I land on the ground and it's like I’ve woken up out of a deep sleep. Electricity starts to run through my body and I feel alive, almost like I’m really breathing for the first time. For whatever reason, God has made me this way. Being in another culture excites me more than anything else, and I ponder which direction He is leading me.
I step out of the plane in Port au Prince and immediately feel the humidity in the air. Yes, I expected this. Humidity is nothing if you are an Arkansan, so I smiled knowing that the heat is nothing. I go through customs and am surprised by the faces I see. Some of the Haitians have honey colored or very light colored eyes while others have black eyes. I count how many white people I can see. A dozen or so. But somehow I don’t see my color. I’m aware of the differences among everyone else, but wherever I am I just assume I’m the same color as the people of the country I’m in. I also assume that I can speak Creole, which is completely inaccurate.
I walk outside into the sea of coal black faces and look for someone holding a piece of paper with my name. I walk through nonchalantly telling people “no thank you” to their help despite their persistence and meander until I find someone holding a piece of paper with my name. There it is.
Taryn Blocker Canaan Orphanage
The Haitian holding the piece of paper leads me to another man, Pastor Henri. Then Henri sends me back in to find Sister Gladys because we were actually on the same flight from Miami. Who knew? I go in, introduce myself to her, retrieve her, and off we go.
“You have been to Haiti before?” Sister Gladys asked almost a statement but with a hint of a question in there as we finished our hectic exit out of the airport. It was evident that Pastor Henri (PH) and Sister Gladys (SG) hadn’t seen each other in over a week by the giddiness they were displaying in talking with one another. I followed close to their side and took it all in.
“No, I haven’t been here before. This is my first time” I replied.
“Ah, you seem too comfortable. You travel a lot?”
I laugh and told her how I had been able to travel quite a bit in my life. SG nodded her head with the acknowledgement of why I wasn’t overwhelmed. Then I realize that once you’ve seen 3rd world (or the politically correct term of a “developing nation”), you can decently gauge what to expect. You will never completely know everything, so you sit back, follow the lead of those around you. And don’t you dare freak out.
I soak in this world that has been on my heart for the past 3 years. I had considered moving to Haiti the summer of 2009, before I went to my interview that led me down my winding trail to Spain. But here I finally was. To see it for myself and consider if this could be where God would lead me next.
After listening to SG and PH catch up we talked some and SG asked me my age. FYI, I look younger than my age. And I thank you for that, SG. As I looked behind us at the tap tap ( a taxi/truck with people piled on/risking their lives for the sake of transportation) I caught the eye of a woman my age. I smiled and she nodded her head at me with a bright smile. This was my official welcome to Haiti.
I asked SG and PH about their ministry and their life work. How it started. How long they had been married. Then I asked how many children were at Canaan now. The response PH gave me was such a reminder that I am an American and I still live with an American mindset. PH told me that others at Canaan know how many children there are, but God told them to stop counting long ago. I responded with an amen, for as Americans we are way into the numbers of it all.
PH is a Haitian, but I tried to figure out his heritage since he is white with light eyes. After some investigation I came to discover that his grandfather was a German who married a Haitian. PH even sometimes struggles with proving to Haitians that he is Haitian! The conversation goes that he can’t be Haitian because he is white, and he argues with them that he has been in Haiti his entire life, of course he is Haitian. Eventually he wins the argument with whoever questions his nationality. For he is truly Haitian. I guess my immigrant investigation training in Spain helped me put together the puzzle pieces.
About an hour and a half later, we arrive at Canaan in Montrouis. A place like the biblical Canaan. Rocky soil that has been nurtured, watered, and loved. This soil is not only the composition of the terrain but a place that once served as a rehab center for drug addicts and now is a refuge for children . A place of trees and shade where one can rest before going out into the deforestation surrounding it.
The rocky soil still exists as a reminder that the work is never finished.
Haiti has yet to have a functioning economy because of its poverty, lack of resources, and political corruption. Desperation is everywhere. As it is Haiti will forever be a black hole of resources if an economy is never created. Once again I find myself engrossed by this problem of a self sustaining society YET I believe Christ is first in foremost in the formula for what they really need. For man does not live on bread alone. And who am I really kidding? Christ is first and foremost in what I need, even though I have more than enough of the other "stuff".
So I gathered this new information. Stored it in my mind. This was my introduction to Haiti. And there is more to tell. I have yet to tell you of the hospital run to Port, how to get something notarized, my breaking point, and how God held my hand through it all.
End of Installment 1. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
In the Midst of Legends
I have these friends. And I swear to you that they will change the world. I looked around myself and found that I was not only with some of the dearest friends I'll make on this earth, but in fact I was in the midst of legends.
She has these bright blue, innocent eyes that conceal a maturity in life that I doubt few will ever reach. Her intelligence and quick wit flow from her mouth with a comfort and ease that you may miss if you aren't sitting close enough to hear. She went to a land where she was all alone and clearly an outsider. One of the things I remember the most after meeting her was the sweetness of her singing voice. While she was overseas she led people to Christ and even secretly baptized a new believer in a public swimming pool. She's brave and keeps moving through life with a grace that conceals all that covert cleverness. She goes where people won't. She will change the world. She will do so in the name of Christ.
She has a face that could undoubtedly light up the dark side of the moon. I've never quite seen someone smile the amount that she does or as beautifully. She exudes Christ and radiated him while she lived in a dark jungle of this world. This joyful spirit has hands that help and heal. Hands that seek out the untouchables, so that she can tell them of a God who came to this earth to love them. Because of her love of medicine and life she regularly looked for opportunities to deliver babies. Standing several feet taller than the people around her, she trekked out into the thick jungle looking for the spiritually lost with her equally amazing teammate. She will change the world. She will do so in the name of Christ.
He has one of those flashing grins that would convince anyone that he should host his own TV show. He doesn't let on to half of his secrets or random talents. He may or may not have learned Morse code for the fun of it to communicate with a friend through the ceiling AND randomly sounded it out as he translated the code for his friends one evening. He's a leader who points people to his Savior. A man who would give up his salvation for his friend overseas who has yet to accept Christ. He has been to the dark places where bombs go off and the certainty of safety and life have to be an afterthought so it doesn't consume you or force you into a corner of fear. He will change the world. He will do so in the name of Christ.
These are the legendary Christians who must remain nameless because of where they have been and where they will go. They are just a few of the many legends I know in the States and around the world who take up their cross to follow the One who saved us all, and they passionately seek Christ in all they do. They are in the ranks of the spiritual giants that we wish we could be like. And if you are ever looking for a strong name for one of your babies, just ask me. These friends are worthy of a namesake because of how they live life and the wake they will send out in the world. Truly a ripple affect that will bring more to knowing Christ and will mean more people spending eternity in heaven.
They are the friends who I can share thoughts with about being overseas, and they understand the desire. They are men and women who inspire, who challenge, and who live by the Word. They are my heroes. So when I found myself in their midst, I was amazed. Amazed at how God uses us, broken vessels, and turns us into legends whose life stories point to the cross and the empty tomb. Thank you guys for reminding me of our purpose and that as a legend it's okay to be a little (or a lot) crazy because sometimes that's what it takes to go into this dark, empty world.
These legends are totally aliens and I respect and love them for it. Hallelujah. Amen. I pray the Lord sends them out once again.
She has these bright blue, innocent eyes that conceal a maturity in life that I doubt few will ever reach. Her intelligence and quick wit flow from her mouth with a comfort and ease that you may miss if you aren't sitting close enough to hear. She went to a land where she was all alone and clearly an outsider. One of the things I remember the most after meeting her was the sweetness of her singing voice. While she was overseas she led people to Christ and even secretly baptized a new believer in a public swimming pool. She's brave and keeps moving through life with a grace that conceals all that covert cleverness. She goes where people won't. She will change the world. She will do so in the name of Christ.
She has a face that could undoubtedly light up the dark side of the moon. I've never quite seen someone smile the amount that she does or as beautifully. She exudes Christ and radiated him while she lived in a dark jungle of this world. This joyful spirit has hands that help and heal. Hands that seek out the untouchables, so that she can tell them of a God who came to this earth to love them. Because of her love of medicine and life she regularly looked for opportunities to deliver babies. Standing several feet taller than the people around her, she trekked out into the thick jungle looking for the spiritually lost with her equally amazing teammate. She will change the world. She will do so in the name of Christ.
He has one of those flashing grins that would convince anyone that he should host his own TV show. He doesn't let on to half of his secrets or random talents. He may or may not have learned Morse code for the fun of it to communicate with a friend through the ceiling AND randomly sounded it out as he translated the code for his friends one evening. He's a leader who points people to his Savior. A man who would give up his salvation for his friend overseas who has yet to accept Christ. He has been to the dark places where bombs go off and the certainty of safety and life have to be an afterthought so it doesn't consume you or force you into a corner of fear. He will change the world. He will do so in the name of Christ.
These are the legendary Christians who must remain nameless because of where they have been and where they will go. They are just a few of the many legends I know in the States and around the world who take up their cross to follow the One who saved us all, and they passionately seek Christ in all they do. They are in the ranks of the spiritual giants that we wish we could be like. And if you are ever looking for a strong name for one of your babies, just ask me. These friends are worthy of a namesake because of how they live life and the wake they will send out in the world. Truly a ripple affect that will bring more to knowing Christ and will mean more people spending eternity in heaven.
They are the friends who I can share thoughts with about being overseas, and they understand the desire. They are men and women who inspire, who challenge, and who live by the Word. They are my heroes. So when I found myself in their midst, I was amazed. Amazed at how God uses us, broken vessels, and turns us into legends whose life stories point to the cross and the empty tomb. Thank you guys for reminding me of our purpose and that as a legend it's okay to be a little (or a lot) crazy because sometimes that's what it takes to go into this dark, empty world.
These legends are totally aliens and I respect and love them for it. Hallelujah. Amen. I pray the Lord sends them out once again.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
A Strange, Weirdo Alien
I was at therapy and noticed something different. Teenagers were there. Now this may not sound too strange to you except for the fact that I go to therapy in the morning, so school age kids aren't there until the afternoon. I'm the youngest patient there by who knows how many years, so it was a little strange to see young faces. As it turns out the teens were the children of my therapist out of school for winter break. I found out that the girl just had turned thirteen that day. On top of that she was reading Harry Potter, so I struck up a convo with her. After we hit the HP highlights we talked about other things. Like what usually happens when someone first meets me at therapy, she asked me why I was there and why I had scars on my knees. I gave her a quick answer of what happened (which actually never ends up being that short of a response because my lack of giving info leads to even more questioning). What's even more awesome is that I tell my story at least once a week, and sometimes to the same person who forgets that they've already asked me exactly what has happened.
As we continued talking, we got into the nitty gritty of the 7th grade world that she lives in. We talked about how kids can be mean, and I tried to give solid advice about how 7th grade wouldn't last forever. It's best to stay away from the mean girls and to be nice to everyone. She informed me that she does her best to stay away from "drama", and I think I told her a funny story or two about my 7th grade awkward self. Later we jumped rope together because it is lovely exercise for all involved. After awhile she confided in me that sometimes kids are mean to her.
She has had several hip operations and has a significant limp. She then went on to say how it doesn't bother her as much anymore when kids say things, but when she was younger she used to think she was an alien because of how different she was from everyone else. Then she smiled, telling me that she realizes now how silly that was. She's not an alien just because she limps. And besides, most people are used to it by now. When I asked her if she has much pain, in her vibrant teenage self she said, "No, not at all! That's kind of the crazy thing. It doesn't hurt." She's wearing a thick skin because of what she's been through, and I silently prayed for her. That one day she will have an impact on people for Christ. I felt like I walked away not telling her the entire truth about myself, even though we chatted about so much. Little did she know that even though she's not an alien, I'm a bona fide alien. Truly a stranger in this land.
I remember as a girl reading the passages in the Bible calling believers aliens, and I found this so fascinating. I loved space, I even have a favorite planet. Saturn because of the rings, duh. So the very thought of being an alien excited me. One time I even asked someone about it, and they explained it to me. We are not of this world. This is temporary. We aren't made for this fallen world. I am an alien. This has become even more of my identity since being home. I've gotten so weird. My dearest friends have assured that I was weird before (and thanks so much for that affirmation of being strange), but now it seems even more evident to me.
I wake up desiring purpose. A purpose with the Gospel wrapped around it tightly. I find myself stumbling and falling over my world here. Unsure of myself, and finding everything so foreign even though it should be so familiar. I express this to people and share the work going on around the world and how I want to live that life. I get the same look from people. It's always a little funny to me waiting for "the look." The one where I know what will be said shortly after: "isn't that dangerous? why overseas? you must love the adventure. maybe that's good and all, but what if you have a family?" And the list goes along those lines. I'm never offended. I just feel even more like an alien. One who doesn't desire the grind of life in the States. The one who doesn't want a white picket fence house with a mortgage and a dog. I'm NOT saying those things are wrong, I just don't want anything to do with that. The thought of that life scares me actually, because I see the value in some other things. And I have an astonishing fear of apathy setting in.
I'm constantly getting myself in trouble at church too. The size of church is so big compared to overseas. Not that the same great people and same not so great people don't exist in churches around the world. The volume is just overwhelming. A few weeks ago I went to church with some of my friends, who are amazing Godly friends, and I just couldn't focus. I found myself in a "worship experience" where the lights were bright (and changing colors), with a stage, stadium seating, with hundreds of people. I couldn't quite get myself in the worship mode. Maybe it's because worship isn't a mode. It isn't a song. It's our lifestyle. Don't get me wrong, once again. I know the hearts of some of the people that go to this church. They are good hearts. Hearts that love and serve the Lord. But, America is sure giving me a run for my money as far as understanding it all.
I found myself overwhelmed, out of whack, and when the sermon started I found myself looking at a sermon outline. The last time I had an outline in an academic setting, I was in middle school. I won't say any more to that. So that's when I checked out, and probably started writing this blog. The words come to me but if I don't capture them in that moment they flee, so I must pin them down. My mind wandered to my time in Spain, and my time in recovery. Speaking of which, I found myself ticked off that stairs are not so great for me. Choppy movements and without a hand rail I might fall down. Bitterness started settling in until...
A sudden a jerky movement caught my attention. A man, with what looked like a backwards walker, came into the service late. He looked around for a seat, but stayed back where he was. Another man turned around and saw him, got up, and left his seat for the man. Ah! A breath of fresh air. And a slap in the face that stairs are so much harder for this man than they will ever be for me. He couldn't have made it up the stadium seating if he wanted to. Thanks for the humility, Lord. Even if you must slap me over the head with it.
I continue to soak in everything around me. The American. The American hipster. The American with the white tennis shoes and blue jeans. The American socialite. The American teen. The American senior citizen. All put together in their own way. Making their own statements. Then I started to plan my escape from this place. From the States. From this world that I should know, but I find myself so uncomfortable in. Where could I go? How could I help somewhere?
I had a conversation with a friend one night several months ago. It was in the midst of a disagreement where we actually agreed for the most part. My friend looked at me and said that we have to have a level of apathy towards things because there's only so much we can do. We can't change the world and and fix it all. It took me awhile to process what he said and to mull it over. I finalized what I thought later on. I disagree with him. I can't be apathetic. Even if my lack of apathy looks like a simple prayer, I can't just ignore things so that I can feel better about myself or not worry myself with those things. This is where I find myself in life. I can't stand by and not look anymore. I crave the rawness of it all. Maybe after I get a big bite of it, I'll feel differently. Maybe not. I just find myself wanting to look more and more like Jesus and he didn't have an ounce of apathy in him. I find myself looking down at my clothes, all put together in church on Sunday, and wondering if I look like my Christ at all. Heart, mind, soul, and on the outside. Oh, such a mess I am.
So this is where I am. Waiting oh so impatiently for the big something that I need. Waiting and wondering if God remembers little ole me. Willing to be used by him. Begging him to not land me here, but unfortunately that's exactly where I am now. Waiting is just about to kill me. Life here is about to kill me. Which may sound so silly and dramatic considering I wasn't in the middle of Africa for the past year and a half. Nonetheless, I'm working on my faith. It's so small right now, and I have so many doubts about the purpose in me being here right now. Torture is an accurate word. I know what I want, I'm just not sure how to obtain it or accomplish it. Surely it's coming. Right? Am I the only one who's probably crazy? I sure hope not. La Biblia talks about this too,
"If we are “out of our mind,” as some say, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again"
2 Corinthians 5:13-15
So this is what drives me mad. The Gospel. The world's need for the Gospel. How I am to respond since I am young with all of the opportunities in the world in front of me. Not to mention being an educated individual. Not to mention EVERYTHING else that the Lord has given me. I challenge myself in the fog of these thoughts I have. I challenge myself to not forget my first love in the hustle of the work to get done around the world. But I think it is my love for my God that fuels me. The desire to see others know him. The desire to see others feel his healing touch. The world is broken. Only he can fix it. And I want to be in on the action because I've enlisted to be a warrior for him. To be made for something and not being able to do it is like taking air away. I'm trying to steady my breathing, but at times I feel as though I'm gasping. Gasping for him. Gasping to be part of his plan. Maybe I'm just a silly girl. Or maybe I'm just the weirdest alien you've ever come across. Welcome to my crazy thoughts. We shall see where this all goes...
I sure hope you're an alien,
Taryn
As we continued talking, we got into the nitty gritty of the 7th grade world that she lives in. We talked about how kids can be mean, and I tried to give solid advice about how 7th grade wouldn't last forever. It's best to stay away from the mean girls and to be nice to everyone. She informed me that she does her best to stay away from "drama", and I think I told her a funny story or two about my 7th grade awkward self. Later we jumped rope together because it is lovely exercise for all involved. After awhile she confided in me that sometimes kids are mean to her.
She has had several hip operations and has a significant limp. She then went on to say how it doesn't bother her as much anymore when kids say things, but when she was younger she used to think she was an alien because of how different she was from everyone else. Then she smiled, telling me that she realizes now how silly that was. She's not an alien just because she limps. And besides, most people are used to it by now. When I asked her if she has much pain, in her vibrant teenage self she said, "No, not at all! That's kind of the crazy thing. It doesn't hurt." She's wearing a thick skin because of what she's been through, and I silently prayed for her. That one day she will have an impact on people for Christ. I felt like I walked away not telling her the entire truth about myself, even though we chatted about so much. Little did she know that even though she's not an alien, I'm a bona fide alien. Truly a stranger in this land.
I remember as a girl reading the passages in the Bible calling believers aliens, and I found this so fascinating. I loved space, I even have a favorite planet. Saturn because of the rings, duh. So the very thought of being an alien excited me. One time I even asked someone about it, and they explained it to me. We are not of this world. This is temporary. We aren't made for this fallen world. I am an alien. This has become even more of my identity since being home. I've gotten so weird. My dearest friends have assured that I was weird before (and thanks so much for that affirmation of being strange), but now it seems even more evident to me.
I wake up desiring purpose. A purpose with the Gospel wrapped around it tightly. I find myself stumbling and falling over my world here. Unsure of myself, and finding everything so foreign even though it should be so familiar. I express this to people and share the work going on around the world and how I want to live that life. I get the same look from people. It's always a little funny to me waiting for "the look." The one where I know what will be said shortly after: "isn't that dangerous? why overseas? you must love the adventure. maybe that's good and all, but what if you have a family?" And the list goes along those lines. I'm never offended. I just feel even more like an alien. One who doesn't desire the grind of life in the States. The one who doesn't want a white picket fence house with a mortgage and a dog. I'm NOT saying those things are wrong, I just don't want anything to do with that. The thought of that life scares me actually, because I see the value in some other things. And I have an astonishing fear of apathy setting in.
I'm constantly getting myself in trouble at church too. The size of church is so big compared to overseas. Not that the same great people and same not so great people don't exist in churches around the world. The volume is just overwhelming. A few weeks ago I went to church with some of my friends, who are amazing Godly friends, and I just couldn't focus. I found myself in a "worship experience" where the lights were bright (and changing colors), with a stage, stadium seating, with hundreds of people. I couldn't quite get myself in the worship mode. Maybe it's because worship isn't a mode. It isn't a song. It's our lifestyle. Don't get me wrong, once again. I know the hearts of some of the people that go to this church. They are good hearts. Hearts that love and serve the Lord. But, America is sure giving me a run for my money as far as understanding it all.
I found myself overwhelmed, out of whack, and when the sermon started I found myself looking at a sermon outline. The last time I had an outline in an academic setting, I was in middle school. I won't say any more to that. So that's when I checked out, and probably started writing this blog. The words come to me but if I don't capture them in that moment they flee, so I must pin them down. My mind wandered to my time in Spain, and my time in recovery. Speaking of which, I found myself ticked off that stairs are not so great for me. Choppy movements and without a hand rail I might fall down. Bitterness started settling in until...
A sudden a jerky movement caught my attention. A man, with what looked like a backwards walker, came into the service late. He looked around for a seat, but stayed back where he was. Another man turned around and saw him, got up, and left his seat for the man. Ah! A breath of fresh air. And a slap in the face that stairs are so much harder for this man than they will ever be for me. He couldn't have made it up the stadium seating if he wanted to. Thanks for the humility, Lord. Even if you must slap me over the head with it.
I continue to soak in everything around me. The American. The American hipster. The American with the white tennis shoes and blue jeans. The American socialite. The American teen. The American senior citizen. All put together in their own way. Making their own statements. Then I started to plan my escape from this place. From the States. From this world that I should know, but I find myself so uncomfortable in. Where could I go? How could I help somewhere?
I had a conversation with a friend one night several months ago. It was in the midst of a disagreement where we actually agreed for the most part. My friend looked at me and said that we have to have a level of apathy towards things because there's only so much we can do. We can't change the world and and fix it all. It took me awhile to process what he said and to mull it over. I finalized what I thought later on. I disagree with him. I can't be apathetic. Even if my lack of apathy looks like a simple prayer, I can't just ignore things so that I can feel better about myself or not worry myself with those things. This is where I find myself in life. I can't stand by and not look anymore. I crave the rawness of it all. Maybe after I get a big bite of it, I'll feel differently. Maybe not. I just find myself wanting to look more and more like Jesus and he didn't have an ounce of apathy in him. I find myself looking down at my clothes, all put together in church on Sunday, and wondering if I look like my Christ at all. Heart, mind, soul, and on the outside. Oh, such a mess I am.
So this is where I am. Waiting oh so impatiently for the big something that I need. Waiting and wondering if God remembers little ole me. Willing to be used by him. Begging him to not land me here, but unfortunately that's exactly where I am now. Waiting is just about to kill me. Life here is about to kill me. Which may sound so silly and dramatic considering I wasn't in the middle of Africa for the past year and a half. Nonetheless, I'm working on my faith. It's so small right now, and I have so many doubts about the purpose in me being here right now. Torture is an accurate word. I know what I want, I'm just not sure how to obtain it or accomplish it. Surely it's coming. Right? Am I the only one who's probably crazy? I sure hope not. La Biblia talks about this too,
"If we are “out of our mind,” as some say, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again"
2 Corinthians 5:13-15
So this is what drives me mad. The Gospel. The world's need for the Gospel. How I am to respond since I am young with all of the opportunities in the world in front of me. Not to mention being an educated individual. Not to mention EVERYTHING else that the Lord has given me. I challenge myself in the fog of these thoughts I have. I challenge myself to not forget my first love in the hustle of the work to get done around the world. But I think it is my love for my God that fuels me. The desire to see others know him. The desire to see others feel his healing touch. The world is broken. Only he can fix it. And I want to be in on the action because I've enlisted to be a warrior for him. To be made for something and not being able to do it is like taking air away. I'm trying to steady my breathing, but at times I feel as though I'm gasping. Gasping for him. Gasping to be part of his plan. Maybe I'm just a silly girl. Or maybe I'm just the weirdest alien you've ever come across. Welcome to my crazy thoughts. We shall see where this all goes...
I sure hope you're an alien,
Taryn
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Only One Way to Finish
My journey started with running, so the only thing that made sense was to finish my journey with running. I retraced the steps that I knew so well two years ago at the Virginia training center. The path and the track I always set out before myself to finish. Running 5-6 times a week had become normal those two years ago before my course changed. And I had to do it again. Despite my surgery a little over a month ago, I once again had something to prove. I had returned for debriefing, and this was my chance.
I slipped away, past the barn and past the gate. Then I ran. I located a mailbox as my goal to make it to, steadied my breath, and made a decision to finish strong. I smiled and reflected about the many times I had done this same run. The times before the Lord decided to break my body for his glory. And the time I even ran in Spain before my recent surgery.
You may think I'm crazy to have done this, but I had no choice. I smiled with joy, teared up as I reflected on the many times I ran without knowing why. The encounters I had with God. The people I had prayed for who at one time had no name or face, but now my mind regularly sees their faces while their names are on my lips in prayer. My legs resisted a lot less than I thought they would being freshly rewounded. Amazingly enough, it seems as though my surgery for the removal of the metal was the right choice. I laughed because I could tell I would run more in the future.
I thought of the people I began my journey with. The ones I came to deeply love. The ones I met along the way. And the ones I wished I could hug again and tell them how special they are. I counted my steps back as I had finished my run. I had run 341 steps (walking steps that is). I praised the Lord and knew without him none of the pain and heartache of the past two years would have been worth it.
I saw the entire story this time. One that began with a girl wanting to tell the world about Christ, and one that ends with a girl who was blessed to do just that. All the bumps in the road are weaved in between. The many lessons that I have learned along the way.
I decided to finish this one strong. The way the Bible tells us to. The beginning and middle are not mentioned, so there's something significant about the end. The end is when you are tired. Finished. Often times fed up. Which is all the more reason to run. It was so much more than a physical run. It projected clearly the way I was made as a daughter of the heavenly Father. He has made me his warrior and citizen of the kingdom of God. The person who wants to stand at the gates of hell telling people of his love before they step through. And the woman who at the end of the race can say, the suffering was worth it and fades in comparison to knowing the King of kings and Lord of lords.
Thank you Lord for letting me physically run today and for letting me finish the race that we started two years ago. You are faithful.
I slipped away, past the barn and past the gate. Then I ran. I located a mailbox as my goal to make it to, steadied my breath, and made a decision to finish strong. I smiled and reflected about the many times I had done this same run. The times before the Lord decided to break my body for his glory. And the time I even ran in Spain before my recent surgery.
You may think I'm crazy to have done this, but I had no choice. I smiled with joy, teared up as I reflected on the many times I ran without knowing why. The encounters I had with God. The people I had prayed for who at one time had no name or face, but now my mind regularly sees their faces while their names are on my lips in prayer. My legs resisted a lot less than I thought they would being freshly rewounded. Amazingly enough, it seems as though my surgery for the removal of the metal was the right choice. I laughed because I could tell I would run more in the future.
I thought of the people I began my journey with. The ones I came to deeply love. The ones I met along the way. And the ones I wished I could hug again and tell them how special they are. I counted my steps back as I had finished my run. I had run 341 steps (walking steps that is). I praised the Lord and knew without him none of the pain and heartache of the past two years would have been worth it.
I saw the entire story this time. One that began with a girl wanting to tell the world about Christ, and one that ends with a girl who was blessed to do just that. All the bumps in the road are weaved in between. The many lessons that I have learned along the way.
I decided to finish this one strong. The way the Bible tells us to. The beginning and middle are not mentioned, so there's something significant about the end. The end is when you are tired. Finished. Often times fed up. Which is all the more reason to run. It was so much more than a physical run. It projected clearly the way I was made as a daughter of the heavenly Father. He has made me his warrior and citizen of the kingdom of God. The person who wants to stand at the gates of hell telling people of his love before they step through. And the woman who at the end of the race can say, the suffering was worth it and fades in comparison to knowing the King of kings and Lord of lords.
Thank you Lord for letting me physically run today and for letting me finish the race that we started two years ago. You are faithful.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Under the Knife... Again
My fears came true. I knew it was coming. I resisted. I hoped it wouldn't happen. I had cried over the prospect of this. But it all came down to the fact that I need more surgery to help with the swelling, pain, and discomfort I still face. You see, I still have these big ole metal rods and screws in my legs. This metal that once stabilized my very broken legs are no longer needed, and could actually be the source of the problems I still face. Some of the problems I still face are just a new reality for me.
We made the appointment for surgery. Mom and I got in the car and she turned to me asking how I was feeling. I had a decision to make. I could freak out. I could cry. I could throw a really great tantrum. But none of those things would help. I would have runny mascara, a red face, a flustered heart, and at the end of it all still be right where I started. So instead, I chose the peace of God that he so generously offers us. His peace that covers me in those moments of frustration and fear. I also told my mom that I'd be okay if she could get me to Sonic's happy hour for a diet vanilla coke. I think Sonic happy hour is God's gift to coke addicts who love great ice and flavour add ins.
Pray for me as I continue to face some of my fears with this entire ordeal: using a walker again, losing some of the progress I've made in the past two years, pain, and boredom as I heal.
My God is a big God, and nothing is too small for him. His love is constantly lavished on me. How blessed am I to have the medical care that I need? How blessed am I by a family who is right by my side and supports me every step of the way? Who am I to complain? Who am I to question God? We walk by faith and not by sight and surgeries and health concerns are no different. So I'm choosing the path that God sets out before me. I'm choosing to fall into his loving arms. He'll be there to catch me and comfort me. Thanks for your prayers. Thanks for walking alongside me continuously.
My surgery will be in a week, November 3 in the morning. I plan on healing quickly and being on my way in life :) We'll see what the Lord has in store.
In Him,
Taryn
We made the appointment for surgery. Mom and I got in the car and she turned to me asking how I was feeling. I had a decision to make. I could freak out. I could cry. I could throw a really great tantrum. But none of those things would help. I would have runny mascara, a red face, a flustered heart, and at the end of it all still be right where I started. So instead, I chose the peace of God that he so generously offers us. His peace that covers me in those moments of frustration and fear. I also told my mom that I'd be okay if she could get me to Sonic's happy hour for a diet vanilla coke. I think Sonic happy hour is God's gift to coke addicts who love great ice and flavour add ins.
Pray for me as I continue to face some of my fears with this entire ordeal: using a walker again, losing some of the progress I've made in the past two years, pain, and boredom as I heal.
My God is a big God, and nothing is too small for him. His love is constantly lavished on me. How blessed am I to have the medical care that I need? How blessed am I by a family who is right by my side and supports me every step of the way? Who am I to complain? Who am I to question God? We walk by faith and not by sight and surgeries and health concerns are no different. So I'm choosing the path that God sets out before me. I'm choosing to fall into his loving arms. He'll be there to catch me and comfort me. Thanks for your prayers. Thanks for walking alongside me continuously.
My surgery will be in a week, November 3 in the morning. I plan on healing quickly and being on my way in life :) We'll see what the Lord has in store.
In Him,
Taryn
Saturday, October 8, 2011
September/October Update
Home is Where the Heart is
My trip to France went well, and I cannot believe that it has come and gone. My last few months of my term have flown by, and the time has come to return home.
I have been reflecting a lot over my last 2 years. I do not think there are words to adequately encompass the magnitude of what I have seen and experienced. I have walked through fire and found that I was not alone, but God was with me. I have questioned my faith only to find it stronger and more refined. My character has changed and I stay up at night reflecting and wondering what it is the Lord is teaching me. I have stood at the gates of hell beckoning those around me to know my Savior. Most importantly, I have fallen even more in love with my Creator.
Reflecting can be good. Reflecting can be difficult and sad. I am walking away from so much, and walking away knowing that I must trust God with the relationships I have made. I must trust him with the souls that I constantly intercede for. I know that once I’m back in the States he will bring others into my life that I will have the urge to share the truth with.
So I coming home. I coming home to many questions without answers. I coming home to a home that really isn’t my home anymore. Maybe it never was. You see, I have struggled with this concept of where I belong. Desiring a home. Desiring of place to feel settled. But the Lord has shown me something quite different from this concept. I am not of this world. I am an alien and stranger. How can one feel at home when they are not of the land they are in? My citizenship is of the Kingdom of God. No other citizenship can I truly claim.
So what they say is true. Home is where the heart is. And the Bible clearly tells me to not “lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
I know my treasure in Christ. My heart is with him. My citizenship is of his eternal kingdom. So until the day I see his face, I will feel restless. In the meantime I plan on making his name known. May we advance his kingdom. I can be okay knowing where my true home is as I return to my earthly home. For now.
Thank You
As I am wrapping things up, I cannot say thank you enough. Your encouragement from the beginning to the end have meant so much. I started out my journey excited and nervous, then I hit a rather large bump in the road (and a few more after that one) to finally returning home. Without your prayers I know I would have been lost. Without God’s guidance and love I would have forgotten in the midst of the craziness the true reason why I came to Spain.
Thank you for being prayer warriors for me and for allowing me to be a prayer warrior for you. As my time is over and this is my last newsletter, I would like to offer that if at anytime anyone needs prayer, please email me. I would love to continue to serve you in this way and act as the church is supposed to in “bearing one another’s burdens.”
Prayer reminds us that we are not alone. Thank you for being a part in teaching me this lesson.
I know this update is short, but I will be posting more on my blog (and already have) as I close things out. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
PRAYER REQUESTS
Transition home
any upcoming surgeries I may have
PRAISES
A blessed season of seeing God at work
Growth in my walk with the Lord
My trip to France went well, and I cannot believe that it has come and gone. My last few months of my term have flown by, and the time has come to return home.
I have been reflecting a lot over my last 2 years. I do not think there are words to adequately encompass the magnitude of what I have seen and experienced. I have walked through fire and found that I was not alone, but God was with me. I have questioned my faith only to find it stronger and more refined. My character has changed and I stay up at night reflecting and wondering what it is the Lord is teaching me. I have stood at the gates of hell beckoning those around me to know my Savior. Most importantly, I have fallen even more in love with my Creator.
Reflecting can be good. Reflecting can be difficult and sad. I am walking away from so much, and walking away knowing that I must trust God with the relationships I have made. I must trust him with the souls that I constantly intercede for. I know that once I’m back in the States he will bring others into my life that I will have the urge to share the truth with.
So I coming home. I coming home to many questions without answers. I coming home to a home that really isn’t my home anymore. Maybe it never was. You see, I have struggled with this concept of where I belong. Desiring a home. Desiring of place to feel settled. But the Lord has shown me something quite different from this concept. I am not of this world. I am an alien and stranger. How can one feel at home when they are not of the land they are in? My citizenship is of the Kingdom of God. No other citizenship can I truly claim.
So what they say is true. Home is where the heart is. And the Bible clearly tells me to not “lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
I know my treasure in Christ. My heart is with him. My citizenship is of his eternal kingdom. So until the day I see his face, I will feel restless. In the meantime I plan on making his name known. May we advance his kingdom. I can be okay knowing where my true home is as I return to my earthly home. For now.
Thank You
As I am wrapping things up, I cannot say thank you enough. Your encouragement from the beginning to the end have meant so much. I started out my journey excited and nervous, then I hit a rather large bump in the road (and a few more after that one) to finally returning home. Without your prayers I know I would have been lost. Without God’s guidance and love I would have forgotten in the midst of the craziness the true reason why I came to Spain.
Thank you for being prayer warriors for me and for allowing me to be a prayer warrior for you. As my time is over and this is my last newsletter, I would like to offer that if at anytime anyone needs prayer, please email me. I would love to continue to serve you in this way and act as the church is supposed to in “bearing one another’s burdens.”
Prayer reminds us that we are not alone. Thank you for being a part in teaching me this lesson.
I know this update is short, but I will be posting more on my blog (and already have) as I close things out. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
PRAYER REQUESTS
Transition home
any upcoming surgeries I may have
PRAISES
A blessed season of seeing God at work
Growth in my walk with the Lord
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Normal I Leave Behind
As my time is winding down in Spain it is interesting to think about the things that were once new and strange to me. Many of these things are part of my day to day life now, and as I head home it’s funny to think they are my new normal that I’ll be leaving in a few weeks. Some of these things are funny and others break my heart. Some of these things are little and others are big.
•on the way to therapy there is a man who is always on crutches who has a flower shop- he sits and studies music and makes the most beautiful sounds with his guitar. I always take out my head phones to listen. I pray for his injuries and that he finds comfort in my Christ.
•You greet to kiss one another. First to the left then to the right. One day I was in the elevator with a guy my age and introduced myself. He leaned forward for a kiss. I got nervous until I realized that since we had formally met, we greet one another with a kiss. I’m used to it now.
•Small elevators-please imagine this considering the previous comment
•Smoking laws have been passed in Spain where you can no longer smoke in bars or restaurants. Before I would regularly come home reeking of smoke.
•There is a man that always begs on the street where I am. I will not give money to beggars, but I will buy food or a meal if they are hungry. I do not always do that, but I do always acknowledge them as a person and say hi. He knows I won’t give him money so he has resorted to just greeting me back every time we see one another.
•Our doorman, Gregorio, has a very strong accent and at times it is impossible to understand him. I keep a mental tally: Taryn vs. Gregorio of the times that I understand and the times I do not. I think I’m finally catching up to him.
•Seeing somewhat famous people at physical therapy (bullfighters, newscasters, actors) and having no idea who they are since I’m not Spanish.
•Bus #1 which goes right by my house is the best bus in all of Madrid. It gets me home, to therapy, and down to the city center.
•I’m pretty sure I can navigate any public transportation now… I’ve done so in at least 10 cities in the past 2 years
•When waiting at a bus stop Spaniards keep a mental note of who was there first. Then they get on the bus according to that order. They yell if you do not follow it.
•Knowing that the bakeries in Spain have desserts that look good. The taste isn’t so great.
•Spaniards wait for you to cross the street at crosswalks. If they don’t follow the rules it’s completely appropriate to throw your hands up in the air and act angry. Sometimes you don’t have to act at all. You really are mad!
•Introducing chocolate chip cookies to my therapists and them being amazed at how wonderful they are.
•Learning to make peanut butter because buying it is super expensive and I felt very accomplished in doing this.
•Finding fresh milk and swearing that I’d never go back to the boxed milk you get off the shelf. Gotta make daddy proud.
•Language blunders never cease to be the most inappropriate things you could say. I won’t go into further detail.
•Going to Pablo and Carmen’s Bible study each Friday night for the past year and being amazed at how God’s word has shaped and changed the lives of those there. He answers their prayers and they are lavished by his love despite their circumstances.
•Early mornings are non-existent in Spain. The sun comes up around 8 and goes down as late as 10 pm.
•Missing some big things back home (Darren and Jeannine’s engagement party, friends’ weddings) and realizing life goes on without you. And that’s okay because my life has gone on as well.
•Knowing that because I choose to live away my time with you all this side of heaven may be limited. But we’ll have an eternity to catch up.
•Begging God for the salvation of my friends here and for people back home.
•Cooking and baking more than I ever thought possible. And liking it.
•Eating while walking or on public transportation is not seen and is somewhat inappropriate. You should see the looks you get.
•If you have a birthday and invite everyone out to eat, it’s the birthday person’s treat to everyone else.
•Mondays are apparently the best day for washing windows. All stores have people out cleaning the store front.
•Churros con chocolate-You get a mug of thick chocolate and dip these thick donuts like pastries in it. Very Spanish.
•The button for flushing a toilet is not on the side. It is on the top.
•Spaniards are all about the lottery. A lottery ticket is a common Christmas gift among friends.
•Spaniards tell me I’m blond. And I argue regularly with people that I have brown eyes not green. This would never be a question in the States.
•You see prostitutes on the highways and there is one street in the middle of the city center where prostitutes openly line up to work. My heart breaks every time I see the emptiness in their eyes.
•Getting excited when you hear English.
•Having a local restaurant/café where everyone knows who you are.
•Light switches are different. They are flat buttons.
•Spaniards conserve energy. In the metro unless someone is on the escalator and sets off the sensors it stops running. Same thing with lights.
•Letting my clothes air dry because clothes dryers are not common.
•I have not driven in a year and a half. I hope I remember how to get gas.
•Separate checks do not exist in Europe… you are constantly owing somebody money and trying to piece together your money to pay for your meal, café, etc. It’s like a puzzle.
•I have seen this side of the world. I have found it beautiful and charming with its intricacies and secrets to unveil. Yet not even the sites I’ve seen or the places I’ve been can fill my heart and give me purpose like knowing Christ does.
So here I go home! I go home to find yet another new normal. I find that it's okay I'm having to do that.
Onward,
Taryn
•on the way to therapy there is a man who is always on crutches who has a flower shop- he sits and studies music and makes the most beautiful sounds with his guitar. I always take out my head phones to listen. I pray for his injuries and that he finds comfort in my Christ.
•You greet to kiss one another. First to the left then to the right. One day I was in the elevator with a guy my age and introduced myself. He leaned forward for a kiss. I got nervous until I realized that since we had formally met, we greet one another with a kiss. I’m used to it now.
•Small elevators-please imagine this considering the previous comment
•Smoking laws have been passed in Spain where you can no longer smoke in bars or restaurants. Before I would regularly come home reeking of smoke.
•There is a man that always begs on the street where I am. I will not give money to beggars, but I will buy food or a meal if they are hungry. I do not always do that, but I do always acknowledge them as a person and say hi. He knows I won’t give him money so he has resorted to just greeting me back every time we see one another.
•Our doorman, Gregorio, has a very strong accent and at times it is impossible to understand him. I keep a mental tally: Taryn vs. Gregorio of the times that I understand and the times I do not. I think I’m finally catching up to him.
•Seeing somewhat famous people at physical therapy (bullfighters, newscasters, actors) and having no idea who they are since I’m not Spanish.
•Bus #1 which goes right by my house is the best bus in all of Madrid. It gets me home, to therapy, and down to the city center.
•I’m pretty sure I can navigate any public transportation now… I’ve done so in at least 10 cities in the past 2 years
•When waiting at a bus stop Spaniards keep a mental note of who was there first. Then they get on the bus according to that order. They yell if you do not follow it.
•Knowing that the bakeries in Spain have desserts that look good. The taste isn’t so great.
•Spaniards wait for you to cross the street at crosswalks. If they don’t follow the rules it’s completely appropriate to throw your hands up in the air and act angry. Sometimes you don’t have to act at all. You really are mad!
•Introducing chocolate chip cookies to my therapists and them being amazed at how wonderful they are.
•Learning to make peanut butter because buying it is super expensive and I felt very accomplished in doing this.
•Finding fresh milk and swearing that I’d never go back to the boxed milk you get off the shelf. Gotta make daddy proud.
•Language blunders never cease to be the most inappropriate things you could say. I won’t go into further detail.
•Going to Pablo and Carmen’s Bible study each Friday night for the past year and being amazed at how God’s word has shaped and changed the lives of those there. He answers their prayers and they are lavished by his love despite their circumstances.
•Early mornings are non-existent in Spain. The sun comes up around 8 and goes down as late as 10 pm.
•Missing some big things back home (Darren and Jeannine’s engagement party, friends’ weddings) and realizing life goes on without you. And that’s okay because my life has gone on as well.
•Knowing that because I choose to live away my time with you all this side of heaven may be limited. But we’ll have an eternity to catch up.
•Begging God for the salvation of my friends here and for people back home.
•Cooking and baking more than I ever thought possible. And liking it.
•Eating while walking or on public transportation is not seen and is somewhat inappropriate. You should see the looks you get.
•If you have a birthday and invite everyone out to eat, it’s the birthday person’s treat to everyone else.
•Mondays are apparently the best day for washing windows. All stores have people out cleaning the store front.
•Churros con chocolate-You get a mug of thick chocolate and dip these thick donuts like pastries in it. Very Spanish.
•The button for flushing a toilet is not on the side. It is on the top.
•Spaniards are all about the lottery. A lottery ticket is a common Christmas gift among friends.
•Spaniards tell me I’m blond. And I argue regularly with people that I have brown eyes not green. This would never be a question in the States.
•You see prostitutes on the highways and there is one street in the middle of the city center where prostitutes openly line up to work. My heart breaks every time I see the emptiness in their eyes.
•Getting excited when you hear English.
•Having a local restaurant/café where everyone knows who you are.
•Light switches are different. They are flat buttons.
•Spaniards conserve energy. In the metro unless someone is on the escalator and sets off the sensors it stops running. Same thing with lights.
•Letting my clothes air dry because clothes dryers are not common.
•I have not driven in a year and a half. I hope I remember how to get gas.
•Separate checks do not exist in Europe… you are constantly owing somebody money and trying to piece together your money to pay for your meal, café, etc. It’s like a puzzle.
•I have seen this side of the world. I have found it beautiful and charming with its intricacies and secrets to unveil. Yet not even the sites I’ve seen or the places I’ve been can fill my heart and give me purpose like knowing Christ does.
So here I go home! I go home to find yet another new normal. I find that it's okay I'm having to do that.
Onward,
Taryn
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