She Will Be Made Well

This post has been a long time coming; the idea of it floating around in my head and heart since the winter months, when God brought to my attention these words from Jesus in Luke 8:50,

"she will be made well."

The phrase is just a tiny portion of Jesus' miracles of healing in Luke 8:40-56, but it was what I needed. These are stories of physical healing, but I'd argue there was healing going on in the souls of these people and their families and their communities, as well. In the midst of depression rearing its ugly head, I needed to be reminded that I, too, was being made well by Christ.

So I clung to these words and found that even after my need for them became less apparent, I couldn't escape them. They were stuck in my soul, and I started believing they weren't just meant for me. I spent many months thinking and sharing and crying and breaking and praying over them.

I knew they were meant for us all, but I also knew God impressed them on me for a specific people. But who?

Flash forward to about a month ago when I accepted a youth specialist position at a home for refugee girls. Yes, the projected 60,000+ refugee children crossing U.S. borders in 2014, these girls are among them. Their stories and journeys are heavy and hard to accept, but they are very real.

And it didn't take long for me to realize, she will be made well is for them.

I know it will be hard for these girls to believe it, that Christ could heal their hearts and minds from the trauma they've experienced. That He could restore their souls. But that's what He does.

He takes us by the hand and calls to us saying, "Child, arise!"

He gives us our spirit back.

And He makes us well.

I call this, adventure.

Today, I write to you from my new residence, from my go-to spot on the porch, loving the occasional breeze on my sun-kissed skin. I write to you saturated in the changes of the past six months.

Winter turned to spring and spring to summer, and suddenly I was leaving my job and Battle Creek and everything comfortable and sure. As June was welcomed and celebrated by Michiganders everywhere, I hopped in the Camry and welcomed and celebrated the adventure awaiting my arrival.

I call this adventure Grand Rapids.

I call this adventure job hunting on the regular. Navigating the city streets and learning to parallel park. Drinking lots of good coffee and even better beer. Being unknown and unknowing. Loving him nearby instead of so far away. A reunion with old friends and an invitation to meet new ones. Fighting the temptation to lose myself in trying to be someone I'm not. A time to be bold. To be brave.

An opportunity to trust and obey.

I call this something beautiful and risky.

I call this a way of life.

I call this, adventure

-Elise 

Vulnerability Out Of Order

Recently (like two days ago recently), I listened to a Matt Chandler sermon that said a lot, but to me, it mostly only said this:

"Nothing drives shame away from the heart more than being fully known yet still delighted in."

When I heard this, my face got hot, and my heart started pounding, and I had one of those moments where I really wanted to shut out the voice of God because I knew He was saying it was time...

To be fully known. To be vulnerable.

But being "still delighted in," though it always is with God, is never a guarantee with people, and it is there the tension lies. It is there where trust in God is required.

It is there that proves we need God in order to be vulnerable with those around us.

I could not have been vulnerable in the way He was asking if it weren't for His grace. Without it, my choosing to be vulnerable would have been riding on the reaction of another person. A person I love. A person I didn't want to disappoint with knowing all of me. Without it, I would have remained bound to my fear. I would have remained stuck in the order of which I thought vulnerability should take place.

But with tears and shaky voice, I let God take my vulnerability out of order, and in return He brought great freedom.

I think Brené Brown perfectly sums up my feelings since:

 "This is what I have found: to let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen; to love with our whole hearts, even though there's no guarantee, to practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror, when we're wondering, "Can I love you this much? Can I believe in this this passionately? Can I be this fierce about this?" just to be able to stop and, instead of catastrophizing what might happen, to say, "I'm just so grateful, because to feel this vulnerable means I'm alive."

Yours in being known completely,

-Elise

Breaking the Silence

Note to self: You may want to be good at this whole blogging thing, but the truth is, you've got some work to do.

Let's be honest, the word blogging is pretty interchangeable here. Why?

One word. Say it with me.

DISCIPLINE.

Can't say it's a virtue of mine. I often set out to accomplish various goals-learning how to play the guitar, running on a regular basis, reading one book a month, etc.-but my lack of discipline outshines my apparent desire every time.

However, my recent committment to a gluten free lifestyle is proving otherwise. Sure, I've only been at it for about two weeks, but I'm feeling pretty darn good about that. Fighting my beer cravings and turning down cupcakes at work does not happen easily, ok?

And I'd like to think showing discipline in one area of my life will eventually flow into others. Could breaking my blog silence be proof of that? I guess we'll find out if I go another five months without posting...

Seriously, though, I made the decision to go gluten free with hopes of improving my acne, but just maybe this journey is for more than what meets the eye. Maybe it's teaching me a little more about the state of my heart and how growth is possible, goals can be achieved!

All it takes is a little bit of rice flour and a whole lot of discipline. ;)

Stay steadfast my friends,

Elise

The End in Sight

Somewhere between the mountain hiking, beach bumming, and trips to In-N-Out, life in California became my new normal. With only a week and a half left until my return to the Mitten, I realize time definitely got the best of me this summer.

Seriously. Where did it go, and why did it have to go there so fast?

Although I will be greeted by familiar faces and places, I can't shake the anxiety that always comes when life is on the brink of change. I will settle into a rhythm soon enough, I have this awesome gift of adaptation, but I haven't reached the point of wanting to have to do so. I know I will leave a piece of myself here, but I hope by the time I find my seat on the plane, the rest of me will find its way to Michigan.

Until then, though, I plan to soak up as many rays of the California sun as possible, dig my feet into the dirt of the mountains of Big Bear, and love wholeheartedly the people who have made this summer my favorite.

When Life Calls For Butterscotch, Make It From Scratch

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Don't believe it? Spend a few minutes with my boyfriend, the lover of what he likes to call, "yum yums," which are basically any tasty treat that is most likely really bad for your health.

Although I do worry about his yum yum obsession, it did make it easy to decide what to do for him to celebrate one year of dating. I went with one of his favorite yum yums, "Scotcheroos." His mom made them this past Christmas, so I was able to experience first hand just why he raves about this dessert.

She was nice enough to give me the recipe, and as I bought the ingredients, I tried not to think about the fact that I was going up against years of Scotcheroos perfection. That didn't last long, though, because the recipe calls for butterscotch chips, and apparently they don't sell butterscotch chips in Pasadena this time of year. How could I not think about the years of Scotcheroos perfection knowing I was going to have to make homemade butterscotch?!

Also, I gave my mom a good laugh when I called to ask her if corn oil was different than corn syrup. Note to self: it is.

Anyway, although intimidated, I was bound and determined!

Before I knew it, it was Saturday night, and I was preparing my ingredients. Every butterscotch recipe I read stressed the importance of moving fast between each step. Apparently, I didn't move fast enough, though. Somewhere between dumping in 1/4 cup of whipping cream and pouring another, the butterscotch began to harden. Crap. I was sure my frantic attempt was a lost cause. I decided to try cranking the heat, hoping to re-liquidize (is that even a term?) the butterscotch to the desired consistency.

I'll admit, I was feeling pretty proud as I poured the sweet smelling butterscotch into a readied glass bowl of melted chocolate chips. However, when it was time to slather it on the peanut butter, rice krispies goodness that is Scotcheroos, my heart sank a little. The butterscotch and chocolate spread took on a sand like texture. All I could do was hope it tasted better than it looked.

24 hours later, Dave and I devoured 3 slices of the Scotcheroos...EACH...IN A ROW! That should tell you something about the finished product.

Also, it should tell you a little something about life. It might not look how you thought it would, but that doesn't it mean it can't still taste sweet.

Yum yum on my friends,

<3 Elise

"Meating" My Cooking Goals

Last week, with the help from my bosom friend and her reference to The Pioneer Woman, I ventured out into the scary world of cooking with meat. Being the unexperienced cook I am, I decided to start with something simple, Penne With Chicken Thighs.  

Now, I'm going to be honest, chicken thighs were never a part of the original plan. I bought the thighs thinking they were breasts (if you didn't believe me when I said I knew nothing about cooking, I'm assuming you do now). Luckily, PW speaks highly of thighs, and I can see why!

I only had to make slight adjustments to the recipe. The thighs were skinless and boneless, I didn't have fresh garlic, parmesan, or basil, so I used powdered, and instead of plain marinara sauce, I used tomato basil. I realize everything tastes better fresh, but I'm on a budget and don't have a car. So cooking experts, forgive me for working with what I had.

Anyway, there is no satisfaction quite like that of cooking, what I consider, a "real" meal. The anticipation almost killed me as I followed PW's orders to wait for 1 1/2 hours for the chicken to cook. When it was time to plate my dinner, I let out a big sigh before taking the first bite. I let out another big sigh after realizing I wanted a second bite. As the recipe promised, it was delicious.

The only problems I ran into were a lot of second guessing games and making an absolute mess of the kitchen. Seriously, I am no graceful cook. Maybe that will come with time? Either way, the fact that I successfully made a meal and didn't start a fire or die made cleanup a little bit more enjoyable.

So, there you have it. I cooked with chicken. My only regret is not taking a picture.

Who knew "meating" my cooking goals would be so fun?

See what I did there? ;-)

Cook on my friends!

<3 Elise