Parents.

Within the last three weeks, as I vacationed first with my mom and then with my dad, I was reminded of what a beautiful life I live. I am blessed with parents who love the Lord, love each other, love me. I am reminded that though I am getting married, I will always be their daughter. 

What a delight. 

Africa And India.

I had another friend over for dinner tonight. Shannon, from the youth group. I made us rice, veggies, and chicken. Yummy.

We talked a lot about life - what she's facing as a senior in high school, what I'm facing as a young adult. Then (somehow) we started talking about India and Africa.

I loved those places. For different reasons.

Africa was about learning to love, learning to serve, learning to give.
India was about learning to trust, learning to depend on God, learning to be a friend.

Africa was cold.
India was very hot and humid.

Africa opened a door to my soul that I didn't even know was closed. A door I had been afraid to open, afraid of what may be behind it. But one look into Tahmee's eyes, one game of soccer with Sofanee, one late-night talk with Brianna, and there was no way I could close that door again.  That door to love.

India was about walking through that door. One foot in front of another, until I prayed at that hotel late at night, until we talked in the candlelight at the hostel, until I laid it all out on the rooftop. I learned to walk... and keep walking.

I don't know what's next. But as long as I keep that door open, and as long as I keep walking through it with the Lord, I know it will be Good.

Terrie.

Terrie is retiring. And really, that's quite a tragedy in my life.

Terrie hired me when I was in high school to work for the District filing papers in Payroll. And I helped with the AS400 to IFAS conversion. And did everything that no one else wanted to do. Ah, the summer of gluing and copying. (See posts from 2005 for more information)

Terrie was the one who, last fall when I was heartbroken, told me to "Buck up." Just like that, too. "Buck up, Melissa." I needed that, and she had the guts to tell me. I'm glad she did. I've thought about that a LOT since then.

Work will not be the same without her.

I like that she always does the right thing, even when it is hard. I like that she has high standards for everyone, but is realistic about what can and can't be done. I like that she gushes over her kitties and puppies.

I just like her. One and a half more days with Terrie and then... who knows?! Sad.

My Friend.

So. So. So much love for this girl. What a blessing, talking with her tonight.

My heart is full and the Lord is faithful.

Lord willing, I will even get to see her in a couple of months. Huzzah.

List Ten Things You Would Tell Your 16-Year-Old Self, If You Could.

- Watch the birds.

- Embrace life.  Stop thinking what others think and just be yourself.

- Don't date someone seriously your freshman year of college.

- Pray more.

- Don't lose your passion for the Lord - He is so good. 

- Write your Grandma more letters.  Few things are more important than that.

- Here's a head's up: You are going to go to Africa and fall in love with it.  Don't settle for a boy who doesn't love missions as much as you do because it ends in heartbreak.

- Don't be afraid of failing.  You won't be perfect at everything. 

- Work hard to graduate with honors - you won't regret it.

- But you will regret not making stronger friendships in college. Invest in those.

I'm Back.

I mean really, where has time gone? Halfway through May, and it seems like yesterday I was at Brad and Paige's for Christmas, or sitting in Starbucks having THAT conversation, or, or, or... I can say, "It seems like yesterday..." all I want, but really - yesterday was just another Friday. Work. Traveling to schools. Home. Time with parents. Meeting for the mission trip that's in less than three weeks. Life may go so quickly... so quickly that there's no time to blog or write or think or anything. Hardly time to just be. And then, when you do have time, it's like there's no place to start.

Radical.

I just finished reading “Radical” by David Platt. It took me about a month, from start to finish. I read it at work, thousands of miles in the sky, lounging in a chair in the California sunshine, and relaxing on my bed with fresh snow outside.

Talking to Grandma tonight, I mentioned wanting to move to Africa, to intern with KKI for six months. She asked if I want to do it long-term, that if I do, I’ll miss a lot of family stuff, that I probably won’t get married, that I’ll have cats instead. But you know – my heart has been in Africa since 2008. Three years now. Four, next summer. If I am to go to Africa, I will go, for however long the Lord allows me to stay. With or without a husband. With or without cats.

Because it comes down to this: The Lord is faithful. He is just and pure and His way is much higher than my way. He makes everything work for good, even things that seemingly threaten to throw my whole life off course and make me doubt everything. He works them for good.

If this, then…. And if that, then… And if I hadn’t, then…

He knows. God knows. He knows all those paths and He is leading me down the one that He has ordained since the beginning. And I get to walk it. No, I get to run it, straight into His arms at the end of the race. Along the way, I get to serve and lead and disciple and carry my cross. And there is no other way I want to live.

One of the most difficult things, however, is not having people my age here in Alaska with whom I can talk about this. Or maybe I do, but the topic is never breached. Like we’re all scared to go there, to cross that line and discuss something that really matters… like it makes us uncomfortable because it doesn’t follow the American Dream. For that reason, I really miss OBU and Senior Women Bible Study. I miss my roomies and my BFFFL and Sarah and my J-Man Sister, who was mostly another Oklahoma friend. A heart friend. I miss having a heart friend.

Pilgrimage.

I never really thought about Pilgrimage until last week. My Pastor’s wife and I are doing a Bible Study by Beth Moore called “Stepping Up.” I picked it from lifeway.com and somehow, I just knew it is the one we needed to do right now, just the two of us.

We are all on Pilgrimage. Every follower of Christ is on a pilgrimage to Zion, to our wedding feast with the King. We are following in the footsteps of those believers who walked before us and paving the way for the ones who will come after, but we all have to walk our own journey.

This study is based on the Psalms of the Ascent: 15 songs that are found toward the end of Psalms – Psalm 120-134 to be precise. Think of these songs as a playlist you load onto your iPod before a road-trip with friends: they are the songs Jews sang as they traveled to Jerusalem. And now, for me, they are the songs I will sing as I travel through this very dark and uncertain forest called… life. My Pilgrimage is very different than I thought it would be. But then, I suppose life is never quite what we think it will be.

Beth Moore quoted from a friend at the Simulcast a few weeks ago. Her friend said something along the lines of, “Life is scary right now and I don’t know what the future holds. But if feels as if I am surrounded by blank canvases and I get to paint beautiful colors all over them.” I’m almost there, to the excitement of painting on my blank canvases.

For the first time since about high school, I get to figure out me. That sounds funny. I get to discover who I am in Christ, what I really enjoy doing, the things I like to talk about and laugh at and explore. I bought a book by Doris Chan: “Crochet Lace Innovations.” (Be jealous.) I bid on a retro blue desk today. Soon I will reupholster a chair. I spent the last weekend in Washington with my lovely sister-in-law, who is more like a real sister than not. We shopped and watched movies and talked – oh, how we talked!

But the best part? My favorite thing to do right now? Be on my face, on the floor, as low as I can go, before the Lord. Usually my arms are tucked into my side, and usually I go between talking to Him and just… being with Him. I spent so much time the last week and a half feeling anxious, in tears, unable to eat. Before the Maker of Heaven and Earth is the one place where I felt whole again. And now, it is the best place to find rest for my soul.

Because the thing is, I can’t base my worships on NOW because NOW is always changing. And since NOW is always changing, I know I won’t be in this hard place forever. God has ordained this hard place since the beginning of time, when the angels first started singing. This hard place is proof that God has not accomplished His will in my life yet… if He had, I would already be in His presence in heaven. I would be done with this body and in my new one! I would hear Him singing on the throne as the angels and I worship Him. I have not made it to Zion. This is a hard trip. But I am not walking alone. Other travelers are with me – dear friends near and far…different friends, but dear ones nonetheless.

So there you go. Pilgrimage. I challenge you to read the Psalms of the Ascent this week – to find them and fall in love with them. To see them as the soundtrack to someone’s vacation, walking across the dessert, to the one place they really wanted to be: the Temple of the Living God. And see yourself in them: walking through this difficult season, anxious and excited to be on the other side of the mountain. As we walk together, please let me know how I can be lifting you up as I am laying down.

To The Person I Know That Is Going Through The Worst Of Times.

Dear friends at OBU,

PLEASE don't die in this snowstorm. I know, it is the worst of times. But you will survive. You will make it through the nearly week off of school, the playing in the snow, the hot chocolate and sledding. You are survivors. You're gonna make it. You are survivors. Keep on survivin'.

My advice? Play outside with friends. Take epic pictures. Dress really cutely. Chalk a wall. Make a snowman. Don't let this time pass you by because when it's gone, all you'll want is for it to come back. Trust me.

Go on an epic hunt for Frosty. Make a snowdog and put a leash on him. Make a snowangel army.

Praise God for the beauty around you, for digital cameras and internet, for warm boots and warm apartments/dorms.

And do your homework! Read. But don't stress over it.

Mostly, have fun and be creative.
Love,
Melissa

To The Person That Gave Me My Favorite Memory.

Dear Jordan, Hannah, Kyle, Daniel, and in a way, Steve,

So many of my favorite memories took place in India with you. Falling in poop on the way to dinner. Our cancelled flight home. Riding elephants in the rain. Dancing in that one village where they made fun of us. Being arrested. The power outage and sharing our stories. The Hindi Catholic service. "Seester! Seester! You from Amreeka?" Speaking French and Spanish to throw off their trail. The "Sister Discount." Gathering in the evening to share about our days.

But the story I love to tell most - more than any story in my life - is the story of when I wet the bed, and all your reactions to it.

We had stayed up late talking, playing Truth or Dare. And I fell asleep first. That was a mistake. I woke up a few hours later to a SOAKING wet bed, and 4 friends who were out cold, dead asleep. I had to climb over you to get to the bathroom to change. Then, asking each of you what happened. You didn't know what I was talking about.

Love, love.

There are not many people with whom I would be comfortable admitting that I wet the bed. But you -you are family, like it or not. I think I believe that you did not, in fact, pour water in my bed. But if it ever comes out that you did, I would laugh so hard, and still love you terribly with a big piece of my heart.

I miss you guys. A lot. I miss our laughing and singing together in the shower, and how Hannah slept in a sweatshirt every night, even though it was the middle of summer. And how we played Singing Nerts.

But wetting the bed. That was the best. The funniest.

You are the best - the funniest.
Thanks for being in my life, for making that memory MUCH less traumatizing than it could have been.

All My Love,
Melissa

To Someone Who Is Not In My State/Country.

Oh Em Gee.
I miss you, KK.

My sister from another mister. Sister from another mother, too. But soul sisters, too. That's sisters THREE times over. In. Credible.
I like that we were roomies and took beautiful pictures together our last night in VA. Hotties. Fo' Sho.
And I like that we were both in Oklahoma! So we could actually hang out and be friends! That was lovely.

You are such a beautiful woman. Inside and out. Your tenacity, humility, and ability to figure out that which is most important is so admirable. Thank you for being that friend in my life.

Also, thank you for coming to my goodbye breakfast and supporting me throughout that decision to come home.



i think that picture says it all.

Love,
Melissa!

To The Person I Miss The Most.

Hi friend.
BFFFL.
I miss you.

Remember that time we bought the matching hats at Target? It was fall and we wore them the whole way home, even though it was like 80 degrees outside. Jamming to Hannah Montana the whole time.

Ha, and remember when you came running to my room, pounded on the door, and grabbed my hand when I stumbled out of bed, having already fallen asleep? Only you.

Harvest Court. Mission Center. RA/Network role reversal.
I don't really know what else to say. You are important in my life and I miss you.
I appreciate you, and I hope you're doing well.

Love,
Melissa Louise.

To Someone I’ve Drifted Away From.

Side note: Why are all these subjects so sad?! I mean, come on. What about a letter to a leprechaun at the end of a rainbow??

Ah.
Hokay.
Hey Sarah.
We've drifted. Icebergs moving so slowly through the water that you don't even notice at first, the one day - BAM! You're gone. Funny how that happens.

I really looked up to you for so long. I still do, but now I don't even know you hardly. What are you doing? Where are you?
I wish I could plop down in your office, tell you about my life and a new funny story, then hear about what your kids are doing before I went on my way and you on yours. That was lovely, wasn't it?
I would love to see you in church again. I would hug your neck for an awkward amount of time. Is that okay?
I would tell you all about Chris and why I didn't move overseas and I would pray that you'd understand.

I would ask if you were mad at me.

And I would hope that one day, it would be like the olden days of us.

Love,
Melissa

To A Deceased Person I Wish I Could Talk To.

Dear Grandma,

I want to hear your stories. I want to know about your first date with Grandpa, how you fell in love with him, how he proposed.
I want to hear about how you worked as a nurse during World War 2 and all about living through the Great Depression.
I want to know what you thought when you found out Mom was expecting me, your first granddaughter.

I wish I could have back all those years that we spent at your house, bored out of our minds because it was a million degrees outside. Now, I would sit next to your feet, let you play with my hair, and listen. Just listen. Probably, actually, I would tape-record everything. I would ask you what your favorite memories are. What you regret the most. What your passions are.

I wish I knew, Grandma. I wish I knew.

Mom says you are in Heaven now. I look forward to seeing you again. Do you think we'll remember this life? Will you be able to answer my questions?

I love you, Grandma. THere's so much more I could say.
I'm sorry for not writing you back. But thank you for the letters and savings bonds. You always thought ahead. Thank you for sending school supplies, and picking out clothes for me, and loving me a LOT. I never doubt that you do. Did? I don't know. This whole death thing is... odd.

I think about you often. I am grateful for you. I love you.

Remember your 50th wedding anniversary? I didn't really think it was a big deal, back when I was in 4th grade, but I do now. And I love having that legacy in my family. We sat on the bed in the hotel room and looked at Molly. I had just gotten her for Christmas. Remember? That was nice.

And remember that time we sat in your living room, and looked through your photo albums? Chris and I did that last summer and I remembered some of the things you told me, like about the toilet paper you had to use in Europe that was waxy and FAILED at wiping appropriately.

And remember that time I counted all your Beanie Babies? You thought they were so cute. You would make Grandpa take you to McDonalds so you could get them in Kids' Meals.

Remember eating lunches together at your house? Chips, half a banana, sandwich. And getting our hair done. I would watch you paint on your eyebrows. Ha. I loved that. You hung my clay surfer head on your wall, the one I made in middle school art class. And our 5x7 school pictures.

Oh, Grandma. Come back. Please?

Love always,
Melissa

To My Best Friend.

Well, Hey Kimberly Louise and Hannie.

Crap.
I miss you. I feel like it's been so long.

I kind of feel lost without you, like I don't know where I fit in anywhere or with anyone. Like I need our inside jokes and weekly plans to be human. Loved.

And now that's gone.
It left me in crisis mode, floundering for the first time in years.

So, that's all.

Love,
Melissa.

The Meaning Of Chai.

While I was in Oregon, Grandpa asked me why I like chai so much. And I don’t know.

Maybe it is the memories associated with the drink more than anything else: preparations to go overseas; being in India with my family; early mornings in the apartment with light streaming in through the windows; singing on the street corner with hands outstretched; on break from driving to the Taj Mahal; after riding elephants in the rain; in countless houses; with whole milk, straight from the cow, and with no milk; then later, reunions in Amreeka.

Maybe I connect it with community.

Chai is relational. In India, you offer chai to any and every guest. It is the first thing you offer them when they enter your home. It is drunk with family everyday. To Indians, it is a means of showing hospitality, coming together and sharing one experience: a pot of chai. It forces you to slow down as you allow it to cool, swirling it in the cup with grace and ease, allowing the aroma and sight to overwhelm your senses. It ranges from red to light tan, can taste sweet or bitterly savory, but is always served in tiny little cups, half the size of American coffee mugs.

I can still remember distinct chai times, though I was in India over a year ago. Drinking it in the pink house, in the village with the curved stone paths, trailing between age-old houses, past water spigots, with the 100 year old woman. The villagers about had a riot trying to get us to come to each house. Then we walked along the train tracks. We saw shantytowns, small children who would peek out to see the foreigners, more piles of rubbish burning in the afternoon’s fading sun. It felt like we walked forever in the wrong direction, but we made it back to the town in short order. That was the town where we had the power outage and spent over an hour just talking in the complex that housed the evil monkeys and Jack Fruit trees.

Early morning chai was the best: 6:00am in Guwahati, Steve quietly saying good morning or simply waving hello, pointing to the kitchen where the ant hill was the size of a dinner plate. Love. We would stream into the kitchen one at a time, the guys always first, rubbing sleep from our eyes. One by one we would gather chai, our Bibles, and bowls of cereal, not talking much, but really just… savoring. Savoring the time before the horns became obnoxious, before it was too hot to do anything, before our J-Man helper arrived to interrupt our family life. Chai was our bonding agent – our glue. Even for Jordan who was lactose intolerant before the trip… but was not afterwards. Chai healed her. Well, God healed her. Chai was the avenue.

I only have chai with people I love – my India family, parents, Chris, Tuesday Night Preposition Club, Goers, and now my Grandparents. It symbolizes love, dedication, and a slowing-down of the pace of life. That is why I like chai.

The drink is good in and of itself. But the life associated with it is even better.

Grandma And Grandpa's.

What a nice, relaxing time with Grandma and Grandpa.
Their house always smells the same: like home and peace and love.

Grandma always cooks piles of food and Grandpa always watches Fox News.

And I always savor it.

Evenings, in the living room warmed with a wood stove, listening to their tales of living during WW2, when everything was rationed. The perils of falling in love and threats for current love. Challenges and joys and favorite vacations and how Grandma’s favorite color is blue and how Grandpa’s favorite accessory is belt-buckles.

Go back in time. Tape-record it all so that every moment becomes a part of history that is integral to my being. Integral to me being me, Melissa.

Looking through pictures and making more candy than we could ever eat. Driving Ethel June and spending minutes at the beach staring into tide pools. No star fish, but I saw an anemone. Being drizzled on and loving it.

Feeling soft rain on your skin is proof that you are alive and alert to new senses.

Tuesday Tribute.

To my BFFFL:

Who would I be without our weekly trips to B-Street? dancing in the car? shopping too much? cookies? butt punching?
Not me.

Kimberly Louise, your words of encouragement, endless knowledge of all Facebook happenings, and willingness to drive me around before I got a car bless me more than you know. Your love for the Lord and willingness to follow Him, no matter how hard the path may be, is a challenge to me to do the same. Serving with you at Mission Center, watching HSM1, 2, AND 3, and having dance parties made college so great.

You are great.

Thanks, BFFFL, for loving me, supporting me, and telling me to get a clue.

Love, Melissa Louise

Last Few Days.

Thursday
What a blessing-filled night!!
-"I'm so mad I could DANCE!"
-beautiful necklace and bracelet that are already providing assurance. "Have Faith" then... "Just because you have faith doesn't mean it will be easy."
-journal that is waiting to be filled with my words, thoughts, and emotions during some period of the next two years.
-encouragement from women at my church who serve a pivotal role in my life as role-models and mentors.

I am so blessed.


Friday
Then King David said to the whole assembly, “My son Solomon is young and inexperienced. The task is great because this palatial structure is not for man but for the LORD God.” 2 Chronicles 29:1

This task that I am fixing to start… ooh, it is great!

I have been rather selfish lately, concerned with building my own kingdom, wanting my own life and plans to be brought to fruition rather than His. When He showed me this, I felt great remorse and shame.

Who am I that I should claim to be greater, to know more, to be more important than the Most High God? My view of myself was severely disjointed. Praise the LORD that He is faithful still.

His kingdom must be greater. My desire to serve Him must be all encompassing. He must fill every crevice, every nook, every cranny of my life. And if He doesn’t, I will be ineffective.

I am young an inexperienced… the structure I am building is not for man, but for the LORD God. I have His spirit within me that will guide, comfort, and strengthen me. I must trust in that.


Saturday
Three words: Buzz Lightyear Dancing.


Sunday
Tonight is the first night I’ve felt really, deeply sad about the next stage of life, about leaving things, people, memories… everything I know.

Everyone reminds me that “this will be great!” and “the Lord will do great things!” and I know they’re right. I know they are. And I know that His plan is higher and better than mine. He has things in the works that are completely incomprehensible to me right now.

But this afternoon I went to a soccer game and said bye to a friend, one I won’t see for two years. He’ll get married in that time and do who knows what. He’ll probably move somewhere else. Other friends will be juniors and seniors in college when I get back. And that’s hard.

It’s hard realizing that Alaska does not cease to exist when I leave. I am the center of no one’s world (but my own, and far too often is that true). My parents will continue to work; friends will start school next month; winter and snow will come.

And I will not be here. Ha, I feel so emo right now. Funny – odd – how emotions and my view of the world can change so swiftly, so drastically… here today, gone tomorrow.

Chris and I decided to find a verse that encompasses our relationship, one to which we can cling when things are tense from being long distance. No final decisions yet on which verse it will be.

T-25 hours until take off to Virginia.

Update.

Less than one more month. Then, less than 3 and a half months.

I came up with this brilliant idea to redecorate my bedroom… why? I’ll be gone for two years. But alas. I painted, rearranged, and redecorated. It’s quite nice. Maybe I chose to do it because it’s like… closing one bedroom door and opening another. Except this door will be in South Asia.

I bought some more Darjeeling tea and have been making chai. Chris and I had some after his soccer game, then I just made some for Dad before he left for work. It tastes different every time since I’m just doing it from memory. My memory is a mixture of when Steve made it last summer and when he made it for the Go-ers Group.

I start work tomorrow. It has been SO nice to sleep in every morning, generally until 9:30am or 10:00am. But Mom and I report tomorrow around 7:30am. I will dress professionally, since there is a new superintendent and I have high hopes of being hired by the district in two years. Who knows if this dude will still be here, or if I will want to be here, but we’ll see.

“We’ll see.” That’s such an odd phrase. Growing up, my parents said it to me when they really wanted to say no to something I asked but didn’t quite want to crush my dreams. Ha. Now, I guess I say it because I really don’t know what’s going to happen. Which is exciting and epic and fantastic and so scary that I don’t know what to do. Besides that whole walk-by-faith thing.

Ha.

This has been a good week: painting, hiking in the fog, inventing horror stories, crocheting, midnight premieres, lunch at V-Ho, decorating my room. Mom and I are hanging out tonight. I feel as if I have not seen her in FOREVER.

I’m realizing more and more how I will miss my parents when I move. And not just my parents, or “my people” here, but… Alaska and life here. I have not seen the sun in WEEKS. (But really, I won’t miss that. I like the sun.) And at the same time, I’m realizing more and more how excited I am about the next step. Bright colored clothes contrasted with dirty buildings. Smells of spices and food wafting from street vendors. Chai on the streets. A flat with a girl I don’t know. Yet.

I want to learn to dance, to hang out with school children, to impact something bigger than myself. This is the time to do that. Twenty-two years old and not really tied down to anything...

Camping this weekend, for the 4th of July. When I typed “July” I thought “Whoo-lie” in my mind. The Spanish version of July? Ha. Seward with Han and Jade. Last time I was there was with Emily, and we bought Crab Hats. Oh, that was fun.