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.

Not Alone

I grew up in a crazy home.  A house full of six people, along with 90% of my relatives living in town and the rest just a quick drive away. We could have 27 family members at our house, and that wouldn't even count the family friends!  Holidays used to be insanity. That is until recently.
When I was in high school it seemed like everything changed.  The twenty seven people turned to five or eight.  And then one year, I spent the entire Thanksgiving day alone in my room.  I hated Thanksgiving after that year.
The years after that seemed to be the same, leave home in the morning  and come back on Friday, just to avoid loneliness.  My Dad wasn't coming home, my sisters had boyfriends... what's a holiday with two people?  It seemed for a while that no one even wanted to spend the day together.  My hate for Thanksgiving grew.
I spent Thanksgiving with my Best Friend and her family for those years and a few after, making it more bearable... But then last year I found out that they wouldn't be in town and neither would either of my parents.  My hate returned.
Alone once again.
I didn't realize that God would play a major part in this.  I thought that without them I would have nothing, no where to go.  But alas, God had better plans.  I got invited to FOUR Thanksgivings.  One of them happened to be my sister, and it turned out to be a very nice early afternoon with all of my sisters and my grand parents... the first "normal" Thanksgiving in years.  I spent the rest of the day driving from my neighbors, to LeeAnn's, to Maryann's.  I was over abundantly covered in love and care.  I didn't know what to think.
And then there was this year.... SEVEN invitations.  I didn't know I deserved such love... and although I only made it to five, I am completely blown away by the generosity of those around me. A day that used to hurt so much just to wake up to, to a day where I fall asleep smiling and exhausted because I spent the day with so many people that I love.  My best friend was in town, which was such a blessing... but I realized that even if they weren't... I would have been okay.
God has definitely reassured me of something over the last year.  I. Am.  Loved.  And I am not alone.  I have so much love around me, fences being mended, relationships growing.  I have an amazing God who has and will continue to show me that He is taking care of me.  Even though I don't have my old house full of my entire family, I have that in other ways.  I have my family now, but I also have my extended family.  I love that I can say I have little brothers and sisters, and families that would love to have me over on such a special day.
So on day where I feel left out or alone, I will think of the last two Thanksgivings... a time that was once so lonely... isn't so much any more.

To Be A Bully...

In high school I was a bitch.  Not to be harsh, and please excuse my language, but that is the cold, hard truth. 

It wasn't necessarily that I called people terrible names or picked fights with other girls, but I definitely held this holier-than-thou persona. I'm no where near proud of my attitude, but it was the only thing that held me above water. 

I made people feel terrible about themselves if they didn't have an entire closet of Abercrombie & Fitch. I looked down on people who owned less than two pairs of Ugg boots or carried a purse worth less than the cheapest Dooney & Bourke purse. I scoffed if your outfit was worth less than $300. I was a materialistic snob. People who were larger than a size 2 didn't deserve my attention. 

Why? I see it now. I hated myself. I felt worthless, so I made myself worth thousands of dollars with designer brands. I couldn't handle having someone look better than me, though I felt like everyone around me did. 

I made everyone around me feel inferior. I'm not sure I succeeded, but just the thought that I made one person feel worse than I did made me feel better about myself. 

I never stole lunch money, picked a fight, or called people mean names, but I was a bully in my mind. So although I never actually told people they were nothing or told them that I looked better than them, my posture and attitude definitely spoke for me. 

It's funny, really, because I've never considered myself well-off by any standard, but somehow I was able to present myself that way. 

I didn't realize until recently how I struggled with my personal image, or, more specifically, how I projected my struggle onto others. They say that bullies hurt others because they hurt, and I hope anyone who reads this doesn't think any less of me, but I'm realizing how much of a bully I really was. 

I hated who I was, where I came from, and what I stood for... so I made others feel the same way. I hate that about myself now, but I know I can't change who I was. I went through the hardest four years of my life in high school, and although that is no excuse, I didn't have a clue as to how else to fight. 

All I can do now is change, fix what I can, and hope everything works out. And though I still struggle with this sometimes, I recognize that everyone else around me has feelings. I don't have to fight against the bullies that I fought in high school. I don't have to fight innocent bystanders. I have to fight myself and my human desire to hurt. 

I think this is where I received my call to love. I know what it feels like to hate, to be hated; I never want a single soul to ever feel like I did in high school, or to feel how I made others feel. No one deserves that. I'm fighting back. But this time I'm fighting my old self; I'm in a war against satan and the lies he tells me, and everyone else, every single day. 

We are worthy. I am. You are. Don't ever let satan or high school Teresa make you feel inferior. Whether you shop on Fifth Avenue or Goodwill. Whether you're short, tall, overweight, underweight, smart or struggle with school... A believer or not... Please know that you are loved and deemed worthy to walk on this planet. 

Choose to love, even if it is hard. You are loved, you are worthy, and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel any different. 

I hope this serves as a lesson of sorts... Whether you've been bullied, witnessed a bully, or you've been a bully yourself... People are people. They have feelings and, even if you can't see it, they have their own insecurities. You don't have to be perfect all the time. God sees you in a different light... You are His child, not the worlds. No matter what people say, God sees His creation... His love. And while I am nowhere near Christ-like, God has shown me that love is the only way to concur evil. Fight with love and not hate. That's what Jesus would want and that's all I ask.