Compassion part 4: Yegele

Today is day #4 in a ten-day series showcasing three precious children who are waiting for a sponsor through Compassion International.

Yesterday, we met a soccer-loving seven-year-old named Egi who sleeps under a tin roof on one of the largest islands in Indonesia. (Click here to see his post!)

I love this quote by former president Nelson Mandela because it strips away any illusion that peace and security will come about naturally, all on its own.

"Safety and security don't just happen, they are the result of collective consensus and public investment. We owe our children, the most vulnerable citizens in our society, a life free from violence and fear."- Nelson Mandela, former President of South Africa

Every human is bent from birth toward evil and selfishness. It is the law of entropy, if you will--we will become worse, not better, if we simply follow our desires.

Because of this fact, no society will  become--or remain--safe and good without the strenuous efforts and thoughtful actions of men and women willing to put aside their own love of comfort and ease for the sake of those who are poor and oppressed.

Compassion International is one amazing channel through which collective consensus and personal investment are making a difference.

Wherever they operate, Compassion partners with local churches to provide critical resources to children and their families. Each child in the program is personally connected to a sponsor--a normal somebody who commits to investing in that child. This helps Compassion provide that child with medical care, food, tutoring, educational opportunities, and mentoring.

Today, meet Yegele!

Yegele has a much more worried look than a typical five year old should have. 

She lives in an area of Ethiopia heavily affected by HIV and AIDS. Other common health problems include tuberculosis and parasitic diseases. 

The city where she lives is large, with over 130,000 residents. The community has many modern amenities such as running water, electricity, telephone services and health centers, but sorely lacks schools, employment centers, and educational opportunities.

At the kindergarten she attends, Yegele loves to play house, and other group games with her friends. Yegele lives with her mother and one sibling, but there was no mention of her father on the profile card. The cryptic notes say her mom is sometimes employed as a day laborer, and most likely earns around $20 per month. 

As I have prayed for Yegele this week, my thoughts kept drifting to her mom. What is her story? I wonder what hopes fill her mind in the middle of the night for Yegele and her other child. Did she do Yegele's hair and help her pick out that white outfit for the picture taken at the development center?

I want to support Yegele!

Great! Yegele's starter packet is currently displayed in the lobby of Fellowship Church in College Station. If you live here in town, just stop by during office hours to pick it up. Please mail in the sponsorship information by September 30. 

If you live out of town, no worries! Just email me at cherise.castille[at]gmail[dot]com to send me your mailing address, and I will be happy to mail your packet to you. 

I can't sponsor right now, but how can I help?

Pray for Yegele. This moment, if you can. Pray that God will give her a sponsor soon. Pray for her health, Pray that she will be protected from abuse and disease. Pray for her family, her education, and her development. Most of all, pray that she will know God's love and give her life to him as her savior, letting him transform her from the inside out. 

Share this post! You never know whether your random Facebook friend is the one who is meant to build a life-long relationship with Yegele through sponsorship. 

Be an advocate. Compassion International needs our voices to connect thousands of children just like Yegele with people who have the funds and willingness to be their sponsors. Click here for more information. 

Just joining the conversation? Welcome! Here are links to the previous posts:

Compassion part 1: When you can't feed 100 children
Compassion part 2: Meet the kids!
Compassion part 3: Egi

Karis :: Birder, Giggler, Listener to Hearts

There is something very surreal about a younger sister getting married. I can only imagine what Mom and Dad must be feeling.

Then and Now overlap and tug at each other when I look at her so happy with him, and I can’t help but remember the last two decades and two.

After all, this was the little sister who swelled our mommy's belly while I was five and six—old enough to remember the conversations with Baby through her shirt while Daddy held the camcorder.

This was the baby who made me so proud because her crib was in my room. We played peekaboo in the glow of the night-light in defiance of bedtime because her giggle was the best sound in the world.

This was the munchkin with the long lashes and the shock of crazy hair that stood up straight like something electrified in our family Christmas picture.

This was the kid who got a broken collarbone because my concern for the “rules” overshadowed my concern for her. And then she forgave me and never seemed to remember that it was my fault.

This is the little roommate who lay under me in her bunk and asked me to tell her about Heaven. So I did, and I never knew until our twenties that those late-night whispered talks had led her to Jesus.

This is the comedian whose talent for voice impressions from movies makes us howl with laughter. I am still convinced that she could work for Disney and make millions.

This is the peacemaker, the tenderhearted friend of every left out and lonely girl in the lunchroom.

This is the bird-watcher, the giggler, the listener to hearts.

This is the little sister who has become a best friend, an equal, an example of love to me.

Baby sister, beautiful woman, I am standing with you. As you promise love to each other forever, I promise too.

I promise to always be your friend,
to always pray for you and Mark,
to always be a loving aunt to your future babies,
and to always be your sister in every sense of the word.

Italy this year looks different

I *almost* posted this Wednesday, but it was the first of April, and the common wisdom says that nothing posted on April Fools Day should be trusted as fact.

I wanted you to believe me when I tell you this.

After much prayer and thought, I have decided to remain state-side this year while my husband goes back to Milan in May.

To explain why, let me tell you the story.

Around November, as I was praying for my friends in Italy and for the coming mission trip, I felt a hesitancy that was as unexpected as it was strong. Why does this year feel different? I wondered.

 The following week, my beautiful younger sister got a sparkling rock on her left hand. A wedding was quickly set for June. Only a few short weeks later, my other sister and her husband welcomed a sweet baby girl to our family. In our close-knit clan, babies and weddings are all-hands-on-deck affairs--a chance to pour love through action and presence.

I was torn. On the one hand, I could not wait to see my friends in Milan. I longed to grieve with the church there over the recent death of one of the missionaries, to continue the conversations about life and Jesus with those I met in the last three years, and to feel the joy of serving alongside my husband in a place we've both come to love.

On the other hand was a growing desire to grasp these momentous moments with my sisters. But it felt almost selfish to consider choosing family over a mission trip.

There was not enough vacation for both.

However, as I prayed, I became convinced that loving my sisters and their families was this year's mission. And, as I realized several years ago, even spiritual things like a mission trip overseas can be downright disobedient if the Lord is asking me to do something else.

So while it feels odd to reach March without a flurry of support-raising, I am filled with peace. When I get home and see the coffee cups from an Italy meeting cluttering the countertop by the sink, I smile, knowing that God has hand-picked these seven volunteers. It is a good team, and they will succeed.

And that's not all.

God has been dropping ideas into the now-peaceful pool of my heart. Each one sends excited ripples to the very edges of me until I can hardly sit still! I may be here, an ocean away from the team for two weeks, but those two weeks have a purpose. The purpose is slowly forming into a plan, but that will have to wait until the next post. :)

Stay tuned! 

Another sister is spoken for!

My last big announcement on the blog happened in August when I shared the news that my sister, Sharon, and her husband are expecting a sweet new baby in January. (Click here to see the adorable way they told our parents!)

Now, I have more exciting news...

MY SISTER, KARIS, IS ENGAGED!!!!

I'm honestly not sure which is making me smile more--my happiness for her happiness, or my excitement over gaining this guy as a brother! Mark is an amazing dude, and I can't imagine a better man for my little sister.

He had reserved a wing of a museum they loved. He had pulled all the strings, set all the details, asked my dad's blessing, and kept her completely in the dark through the months of planning.

When she walked in, their favorite song was playing, and a collection of easels set in a semi-circle proclaimed "I love you, and always will."

Between the easels was a table topped with a Bible flipped open to their favorite verse, a picture of the two of them, and a basket shaped like a bird's nest containing the most beautiful little ring.

Did I mention that she loves birds? *swoon*

When he knelt to propose, the music was too loud for her to hear well, so they both ended up on their knees, face to face, tearfully hugging after he slipped the ring on her hand.

Mark's little brother captured the whole thing on video! (When I watched it at work for the first time, I was ambushed by tears of happiness. So if you cry easily like me, consider yourself forewarned.)

They haven't set a date yet, but I'm sure they won't wait long! 

Five minute Friday:: Care

This month has spun past full and fast. Some months are like that--each day so brim-full of people and conversation and work and weekends busier than the weeks between that you can barely catch your breath. 

I crave the process of writing like a runner craves the road. I feel so thankful that I finally get the chance to sit for five minutes on this Friday night and pin down meaning with these keys. I'm grateful to Kate for faithfully hosting this writer's party each week, even though I know her month might have been as full as mine. 

Tonight the prompt is CARE. And if you have no clue what's going on, head on over here to check out what Five Minute Friday is all about! 

{CARE}

An open letter to the woman with the 101-year-old mother:

Today you tipped a little while in my direction and spilled out some of your story. I felt honored that you would tell me, the girl a half century behind you in wisdom.

You told how she came to live with you this summer. How her house sits empty in Ohio with no one to cut the grass. How the sister in another state was caring for her, but now it’s your turn and you feel like there are days it’s just simply too. Much.

You told how she was a rock for your family, caring for your handicapped brother until even his hair was gray and he fell. Your mouth pulled in at the memory, and I thought how painful it would be to lose a brother. I told you so, and your eyes grew glossy.

You told how exhausting it is now, how you were unprepared to physically lift the woman who carried you as a child.

I don’t know what it’s like, but thank you. Thank you for caring. Thank you for dying to self for the sake of the dying. Thank you for making her breakfast each day, making her bed, making her smile.

We—the self-absorbed, the media-glutted, the youth-obsessed—we desperately need your example. We need to see love in action that is not flashy, not instagrammed, not applauded. We need to know that it’s possible to love our parents this way so that when the day comes, we will have the courage to care too. 

My sister's secret is out!

I've been itching to blog this news for what feels like forever, but it wasn't my secret to tell. However, now that the real owners of the secret have put the news on facebook, I can tell the world that...

MY SISTER, SHARON, IS HAVING A BABY!!

**Cue the flash mob dancing, fireworks and other means of extravagant celebration!!**

Sometime shortly after Christmas, she and my brother-in-law will welcome a new little Someone, and all of us are thrilled! It's grandchild #14 for his parents, but for mine, it's #1!

Every grandchild will be special of course, but this one, by simply being first, gives each of us a new label.

Mom is now also Grandma.
Dad becomes Abuelo.
We three sisters are suddenly Aunties. (I became an instant aunt to the most adorable kids on the planet when I married hubby, but now I'll be an Auntie on both sides!)

Being the creative genius that she is, my sister came up with an adorable way to announce the pregnancy. Mom had been wanting a photo album of their wedding pictures for several years, so my sister created the books for both sets of parents and then placed a small card in the pocket in the back cover.

The front of the card said, "The adventure continues..."

...and here is what they saw on the inside!

My brother-in-law secretly caught their reactions on video, and it's absolutely priceless. Enjoy!

Book Review::Surprised by Motherhood

I am not a mother, but odds are I will be someday.

 

Someday my fridge will be covered with crayon masterpieces, my walls with jelly stains, and my floors with cheerios. Someday hubby and I will be entrusted with one or more miniature humans and I know deep in my gut that our lives will never be the same.  

 

Honestly, it’s terrifying.

 

Even though I love children.

Even though I get wistful over the soft curls of my friend's kids.

Even though I pray for the ones who will someday look like me and my husband.

Change has just never been my favorite, and the knowledge that two little pink lines will one day change absolutely everything--well, it scares the bejeezus out of me.

 

When that day comes, I will be so thankful for moms like Lisa-Jo and brave, hope-filled words like hers that come straight from the trenches. Which is why...I'm unashamedly doing my very first book review/promo for her!

 

Surprised by Motherhood reads like a heartfelt conversation on the couch with the author, a girl from South Africa who married a "cowboy-green eyed" man from the Northwest on the firm understanding that she would never bear his children. Ten years and three kids later, she bravely bares her heart and invites you into the messy, hilarious journey all laced with truth and wild hope.

 

 

She writes for you mommies. You, the ones who feel caught on the exhausting treadmill of life wondering, "will things ever slow down?" She believes you deserve a super-hero cape and a cheering squad and she's volunteering to wave pom-poms for you.

 

"I would throw away most of the parenting books that made me feel like I was somehow failing this most important test of womanhood—being a mother. I’d throw out the advice about what I was doing wrong or should be doing differently or should aspire to be doing. I’d just revel in the daily, sleep-deprived merry-go-round and eat a lot more chocolate cake.(p. x)"

 

She puts it this way:

This isn’t a “how-to” book, it’s simply my “you can” story.

 

She writes for you daughters too, especially for those who feel the absence of their mothers. When she was entering high school, her own mom was entering a hospital. Now, more than eighteen years after her mother's death, Lisa-Jo understands the pain of working through the unsaid, the unexplained. Whether the absence is literal or emotional, the wounds are real and she offers her own journey in all its confusion and healing.

 

She also writes for the not-yet mommies and someday mommies, the ones of us who need someone to say, "I was scared too. Yes, it's hard--but it's glorious and beautiful and worth it."

 

“Parenting is not for the faint of heart. And it’s especially not for those type A personalities accustomed to having all their ducks in a row, all their check boxes checked, and their sofa cushions, cereal boxes, and entire lives neatly arranged.” (p. 4)

 

  It doesn't hurt that she is type-A like me. Just an added layer of commonality to make me believe dying to self in the area of perfection might actually be possible.

Grab the first three chapters here for free!

Less than two months away!

The excitement has been slowly building in my heart since January, when our letters were signed and sent. Part of me still can't believe that we are actually returning to Milan! (Click here for last year's post on returning...it's still a true expression of how we feel to be going back!)

In case you're new to the blog, or just need a reminder, here's what's going on:

Our church has linked arms in partnership with a tiny, brave church plant in Milan, Italy. Like us, they focus their ministry on the college students at a local university. Also like us, they are passionate about discipleship.

This was our team with the students last year on an excursion. Such a fun day! Hubby and I are front, left.  

Each year, we send a team of students to encourage and help this church by putting together fun, interactive English Clubs for the students of Bicocca University. The clubs provide a great setting to meet students and build relationships.

We love the fact that we stay for two full weeks! That second week gives time for trust to form and conversations to go beyond the surface.

For many young people in Italy's post-Christian secularism, broken homes and shallow relationships are the norm. Knowing this, my husband and I have tried to text and Facebook our Italian friends throughout the year. Going back to the team and to our Italian friends--well, it's a bit like a family reunion.

Even though support raising is far from complete, my heart is full to bursting right now with thanks for friends like you who give to make it possible for us to return!

By our returning we tell the Italian students that they are more than a two-week project. The returning lends weight, not only to the friendships, but also to the declaration that Jesus is just as real and alive and life-changing as the first time we told them.

Never underestimate the power of persistent love. My own heart is proof that it can soften, redeem, transform.

Will you help us return? Click here for Fellowship Church's secure giving site.
**NOTE: please put "Castille Italy Mission" in the comment box before clicking "submit". This helps your gift go to the right place.

Will you pray?
Mark the dates for our trip in your phone calendar! (May 11-25)

• Pray for hearts to be open to the love of Jesus.
• Pray for us to be humble.
• Pray for courage and cultural sensitivity.
• Pray for Frank, Pam, Stacy, and Debbie--the long-term missionaries in Milan.
• Pray for every team member to reach their support goal by April 11.
• Most of all, pray for God's name to be famous and lifted high.

 

Double Dipping

This fall, JC and I are taking a scandalous, groundbreaking step. We feel like rebels, cheating the system. It's so revolutionary that it just might start a trend. It's the thing your mom always frowned upon when she made chips and salsa or put out the ranch dip for veggies.

Yes--we are double dipping. But not in the salsa.

Instead of attending only the student homegroup, this semester we are also joining the homegroup for young, graduated adults. Appropriately named Segue ("SEG-way") because of the transitional stage of life in which most of the members find themselves, this homegroup has a mix of grad students, recent grads who are working locally, and even a few married couples.

But we've always loved Avalanche, our student homegroup. Everyone in it, from freshmen to super-seniors is a precious friend. We love the worship, the discussion, and the goofy, fun times. Why double dip?

One reason is that, at age 31 and 25, we are feeling the age gap a teensy bit. I've read that the stage between age 18 and age 24 is formative, which means that it is chock-full of change and transition. When I got to college I was single, almost always broke, still very connected to my family, and my greatest sources of stress were homework (ohhhh the homework!) and paying for gas. Now, half a decade later, I am married, have a full time job, and my evenings are filled with people, not papers. It's just different.

Also, as I've mentioned in earlier posts, saying goodbye each year to friends as they graduate has been difficult for me.  Many wise people in my life have counseled me to form friendships with people who are planning to stick around for a while.

The final reason is the most powerful for me. We want to follow the same model of discipleship that Paul gave his young friend, Timothy in the time of the early church. It is a model of balance. We need to surround ourselves not only with young believers, but also with peers and mentors so that we continue to be challenged and encouraged toward maturity. If we stagnate, it will end up being a bad thing not only for us, but for the younger believers who see us as leaders.

I'm learning that I am responsible for my spiritual health. Sometimes this means I must be proactive, even slightly aggressive in the changes I am willing to make.

If you, like me, have been feeling out of balance lately, ask Jesus and some wise friends. Maybe double dipping is a good idea for you too. 

Goodbye, Suite 140

A friend asked me the other night how I've been doing lately.
"In a nutshell?" I hesitated, looking for the right word. "It's a season of transition."

I'm pretty sure she couldn't guess just how much transition was packed behind that little sentence.

I know I already blogged today about last week's planning retreat, but today is a red-letter day! Today I said goodbye to a job that has been a constant in my life for the past two and a half years, and I'm feeling the need to commemorate the closing of such a significant chapter.

I admired L.E.'s sassy, purple-hued bangs next to me as I explained things from my seat at her side, and realized, with a nostalgic twinge, that this was the last time. I held another co-worker's baby, and thought "well, this won't happen very often at the new job." I snagged a hug from Neva as she walked by on the way to the copier, and took a moment to savor the closeness we've built over the past few years.

This is the job I took as a green, insecure 22-year old whose only experience with Excel was in her high school computer class five years earlier. At that ancient gray steel desk I learned how a corporate budget operates and developed the perseverance necessary to not give up when that same budget simply WOULD NOT make sense. I've learned the quirks of all four pastors, and the soda preferences of every one of the staff. I've learned that prayer really does help computers/printers/copiers function when all hope is lost. I've learned never to take an administrator for granted; without them, nothing can function! And I've learned that there is grace for the mistakes I will inevitably make.

All day long, I was feeling thankful for the experience of working alongside people who really follow Jesus, not just with their words but in the way they walk down the hall and interact with people. So many of them came by the desk just to say "congrats!" and give a hug.

And then they threw me a little goodbye party! I felt so loved.

Goodbye, church office. It has truly been wonderful. 

Please be praying for L.E. as she takes over a challenging position, and for me as I dive into this new season. New job, here I come!

Staff Retreating

Q: What were 90 of our church leaders doing at a dusty retreat center last week?
A: The annual Staff Retreat!

Let me give fair warning: the word "retreat" is misleading. While we do go to a camp location outside of town with bunkhouses and a dining hall, it's more accurately thought of as a boot camp--a boot camp of meetings. Along with our pastors and full-time staff, about seventy student leaders show up to pray, seriously evaluate their personal lives and their small groups, and make concrete plans that will direct them in the coming year.

My first retreat was in the fall of 2009. I was a rookie leader, scared to death by the intensity of holding my life under the microscope, but amazed that over seventy people would take leadership so seriously.

Like most Americans, I had spent half an hour every year--maybe--on those doomed goals that everyone makes the night before the January 1st. But really, aren't those more like wishes? I resolve (hope/wish) to lose ten pounds. I resolve (hope/wish) to be more patient. But here I was, spending an entire week making goals that actually seemed...attainable. Wow, what a concept.

Now, 3 retreats later, I find that the time spent in planning on this retreat is one of the most valuable things I do all year. Ok, ok, it could always be MORE valuable (for instance, if I actually reviewed those goals on a regular basis), but at least the process of taking a good hard look at my habits, attitudes, and goals doesn't crush me into a pile of weepy tissues like it did in '09.

Last week, seeing my flaws was not painful, but honest. I'm not a failure; I'm a forgiven work in progress. And now I feel encouraged, inspired to approach the challenging fall ahead with some fresh perspective.

I know that the goals I made are still too ambitious for me to do on my lonesome. But that realization is healthy because it leads me to the One who never gets tired, burnt out, or discouraged.

Identity and my Job Search

If you know me, you'll be excited about this news! If you don't, maybe you'll at least be encouraged by what God is teaching me about his goodness.

When I got back to hot and humid Texas three weeks ago, I leaped headlong into the job search with all the intensity and drive of an Olympic swimmer. Translated, this means I came home each night from training my replacement at my part time job, perched on the couch with laptop and a bowl of dinner, and systematically searched and applied for any opening that remotely interested me.

For hours.

I edited cover letter and resume for each application. I kept detailed files of everything I sent. I even took copies of said cover letters and resumes to the taupe-colored offices in person, just to give it a personal touch. There were blisters on my feet from the flats I wore that day, but I didn't mind. And as you might have noticed, I hardly blogged. The computer was otherwise employed.

I was serious, and I was eager for the job market to take me seriously.

This employment hunt reminded me of my research papers in college.The harder I searched, the more blisters I acquired, and the less I slept, the more likely I would be to find a job, right? The underlying assumption was this: the grade depends on me. 

Then, about two weeks ago, I was at work, training my replacement in the art of balancing bank statements. Except...they wouldn't balance. I dialed our bank, and C___ answered. We've had a great working relationship for years now, ever since I started handling the finances for our church over two years ago.

"How's your summer been?" she asked. "Great! I've been in Colorado, and now I'm job hunting." I paused, and on a whim went on: "Are you guys hiring?"

"Actually," she said, "we are! Go online and apply, and make sure you put my name on it."

I sat across from them in an interview four days later. Two days after that, they called to offer me a full-time position at the bank!  Not a single employer had responded from any of my hard, Olympian work in the previous two weeks. But here, without me hardly lifting a little finger, God had dropped an offer into my lap.

But I have a hard time with easy gifts. They feel too easy. This whole week, my mind has spun with doubts.  I wondered if God wanted to encourage me with the offer, but wanted me to hold out for something ideal, something awesome and exciting. Would I feel trapped, doing something that didn't involve writing, teaching, or children? What if I got stuck there for twenty years! And what if the "ideal "job was waiting just one or two weeks away? What if's are torturous.

And then a friend tweeted a cool quote about identity that stopped my "what ifs" in mid stride:

We have been conditioned to find our identity in what we do. However, Scripture tells us that we are children of God adopted through the grace of Christ, through whom we derive our identity. My identity is not what I do; I do out of my identity. - Brad House

This reminder of truth was like salve to my heart. I'm not an actress, who, when she chooses a role as a ditz, will never be cast as anything else. I am also not living in Huxley's dystopia, where I was bred for one thing, and one thing only. My role simply does not equate to my identity. It doesn't come from my performance or my job title, or anything else self-generated. Instead, my identity rests in the fact that I am created, loved, and forgiven by the only One whose opinion matters.

If you know me, you'll know this is a familiar refrain. How many layers of performance-driven identity will Jesus have to peel away before I rest in Him? I'm not sure, but it's really reassuring to know His persistent love doesn't fail, even if I do.

So, long story short, I took the job.

I'm resting in the truth that it doesn't define me, limit me, or make me. Instead, at least for now, it is a good gift from a good Father who takes good care of me and my heart. 

Light hearted

My eyes are heavy, but my heart is feeling lighter than it has felt in weeks!

Part of the lightness is due to the fact that I am now a FORMER student of Texas A&M University. Yes, by the grace of God, I am done with my college degree!

As we fluttered down the hallway in our polyester robes and tassels and rounded the corner, the huge, humming stadium opened to receive us. The girl beside me gasped. "Ohmygosh--this is happening!" It reminded me a little of the moment before I walked down the aisle at my wedding.  It was certainly less emotional, but there was the same sense of moment--that I was living my own history.

My diploma!

On stage, I gave our President a high five instead of shaking his hand. This was partially because he begged the 7,000 of us to be merciful with his poor overworked hand-shaking fingers, and partially because a high five is so much more celebratory than a handshake. :)

Afterward, there were hugs and pictures and playing with the diploma tube (because apparently it makes an amazing sound if opened fast), and then my families came together to celebrate.

Seriously, I love having two families through marriage! Each is so unique and beautiful, and I felt so incredibly loved to be surrounded by all of them. Sweet, generous friends came too, offering their hugs and conversation and time and gifts to the beautiful mix until the ice cream was melting and the windows were dark.

But the lightness I feel doesn't only come from relief at being finished with a difficult season of school. It doesn't even come from being done with work for a little while, (although that is VERY welcome!) It came softly, gradually, as a different kind of weight was lifted.

To be honest, I've been more than physically tired. I've been soul-beat these days. I told Jesus, "I know you're good", but it came out more as a challenge than a statement of glad fact. I've been afraid of failing at this new season of life, terrified that friendships will flake away or that I'll spend myself into a shred of perfectionism even when there are no teachers to give grades.

But today, God told me that He is taking care of me.

As my family prayed for hubby and I, I got a picture in my head of my joyful Savior.
His face was glowing like a parent who just can't WAIT to give his child a gift, or like a master chef who was about to excitedly unveil his masterpiece to dinner guests. He was spreading a table with sparkling linen and sweet drinks and cakes and roasted turkeys and anything delicious you can imagine-all of it appearing on a bare table like a magical scene from Narnia. And all of it--amazingly--for me.

Seeing God that way melted my heart. I often subconsciously weigh myself down with standards and rules and expectations. I begin believing that God is distant until I am perfect, as if I could earn his love.

How far from the truth! Grace is undeserved by definition. If I could earn His love, it wouldn't be grace. My true "job", if it can be called a job, is to believe and receive.

²⁹ Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” - Jesus (Matthew 11:29-30)

"Mal De Debarquement"

I know I'm not the only one who's felt it: that sense that you’re still jolting, falling, vibrating or swaying even while you know you’ve stopped.

I’m having flashbacks to Velcro light-up shoes and sleepy car rides home. Orange streetlights flick by my window in rapid succession, reminding me of the giddy, whirling displays we just left. The glass is cool against my forehead. 

My sister spills her cheerios between the seats as her head nods drowsily.  

She looks sunburned.

I close my eyes too and at that moment the motion of the car tricks my senses—suddenly I am back in the red molded seat, hurtling down the polished track toward a sharp downward turn into nowhere.

 My stomach hovers, suspended—then down! The vibrations of our Toyota become a roaring clatter, and my insides lift themselves delightfully at every small pothole.

There is actually a fancy medical name for this condition: ‘mal de debarquement’. In other words, ‘illness of disembarkation’, or feeling unwell when you get off a boat. For us non-sailors, insert the word “rollercoaster”.

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the best description I have of today. 

This morning, at 9:36 am, I disembarked from that crazy ride known as American Education. I conjugated my last pluperfect subjunctive, turned in my test with a grin, and walked out of there lighter than air. 

But when I close my eyes, I trick myself into thinking there is another paper, another test, another class next semester. I think it's going to take a while to get used to this new pace of life, especially since I'm not exactly settling into a routine. 

Graduation is Friday. Mission trip to Italy on Sunday. Driving to Colorado two weeks later, only to fly back home for job-hunting adventures and friend's weddings. This new ride sounds awesome to me!

But I'm not so sure I've left Academia behind for good...maybe I'll go back for another ride someday. :)

Last Day of Class

Ok, people, sappy alert! If you hate that kind of stuff, click away now, because I'm a girl who needs to process some stuff.

Everyday view on campus

My last log-in at the library on campus

I just went back and re-read my first post, back in January when this semester had barely begun. Even then I felt the nostalgia pressing on the edges of my thoughts, the calendar already running faster toward graduation than I wanted it to.

This whole semester has felt like the final chapter of a great book. You don't want the book to end, but the more invested you are in the story, the faster the pages turn under your thumb. Suddenly you realize that the characters you've grown to love are only two or three sheets of pressed tree pulp from being put back on the shelf.

I know that the sequel will be good, but seriously...why is change so hard?

Sitting in my last class, 4/26/12

Yesterday was THE LAST day of class for my entire undergraduate career.

My teachers were so cute. They all tried, in various ways, to delay the end of class, to put off the coming closure. I will sincerely miss their lectures.  My profs have all been great, but I had some real gems this spring. (Click here for some hilarious proof.)

I wish I could say I savored yesterday fully, soaked up buckets of fun memories and felt only joy and relief, but the main thing I felt was

profound...

exhaustion. 

I used to scoff, but now I'm a believer: senioritis is a real, honest-to-goodness disease, and sister, I've got it BAD. My eyes are sagging with lack of sleep, and my motivation is sagging even worse. I told Hubby that I wanted to hibernate like a bear  and then wake up in two weeks to get my diploma. He laughed at me, but I know he understood.

But then, after an exhausting last day, we went to the last homegroup meeting. :)

Fifteen of us sat, knees and elbows crammed into the small space filled with friends. As the room swelled with the sound of our worship, my shoulders untwisted and my heart calmed. Jesus was there, in the room with us, and nothing else--not my tiredness or the papers I had to write, or my million other worries--were as important as Him.

We drank purple juice and ate pinches of bread from a chewy loaf as we remembered His deep love. The love that never runs out, never gets tired.

We each shared the things God has been teaching us this semester, and to hear the recitation was to worship all over again!  It was beautiful to see and hear what He is doing in all of us: teaching us patience, getting us out of addictive behavior, bringing us out of depression or control-freak tendencies or co-dependent relationships.

Then--the best moment! Almost-graduates, like me, sat in the middle while the rest crowded around and hugged us as they thanked God for us and prayed for us. Under my arm, I could feel Kerri's shoulders move with silent tears.

I could cry happy tears now for the ways that God has been so faithful!

But now I really REALLY need to sleep.  G'night and gig'em!

Italy update

Today I realized that some of you are probably wondering...is that Italy trip thing still happening? Haven't heard about it in a while...

I’m afraid that this is one area in which the blogosphere has been getting the short end of the breadstick, simply because our Italy facebook group has been a much more convenient place to post updates.

But today I have news—news that not even facebook has seen! (Drumroll, please…)

It looks like once all promised money arrives, I will have all the funds necessary for the trip!

Only two days ago, I lacked over $400—a seemingly impossible sum after weeks and weeks of an achingly slow trickle of support.  I was still asking God to provide, still telling him that I believed He could do it, but… my confidence was starting to mirror the puniness of the money coming in instead of the bigness of the God I was talking to. 

So often I focus on the problem instead of on the One who can solve it.

I only realized I had been doubting when He suddenly answered...and I was surprised.

I got a facebook message.

Then a phone call.

Then an envelope under my windshield, stuffed with cash. (No idea how long it had been there before I saw it on my way to work!)

I feel so humbled, knowing that God was able—and willing—to provide it the whole time.

Update #2: Our team membership has shifted!

Originally, our team included two from beyond the borders of the USA: a young man from Hong Kong, and a sweet young woman from Mexico. Since then, difficulties in raising support from across the world have caused our Asian teammate to make different plans, trusting that God has something better in mind for him during those two weeks.

Karla, our lovely Latina, is still Italy-bound, but her funding levels continue to lag far behind the rest of us. The trip is especially important for her, because she is strongly considering joining the Italian team on a long-term basis. In many ways, this initial trip with our team is a scouting trip, allowing her to form a more accurate picture of life in Italy.

If you would like to help her with her trip costs, you can use this secure PayPayl link.

Because fundraising is so crucial to getting there, (free plane tickets, anyone? J) it might seem from Facebook and the above discussion that nothing else matters. Wrong!

The center, the hub, the real pit of this peach is this: God is passionate for people everywhere.

His heart breaks for people whether they live in dorms or drug allys, in houses or hostels, in suburbs or in slums. He knows them individually, intimately, internally—better than they know themselves. He died for them. He loves them. And only he is powerful enough to provide purpose in pain, security in insecurity, and forgiveness for secret sins.

But so many of them don’t know him.

As a team, we are praying on a weekly basis, asking God to give us cultural sensitivity to the Italian students and a real attitude of humility when we go. We want to be learners and guests first. 

Then, when we get the chance to tell how Jesus changed us, they will know that it’s not a sales pitch—it’s for real.

Lest I give the impression that the Castille family couldn't use any more help for the trip, hubby still has about $700 lacking for his trip costs. Anything that doesn't come in through gifts will come out of our savings...and while I'm thankful that we DO have enough to cover it, we would also welcome help if God leads you! 

Choosing Excitement!

So much is poised to happen in the next 40 days.


1. I will somehow finish my three classes, including a slew of GARGANTUAN research papers.


2. Our student homegroup will wind down for the semester. *tear*


3. I will train someone for the parts of my job that I can't do from Colorado.


4. We will FIND someone to do my job over the summer (probably should have mentioned that one first!)


5. I will fine-tune my resume. (Anyone feel talented in this area? I'm not above asking for help...see, I'm asking now. :) )


6. I will graduate!


7. We will fly to Milan, Italy, to show the love of Jesus to students for two weeks.




Whew! I am choosing to feel excitement instead of feeling overwhelmed. Trusting instead of fearing.
I know that even though I may have moments when I'm dead-tired in the next 40 days, I belong to the One who couldn't be conquered by death.


He restores my heart daily, and I know it's gonna be a great ride!

...Oh, praise the One who

paid my debt

and raised this life up from the grave!...

Beautiful beginnings

I really don’t know how to condense my happiness for my friends into words! I’m sitting in a coffee shop, surrounded by people, and I can’t stop smiling. If they look up from their iphones long enough to see, they will probably wonder why.

The reason is because three of my friends experienced significant, beautiful, life-altering beginnings this weekend.

One of these earth-shattering changes occurred at my kitchen table.  

Four of us were sitting, eating pancakes, maple syrup and fresh strawberries as we discussed God. What if He asked you, “why should I let you into Heaven?” What would you say to Him, I asked, if you were standing in front of him?

As we talked, I illustrated on a rectangle of paper between us. The themes of holiness, lawbreaking, and an uncrossable divide were discussed and scrawled, and I saw understanding light up her face.

I told her a piece of my story. About the perfectionism that ruled me, guilted me, and tortured me with feelings of inadequacy as a little girl. About how I simultaneously thought I was better than others, full of pride, unwilling to listen to corrections. And then—amazing! How I learned that Jesus was perfect when I was not. How I learned that he—the perfect one—had been humble, paying the death penalty I owed.

In full.

And there, at the kitchen table, my friend gave her life to Jesus because He had given himself for her. I don’t even know if she realized the HUGENESS of what had happened in her at that moment! It was as earth-shattering as if King Tut’s mummy had suddenly come back to life.

The second beautiful change occurred the next day, my two friends standing hand in hand in the colored light filtering in through the stained glass of the church.

Her father officiated, and I heard his voice tremble with unreleased tears. We all sat as witnesses, alternately laughing at the groom’s hilarious facial expressions and crying at the purity of the moment, the beauty of the bride.

One change occurred at my kitchen table; the other under the vaulted roof of a church.

All three friends made life-altering verbal commitments: the first to God, and the second to each other. Both resulted in something completely new, something beautiful, something that had never existed before. 

And I am so excited for all of them! :)