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