5 Reasons Why It Is Good To Travel Alone

In light of my recent solo trip to London, I thought I'd put something together about all the benefits I discovered about traveling alone!!

1. You can be whoever you want to be.

I stayed in a hostel and met people from all over the world.  I was very clear about what I was doing in life and I took every opportunity (including airport staff) to tell people about Russia.  My main motives in life were still clear, but I could be quiet, loud, a late nighter, early riser, high maintenance, or super chill. I got to share my life goals with people who were genuinely interested in my life story, and I could even share a few secrets.  I felt so free, not having the pressure of people around me that knew me, feeling like they expected me to act a certain way.  I'm a very different person when I travel. 

2. People can't tell you what to do.

I went ALL over the city, whether it was rushed or at my leisure.  I went ice skating for over an hour and met a girl from France.  We talked about life and our countries, and no one was there to rush me off the ice.  I walked a lot.  Miles and miles a day.  No one was there to complain and tell me to take the tube or a bus.  I could be lazy and I could literally do anything I wanted.  I went to Big Ben at least 4 times, obsessing over the architecture.  I saw Wicked, and I didn't have to compromise and miss out on my favorite part of my trip. I spent 6 hours at the Warner Brothers Studio on the Harry Potter tour.  No one rushed me through, and I wasn't the biggest, crazy, psycho, fangirl (like people at home think) especially compared to any one there.

3. You can take that selfie.

Who freaking cares if they laugh.  Take that selfie with the horse guards. Or when you get to stand next to a mummy, be awkward and take the creepy selfie.  Take a selfie because you love your hair, or you love the new hat you got because it was cold.  Take a million photos and walk as slow as you want because no one is there to call you ridiculous. Take.  That.  Selfie.  

4. You can talk in an accent.  No one knows you.

I pick up accents wherever I go.  It's fun, but can also be annoying when someone mocks you and you can't help it.  Within 24 hours of being in London, I was thinking and dreaming in a British accent.  So when I traveled within the city, I let that accent fly.  And no one made fun of me or questioned it! 

5.  You lose your fear.

My biggest lesson on this entire trip. I don't think I quite realized what I was getting myself into when I booked a week long trip by myself in a country that I had never been in. I didn't understand why everyone thought it was big deal. But the excitement I had was QUICKLY shifted once I landed in country.

I got lost when I was trying to find my hostel and I was on the verge of tears when I finally found it. I didn't have a working phone at the time and I hadn't met my roommates for the week.  I went to sleep wishing I was back in the states or in Russia.  I woke up at 5am and began panic texting some mentors in my life and I was even debating moving my flight up.  But, eventually, I got the guts to get up, cross the street, get a sim card, and heavily depend on my phone.  I went on a tour, and the next day I ventured to the outskirts of London--a two and a half hour train ride.  By the next day, I just picked a random place and got on the bus like a local.  I was so comfortable with the transit system by days 3 and 4 that I put headphones in.  Then I decided to just walk EVERYWHERE.  I walked 5 or 6 miles to anywhere I wanted, every single day.  Without fear.  I stayed out after dark, I ventured into my hostel's pub to watch a game of Soccer with one of my roommates, and I even talked with random strangers (okay, worried parents, it isn't like I got in their car or something)!

I was so terrified the first day that I questioned myself. The more you question, the worse you panic.  I let that fear freeze my personality, and I doubted myself.  

I learned so much about myself and my unlimited abilities.  God brought forth comfort that I could only have received from Him. I can't question Him or the courage He has instilled in me!

GUYS, I survived.  And now I want to go EVERYWHERE.  I am even considering a job in Italy next Summer that my cousin mentioned to me last week. And I'm not afraid!  While I am a homebody to the extreme, I now see the unlimited possibilities that I have... if I would just leave my room!  I've learned that it literally just takes the first step.... and then you take another... and then you're in the middle of no where in London and you're not afraid. 

While I would LOVE to travel with anyone (especially my family), I'm obsessed with traveling alone! There are higher risks involved, but what's life without a little risk?

Are you debating, planning, or have already made a trip to a foreign country on your own? Or with a best friend?? I'm looking into other countries in the future, and I'm looking for feedback and suggestions!  I would LOVE to hear your stories, so comment and let me know about all of your adventures!  Thanks for checking out my journey!

I posted a youtube video blog last week if you'd like to check out some videos and pictures!!

Link: http://youtu.be/AHYhyW9-g1Y

xoxo Teresa

To Be Defined

Define: (V): to state or describe exactly the nature, scope, or meaning of.

As humans, we are constantly seeking the meaning of life.  We so desperately grasp at whatever we can to define ourselves in this world.  We seek fulfillment in things that are clearly not meant to fulfill our needs.  We constantly have to define who we are as a person, so that when someone asks us what we do or who we are, we'll have a clear definition.

I'm an athlete.  I'm a lawyer.  I teach Spanish.  I'm a missionary.  I'm a Mom.  I'm a best friend.  Student.  Sister. But what do these mean?  Just because we say these things, doesn't mean we are defining who we are.  

We let the world define us.  We seek reassurance that we are good people on the surface.  But there is something so negative about being defined by what people perceive us to be; to be unknown by what's in our souls.

Recently, I attempted to redefine myself to be someone that would be approved by another.  While I've gone through this in more destructive ways, I found myself compromising myself to be who someone else wanted me to be.  I didn't see how empty it made me feel.  I let someone else try and define me.  Unfortunately, I sought definition and joy in someone other than Jesus.  Of course, I ended up figuring out the stupidity of that the hard way.  I compromised myself, my desires, my personal dreams, to be someone else's happy ending instead of my own.  

Today, I choose to be defined by Jesus.  Not by another person, or religion, or my pastoral title.  I choose to be more than a sister or an auntie.  More than a missionary and more than a best friend.  

I choose to be defined by Jesus.  

I am a child of God.  I'm His daughter.  I am loved.  I am accepted.  I am redeemed.  I am a difference maker.  I am set free.  I. Am. Forgiven.

I won't let the world define me, I will let Jesus be my definition. The next time some one asks you to define yourself, what will your answer be?   Will you define yourself at the surface-- with your job title or position-- or will you let your heart define you? Will you be defined by the world, or will you help define the world with Jesus?  

BE the definition.  Don't let others define you.  Be defined by your Savior.  Be Jesus.

To Be Abnormal

"Who says normal is anything to strive for?"

These words were spoken to me 2 months ago, as I sobbed about how I wanted to be normal.  All I could think about was how I wanted to settle somewhere, have something go my way.  I had just come back from Russia without warning, and I was feeling the effects of reverse culture shock.  I didn't have somewhere I fit. I didn't have somewhere to call home. I didn't have normal.

I've spent the last two months working my butt off to prove myself worthy.  I was a missionary who wasn't.  I was in the states, a choice I did not make.  I thought had to prove my worth because I felt I was in a place I wasn't supposed to be.  I lost track of what was important... I lost myself and I lost what God had for me.  I felt so limited in America.  I was supposed to be in Russia.  But I learned something... Wherever I am is where I am supposed to be. God didn't bring me to the U.S. for no reason.  I've finally realized why.  While I was definitely needed to help with our church's biggest outreach, something I love doing, I knew it wasn't the only reason I was here.  God needed to spend a little time on me.

I struggled in Russia, trying to figure out my life; all I wanted was to know the future.  I'm 23 years old, single,and living in Russia.  That was NOT normal.  I had to try and find what normal was in this place, at least that's what I believed.  When I came back to the states, I was shocked to find that life in America was NOT normal either!  I was frustrated by our culture, I was frustrated with God, and I was frustrated to be stuck in a place that I "wasn't supposed to be."  I continued to search for normal. Normal to me was getting engaged, married, having kids, white picket fence.... completely unrealistic.  But I wanted it. I knew I couldn't have it for at least 9 more months-- when I would return to the states "officially"-- but I still sought it out.  And in that desperate search, I lost myself.  I lost who I was supposed to be in place of who someone wanted me to be.  Turns out, that wasn't the greatest idea.  I lost friendships, relationships, and my heart broke in my desperation to find normal.

Here I am, two months later, and I've quit looking for normal.  I don't need it.  I've found MY normal. And it isn't normal whatsoever.  No one can live the life I have, and I can't live someone else's life in the same way that they have.  I have figured out who I am by myself, and I think that's important.  I don't have a husband with a house in the suburbs and 2.2 kids.  And that's okay. And while that may be normal for someone, it's isn't for me.  My "normal" will be so much greater, bringing me a joy that no one else can understand or comprehend.

God is not normal.  No one should ever expect normal from Him.... He is so far beyond normal.  His plans for me are abnormal, and to expect normalcy would be limiting God and His abilities.

So next time you are having a busy week, or want things to go back to "normal," remember something:

"Who says normal is anything to strive for?"

Culture Shock

Maybe it's because I came unprepared. 

Maybe it's because the U.S. is culturally shocking. 

Maybe it's because I can't figure out where I belong. 

When I say, "I want to go home," I literally have no idea where that is. It is in Russia? Is it in America?

Where do I belong?

Day 38.

I have lived in Russia for 39 days.  I'm comfortable navigating the city, I've picked up a bit of the language (for as much as I have been out), and I have settled in nicely.  Though at day 38, I stumbled.  I was pick-pocketed by a man who stole my wallet with my passport.  For the 3 hours that I went through a foreign country without any form of identification on me, I was completely panic stricken.  Yes, I can go on and on about how amazing God is for getting my wallet back (which I could do for a very very long time), but that is not what I am here to talk about.  I'm here to talk about the repercussions of this incident on the mental and spiritual parts of my life.  Yes, obviously I am praising God, but as I sat there listening to the police talk back and forth to each other, so quickly that I don't even pick up a single word, I felt absolutely alone.  I hugged my arms and shut down.  I had no hope, knowing Russia, to get anything back.  My passport, my money, my precious photos.  The end of that story, is that GOD IS GOOD, and only He could get it back. I'm still completely screwed up.  I am, in no way, trying to take away from God's glory.  I am, however, being real.

I didn't know what vulnerable was until I had nothing.  I had no way to identify myself (legally, copies don't work) and I couldn't pay the 17 rubles (50 cents) to ride the bus back to my house.  Thankfully, I had Kim and Natasha to help me.  But in these moments of complete vulnerability, I felt completely helpless.  I literally stood in silence as everyone around me did the work.  The talking, the translating, the movement.  I stood, cowering in on myself, lacking any control over what was going on.  I wanted to go home, to America, in these moments. What made it worse, was even if I quit and wanted to fly back to America, legally I couldn't do it!  I was helpless.  While prayer is ridiculously amazing, and what you should always do, I felt like that wasn't enough.  Like I wasn't enough.  For some reason, the only think I could think was "why would I ever get my wallet back?  I'm just me." Or how every single person back in America was probably laughing (after the initial freak out) that of course, this would happen to Teresa. I hated myself.

Literally, this happened to me because I spoke English in a public place and I was seen as this stupid girl, who, if someone just stepped on my foot to distract me, they could get my wallet right out of my lap. (Yes, this is what happened.)  I hated being American. I hated Russia.  I hated everything I stood for.  All because some jerk thought it would be fun to steal from me.  I've never felt so violated (and I've had my wallet stolen in America) in my life.  I've come to this place to help spread Love, and here I was, the victim of the opposite.

I'm okay, severely homesick, but I'm okay.  I just can't shake this feeling.  I have everything (minus $75) back, and yet, I can't get myself to go outside.  I don't want to speak in public again, I don't want to be vulnerable, I don't want to be taken advantage of.  I want to feel good.  I want to be happy.  I was doing SO well outside of this issue.  I was finally settled, and now I feel unsafe just walking down the street.  My self esteem has fallen off a cliff.

I know this is the enemy. It's so obvious.  But I can't get myself to stop let go.

The Real Russia

I've spent the last 17 days in a haze of Russian joy.  I've seen many sights, I've swam in the Black Sea, I've travelled halfway across the country... but none of that compares to the day I just had. About a week ago, I met a girl on the bus who couldn't help but talk to Steve and I because we were speaking English.  She was overjoyed to have someone to talk to and I was happy to talk with her.  We exchanged phone numbers and planned to hang out at some point.  I received a text two days ago, which lead to plans this afternoon.

I walked excitedly to the bus stop at the top of Bytha (Beet-ha) hill and we rode to the mall.  I found out that she was 13 (major shocker for me, thinking she was 16 or 17) and she was shocked to find out that I was 23. She told me that she had 3 friends for me to meet and we talked happily until we got to the mall.  This is where reality started setting in.

Before we got to the door she asked if it was okay for her to smoke.  In my shocked state, I somehow nodded yes.  I stayed silent the entire time, in confusion as to what this girl was doing!  We walked through the mall and out a random exit to meet her friend and they continued walking to an empty parking lot where we met up with a man.  He was 35.  He kissed her cheek and gave her a few rides around the parking lot on his motorcycle.  I stayed silent.  All I could think about was the fact that this girl was thirteen years old and had a friend who was 35 and a man.  My shock didn't stop there.

We started walking towards the mall again and another person met us.  This time, it was her boyfriend.  He is 26.  I might have spoken 30 more words after this moment, mostly because I literally had no idea what to say. (Though I asked in a very confused state why she was dating him at such a young age.) She told me they would get married when she turned sixteen and then he started teaching me some very inappropriate words in Russian. I did not repeat any of them.  She and her best friend talked about sexual things and asked why I wasn't married.  I shrugged my shoulders.  We went shopping in H&M and when a sufficient amount of time passed, I made some pathetic excuse about getting home.  They walked me to the bus, she hugged me, and she told me she would text me to hang out again. She had fun.

On the bus ride home, all I wanted to do was cry.  My heart was breaking more and more as I spent 40 minutes riding home. Within 5 minutes of walking through the front door I was crying as I told Steve what I had witnessed.

Why does this bother me so much? I have been living in the "honeymoon" phase for the last 2 weeks and it finally hit me why I need to be here. While I have been explaining the situation as hopeless to everyone in America, I literally had nothing but statistics to base this perspective on. I had no idea what I was committing to when I said yes. And here I am, completely shell shocked with this thirteen year old girl.  I think of my little sister who is thirteen and I am so beyond thankful that she is nothing like this.  My heart throbs with pain as I think about this girl who is living her life carelessly, without any moral compass.

I can't help but ask God why I had to meet her and He kindly chuckles and tells me that I don't really need to ask Him.  This girl is Russia.  She is who I am praying for.  She is who I am building life and relationships with. Maybe not her, directly, but everyone like her.  I can't sit back and watch as these little girls subject themselves to men twice their age. I cannot watch as they make disgusting gestures and laugh. I cannot look at them as they sexualize themselves in this culture.  I have to love her and those like her.  I have to pray for them.  I have to somehow lead them, which clearly I cannot do on my own.  I need God to use me to speak up. I can't let fear stand in the way. I cannot remain silent and I cannot accept this lifestyle.   I need to be an example and show them the importance of the love of Jesus instead of a man.  I need to do something.  That is why I am here.  This is why I've been called to Russia.

twenty-nine days

I've spent the last two weeks begging off people when they ask me what is wrong-- mostly because my eyes are red-rimmed with secret tears. Nothing.  I reply with the shortest answer I can because if I use more words, then the flood gates will spill forth. It would come out in improper sentences at too fast a speed for anyone to interpret.

I'm terrified.  29 days.  I am weak.  I will miss you.  I love you. Goodbyes? I miss my grandpa. I can't sleep.  I'm struggling financially. People suck.  My body hurts.  I'm so confused. The nightmares won't stop.  I'm lonely. Please just hug me. Jesus help me.

Who am I becoming?  I can't go 24 hours without crying.  I have anxiety attacks every few hours.  I can't see straight.  I crave human connection more than ever.  It sucks, because I know that in 29 days the people I crave will be half a country away.  In 39 days.... in 39 days they will be half a world away... literally.  I find so much excitement in this new adventure, whether it be a year or a little longer I don't quite know.  I see growth that hasn't happened yet and I see something I have never done before, an adventure that I never dreamed of taking. In 30 days I will board a plane and say goodbye to everything I know, any familiar thing in my life will be gone.  Holy crap.

I guess that last statement isn't completely accurate... there is one familiar thing that will remain the same... One person who I know has and will always be there.  My Jesus will be on the plane with me, wiping my confused tears and holding my hand through the turbulence.  My Jesus will remain the same in the US and in Russia.  He will dance with me in the joy and He will comfort me on my lonely days.  He will give me a strength that I cannot surpass as my own.  He will give me the right words to speak and the peaceful sleep I need.  I cannot lean on anyone else besides God in this transition and I think that I have tried to lean on others.  I have been severely disappointed because I have expected help that only God can provide.  There isn't a single human who can help me in the ways that I need, only God can do that.  God has provided an army of hugs and love and comfort speakers, but what I really need is impossible to find in any human.

I may be terrified, leaving in 29 days, weak, missing my friends and family, struggling through goodbyes, missing my grandpa, not sleeping, struggling financially, dealing with imperfect people, in pain, confused, having nightmares, lonely, and desperate for a hug... but Jesus... God can give me all of that.  I just need to seek Him in all of that.  He will keep me above the waves, He will give me rest.  I. Will. Find. Peace.

To Be a Pastor

It isn't technically official until all the paperwork goes through the approval process, but I had something to share.
On Thursday I had the most important interview in my life, at least thus far.  I spent two hours answering questions on doctrine, polity, and my personal life.  Based off of the interview, I passed.  I'm going to be a pastor.  Now, if you know anything about my life, it is something to cry about.
I've been labeled the "overcomer" in the last three years; overcoming, with God, more adversity than I should ever have to battle.
I've (we've) fought through divorce, sickness, hatred, financial struggles, fear, self-hatred, doubt, discouragement, bullies, being stuck, silence, moving, counseling, literal fire, death, training, heart break, and six years of an eating disorder.
When I became a believer, I was lost in a world that I didn't belong in.  Struggling to fit in, fighting mean girls, and believing that I could never be loved.  I was alone, and that is how it always would be. But God sent me people.  He sent me love and he sent me a church.  He sent friends and mentors.  He sent me kids and work and an overwhelming amount of coffee dates.
When I graduated high school I was still lost, depressed, and a college athlete: a very unhealthy combination.  I lost weight and took way too many classes.  I held myself at too high of a standard and I spent a lot of time crying in fear, hurt, and hunger.  So God sent me more people.  He sent me to a new school with more leaders.  He stuck me in an internship as I battled with my parent's divorce and self-respect.  He gave me host families who loved me more than I could ever fathom.  He gave me a boss that heard a lot of "I can't do it.  Please don't make me," who, bless her soul, made me do it anyway.  And I'm better for it.  I've overcome fear. I have, literally, spoken up at Bible studies, in class, and leading devotions.   I've taken this fear that the enemy forced into me, and I have fought it with all I have.  And I won. God won.
I said yes.  I said yes to a call far beyond anything that my fifteen or even twenty year old self could ever imagine.  I'm flying to Russia at some point this year (I've given up on dates, that's God's thing... not mine!).  I am going to show the Russian people that you can overcome all adversity.
I'm 22. I am healthy. I am not afraid. I am confident. I'm a Pastor.
Satan, you lost.  God won. And I will never give up.

To Be Made Whole

I was having a very rough night a few days ago... hyperventilating, despair, ugly cry kind of rough night.  It was the first in a very very long time.  I didn't quite understand why I had to feel the way I felt.  I didn't fully grasp why God had me sit in this pain as I was.  I was confused.

The next morning, after waking up still feeling a little like I had the night before, I heard a song on the radio and God spoke to me.  

An old wound had been opened up and I felt like my blood was pouring straight out of my heart.  I was broken a long time ago, and in a lot of ways I still am.  This old wound hadn't been broken open in a long time, and I know that the last time that is was opened God was not who I relied on to fix it.  I allowed it to scab and scar and callous over.  It was like I was back in the gym, with blisters already on my hands, ripping them wide open because I went back on the bars before they were healed.

But here's the thing...  I needed this wound to be ripped open.  I needed to be completely vulnerable and broken in God's hands in order for it to be completely healed.  I cried for hours, I prayed why for hours.... and yet, here I am just a few days later and I see where I have been healed.  My heart still aches a little, but that's what happens in the healing process.  I know that if I hadn't prayed or had others pray for me, I would have the same calloused heart.  I would have held my wound shut with a bandaid and called it good.  But in the process of being broken, I had only God to rely on... He was my safe place.  I knew He could fix it.  

God is the King of broken.  He watched as His son was put through the most difficult thing any one could withstand.  He watched as His perfect Child was crucified for man.... He was broken.  Jesus knows better than any one else how it feels to be broken and how if feels to be alone.  He spent His entire life on this planet in opposition.  He never gave up, He never stopped seeking His Father.  

And here I am... my heart pouring into God's hands, breaking into God's hands. And my heart is anew.  He has made this heart new.  He made my whole heart new when I said, "Yes," to His Son.  He  has repaired holes, done surgery to transform my stone heavy heart; again the other day, He has repaired another wound in my heart.  He continues to heal our hearts, to make us into the person He wants us to become.  He is filling up our empty souls, He's comforting us in our loneliness.  He is making us into better people.  He is healing His children.  And although I would rather not experience the pain like I did the other night again, I would do it one thousand times if it means I am going to be made more whole.  If it means that God will be who I think of in any scenario of my life. If God is given the glory that He deserves, I will continue to let Him break me to make me whole.

Make me broken 

So I can be healed
‘Cause I’m so calloused
And now I can’t feel
I want to run to You
With heart wide open
Make me broken

Keep Making Me- The Sidewalk Prophets 

To Walk Upon The Waters

God has spoken volumes to me in this song.  A lot of people have asked me if I am afraid to go to Russia.  My answer was yes for the longest time.... but lately this song as changed that yes into no.  It has turned my nerves into excitement.  It has turned my struggles into defeated battles.  This song has challenged me to find nothing but the eyes of God in this plan.  I've said yes to something absolutely crazy in the eyes of every single person around me.  I've gone through strife and struggle just to get through the paperwork.  I've made an idiot out of myself trying to learn a language.  I've walked out on to these dangerous waters and lost my balance because I wasn't focused.  Here is God, calling me to this country, and I've discovered that if I refuse to look around me at the troubles, God will fight those waves and walk me across this ocean (quite literally-- seeing as Russia is halfway around the world.)

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand
I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now
So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

I need to trust God without borders.  I must go where I am called.  I cannot do it alone.  I look at my life in the last year and praise God that He has been there to help me fight: through sickness, through loss, through completion, through training, through goodbyes, through literal fire, through the loneliest time of my life.  God walked me through that insane ocean storm, one that I could not be rescued from, but instead was held above by the one Thing that has remained constant.  God has not let me go, and it is time to take Him out of this box that prevents me from trusting Him anywhere in my life or anywhere in the world.  So here I am, telling God, take me to this place.  Pull me so deep into your embrace that I cannot see the fundraising struggles, the questions about why I am still here, questioning Him why I am still here, the dangers I may or may not face, the goodbyes... but most of all, hold me so tight that I never ever want to let go.  Take me where you need me, build me up in character, keep me above those waves.... make me stronger so I can go to all the nations and help the world become stronger.  Take this passion that is so strong in my soul that it physically hurts, and share it with every single person I come in contact with.  Let the world see you.  

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior
I will call upon Your Name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine

Oceans (where feet may fall)- Hillsong United

The Talk

The other day I was given my first talk.  Yes, that talk.  I'm not going to go into the awkward details, nor explain why, at 22, I have yet to receive that talk, but I will tell you that it was informative.  Now, it wasn't informative in the way that most people would assume- honestly, I'm not sure I am ready for that portion of the talk anyway.  However, I learned quite a bit about marriage.
First of all, it is not like the movies.  I mean, I already knew that, but a girl can hope, right?  Not every marriage is the same.  Sure, it can be cutesy, and sexy, and all those things you see on television.... but that isn't the only aspect of a relationship.  There is so much more to a marriage.  The first few years you settle into a new life, living with a man, learning each other's quirks, developing a routine... but 10 years, 13 years, 17 years down the road... that is where the true "cutesy" part of marriage settles in. You've seen the stomach flu (both sides of it)... A child- most likely your own- has either thrown up on you or deprived you of enough sleep that the college sleep-deprived face that you tried to hide from each other when you were dating reappears (with 10 years added to it).  You've fought, you've won battles, you've made memories, you've struggled through deaths, you've grown, you've bonded deeper than you have with anyone else (except Jesus, hopefully).  You've experienced life with your husband in ways that no one else can understand.  No one but them can understand what it is like to be the parent of your children.  Only they can understand your struggle with your personal finances. Only they see every side of you.
They are who you come home to every night.  After thirteen years of coming home to your husband, marriage takes on a whole new meaning.  Love's definition deepens into something that you really can't explain.  Coming home every night for thirteen years is telling your spouse, "Hey, I love you, even if we fought last week."  Or, "Hey, I love you for spending the day with out kids so I could hang out with my friends."
The first years are great, and I am very much looking forward to them.... but I am way more excited to be coming home thirteen years down the road and thinking, "Hey, I love you because thirteen years is a long time for you to not give up on me.... Here's to the next fifty."  It's not an episode of Castle or Grey's Anatomy, but thirteen years sounds pretty perfect to me.

To Fight Fire With Love

Ten days ago I received a phone call that I never thought I would. My sister's house was burning down and my niece was sleeping in her room where the fire started.  I've never heard that kind of fear in my sister's voice. I rushed to the scene all while praying more desperately than I had ever prayed before.  I got there, after fighting with the firemen to see my family, and ran to my sister and surprisingly happy niece as they watched the house continue to burn.  I hugged my niece harder than I should have and talked with my sister about what was happening.  A faulty heater had started the fire in my niece's room and the smoke alarm went off and warned my brother-in-law and his father about the fire.  My brother-in-law, Billy, grabbed Sophia out of her crib and by the time his father had got to the room with the fire extinguisher, it was too late to fight it.  They tried to fight the flames with the garden hose outside as they waited for the fire department and watched as their home quickly burned. This was at 11 am.

When I got there, the fire was almost out and we watched as they threw the "salvageable" items out the window that broke as they all hit the ground.  My brother-in-law's sister took Sophia to nap and to eat food, since we had no access to anything at this point; the rest of us sat on the ground and watched for hours as the firemen worked. It was around 3 or 4 before we went inside, after a group of men came and helped tarp the roof because it started to rain.  

I've never seen so much devastation in my life.  Downstairs, water was leaking everywhere through the ceiling and outlets.  Everything was covered in a darkness of soot and the smell made me nauseas.  

We made our way to the stairs, only to have our feet stick to the carpet because the heat had melted soot to the carpet. Broken glass littered the staircase and I caught my first glimpse of things that burned.  The loft, which held memories and collectibles, was destroyed. I saw nothing but piles of black and a giant hole in the wall where a window once stood.  The walls to the hallway were charred black and silver, resembling wood after a bonfire.  I felt a breeze to my left and found what was left of my niece's room.  My heart broke, imagining every possibility of "what if," if that smoke alarm hadn't gone off.  Nothing was recognizable, not a single thing in the room stood whole.  The metal to my niece's crib was half buried by soot and crumbled wood.  I watched my baby sister dig through a pile of still hot rubble, desperately searching for the only Christmas picture my sister had of Sophia last year.  I could barely keep it together and I looked through the gaping hole of a window and broken roof.  I wished in that moment to hug my niece again.

When I couldn't look any more, I turned out to the hall to see the guest room at the end of the hall.  It was disgusting.  Anything in the room was charred or covered in some sort of wood chipping from the ceiling falling in. 

I walked back toward my niece's room and turned to my sister's room.  I found her looking for things to save. We had heard the chimney collapse at one point and found half of the bricks in her room, which had fallen through the already collapsed ceiling.  Her room was black as well.  We could make out the bed, the couch, and a coffee table because it was on the opposite side of the room.  Practically everything that was on the floor was melted to the floor.  I found my niece's Christmas jammies stuck on the floor next to one of her little boots that we never found the match to.  The ceiling had been cut out and collapsed down, and the door kicked down because the fire had spread to the roof above their room.  Everything we tried to save was either black, sticky, or completely soaked.  We found my brother-in-law's work ties melted from where they were hanging. Their bed was covered in wood chips and a layer of something sticky.  We all sighed and began digging for what could be salvaged.

The outside

Loft

Room at the end of the hall

Room at the end of the hall

The roof and door fell in on my sister's room

Close to the chimney collapse

This all fell in the corner

Roof in the hall

Sister's room, left. Sophia's room, right.

Sophia's Room: where the fire started

Found color after digging in Sophia's room

The burnt wood was her crib...

The days that have followed have been a struggle, and it wasn't even my home.  I learned a lot in these last ten days, and yes I am going to tell you what that is:  

Hold tight to your loved ones.  We came so close to losing the most precious little girl, and all I kept thinking was if I had kissed her good night or told her that I loved her the night before.

Don't take what you have for granted.  Yes, they are just "things," but when you sit there and say you are hungry and realize that you don't have pans to cook dinner or plates to eat off, it's a harsh reality.  Or when you need to cloth your baby or change her diaper, and realize that her diaper bag was in her room, along with all of her comfort binkies and blankets... it's a harsh reality.

Don't let people struggle alone.  I'm not sure about my sister, but I've clung on to the last 10 days and have to spend a minimum of three hours a day with my family.  Going home alone... it's a harsh reality.

Never. Stop. Seeking. God.  As I panicked on my drive to the fire, I cried to God (quite literally).  When I picked up a photo of my niece that survived the fire, I praised God.  When I had nightmares of "what if" all night for a week, when I woke to my entire family alive, I thanked God.  When I fought with my sister in the grocery store because we had no way to cook them food and we were completely exhausted, I asked God for a solution.  He provided one.  Never. Stop. Seeking. God.  You have no idea where you would be without Him, nor do I think you want to know.

You will get more than you can handle thrown at you.... but you can handle it with God helping you, some much needed baby cuddling, and time.

I am loved by my community, whether church family, blood family, friends, family friends, and even random strangers.  I've never received as much love in this time than I have in my entire life.  Prayer, donations, love, and hugs are what have gotten my family and I through this very difficult time.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you SO much.

I took a photo the morning after the fire, capturing a moment that I never want to forget.  My sister and her boyfriend aren't married, but he is already my family.  He will be my brother-in-law, he loves my sister, he loves my niece, and I'm pretty sure his dad (Papa) loves my niece more.  I realized that amid their desperate times and struggles, there is good.  I posted a quote along with this photo that I live by.  They have found the good.

"Even on the worst days, there is a possibility for joy."

Find joy in everything, on every bad day, in every worst-case scenario.  I've lived it.  In this case, we've fought fire with love.  And we won.

To Be Healthy

January 3, 2013: The day my entire life shifted.  The first time I went to the ER.  I spent the two month prior getting sick almost every day from eating.  This trip to the hospital was the first of many. I was sent home with a doctors appointment and medication that kept me in bed all day.  I would be so tired from a Sunday at church that I would go to bed at 6 and wake up at 8 the next morning. I did tho every day for four months.  My medications kept me from driving and from being myself.  I spent the first three months in bed, only leaving my house for the doctor or to work the weekends at church.  Christie shuttled me to many appointments and Maryann found new creative ways for me to eat the non-solid food diet I had been on for months.  My job in the internship was graceful and I did half days for a while and then had to force myself into full days.  I needed my normal life back. In April I was still on a very limited diet.  I  travelled to the city because no one in small town Eureka could help me.  I was miserable.
One day I decided not to refill my medications.  I was sick of no results and taking them just to put me in a comatose at 6 every night, just so I wouldn't feel sick any more.  I was struggling to keep afloat as an intern and still trying to process that I was becoming a missionary.  I lost contact with so many friends and was trying to regain my energy just to hang out with them.
I was never formally diagnosed with anything.  Though after many conversations with the Hrdina/Kencke clan, I self-diagnosed it as stress related.  My doctor accepted it and I asked for prayer.  After praying for peace, slowly I was able to do more and more. Finally, after 4 months of struggling I was getting better; I was eating solid foods!  I felt like a newborn, growing capable of doing more every day. I did more than lay in bed and watch Netflix all day (not like I was capable of doing much else) and I was able to spend time with my friends and family.  I survived missions training, only getting sick once, and I was on my way to perfect health.
I'm not going to lie, it has been a difficult year.  I battled this illness (or whatever it really was) for a solid 6 months.  And although, in the scheme of life, it isn't long, I spent 6 miserable months just praying for a good day.  When they finally came, all I could do was cry and thank God for good health.  I still get sick every once in a while, which I guess is to be expected, but I am free to live my life as if it never happened.  So, even though I made some life altering decisions this past year, what I will be thankful and grateful for the most is my health.  2013 was half spent in sickness and half spent taking advantage of the good health I now have.  Thank you to everyone who continued to pray for me and support me through my desperate blog posts.  I am alive and well, and that is all I could ask for.