The autumn air has finally become crisp. The chili bubbles in the slow cooker. And as I sit here on my sofa waiting for Michael to come for dinner before youth club and questioning where the property managers are going to show for the inspection they are now two hours late for, I guess I should take a moment and gather my thoughts.

It's a bit hard to fathom that just over a month ago I landed in Heathrow and took the bus over to Wales beginning this new chapter. There are days when I feel I'll be hopping on the next flight back to Madrid and other days when my heart aches for the ease of life in the US or even Spain, but the honest truth is there is nowhere I would rather be. I can't say I have fully found my nitch or can see clearly what God has in store. But I have never felt so at peace with where I am. So even in the moments when I feel rather silly for not knowing something that feels like it should be so natural and basic, my hearts rests that God has brought me here. Settling takes time, and roots don't grow overnight, but they will.

Before leaving for Spain I read a book about third culture kids seeing as I would working directly with TCKs there. I remember part of the book spoke of putting down roots and planting trees. Sometimes we fall into the habit of short term living, and in short term living we sometimes don't want to put down those roots because the deeper the roots go the harder it is pull them up when you leave. In a sense I've spent the last seven years in the short term. Leaving for university, back to LP, on to Spain, back to LP again, and now to Wales. This final move marks the only one where there is not an end date. But this short-term mindset I have found myself in has often caused me to not lay down roots. To not want to fully settle because the thought of pulling up those roots will hurt. It will rip, tear, and cause a bit of me to be left behind if those roots have to be uplifted.

But the fact is you have to lay down roots to thrive. You have to plant yourself, invest, and grow. My life might have been in the short term the last few years, but when I reflect back I can see what I missed by not putting down roots. And the fact is moving to Wales is not short term, it very well might be life term. But even if that changes, my heart desires to live fully. God calls me to live abundantly. And that involves roots. I want to thrive, make the most of, live intentionally, and make Christ known. I'll need roots for that.

So here is to laying down my roots in Wales. I can't fully state what that will look like yet, but I know the Creator, the Author of Life will reveal that in time. But for now, I'll trust Him to show me how.

Where to do I even begin...

I live in Wales. My heart has longed to say that for four years. And now I can. After a week and half the reality of this is settling in. For the last two years I've spent little snippets of time in Wales visiting Michael, but I never stayed longer than a week. Michael and I had never spend more than 12 consecutive days together in the same place in the two years we've been together. And now I live in Wales. My mind is still wrapping itself round all God has done to make this desire a reality.

In many ways it feels like I have been in Wales for ages, rather than just twelve days. I was encouraged yesterday at the church's mothers and toddlers group, when one of the ladies from church said it felt like I had always been apart of the church. For me that was so confirming.

I moved into my new home on the 8th. In the last three years, I've called a lot of places home. But today is the first place I have felt at home. I expressed to Michael now wanting to live out of suitcases when I arrived in Wales. Michael took that to heart, and a few days before I landed him and his dad were at my house putting together an IKEA wardrobe and dresser (and if you've ever put together IKEA furniture you know exactly what a blessing it was for someone to come and put it together). I moved into a room where all I had to do is unpack my bags, put my things in drawers and on hangers, and make my bed. Both my housemates have been such a blessing to me. They've made me feel so welcome and apart of this house. So from my arrival I have seen God's blessing.

My week at the moment looks like this. Monday morning is planning and prep in Tremorfa followed by prayer time. Monday afternoon involves prep as well. Hopefully in the next few weeks myself and one of my housemates will begin meeting with some of the younger girls in the youth group Monday afternoons. Tuesday is a full day at the Ignite office. I have to say I have been so blessed by my time at the office - from the encouraging people who are there to beginning the day with prayer. Wednesday is the mothers and toddlers group. Yesterday we had a Bible study with a couple of the older girls from youth group. I'm not sure as to whether or not I'll continue with the older girls once we get the younger girls' group going. We also had some of the youth for pizza last night at the church, which is hopefully to become a weekly thing. Thursday and Friday mornings are in the Ignite office again. Thursday evening is youth club.

The biggest encouragement in being here is prayer. My first week and half has been so filled with prayer and it is beyond amazing...

I'm excited to see what God has in store and how He will grow His family in Tremorfa!

One Busy, but Beautiful Summer

Planes, trains, and automobiles.  Add boats to that phrase and you have my summer pretty summed up. This summer has by far been one of the most transient summers I have ever experienced, and I backpacked last summer! But I think it is safe to say this has been one of my greatest summers.

June brought the end of my time at ECA and Spain. Goodbyes filled many of my days, but also laughter and new memories. I ventured to Southern Spain for a few days after school let out. Malaga, Gibraltar, Ronda, and Nerja confirmed that I needed time with just me and Jesus, but I am also an extrovert. I was so excited to return to little Camarma and see people I know. I also advise anyone moving - especially moving across the ocean - pack a few days before moving and spend your final days with loved ones. Best way to close out my time in Spain was spending it with people I love and not my suitcases!

My final week of June reunited me with some of the greatest people I know - the World Witness European missionaries! Our week in the Ukraine was nothing short of amazing. Wonderful teaching and learning, sharing, praying, and fellowshipping. I think my weeks with that team is one of my favorites for the entire year.

I flew through London on my trek back to Florida. And an overnight layover brought a visit by my favorite guy.

June 30th I landed in Miami to be greeted by my amazing parents. The first week back in LP was nice to simply relax and get back into the correct time zone, which I needed in preparation for the last few weeks!

Here's remainder of my July and the start to August looked liked. Ready...

Florida to Glade Spring, VA (with a overnight in South Carolina), Glade Spring to Charleston, SC, Charleston to a cruise in the Bahamas, back to Charleston to go to North Myrtle Beach, SC, North Myrtle to Wytheville, VA, Wytheville to Boiling Springs, NC, Boiling Springs to Durham, NC, Durham to Lewisville, NC, Lewisville to High Point, NC, High Point back to Wytheville, Wytheville back to Lewisville, Lewisville to Cherryville, NC, Cherryville back to Lewisville, Lewisville back to North Myrtle, North Myrtle back to Lake Placid, FL.

Whew! I'm tired just from writing that. Despite the long hours in a car, I wouldn't trade any of it for the precious time with family and friends I was given this past month. Seeing friends and family that I haven't seen in over a year and half and the ability to pick up where we left off is worth far more than gold.

And while I was away...drumroll...

Ignite became a recognized sponsor by the British government. So what did that mean? This girl got to fill out a lot of forms, mail off her passport to get pages added, pay another visa fee, book a plane ticket, set up a fingerprint appointment, change the appointment...twice, gather documents, take passport size photos, retake those photos because I smiled in the first ones, and finally...

mail my application, passport, and other required document to the British consulate in New York.

And now...I wait. Normally, I am not good at waiting. But it's out of hands into the hands of the One who is always in control. So I wait, but enjoying the present and cherishing these weeks with my family and friends.

Excitement does fill me as I think about what God is calling me to in Wales. He's brought so much together and orchestrated so much. My heart yearns to be back in Wales. I can't wait to start work with Ignite and live in Tremorfa. I would be lying if I didn't say how much I'm looking forward to being where Michael is.

This year I'm going to learn and do whatever the Lord asks. I don't what this first year in Wales will bring...but I know He has great plans :)

On the top margins of my teal Bible where pages are worn and the imitation leather is peeling away, on the page containing Luke 9 written in black ball point pen are the words:

No Reserves. No Retreats. No Regrets. 

These are not my words. 

Honestly, until today I haven't thought much about those six words on the top of the Bible in several, even when reading verses on that page. 

But today they came resounding back to me. 

Killing time, I scrolled through my twitter account and came to a tweet reading, "There are worse things than dying for Christ. Chiefly, living without Him." Liking the quote, I retweeted it before noticing the link that followed those words. I clicked and ended up reading. 

On the blog the writer wrote about living a safe life. Choosing the safe path rather than choosing the path Christ calls us to. Choosing that means I'm living for something other than Christ - myself. 

As I read her challenge, the Spirit brought those six words to mind along with Luke 9:23, the reason those six words are written on that page. 

I grew up in church, I grew up in a Christian school. I know I heard Luke 9:23 read, preached, and given as a challenge. But those words never struck a chord with me. I took them as take up your burden, your hardship for Christ. Which yes they are...but they are so much more. 

To me those words in Luke 9:23 meant simply take up the hardship within the confines of American middle class reason. Don't venture to the rough areas. Don't go here or there. Don't talk to that person. Don't live in that country. You might get killed. You might die. You might get hurt. You might not be comfortable.  

Then I went to college. New Testament 101 with Dr. Williams rocked my world along with his Synoptic Gospels class the following year. My comfortable Christianity did not mix well with what he said as lectured on Luke 9:23.

"Then He said to them all, 'If anyone wants to come with Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.'"

As he read those words Dr. Williams looked at us and said, "Take up your cross. Let's think about this in the context the disciples would have heard it. Take up your death, your humiliating, degrading death sentence and follow me. He - Jesus - is telling them to pick up their torture and follow Him. And you know what, the majority of them did."

Somewhere along the line I missed what Jesus was asking those disciples, what He asks of me. He doesn't ask them to follow Him to a life of comfort and ease. He doesn't ask me to follow Him to prosperity. He asks them to come, deny themselves - their wants, their dreams, their lives - and follow Him. He doesn't sugarcoat it. He is brutally honest in His words, "Take up your cross and follow me." I live in the US where capital punishment is ever present but in the form of lethal injection and before that electric chairs and hanging. I can't fully imagine a death by those means, let alone the brutality and humiliation of being crucified. 

As an 18 year old what baffled me most as I tried to work all this out compared to what I had always thought, the disciples followed. They saw what happened to Christ, and yet they knew going with Him was better than their safety. Their comfort. Their life. 

Bringing me back to those six words. No Reserves. No Retreats. No Regrets. 

A few years later in college our campus pastor preached on Luke 9:23 and the verses around it. As Tracey spoke he shared with us the story of William Borden, the one who wrote those six words in his own Bible about 100 years ago. Borden, the heir to a family fortune, forsake the comfortable and eventually his own life to share the Gospel of Christ. He wrote those words in his personal Bible as his own challenge. To live without reserves - holding nothing back. To live without retreating - saying yes to Christ, and no to self. To live without regrets - living a life worthy of Christ's sacrifice. 

As I think about those six words, I know that's where I am today. 

Right now the Lord is not calling me to a place where I will be in daily life threatening danger. But the decision to say yes to go to Wales was not as easy as many might think. 

Yes, Michael is there and to be in the same place with him right now does involve me making the move due to his job. In the beginning when Michael and I started talking about such things, it was easy to say yes to move to Wales. But that's when it was hypothetical. When there was no reality yet or set plans. When I was seeking as to what would even be the next step after my commitment to ECA ended. 

Funny how things changed when reality set in. Part of me thinks I went into culture shock before there was any concrete way to move to Wales. But I must honestly admit, I cried a lot last summer and early in the fall about the idea of moving to Wales. When it was a dream I longed for it daily; it seemed perfect. But when it became real, the realization of what this would mean set in. 

Suddenly, returning to the US or even staying in Spain had a new appeal. 

Why? To be honest living abroad is not as glamorous as it seems. Wonderful and amazing, absolutely. Easy, heck no. In your home country, you take for granted simple things like knowing how to properly enter and exit a grocery store. I never once thought about how to correctly enter and exit Publix or Ingles or any grocery store in the US. But in Spain you do. You have to learn how to do things differently. Living abroad has many blessings, but it is also exhausting. And the idea of learning how do all these simple tasks again when I was just finally getting the hang of them in Spain left me not really wanting to go to Wales. 

In September, despite clearly knowing God was telling me to leave ECA, I started debating as to whether I should stay another year. With some gentle prodding God opened my eyes to heart longing to retreat to the easy. When the news came that my teaching license would expire at the end of the year, again I questioned but God said to live no reserves, putting all of trust and security in Him. 

As I prepare to go to Wales in a few months, going to serve in a way I never imagined, but am so excited for. My prayer is to live by those six words. 

No reserves. No retreats. No regrets. 

To Him be the glory. 

Spain Lesson #2 - Live Simply

My mind can't quite comprehend how easily you can hop into a different country when in Europe. Of course, it's like hopping States. Except it's not. Within two hours you can be in any handful of countries and thanks to the ever annoying but usually affordable budget airlines, you can do it for a fraction of the cost.

If people look over my time in Spain and think, "Boy, you traveled a lot!" My response will always be, "I don't think you realize how simple and cheap it is compared to travel in the US." Pick a budget airline, pick a cheap hostel, and pack a backpack. Done.

As a high school junior, my family, some dear family friends, and I ventured up to Boone, North Carolina. My most memorable moments...
1. Having Carlyn (one of the 6 month old twins) spit up all over. I couldn't stand it, so what did I do. In all my 16 year old common sense, I laid her on the table. It was big table thank goodness.

2. Realizing I will never be a skier. And I am more than okay with that. Let's just say I can't stop and managed to take someone out at the bottom of the ski slope. Oops.

3. Becoming the joke of the trip as I had more stuff than stuff than the 6 month old twins, who had sleep monitors and all sorts of other contraptions needed when traveling with babies.

Packing has always been my least favorite because I am a what if packer. I have run through all the what if situations in my head and end up with way more stuff than I could ever need or use. In high school I think I ended up in tears while packing. Packing for college and then unpacking at the end of the year were always things I dreaded. Packing for Wales in one suitcase about caused me a meltdown. Packing for Spain was better...though I packed and repacked more times than I care to remember.

But moving and fitting my life into a backpack for weekends and even a three week trip, has taught me the value of less. Life is simpler when we own less. We live in a world where the message of more bombards us. But the more I have, the more I am weighed down. I have begun to feel freer with less.

When I look at my Savior, what do I see? The true picture of simple living. He gave up riches so we could simply live. So here I stand asking myself when it comes to my things, am I living simply like Him? And when the answer is no, how do I change to live simply?

The packing to leave Spain began in February with the first bag being left in Wales. Another two bags have since gone to stay in Wales. I have three big suitcases left and few carry-on sized bags available. And whatever is leaving Spain with me will fit in those bags. I don't need stuff to make me happy.

Here's to working to live simply...like Jesus...

Spain Lesson #1 - No Perfect People Here!

It becomes all to easy to question why God has brought us through something. Wondering if we made the right choice. If this really was the will of God. Or did we in our inept, incomplete wisdom make a mistake, get it all wrong? As I prepare to leave Spain that has been my attack...questioning whether I should have come to Spain in the first place.

Now's the a hefty question I know. Part of it springs from the fact I have never fully felt apart of Spain. There are people I love here. I love ECA for that it is. I love the history and the richness of this culture that lives up to its own motto of, "Spain is Different." But in serving at ECA I see in myself how at least at this time period I was not wired to live forever in Spain. I think I thought I would leave Spain with painful departure, my heart breaking over my leaving. Honestly, that's not the case. I'm sad to leave behind dear friends and students. I will miss Lavapiés and even the charms of Camarma (though probably not the Camarma bus).

But the realization that I won't be heartbroken in my leaving surfaced this sense of failure. In my insecurity, I questioned my being here. But God is faithful. God's ways are so not my own. And thank goodness for that. And God in the mist of my doubting hearts reassures me that I needed Spain. Just as I now need to leave Spain, I needed Spain.

I've learned a lot. I've discovered a lot. I've succeeded with God. I've failed a lot without Him. And without Spain I would not be where I needed to be.

So here are my Spain lessons. Some serious. Some funny. Some painfully honest. But all what I needed.

Lesson #1 (Oh please note - these are not ordered in any particular order)...

I am the product of two Christian schools and a public school. Reflecting back I know some of my public school teachers, many who were not proclaiming Christians, were more loving than some Christian school teachers I had. Though my best teacher and my worst teacher all came from Christian school.  Christian school gave me lots of Bible knowledge, but failed to instill in me the idea of a relationship with God. Rather I learned more about the rules of being a Christian in Christian school (I did not go to a legalistic school). My struggles with materialism and reading the Bible/praying daily stem from Christian school. And trust me kids are no nicer in Christian school than they are in public school.  As a small child I somehow got indoctrinated that public school was evil (my mom and aunt were public school teachers so I'm not quite sure about this philosophy). This is not a bash on Christian school. I am grateful for time at both of mine despite all the bad. This is rather to say you'll be hard-pressed to convince me that Christian school is the better option to public school (but that is a story for another day).

But God led me back to Christian education after my public high school experience. And God knew I needed Gardner-Webb. I needed a place that encouraged me in my faith, but let me make that choice on my own rather than forcing it down my throat. And my coming to ECA has in many ways restored my faith in Christian education.

Early into my time at ECA I became frustrated with the handlings of an ELL student. Now I have to admit, I was far too naive and new to ECA to realize some of the bigger pictures. I cringe a bit reflecting on my attitude during this as I became upset with some people I have come see as a wonderful and loving. I was the new teacher with big ideas about ELLs. I wish I could change some of the handlings of that time period, but I can't. However, I am grateful this time period because it taught me something (well, actually two things as I learned the value of not jumping in with all your opinions when you're brand new and don't know and fully understand the whole picture).

One day during this time I let out the building frustration to my then officemate, "I would have expected this treatment of ELLs in the public system. But this is a Christian school?!"

Lonnie graciously looked at me and retorted with, "What you mean there are imperfect people, imperfect teachers in a Christian environment? What you're telling me imperfect people make up the body of Christ?"

I needed that sarcasm more than you know. I needed the reminder that we Christians lack so much. And the simple label of Christian does not mean something will be perfect. That becoming a Christian does equate perfection. It doesn't mean we make the right choices. It doesn't mean we carry the right attitude. It means we are redeemed by grace because the love and sacrifice of Christ. We try as hard as we can to be like Him, but even on our best days we never measure up.

The laundry needs to be placed in the washer. The dishes should be sudded up and washed. My tub could use with a good scrub down. And within my room sits a desk needing to be sorted and emptied. I  could also add on my to-do list the emails and messages needing to be sent and the thousands of pictures which should be edited or deleted and uploaded.

But instead I sit in the living room, reminding myself places with winter should not have houses entirely tiled though likely by next week I'll appreciate the tile as the heat returns. My thoughts whirl in my head and down into my heart - lots to take in and process from the past few days and weeks and knowing there is more processing to be done as my time in Spain inches closer to a finish.

So let's put off the to-do list. Let's set aside the coldness of my house. And let's be reminded of His greatness...

His greatness is found in the wanderings. Coming to Spain has created within me a love to wander. Wander through cities, parks, beloved neighborhoods, I love it all. I love to wander and find the unexpected. To see the beauty not able to be captured in a tourist book or even fully through my camera lens. I love to wander and see the details that often go unnoticed or at the very least are overlooked. I see God in the details. I can wander, and know He never leaves. I can wander, and be reminded even though I don't fully know the path He pieces the details together - working in ways I don't understand but in ways I need.

His greatness is found in students who do something beyond what is popular. Every prom and homecoming I attended, the king and queen crowned equated to the most popular kids in school. At the prom at my mom's high school this past weekend, some students took the initiative to vote for some students with special needs to be prom king and queen. Not only were people encouraged to vote, Nicole and Dequawn - students in my mom's special needs class - WON! Having met Nicole and Dequawn, I can only imagine how exciting this was for them and how special it made them feel. God doesn't usually call us to do the popular thing. Actually what is popular is usually against what God calls us to. But it's encouraging to see high schools allowing some of the least of these have the spotlight! (Oh, and my mom said Nicole wore her tiara and sash to school today!).

So look around. Be reminded. God is great. Let the tasks sit sometimes. Let the to-do list stay unchecked. And sit at His feet. Rest in His faithfulness. His goodness. Be reminded that we don't always know what's going to happen or why it is, but we know Him. And for me that's enough.

Every blessing be to Him who is far greater than our wildest dreams!

The goodbyes...

A song aired on the radio a few years back containing the line, "She hates the sound that goodbyes make." The first time it hit me how much I hated the words goodbye was after the summer of 2009.  I left Wales with tears in my eyes and the longing to return. But the reality was I had a want and wants don't always come to be. I wanted to return. In all honesty, the moment I left I pined to return and live there. Leaving left me with only the unknown and the fact that I had to trust God to open up the door.

I didn't like the goodbyes graduating from GWU brought about, nor did like the sound of them as I bid farewell to parents at the airport bound for Spain. Each goodbye has always brought about new hellos, and for those I'm thankful. But it doesn't fully remove the pain of saying goodbye.

My goodbye to Spain is just 11 weeks away. My true goodbye to ECA is actually only 9 weeks away. My heart aches at the thought.

"I'm ready!"part me proclaims. But the fact remains the over half just as loudly proclaims, "No...No, I'm not!"Goodbye to friends and students hurt as I know after June 7th we will all be scattered around the world. Goodbye to Spain knowing that even if I visit again it won't be the same as living here.

I don't think goodbyes get easier...but maybe they do. I dread them just as much each time. And looking to the future knowing there will be a lot more goodbyes, the easy option is to be sad or even discouraged.

But my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. I may say goodbye to places and people. I might move to new lands and make new friends. There will be times of joy and tears as goodbyes and new beginning go hand-in-hand. But one thing remains constant. My hope is built on the One who does not change. It is built on the One who does not leave nor forsake.  Every friend or family member will likely hear the words, "Goodbye," come from my lips. But never will have to say those words to Jesus. He left heaven, died, rose again so that in Him I never have to tell him goodbye. May that be my comfort and my peace today and always.

Delayed in Publishing...But Still Relevant

My thoughts have been rushing around a new blog post and then I realized I never hit publish on this one...a bit delayed...but still quite relevant...

Thoughts shift often. Moving from, "Oh, I can see what God's doing!" to "Hmm...God, are you sure about this one? I mean it's not really quite what I had in mind..." On the unfortunately rare occasion I come to thought of "God, I don't know. But I know you. So I trust you." Though my normal response lies with the middle question. Questioning God. Wondering why. Annoyed again because His plans don't seem to match up with mine. It's not something I'm proud of. It's something God is working on within me. But it's the plain ole truth. My heart and mind far too often fall into the trap of questioning what God is doing rather than resting and trusting Him.

Returning to Spain this week has ushered in the reminder of trust. Especially in light of my weekend in Wales. Trusting God with my future. Trusting God with my remaining time in Spain. Plain and simple trusting God. Believing He knows better. Easier said than done, but that is my current call. To trust Him. To quit leaning on my own understanding. To acknowledge. To let Him set the path.

Returning to Spain on Monday, brought with it one of the hardest returns I've made thus far. From a set of lost keys. To a slightly delayed flight. To rush to get through passport control, security, and to the other side of the airport to make my connection, getting home did not run smoothly. I made it, but I also went to bed at 8 pm. An extremely rare occurrence in my daily life. The challenge of returning didn't fall on the return trip. The challenge fell on returning to school the next day.

Please be careful when you read my next words, please know my heart. I have come to love ECA. I have always dearly loved my students. I love teaching. I love learning. I love school. I love students and teachers. But do not love being a teacher. I do not feel invigorated by being in the classroom or at school. I leave school drained rather than excited. My heart longs for something other being Miss Munro, ESL teacher.

It must be stated for my own sake though - I have no regrets in coming to Spain or coming to ECA. I have no regrets in majoring in teaching ESL. I loved my university classes. I won't claim I loved student teaching, but I will claim how valuable an experience it was for me, that I learned so much about myself and interacting with others. I won't claim that everyday in Spain has been challenge-free, full of excitement, minus tears. But I will claim I grew so much through the challenges faced here, that I am learning to find excitement in the little days, and more days have been filled with laughter and smiles. I have no regrets that God called me to Spain and ECA. I have no regrets that God called me to major in ESL. And I also no regrets when I now say God is calling me to something else.

The path God has lead me down, leads me down has been anything but linear and has seldom made sense. But since when does God work in ways that make sense and are linear. He does crazy things. He does big things in ways we don't expect. My sight and understanding is limited. Extremely limited. But he sees the whole picture. So I refuse to look back upon my life thus far and think I did something wrong which lead me down an odd path. I refuse to look ahead with the thought that I am doing something wrong because the path once again is not linear. Trust me if it was up to me and I got to map out my life it would be. But when I surrender to Christ, I give up that life. I accept that He will call me to some hard things. To some challenging things. To some things that just don't follow a straight line and don't really make that much sense. But I also accept that it will be worth it. Not in earthly, society-accepted ways, but worth it because it means Him. And He is always worth it.

Letting Go Of Normal

So much me of longs to be normal. To have normal hair (even when I search curly hair tips it's never for my type of curls). To like normal shows (okay, maybe if I lived in the UK they would be normal but I'm pretty sure my roommate thinks I have the weirdest taste in TV since all the shows I watch lately are non-American popularized series - with the exception of Dowton Abbey and Call the Midwife). To have a normal path to travel down.

But let's face the facts. I am not normal. Not made to be, meant to be, called to be. And to be honest I'm not that envious of a normal life. I'm just envious of the answers people who have normal lives get to give. I'm envious of people not thinking you're weird for doing something other than the norm.

But conviction sets in. Those envies spring up from my desire to please others. My desires to fit in. My mindset has gotten out of whack once again, forgetting that pleasing should not, is not to be for anyone but One. And the more I look at His word. The more see it in action. The more I desire it. The more I realize there is no such as normal when it comes to following Christ. In Him society's norms go out the window.

The question I have asked myself over the past few months as I battle what is next. I  must emphasize that I love my boyfriend, Michael, more than I thought I could love someone else. I have no doubt in my mind that God is bringing us together to marry, share this life together, to make His love known. Please know that before reading my next sentence.

My selfish desire for normalcy brought me fighting the path God had begun to mark out for Michael and I.  You see, if you are unaware I am American. Born and bred, who just so happens to have a desire to be anywhere other than America (please don't take this as I don't love my home country, I do. I just don't feel called to live in it). Michael is Welsh. Born and bred in Wales, who just so happens to have a desire to go where God tells him but at this point really needs to remain in Wales. When we first began talking long-term and marriage, Wales was 100% without a doubt in my mind where I wanted to be. I love Wales. The summer I spend in Wales in 2009 was life changing. That summer I felt as if I was doing what I was made to do. Intentionally living out ministry. Being relationship and incarnational.  As much as I have loved Spain and know I was supposed to come and serve here, I know those two months were a taste of what I was made to do, what I am supposed to. I am simply to incarnationally live out the Gospel. Location isn't really important, but my heart has longed to be in Wales. 

Funny how okay we can be feel about things until reality hits.  Speaking with a dear friend a while back, she confided in me that you really begin to look at a place differently upon the prospect of moving and living  your life there. No truer words were ever spoken. Suddenly, when option to move there became more of a reality the longing I had to return to Wales - to minister there, to eventually marry Michael there - disappeared only to be replaced by fear. Fear of having to learn a new culture. Fear of having to figure out silly things that come so naturally to me in the US like going to the bank or the post office or even the grocery store. Fear of another visa process - especially when I am terrified of UK Immigration. Fear at the thought of not having a purpose. Fear of being the odd one when I open my mouth and out comes that confused American accent of mine (I refer to it as confused because it's not sure where it's from. It's what happens when you're raised in Miami by non-Hispanic parents, one of whom is from the mountains of Southwest Virginia where you'll spend your summers plus in North Carolina visiting other extended family members, only to later be transported to Lake Placid where half the town is confused of its correct accent, then to move to North Carolina for college where you'll soon learn you better consciously say long i or you'll have quite the twang. Anyways ramble over). The last few months have proven that there is a reason God says, "Do not be afraid," so many times. 

Because He's bigger. He's stronger. He's able. He does the impossible. He's not normal. I belong to Jesus, the Prince of Peace who could have opted for a deluxe Roman palace but instead joyfully went to family of poor, everyday, average people. The Creator chose to be born in a stable. He invited shepherds and foreigners to welcome Him into the world. He decided to follow in the family business of carpentry before setting out to teach and perform miracles - most of which He did to the unwanted, the unclean, the unloved. He was the Great High Priest, but yet his closest friends weren't the Pharisees they were fisherman and a tax collector and a bunch of other misfits. He died. Or rather He allowed Himself to be murdered to pay a debt He did not owe. He conquered death for the same ones who hung Him on the tree. He followed a very abnormal, unexpected path. I claim I belong to Him, and yet I have cried more tears in the last few months of the desire for a normal path to walk when I gave up everything to be killed in my place. He left heaven and perfection for me. He beckons me a dirty sinner. He cleans me and wants to use for His purpose. Humbling and convicting do not begin to describe how I feel over my need for a normal path. 

If I want a normal path, I can take it. I can choose that that is what I will do next. I can return to the US where I know how things work. Where my accent won't make me stand out. I can get a normal teaching job. I could choose that. But I'm letting go normalcy. I'm putting down my desire to fit in and follow a certain path that my mind says is what is normal. I laying it at the foot of the cross. Because choosing normal means missing out on God's greatness. Normal might be good, but I need great. I need God. 

So where does that leave me? My time in Spain ends in just around 4 months. In leaving normal behind, where is God leading me?

My prayer is back to Wales. 

For as long as I can remember one vision Michael and I have both had is to move to into a neighborhood in need and live out Christ's love amongst our neighbors. To be honest I always held this idea for something later on down the road.

Even when the good ol' USA seems more appealing simply due to comfort and ease, the fact is I feel God leading me to Wales. All confirmation for both Michael and I has been for him to stay in Wales and for me to move there. But the question has been how? Being American offers up some challenges. At this time Michael and I don't meet the visa requirements to marry and we also feel it would be best for us to grow our relationship a bit with both of us in the same place before jumping into marriage. Also at this point I can't really afford to study in the UK nor do I know what I would study if I continue to be honest. In the US I'd say I'm part Scottish, part Irish, part English, and part German. You are your heritage in the US. But being in Spain has taught me I'm not really any of those; I'm American. And since my parents and grandparents are US born, there is no way I can work in the UK. And I didn't want to go through a mission or a church because I didn't want anyone to think I was using them or raising support to simply be with Michael.

However, the door I didn't want to open suddenly was the only one left. Michael knew of Ignite from doing youth work in South Wales. Actually, I knew of Ignite, too, from the summer I was in Wales. Based on a couple of conversations and a few emails exchanges, the head of Ignite and the director of their intern program agreed to meet with me last November. I shared my story and they shared their about their ministry and spoke a neighborhood in need of Christ and the vision they had for Tremorfa. Incarnational, relationship ministry. People moving into the neighborhood and living life there. Loving their neighborhoods as Christ did. Being intentional. Allowing ministry to flow.  Michael and I both left that meeting encouraged. We left hopeful and excited. We left with a tug in our hearts.

I also left with the realization that this would mean everything I didn't want to do. I didn't want to come to Wales through a ministry for fear how it would look. I didn't want to raise support for fear how it would look. Though even as I write this I can't help but think of Mary. She had Jesus despite how it looked. God's ways aren't my ways...and His way may just happen to be the way I didn't want to go.

But I'm not going yet. Before you think this is a done deal. It's not. Nothing has been confirmed. There is no sign on the dotted line. Honestly, for this to work, God has to move in some big ways because there is literally no way I can make this happen. Only God can. I share this because I need you to know my heart. To know the place where I find myself today. To say that this can't happen without God and without prayer. To ask you to join me in prayer. 

Before anything can officially be decided, I have been asked to visit Tremorfa (the neighborhood). To walk around first hand with a girl who is currently ministring there and living there with her husband. To get a better feel for what it is I would doing and where it is I would be doing it. To visit the church and worship with brothers and sisters there. I value vision trips, so I value what the weekend of February 15th will bring.

So I find myself dedicating to prayer and asking you to come alongside me in prayer. Pray for confirmation. This very well may be the door God is opening, but it might not be. For myself and Ignite to have a clear vision as to whether this is God's will or not. For me and for Michael, I don't want this to be a one year commitment and then we leave it behind. For me, I want to ask specifically for God to bring about some confirmation that Michael and I once married our to commit to a long-term ministry there, committing to move there and love there. This is too big for Michael and I to not be willing to make that decision. So we need prayer. Pray for clarity. Pray for confirmation. Pray for guidance. 

The closer my visit in February gets the more excited I become. I cannot get it out of my head, and frankly I don't want to. But I don't want to move unless God moves. I am like the Israelites in the desert, moving onward to the Promise Land. Where God stopped, they stopped. And where God moved, they moved. That's what I want. And if God isn't moving me there, then I won't move there. But if He is, and I do hope He is, then joyfully and obediently I will move forward.

We serve a God who far more than we can ask for and definitely far more than we deserve. And I firmly believe He will do something great in this. So I ask that you join me in prayer for the next 11 days I seek His face and His guidance. I ask you through prayer to be apart of this next journey with me.

May our hearts be filled with His unspeakable joy. May we not settle for normal, but instead strive for something greatly odd, seemingly peculiar, and all together Holy. 

Here are some pictures of when Michael and I wandered around Tremorfa for a bit in November.