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Oh my goodness gracious. I never thought I'd see the day when it had been almost 3 weeks since I last wrote on this thing. Maybe I thought I would always make time for it. Maybe I thought I would always have hours of free time a day. Maybe I have dreams of being a famous blogger. Maybe I irrationally dreamed (but dreamed nonetheless) of receiving a shout out from the Pioneer Woman by now telling me to come be her neighbor and marry a cowboy and be her partner in blogging crime. Sometimes life just goes and there's no time to document. Lord, please don't let me ever forget.

But, never fear. I'm back and ready to CATCH. YOU. UP.

Coming back to school has been a whirlwind of anxiety, joy, transition, confusion, hilarity- basically a culmination of things hoped for and things feared, for a really really long time.

Do you want the good news or the bad news first?

Good thing for you the bad news is in fact good news too although it might not seem like it for a few thoughts. Bare with me. It's truly a win win.

I never thought that this time of my life would be a time of brokenness. I'm mean let's be real. I'm living with some of the best friends i've ever had. We have been blessed with a fun house to decorate and dance and live and rejoice in. I get to live life with some of the most hilarious and eager 9th grade divas i've ever known. I'm taking 3 gen eds as a senior (high fives all around). I am supported and loved by genuine-hearted, Jesus loving people. The truth is obvious: This is a recipe for the best year of my life thus far.

Here's the problem. I have been running from being broken my entire life. I have jumped through the hoops of perfecting my behavior. I have stepped on and off soap boxes like I was in an aerobics class and wearing spandex. I've chained myself to the lie of, "There's no need for brokenness when your trying to follow the Lord as closely as I am. Plus I don't have time for it. I mean look at all I'm involved in and all the people that depend on me!" (I just cringed a little at my own arrogance. It's okay if you did too). I've had my fleshly efforts congratulated and then taken those compliments and shoved them into my emptiness over and over (which doesn't fill you up, I've found). I would internally beat myself up over failures, and lost dreams, and hurt feelings, and fear, and the presence of loneliness in my heart, and lost relationships. They hurt me, but I just called myself "understanding" and "resilient" and let it "roll off me". (Which, let's be real, doesn't happen. It clings to you like a burr on your patagonia or a 2 year old around your leg.) The truth is obvious: This is a recipe for disaster.

So what happens when the two meet you ask? Something so very beautiful and painful all wrapped into one.

Over the past few weeks I have hit rock bottom, watched my self confidence made of my efforts crumble, and panicked. Alot. It's a scary thing to watch your world fall apart and be called to live like an open book. It's like being naked in the street. Or being broken and vulnerable in front of the very people you thought you needed to be strong for. I don't know which is scarier. I could write screenplays for movies about quarter life crisis. Excuse my drama-mama-isms.

Here's the best part. I have prayed and prayed and prayed for the Lord to be the firm foundation of my life. For me to understand grace. For the gospel to be something that fuels me and satisfies the deepest cries of my heart. For the Lord to be my Joy. Love. Strength. Life. Light. Satisfaction. That I would have a deep hate for the things that the Lord hates and a deep love for Jesus and the abundant life He offers me every second I'm breathing.

FINALLY. Finally. finally. I'm at a place where I can hear Him. Need Him every second of the day. Lay my attempts of living my life on my own down willingly- desperately. Beg him for rest and receive it. Sit in my weakness. See my need for more of Him. More realness in relationships. More grace. More love. More from this life. Look my human self in the face and embrace her- In weakness. In strength. In times of harvest. In brokenness.

So, here's the thing. Life gets to me. I'm hurting. Things affect me. I need the Lord. I need people close to me. I need prayer. We all need help with life. No one can do it alone. Not even partially alone. That's all.

In other news, there is no other news. Except, I've been eating guacamole for almost every meal, and listening to Josh Garrels nonstop for a week. You should do the same. His voice is a delight! And our house got rolled in the middle of the night a couple of weeks ago. More on this later. Stay tuned for the ridiculous saga of that.

Hugs and love all around!

It's bananas

I know you all have come here to read the intense and life changing and spiritual revelations that I've had since spending 6 weeks at camps. That's an exaggeration but let's be honest, I expected to have some. I looked forward to the end when I could attest what God had done in my life. I also dreaded the end when I would be ripped away from a super loving and encouraging environment that I had been immersed in for 6 weeks.

So here we are. The lessons I've learned are so simple and elementary. This summer I learned the Lord loves me. I'm sure most of you are thinking, "Doy, that's the foundation of our faith". So I'm a little slow and striving. Better late than never. I always saw the Lord as a parent who always loved me but was always hoping I eventually got my stuff together. I always feared disappointing the Lord with my decisions. I always felt the need to do my best and all I could for the Lord (which is exhausting, let's be real). I began to focus more on becoming Christlike and lost my view of Christ Himself in my "helping". I feared falling away from Him. It's amazing how simply realizing the depths of the Lord's love for me freed me from the cages of those lies.

I think the biggest thing I've learned is that the Lord's love for me is unlike anything I could experience from anyone else. It's different. It's better. It's healing. It's enough. The Lord isn't sitting around "loving me" but not liking how I don't have my life together. He isn't frustrated with my inability to get things right. This summer I gave up on doing better. I gave up on trying. Period. The Lord has brought me to the absolute end of myself this year. I have worked and strived and prayed and acted and performed. I have pursued becoming more this and "working on" being more that and trying to rid myself of weakness. I'm not getting any better y'all. I realized this summer that I have pursued more excellent behavior instead of the Lord himself. I forgot that pursuing the Lord makes me more like Him and instead traded that truth for the lie that He must help me in my most exemplary efforts to become more like Him.

The Lord loves me. Period. In my weakness. In my strength. In my heart, He sees Jesus. He sees me as perfect and righteous. He's not frustrated with me. He's not angry. He's not waiting around for me to get my stuff together. In His eyes, my stuff is together, because of Jesus.

After this rollercoaster ride of being broken and then having the "trying makes me feel accomplished" rug pulled out from under me, I was left floating around in a sea of "who am I" and "I've made banana pudding for the Lord my entire life and He doesn't even like bananas!" confusion.

I'm still in that confusion a little bit. But the Lord has made it clear that He has only asked me to rest in Him. Abide in Him. Delight myself in Him. He'll do the rest. For His yoke is easy and His burden is light. Period. What could be more opposite of my life as of late?

So what have I been doing with my new found freedom you ask? I have been myself. I have laughed and worried a little and been a little selfish and asked for rest and received it. All grace covered. All guilt free. It's incredible.

Thank you for all the mail and encouragement and packages and prayers while I was at camp. They filled me up deep. You are LOVED. Not nearly enough by me, but hugely and without stipulation by the CREATOR of the universe. Bask in it. Eat it for dinner. Period.

Frogs and Praying

This week was confirmation, as if I needed it, that I for sure don't want to go to hell. The state of Texas experience some of it's hottest weather on record AKA it was 105 at midnight and 117 by noon. Whilst sitting on a lifeguard stand in the middle of the day my only thought was, "This aint right. Lord please bring the rapture or a snowstorm. Right now preferably." Coming off of week 10 I'm exhausted and more tan than a ginger ever should be. I don't know if It was too much sun or not enough sleep but I was reading through my journal and found some dramatacisms that should probably be shared with the class (aka whoever is reading this).

Tuesday August 2nd

"Morgan.- don't forget that above all else the Lord loves you. Also don't forget during your camper call when you and those two little girls were looking for frogs and you couldn't find and for 20 minutes. Naturally, since you guys couldn't find any frogs they wanted to go on that boat. Let's be honest, that's the last thing you wanted to do. That made you feels so selfish and it was as if you could hear everyone at camp saying in unison, "Now Morgan. It's not about you. Get on that boat." As you were walking to the boat you prayed, "Lord. I'm so tired and hot. Please help these babies find some frogs." Then you knelt down and prayed with them for frogs and sure enough you found 3- one for each of you. And it was almost as if the LORD Himself was saying "let me decide who's selfish or not". And in that moment you suddenly understood mercy."

Friday August 5

"Remember when you were with Maggie and you had that convo about sincerity and competition and how when asked to be "eager to serve" it makes the performer come out in you in full force. And if service is love but your service is out of competition to be first in hopes to not look like the "lazy, non eager counselor with no work ethic" than it is not service or love- it's a show. And suddenly that show begins to feel like truth and I get confused about true love. The Lord's love isn't a show. It's behind the scenes. It's whispered and in the background. It's the foundation not the add on. And then we talked about sincerity and how sometimes it's not "my pleasure" to do the things I do because I'm a sinner and not the Perfect One. I can't decide which is worse. Being insincere about things being my pleasure and acting like I'm 100% selfless 100% of the time or being the one who acknowledges that sometimes it's not my pleasure to serve or love because the Lord is working my selfish flesh out of me still. And then family walked up and asked us, "What happens when things aren't your pleasure anymore. What's your prayer?" and the irony of that question and timing stopped you in your tracks. And you thought to yourself, "If I were being honest things are hardly ever my pleasure but it's always the Lords JOY to serve and love us. If I identify myself with Him than it is my pleasure too even when it's not." And then the family stopped and prayed for us right then and there. Eventhough it was bedtime and 107 degrees and we were sweating bullets . They prayed that the LORD would be our focus and our joy and our service. And it was if the Lord Himself said, "Yes. It's okay to be human. Your flesh isn't what is being judged anymore. It's me within you and I'm perfect. Claim me. Always claim my perfection." Morgan. Remember that when you have those guilt ridden thoughts about your insincerity or service. You're claiming the Lord's joy of loving and serving His children."

Yes. Yes. Yes. I talk to myself in my journal. Yes the Lord is doing a mighty work this summer. Yes I have been guilt ridden about being insincere this week. Thank goodness we serve a God who is patient with my school girl tendencies. This week at camp i'm with 9 little ones under the age of 2. Start praying now. My time is short to write this and I dislike that alot. LOVE LOVE YOU ALL. Can't wait to get back and see each one of you!

Treasure Hunt

Y'all. There are reasons why going to huge open markets and having cash should not walk hand in hand. Add some lack of self control in there and you've got a recipe for full blown ninnyness. Today I was a full blown ninny. Lord, thank you for being strongest when I'm weakest. Today I was weak. Real weak. Heat stroke and vintage chic goodies will do that to a ginger. (If you've ever had a heat stroke and you're reading this please forgive me. I'm a school girl. That was a lame attempt at making a joke. Don't feel bad if you laughed. I did too.)

There's a gem in Texas named Canton. For those of you asking yourself, "Self, what in the world is a Canton and where can I get myself one" allow me to clear that weary head of yours. Canton is a little ridiculous, eclectic town in Texas. People caravan there to experience it. If you're looking for a good place, scratch that, the best place to people watch, Canton is your stage. Canton is a huge open market that basically expands the entire city. You can buy anything from a puppy to a fox pelt (Morbid I know. But you win some you lose some.) to vintage mirrors to linen pants to corn on a stick. It's a shopper's dream and worst nightmare. The dream part because there are so many possibilities. The nightmare part because there are so many possibilities.

Yesterday, I got to experience Canton with some of the most fun people in my life. Yes I'm a drama mama, but it's true. You know it's the truth when the process of getting to a destination is just as fun as the destination itself. The process of getting to Canton looked like the following. I got off work and immediately put on my frat tank and chacos. It had been a long time coming. I can't wear either really during the week and Canton was the perfect excuse to put those bad daddies on. I was secretly hoping for a increased chaco tan. I feel like when people secretly hope for a chaco tan instead of just looking down one day and having one that they're posers. I'm a poser. We got some sonic. I got the delicious and healthy meal of cheese sticks and a slushie. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll never grow out of having the tastebuds of a 7 year old. Then again, I feel like 90 year old me would tell 21 year old me to eat all the cheese sticks and slushies I could while I could. I think she would also tell me to love well and worry less and enjoy my gingerness. I should listen to her more often. She has a lot of perspective, that one.

We got to Canton with a few goals as anyone wise and capable should. A) Find 4 people riding motorized scooters B) Find 6 people with sequined visors C) Find some goodies D) Eat a Turkey leg. All were accomplished except for the Turkey leg part.

In an effort to make all real life circumstances into metaphors of Christ, because let's be honest, they are, life is like Canton. It's fun. It's overwhelming. There are too many options that distract me from the real beauty that is there. There are things that pain you to see. Sometimes it's too hot. From the outside looking in it looks classless and confusing. A broken mess. From the inside it's the time of your life. A treasure hunt of sorts. I feel like the Lord is just like that. Worth sifting through the mess for. Worth laying down my wants for. Worth stopping everything I'm doing and following with everything I am and everything I'm not. The treasure in the midst of the the chaos. I tend to focus more on the chaos than the treasure. Future me: Remember to focus on the treasure and not on the chaos.

On a camp note, this week was chaotic and exhausting and sweet and stretching and fun and overwhelming and foundation setting. This next week I'm lifeguarding all week. Praise Him!

Embodiment

Week 8 last summer was my most favorite week of the summer. I was a lifeguard. I was getting paid to sit in the sun all day and eat popsicles. I lived the dream. Week 8 was a week full of families who have been coming to family camp for years and years. Lord knows I love me some consistency and and tradition and week 8 embodied that.

I couldn't wait for week 8 to get here. I expected to get another lifeguarding week. I tend to expect consistency in a life where it rarely exists apart from the Lord Himself. I tend to be a ninny. If there's a picture of why one shouldn't have expectations, it would be my face at meeting last Saturday when we found out what we would be doing during week 8. It's weird now that it's over to even try to explain it. When I found out that I would be a "counselor" to 4 college girls: 1 of which spent years in a death camp in the Congo, 1 of which was separated from her family and thought them dead for 13 years, and 2 of which have been living in chaos since tragedy rocked their lives 8 years ago- Overwhelmed suddenly had a new meaning.

What I didn't know was that a mirror would be held up to my life and struggles all week long and I would be forced to look at my weakness in the lives of others.

There are things I don't like to look at in myself. My insecurity. That I perform and could be the walking and talking, human embodiment of pretense. -Yes I just realized that I have used the word embody twice in one post, as I'm sure you have noticed as well. No I don't use that word often. Yes I'm going to from here on out. - I get embarrassed easily. I'm awkward. Preferably I would like to act like those things don't exist within me. But instead, I normally realize them and then stew over them inside myself until my hamster wheel brain is about to melt out of my head. It's a gift. Not a good gift, like gummy bears and a note in my mailbox. A gift that hurts just as the giver intended. A gift that's not a gift at all from a giver who's not a giver at all.

This week made me openly stare down all those things in the face. From the girl who refused to talk to me because she doesn't speak very clear english and it embarrassed her. Her embarrassment made her feel trapped. From the girl who felt the need to always put on a show because she didn't know who she was. From the girl who had struggled with seeing the Lord as perfectly in control and true.

This girl, This ginger, This human, This child, was given the truth that I needed to hear more than anything. And not only that but was given the chance to immediately tell it to people who needed to hear it too.

On Friday, I had breakfast with one of the girls and she said, "Morgan. You observe a lot. You think a lot. Speak the sweet things you think."

Warning: I'm about to talk to myself.

Self- 4 weeks from now, 2 months from now, 9 months from now, 2 years from now, when you're looking back reading this- because you know you will- because you will need to- because you might forget between now and then-Remember this: Remember what it felt like to have that breakfast after praying for it all week. Remember what it was like to know that you were chosen. Remember what it felt like to know that a herd of people, and more importantly the God of the universe thought you were capable in your incapability. Remember what it felt like to defend your faith. Remember what it felt like to realize you can't experience joy or peace, or healing, or truth apart from the Lord. Remember when you were confided in. Remember the responsibility you hold. Remember defending the Word as the whole, complete truth- and not only defending it but realizing that it really is. Remember what it felt like to realize how undeservedly blessed you are, and the thankfulness that poured from your heart in that moment. Remember how your world perspective grew. Remember when you realized that our need for Christ is deeply the same across humanity, whether in the Congo or in Texas.

Y'all. We're halfway done. I miss you. I love you. Thank you for praying and for reading and for the phone calls and the letters and the visits and the hugs and the encouragement. Thank you for not judging me even though I write run on sentences over and over and over.

This week I'm with 9th grade girls. My soul comes alive around girls that age. Probably because I act like a 9th grade girl 89% of the time. Probably because I live life with some of the coolest 9th grade girls I know at home (Girls. That was something called a "shout out". Bask in it. Miss you, love you, thinking about you always!) I don't hate it.

Lord, bring me to my knees.

Fireworks

How in the world am I two weeks down? Am I in some alternate dimension? (That's a PC reference. Yes, I'm a school girl who hates to be out of the loop on things like that. It's my pleasure to get you in the loop.)

This week. This week. This week.

This week was a monotonous blast, if such a thing ever existed.

This week I intended to have minimal interaction with campers. I was tired and felt at the end of myself after a week full of 5th grade girls. Any intentionality I would've mustered this week in my own strength would be insincere and I knew that. So, naturally, in a momentary lapse of judgement, I welcomed the break like a convict welcomes a hiding place.

There's certainly nothing wrong with the hiding place. Work crew week was fun. I worked with FUN FUN people. I got a lot of downtime. I didn't have to make awkward conversation. I worked behind the scenes. I was quiet. I acted ridiculous. I watched tangled while folding napkins. I fell into a position that made it easy to hide from everything I find uncomfortable. Most of those being awkward encounters and being ridiculous when all I want to do is sleep. Let's be real. The hiding place isn't the problem. It's the hider.

With that realization in my pocket, I feel like I haven't grown at all this week because I have avoided hard things. It's the lie I'm being sold at the moment. Praise Him that moments are only momentary.

In my weakness grace still abounds. Every week I get the privilege of sitting in with a family every day while they do devotionals together as a family. I used to dread this time with a passion. It was weird and I felt like that weird cousin that no body really knows but feels like they should invite to intimate family functions because after all, we are cousins. As of late, it's a time I've come to like...enjoy even. I'm like the kid who suddenly realizes they love ketchup and wants it on everything. Everyone knows what I'm talking about. I remember the day I realized I loved ketchup. I was in Branson (all important life realizations happen in Branson). I was 8. I was with B White (Hey girl. Missing you.) More on this another day.

On Thursday we were talking about anchors. How everyone needs them in their life to remember how great God is and how He has worked in the past. How they need to exist for times when we barely remember our own names. It could be a song. It could be journaling. It could be a blog. This family keeps a book on their coffee table that they write in when they see God do things in their lives. Big and small. Life altering situations and everyday, overlooked blessing.

When my devo family's son was 6 his dad was in Iraq. His dad had been gone for a long time and the little boy was having a hard time remembering his dad, but he remembered that they loved shooting fireworks off together. He begged his mom for fireworks. To remember his dad. To ease the gaping hole in his life ( I could write romance novels with dramaticisms like the previous statement. It's a gift Nicholas Sparks and I share. Except he gets paid for it. Back to the story. Grab a tissue. Better yet, grab a box of tissues.). It was October and surprisingly fireworks are hard to find in October in Texas. Texas Texas Texas. The middle child of the United States, that one. The begging was going on while they were walking in the post office and on the way out a guy drove up and asked this little boys mom for some gas money. She gave him $20 and he gave them a box of fireworks in return, minutes after the little boy asked his mom.

In a life full of hilarity and confusion and shortcomings and being a schoolgirl and pouring out and fireworks and sweetness and pain and chicken suits and ups and downs and highs and lows- I've come to one small conclusion. I need an anchor. A sure foundation. An everlasting, faithful, faultless, gracious, never giving up, never changing, consistent, constant, Savior. Lord, take full, sweet residence. Lord, be my full, sweet Residence.

A Broken Record

Seven days. 42 hours of sleep (you do the math). Grossly ridiculous amounts of sweating. A 2 lb bag of skittles. 6 little girls. Lots of prayers. 4 showers (you do the math). 23 sweet bible stories. Lots of vitamin D. Too much coffee. One fantastically witty game of apples to apples. 100,000 calories (This could be what one would consider an exaggeration. My school girlism strikes again). At least 7 shades of tan (which is a feat for this ginger). And with that, week 6 is over.

I don't even know where to begin.

I should probably start exactly one year ago. A) Never fear, this will be brief. B) Maybe not so brief C) I can almost guarantee you this will be long-winded.

Put on your excited pants. We're go back in time.

Exactly one year ago today I finished my first week ever working at camp. I had been a counselor to nine energetic, chaotic, frazzled, hilarious 8 and 9 year olds. We ran around like chickens with our heads cut off the entire week. We discussed the drama of their lives aka if their parents would be buying them icecream after they got picked up. We sang countless disney songs. I made them put sunscreen on and wear their tshirts over their bathing suits around the boys so there were times when they disliked me. By the end of the week I was completely overwhelmed by my inability to do anything right in my brain.

I was too much of a school girl for this. I wanted to jump in my car and drive away. I couldn't handle the chaos. I kept getting in trouble like a disobedient 4 year old in big church. I wanted to run. I wanted to run fast.

In the course of 6 days I had been late, I overslept not one, but two mornings, my shorts fell off when I was getting out of the pool (gasp!), I momentarily lost one of my campers, at any point of the day I had atleast 3 little children latched onto me, I had gotten sore dancing for an hour and could hardly move the next day, I sat on a fire ant hill, and I accidentally forgot to take my kids to archery. How does someone do that you ask? Beats me. Needless to say I was asked nicely to "please come in 2 hours early this weekend". Gladly. I remember thinking to myself "Oh my goodness gracious. Where am I? I tired. I hungry. I need my mommy." Lack of sleep and sheer chaos apparently turns you into a incoherent caveman. Noted.

I would like to think that time in my life was characterized by a sophomore-in-college immaturity and that I've grown incredibly mature and selfless and efficient since then. Then I find myself wearing a chicken costume for 3 hours and remember that I'm still a school girl.

This week I was positive they wouldn't want me to council those same girls. Surely they didn't like me. I had done a horrible job. I was... I am still embarrassed about it. Honestly I went the rest of last summer acting like that first week hadn't happened.

Last Saturday I was informed I would be doing EXACTLY what I did this time last year. I would be chasing around the same little girls. I would be doing the same activities. I was praying I would not be the same panicked ninny I was last summer.

This week was redemptive in every way possible. It was such a cool thing to be in these girls lives a year later. To see their growth. To answer their questions. To be pummeled and bear hugged by 6 preshy little beauties. To be able to hit the ground running immediately and not have to wait for the awkward "I need to impress you so you think I'm cool" stage to be over. We made it to archery AND stayed relatively organized which was ridiculously enough a huge feat. I have prayed and prayed for consistency and stability in my life. That I would find it in Christ. That my faith wouldn't be characterized by an on again off again roller coaster ride but rather a steady walk.

I think I'm scared to repeat situations that I did not perform well in the first time. Scratch that. I know I'm scared to repeat situations that I did not perform well in the first time. Who wants to chance failing twice? Not this girl. I think knowing the redemptive power of Christ takes being willing to jump back into situations we don't like over and over. The Lord is always willing to give me a second chance at things but rarely am I willing to jump in. I would much rather avoid the situation because of fear of failure rather than let it be redeemed.

Thank the Lord grace abounds and sometimes He doesn't give me the choice. Lord, please be a broken record for me.

This week I'm on work crew which means minimal camper interaction (the only bummer), lots of serving, a night off, and a mind nap. Praise Him for He is good!