "YES! I have been afraid! This is something that I was afraid of!" Sometimes lies go so deep that we don't even know they are there until someone calls them out and says, "This is a lie. This is truth. Walk in freedom." 

By the time Kelly was done, snot and tears were everywhere, my insides were trembling and I felt lighter. Sometimes when you weep so heavily, it takes time to get out of that feeling of sobriety. This time, though, I just stopped crying and was fine. Shaking, yes, but there was no turmoil in my soul. 

Sometimes I look back over my life and I wonder why God brings up certain things at certain times with certain people. For times like last night, I know it's another step closer to being a good wife that doesn't live in fear of her husband. It's another step in the right direction for a healthy marriage. How many more steps will there be? Who knows. But there will be more both before and after I get married. It's wonderful how God honors your choice to go through the journey when you fully surrender to Him. I know that learning hard lessons can be uncomfortable but I'd rather be uncomfortable than live in pride, unforgiveness, depression and lies. He uses things like people speaking truth over your heart to bring freedom to an area you didn't even know you had. He uses gut-wrenching sobs to take you into a place of deeper intimacy with Him. He uses weakness to glorify His name. It's so worth it.

Love,

Me

Goodbyes

Hello blogging audience,

Today I said goodbye to some precious friends of mine. At 5pm they all got on a plane and flew to the other side of the world... I hate saying goodbye.

When my family walked into their house earlier today to say goodbye one last time the first thing I noticed were the empty rooms, the last minute suitcase sitting open with things shoved into it, the bathroom scale sitting close by, waiting to weigh the last suitcase that will (hopefully) be under the right weight limit. The vacuum cleaner was out, the whole house smelled like Pine sol and... it was quiet. Immediately I was taken back to several moments in time when my house looked the same, the cleaning solutions permeated the air as we did our best to clean up the evidence that we had once lived there and there was a hush over everything. It made the pit of my stomach fill with butterflies and for a moment I felt like a 15 year old girl that was about to get on the airplane herself and fly half way around the world and start life all over again. Then I reminded myself that it wasn't us that were leaving this time. The thought was bittersweet to me.

In all of my moving, I can only remember being excited to move once and that was when I was moving back "home" and I (sort of) knew what was coming. But moving was my life. My 14 year old brother has never lived in a house longer than 2 years in his entire life. Looking back now I see such a beautiful journey but it was ugly and broken along the way and I laid down and gave up many times on that path. To a sentimental girl that doesn't like change, I  never seek change out but after doing it for so long, it's strange to not be the ones having to pack up my life into two 50 lb suitcases and say goodbye to the people in my life.

I used to mark my life by the goodbyes that I said. To my big brother, to my little sister, to my best friend, to my other best friend, to everyone I knew, to my family, to my best friend again, to the country that held my heart, to my kids, to my other kids, to the people that held my heart that were scattered across the map, to my best friend again... Goodbyes were serious business to me. They hurt but I never wanted to miss that special moment of closure with a friend where I could look them in the eye and say, "Goodbye." I remember times of tears running down my face as a friend walked away and I remember times of feeling to many emotions inside to cry. I remember times of that sweet assurance that the time apart from the person leaving was going to be short and the goodbye didn't hurt. And then I remember the agony of memorizing the face of a loved one knowing that the next time I saw them would probably a lot longer down the road and the familiar features that once marked my daily life would be changed. Yes, I said hello a lot and met some of the most spectacular people on the planet but goodbyes always followed the hellos.

One of the most amazing concepts that hit me as a teenager living the life of a nomad with my family was that God never leaves. Never. In all the different houses and cities and states and countries and continents, He always moved with me. Each time I would get a new bedroom, He was there that first night of uncertainty, holding me as I prayed that in the morning, the ache in my heart wouldn't be there.  Each moment that I was told that our time in a certain place was done, He was there, whispering, "I'm going ahead of you. I hold your times and your seasons in My hand." This became my comfort as I said goodbye more and more and left more friends and possessions behind. Now, as a young adult that is settling into the next season in one place (inshaAllah), I love to sing of the faithfulness of the Lord. I have many other reasons why but this thread of hope that wove itself throughout my teenage and young adult years is the starting point. Not one time did I ever sleep alone. Not one time did I ever step on an air plane alone. Not one time did I walk through the front door of my new house alone. I always had the God of the universe right next to me, delighting over my path and pouring out blessing on my life.

I serve a wonderful and gracious God.

Love,
Me