FMF {Five Minute Friday}: Break

I know it's already Saturday, but I'm jumping in with the FMF crowd! In case you're not in the loop, Five Minute Friday is a community of bloggers who come together each week to write like crazy for five wild, unedited minutes on a single prompt. This week, the prompt is "Break".

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I love being with people, even crowds. Six people spending the night? Woohoo!

I also love times of silence when I can just chill and think and organize that hall closet. Yes, I'm weird. 

Because of this tension, I've never been able to decide whether I'm an outgoing introvert or a downtime-loving extrovert. Regardless, I often fee a twinge of unease when I see a full calendar. Even if all the things on it are good, something in me starts gasping for air prematurely, and any little blank spaces suddenly seem very precious. If I'm not careful, I can become a downright miserly creature who hoards scraps of time like a dragon hoards gold.

Last week was Spring Break, and as a staff member at the university I got three glorious days off from work. #perksofworkingforacademia

In case you don't know him, I'm married to an extremely extroverted I-wanna-be-where-the-people-are type of man (cue Little Mermaid). When he began filling our tiny break to the brim with appointments and brunches and last-minute hangouts, I started to wonder if I would need a vacation after the vacation.

Dear God, I prayed, please help me not to be a blank space miser. I give you the time--you take care of me. 

Those three days turned out to be some of the most refreshing, fun days we've enjoyed in months!

We looked at dinosaur bones and butterflies at the Houston Museum of Natural Science.

We laughed until our abs ached with old friends.

We feasted at the Cheesecake Factory with my mother-in-love.

We played Phase 10 until after bedtime, and I didn't even care that I came in last place.

We caught up with precious old friends whose baby is now old enough to look up elephant pictures on my phone (how did he get so big??????)

Then--this was the whole reason we went to H-town to start with--we spent a delightful rainy afternoon celebrating one of my dearest friends at her baby shower.

Finally, my Dallas-bound family caravanned back to our place for the night. (There's that 6-person sleepover!)

Oh, and my new favorite thing to do is make my beautiful niece laugh. Click here to see how much she's grown in two months! 

P.S. I just realized that we went to the Cheesecake Factory on our last Spring Break too. It's actually a crazy coincidence, since we don't have one within one hundred miles of our house. Maybe we'll make a new tradition?

Five Minute Friday:: Belong

One of my favorite bloggers, Lisa-Jo Baker, gave this prompt last week, and I jotted the following poem down in ragged spare minutes that never unfolded into enough time to actually post. Usually, she gives the 1-word prompt late Thursday night, and a community of bloggers around the globe take 5 minutes to simply write--no editing or re-thinking allowed! Then we post our links and leave encouragement on each other's blogs.

I'm too late to join the party this week, so this one almost stayed in the draft pile, but my hubby encouraged me to publish it anyway.

I remembered truth as I wrote. I remembered that this--the universal longing for belonging--is an ache whose remedy was costly, but was given freely. We can rest here.

Prompt: Belong

We ache and we long
to belong.

Every middle-aged teen
and geriatric child
and stodge-faced youth
will understand.

Long after parents
are gone
is the ache to be welcomed,
havened,
cuddled close and long
and told
You are mine.

We ache and we long
to be loved.

Every Joe-Doe-Blow,
perfectionista,
and black-faced sheep
will understand.

And when the shape of it
unclouds,
it's the want to be seen,
admired,
heard deep, understood
and told
You have worth.

He aches and He longs
to gather us.
He rises with compassion
to show.
It throbs deep
and pours out red
with costly welcome
for every middle-aged teen
geriatric child
stodgy youth
Joe-Doe-Blow
perfectionista
and black-faced sheep.

You are mine. 
I gave you worth. 

Ciao-dy, Milan! It's been a while

We're here! After 22 hours, two flights, a 5-hour layover and a van ride through Milan, we finally hoisted our bags and our sleepy selves upstairs at our hotel this morning at around 11:30 am local time.

(For family members who are curious, Milan is seven hours ahead of TX time. Our bodies felt like it was 3:30 am.)

Hubby zonked out during the layover in Newark

The Alps! 

The bus ride through Milan from the airport

First meal in Italy! So much fun reconnecting with the team and meeting a new friend as well.

Here we are! Exhausted to the core, but thankful for a safe trip.

The hubs is signaling that blogging time has expired, so I'll let the pictures be enough for now. Please pray for our team to be well rested tomorrow as we begin the first week of English Clubs and meet students on campus tomorrow!

If you're wondering why we're in Italy, click here, and then join us by praying!

Spring Break: short but sweet

I now sincerely appreciate any and all student holidays. Like, really appreciate.

Even if they're not the long, luxurious swaths of time they once were.
Even if they're just a glorified, embellished weekend.

I am so thankful.

The University gave me two whole days off for Spring Break! The hubs and I savored Thursday slowly, puttering around the house and yard, doing laundry, meeting friends at coffee shops and parks.

Speaking of coffee shops, I tried out a new one for the first time on that beautiful day. As small as our town is, it can still surprise me! 1541 is a quiet, cozy little gem tucked away behind WallyWorld. Truly, it doesn't get as much traffic as it deserves. The Mexican couple who own it bake all the muffins and other goodies from scratch each morning and just look at the artwork they make of their cappuccinos!

If only they didn't close at 6pm each evening! If not for that small detail, I would make them my regular study place because of the low prices and quiet atmosphere. Regardless, I've resolved to give them some repeat business on weekends if only because I love supporting family-owned businesses.

Friday morning we were packed and on our way to my family! That evening Mom spent her gift card and treated Dad, Hubby and I to the Cheesecake Factory for my first time ever.

Can you tell we were pumped?

*Cue sugar overload for the next five hours*

The real centerpiece of the weekend, though, was the wedding of my dear friend, Jessica. Ever since we were kids, I've admired her for her ability to roll gracefully with imperfection and make the unplanned fun--laughing her contagious laugh the entire time.

Rain at an outdoor ceremony? No worries! Umbrellas make things cuter anyway.

Rain also has the power to give spectacular rainbows. What a stunning reminder of God's faithfulness on the day they promised theirs.

Women's Retreat

To those of you who prayed (about a month ago! Ha!) that the Women’s Retreat would be restful—thank you! It was sweet rest for my heart, even if I did sacrifice sleep to talk with friends.

The theme of this year’s retreat was “Thrive”. Most days I feel like I’m surviving, but not necessarily thriving. Like Thoreau, I long to “live deep and suck all the marrow out of life”(Walden). I want to thrive, but what does that even look like?

In our fast-paced culture, thriving is often interpreted as “having it all”—money, looks, friends, vacation time, smart kids—whatever defines success in your section of the country. But numerous studies show that having more stuff and living larger and faster doesn’t necessarily equate to more happiness. Instead, we stress ourselves out and have to see therapists. Or drink coffee.

And does personal happiness give good measure of a life is well-lived? This definition fits my selfish tendencies just fine, but as a Christian, I know that there is a higher goal: Christ Himself. To know Him, his person-hood, his agenda, his love for people and the Father—this is great end and delight for which we were made.

And Jesus was pretty blunt: to follow him, we have to lay down our lives. Since He set aside His own personal comfort to rescue me, I’m foolish if I think I can follow him without doing the same.

Ok, but didn’t Jesus come to give us “abundant life”—the life that is truly life? (John 10:10) Obviously, he doesn’t define “the good life" the way we do in America. 

As we sat under the low-beamed ceiling and paper daisies strung for the occasion, wise women in our church began to flesh out a relational side of this whole elusive “thriving” thing for us. Here are some of my take-aways: 

A thriving life is one built solidly on relationship.
   With God
   With myself
   With others

Relationships are built upon time, trust, personal security, and the repeated, courageous decision to unwall my heart. 

These elements create communion, which begets community. And community is--despite the pain of past wounds--the natural state of man, the soil in which we thrive. 

Security in my relationship with God will greatly affect my ability to feel secure in friendships with other women. 


Practially, personally, (and hopefully less Hallmark-y), these tell me, "Okay Cherise, pursuing friendships is meaningful. Don't give up. It's worth it, even if friendships hurt sometimes."

Because I have wounds. Rubbed raw by insecurities, re-opened by perceived slights, the wounds are deeper and fresher than they should be. And it takes grace and courage--tenacious, faith-propped courage--to make that coffee date, that phone call.

And relational pain is part of the package called living. Jesus said some straightforward things about that too: "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart; I have overcome the world."

I came away from the retreat feeling like a fresh wind had blown through my musty thought patterns, loosening their hold and giving me renewed hope in friendships. I am loved. And I needed the reminder. 

Forest Fires and Friends

A friend said yesterday, "It feels like every day at the Y is the same as four regular days at home--so much life happens in 24 hours!"  

On one hand, this is true, because of the sheer numbers of conversations and the volume of fresh thoughts experienced when you're living in new surroundings. 

On the other hand, hubby and I both feel like life has shifted down about a dozen notches from the near-frantic pace of this past semester. We have responsibilities, but they don't consume every waking moment. We have meetings, volunteer shifts, meals, and work, but there is room to breathe clean mountain air, room to get decent sleep, and room to sit down with friends and talk. We like it. :)

Dry Conditions = Forest Fire: 
On Friday, we woke to see an energetic plume of smoke rising above the mountains that encircle the YMCA campus. By lunchtime, the plume had become the rolling, billowing cloud that you can see in this picture I took with my phone>>>

News articles say that the fire started from a lightening strike early Saturday morning.

Don't worry about us--the YMCA and Estes Park are in no danger--but this fire is definitely one of the biggest that Colorado has had to deal with in a long time. Prayers are needed! On Saturday, hot, dry conditions and strong winds expanded the fire from 50 to 200 acres within half an hour, and a recent article says that over 37,000 acres have been burned. 

photo credit: denverpost.com

At this point, the fire is 0% contained, and the fire crews are focusing on evacuation and on keeping buildings from catching fire. Please pray for the fire crews, for all the families affected by this fire, and for some long, soaking rains! 

Project Group:

Even though we can see the smoke, the fire is far enough away that it hasn't affected anything at the YMCA or in the LT program. This weekend, for example, some friends from my project group and I went on a mini-hike to a place called Moraine Park. We ate boxed lunches from the dining hall on top of a big boulder and took some goofy pictures:

Y-M-C-A!

We also saw elk on the other side of the river, only 30 feet away from us!  

I really am enjoying getting to know the girls in my project group and life group. They are all so uniquely sweet, each with her own history, quirks, and personality to bring to the mix. I'm praying that God heals some hurts and fears I've accumulated from past friendships through these new ones, and that I can be an encouragement to them too. 

Italy: My sick day

"Even to your old age and gray hairs

I am he, I am he who will sustain you.

I have made you and I will carry you;

I will sustain you and I will rescue you." (Isaiah 46:4)

I've always been touched by this verse, but always for someone else. Someone who had gray hair. Each time I read it, I would tuck it away in a mental filing cabinet with a little post-it note that said, "For one day when I'm a grandma." After my kids are grown, and I sit, fragile, next to an African Violet in a sterile-smelling nursing home, that's the day I'll need it.

Well, I needed it today.

I woke up late and groggy, with crumpled hair and eyes that refused to open fully. My normal jolt of morning adrenaline kicked in as I showered, but it seemed watered-down somehow.

I wasn't the only one who was feeling bad; Lindsay was fighting sinus issues. The team prayed for us, but as we began to sing, all I could do was sit with my hands open on my lap as if to receive. Jesus, fill me with energy, I prayed.

The previous day's devotion about faith was bumping around in my head like shoes in a dryer. I wondered foggily, would it be more obedient to plunge into the day as usual, trusting God to provide the strength, focus, and energy I lacked? That would definitely take faith.

Or would it be more obedient to lay my tired head down upstairs, trusting God to help the English Clubs go well even if I wasn't there? That would take faith too. And humility. I'm not essential. God can do fine without me. 


At the urging of wise friends, I reluctantly and tearfully rode the tiny red elevator back up to the room. I felt useless. Why am I even here?

I slept for four solid hours. When I awoke in the dim, cool room, I lay there feeling miserable.

Then words from God's Word began to crowd softly, tapping at my memory.

Does God break bruised reeds? No. Does He snuff out smoldering wicks? No. 


"Even to your old age and gray hair, I am he who sustains you..."


In our culture, the helpless are despised. Unwanted babies are discarded daily. Elderly people can't contribute to society. They drool too much. Put them somewhere else. They are smoldering; snuff them out.

How different from the way God sees them!

And today, I was like an old woman. I was fragile, exhausted, and emotionally drained. I was the one who He carried.

"I have made you and I will carry you..."


I think I'm beginning to see the truth: that my value has nothing to do with how much I contribute. It has everything to do with the fact that I am His.

P.S.
Today was our 11-month wedding anniversary! (Yes, we're still celebrating each month...stop rolling your eyes.) He was so incredibly sweet to me today. :) 

Beach Living

I love travel and adventure, but I could have been content to continue puttering around my house for the rest of this vacation.  For example, I have a certain closet that REALLY needs de-clutterization, as well as a truck-load of research to do for a paper due next Thursday.

But instead, I’m sipping a Dr. Pepper while looking at this view:

(Actual pic)

Yes, you city-dwellers. Be jealous.

Sometimes my own sense of obligation to productivity would rob me of treats like this.  But we promised hubby’s family that we would join them at the beach house, and I’m so thankful we did! God really knows how to give me rest when I need it.

We arrived Thursday night, driving through a thick, salty fog that made a granular paste on our windshield as we neared the coast.

We stayed up with our nieces and taught them how to play Monopoly Deal—a card version of the traditional game that has the advantage of being both packable and faster to play. They loved it, and I loved watching my sweet, patient man explain the rules and encourage them as they learned. He will be a great dad someday.

Since then, we’ve been purely, delightfully lazy:

• Waking up after 10 in low-beamed bunk beds to the aroma of coffee.
• Dancing to the CD of our wedding music with my mother-in-law (hilarious!)
• Laughing at the squabbling seagulls as they fought over an unidentified piece of food near our porch.
• Eating homemade caramel corn.
• Stealing kisses from my hubby while the nieces were busy with crafts.

Yes, it's been wonderful. 

Some observations: 

The culture here in this beach-side community is slower, sunnier, and even more individualistic than most parts of America. I say more individualistic because it’s a perpetual vacation. Most residents are retirees, enjoying their golden years in a golden zone of sun, surf, and sand.  Hurricanes are never mentioned except in hushed tones, as if mentioning them aloud will jinx the paradise they enjoy.

There is one main street, one grocery store, and everything is festooned with the same ship-styled paraphernalia. The color scheme reminds me of a Mexican restaurant: coral, aqua, yellow and mint green. Shame on the beach-home owner who dares to pollute the neighborhood with a color like brown or tan!

Salt makes a gritty slime on all the windows. It makes you imagine that the waves have actually come close enough to spit their froth on the homes and cars. The salty wind turns even flat-ironed hair into an organic cloud of untamed curls—my nieces wear them permanently.

Conclusion--Beach living is a lot like sleep: a total escape from all responsibilities. I need it periodically, but only to recharge for the demands of everyday life.  

I feel refreshed, and but today I’ll be glad to go home.

The Beginning of the End

I'm making myself laugh because there is something ironic about giving my first blog post a title like, "The Beginning of the End." No, I'm not having a mid-life crisis, and I'm not a goofy doomsday prophet. But when I was trying to capture my feelings about starting my last semester of college, it just seemed to fit. This was the first week of the last semester, and I'll never have a first week like that again. I'll have other firsts, but not a first day of school first, and it's nostalgic and bittersweet to think about it.

I have only three classes: Political Communication, American Lit Post-WWII, and Spanish 202.  Even though one of them is writing-intensive, so far, none of them threaten to eat my life. In fact, I was telling Jordan just yesterday that it feels...a little too easy?  Wow, I'm almost afraid to write that, as if I'm tempting them to become the hardest classes of my life! But really, I feel something like a baby bird who is almost too big for its shell. I'm 24 and married, but the students sitting around me in class have barely left their teen years. College has grown me and challenged me, but the assignments that would have felt like a two-ton weight when I was 21 no longer seem weighty at all. Maybe God wants to stretch me in other areas than academics this semester.  :) 

He's been doing that a lot lately, and to tell the truth, school is easier than this type of inner confrontation!  I entered the Christmas break with a big wad of anxiety in my gut about my future. To grad school or not to grad school? To do ministry or not? To strike out and get a job in my field or not? With graduation looming and profs nudging me toward a master's degree, it felt like an internal mandate to get my life figured out.

A month later, however, my heart is content to rest in Jesus and just wait for him to lead. And this is NOT my own doing; it's Jesus, showing me my crud-ugly pride in my own accomplishments and ability to do things on my own, showing me his power to direct and guide me, and gently but firmly bringing me to my knees.
 Here is the bald truth that I now recognize: I can't make myself a "success".  If I try, I will constantly be looking sideways, measuring myself by the women of God around me. I'll be my own harshest critic--and believe me, I'm brutal when it comes to me.

But our God is so gentle with me. He is so gentle with us.  He loves us too much to leave us to ourselves, and He knows that the things I cling to--pride, people's approval, achievements--are really poisonous to the beautiful things He wants to do in me.

Please be praying for my heart to be soft.